Book Report: Going Zero

A friend from church started a silent book. I've only attended once because this extrovert is all over the place. However, through this group I've got a few good tips of books, like this one.

As my devoted blog readers know, I am generally laissez-faire about online security. Ahem, I post  flattering photos of my family on this very public blogger. Case in point:

Photo Credits Alana Range Photography

My general feeling is that Putin has all the information he could want on me as do any hackers. My protection strategy is keeping my net worth and political aspirations low. jokes. Truthfully though, mercifully I'm not a worrier by nature and I will continue to be counter cultural in the few ways I can.  #NeverBerlinenough

Did this book give me pause? No, I'm still living my life. Was it entertaining? Yes. 

Not totally related, this book also gave me another little nudge to try turning off my phone for 24 hours. Paul and the kids were in away and I thought it would be a good time to try. Being phone free was more of a "learning" vs "liberating" experience. I now understand why Carmen is always on the hunt for kids to play with her. Mid-day, I started knocking on my neighbors doors to ask if they would play tennis with me. 

Like many life struggles, it inspired art. I don't know if we can call it "good" art as the images were produced using AI. I would have preferred to commission kid art. 

But, I also wanted to have an "adult bedroom" before turning 43.  

Can you identify that Bible verse made more gender inclusive with the help of some of our favorite Berlin symbols? 

This birth year is the start of "phone-free Sundays"*. I need to be available in the morning for kids' church purposes but once church is out, I'm offline until Monday. I will have my bricked phone around to continue to scribble down my Todos and thoughts because not having all my "brilliant ideas" in one place after my truly phone free day caused more mental clutter than it was worth. If anyone else wants to join-in on the phone free Sundays* let me know?

Ode to Nephews

Living on a different continent from your family-of-origin is a mixed bag. Sometimes you get to participate in family events.

Favorite nephew's graduation - check

But most of the time, you process them from a far. And, if you are old-school like me, you blog to simultaneously assuage your guilt for the distance while hoping they affirm your life choices.

Carmen wouldn’t exist if we hadn’t moved to Berlin. Side note, my in-laws' house in this photo is in the evacuation zone for the Spokane fires. If you’re the praying type, they can use it.

A few weeks ago, while I was not attending the scattering of my grandparents’ ashes on the border with Canada, I received an email from my dad that my grandma’s favorite nephew, Gary, died. 

I present a brief backstory that might need some revision should any family members read this. My grandmother, Lois O’Keefe, was the youngest of eight. My great-grandfather died while my great-grandmother was pregnant with Lois (something heart related?). Also, an older teenage brother died earlier that year (the flu?). Sometime earlier an older sister died at four years-old (appendicitis?). So we’ve got a forty-year “older” single-mom Jesse with four boys, Gary's mom, and baby Lois. 

My grandma was born in a log cabin in rural Washington state. I remember hearing some kind of story about how if someone built a cabin and lived in it for a certain number of years, the land became theirs. East Berliners would call that squatters rights. A more questioning mind would be concerned about indigenous land rights. But we’re just going to breeze past that and say that thankfully the family did have some physical assets because it’s the start of 1929. The great depression is around the corner. 

My grandparents lives were intertwined in the small-town rural kind-of-way. My great uncle Kelly O’Keefe was a pallbearer at the funeral of my grandpa Bob Beckley’s two older teen brothers who were killed in a car accident. Kelly would then later die flying over Germany in World War II. It’s at this point when my grandmother would chime in something to the effect of, “People don’t know what they are talking about when they long for the 'good old days'”. 

Bob is now referred to as “Grandpa Robert Ralph” at Casa Biggs lest anyone forget the epic origin of Crosby’s middle name.

The general family narrative was something to the effect of “things were hard, but we made the best of it.” So when I met Gary one-on-one during an impressionable time of my life, I was shocked - in a good way - to hear his take. He felt his feelings. He was still working through his traumas of life. If you were curious, he was going to let you know about it. It was one of the few times that a family member was open with me without a drink in his/her hand. He had hit the bottom years ago with the “just figure it out, just get over it” rule of life.

It would be a few years later that I would accidentally find my way to a recovery group. I read a byline in my church bulletin that said, “are you hurting?” I thought, “Why yes, thanks for asking.” I spent a season working the steps with a mentor and a group of multigenerational women. Circumstantially soon after my personal life accelerated in the dating, marriage, baby, etc front. I never made the time to circle back with Gary to let him know that his story was formative in who I am as a person. 

And so I'm late sharing it here, with my many, many readers. Gary's passing is a reminder to keep working the steps. The first of which should be every parent's mantra during the summer - admitting our powerlessness to (parent, keep kids entertained, control our anger, __________) and acknowledging that life has become unmanageable. But we do it one activity  day at a time:

Gary would approve of Hugo's fashion sense and sewing skills.

And we don't do it alone: 

And as an homage to Gary, we look good doing it:

Rest in peace Gary. We will miss you.