Life: One Stitch at a Time

"Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that - one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out out all right like the embroidery."
~ Oliver Wendall Holmes

One of the nicest aspects of sewing, for me, is the way it frees up my mind to muse while still feeling productive. It’s also a great way to “watch” TV! Cross stitch is one of those sewing crafts I love to do. Recently, a friend asked me how I could sit for hours making little X’s on a blank cloth. “There’s more to it than simply making X’s,” I said. “Why, you can learn a lot of what you need to live well just by reading the common cross stitch directions.”

Here’s my version of life seen through the directions for successful cross stitching:

1. Read all the instructions before beginning. Take time to plan before you start anything – whether you’re considering buying a home, changing your job, or even choosing a new insurance policy, check out the fine print. Know as much as you can before making your decision.

2. Bind or tape the edges to prevent fraying. Make sure your emotional edges are bound by the love and support of your family and friends. Then if life threatens to overcome you, you won’t fall apart. Build up your binding by showing your love for others; at the same time, you can be the tape for theirs as well.

3. Sort and label the thread with the corresponding color and symbol. Just like cross stitch, sometimes our life choices get confused. Sometimes, two choices, like the colors of thread seem to blend into each other, creating the illusion that there is little or no difference. Put aside the colors of your choices until another day when fresh light helps you see the fine shades of each.

4. Find the center of the design. Find your center, your core. Get to know who you really are. Turn off your cell phone, take a walk by yourself, learn to meditate. Most importantly, have some time in solitude and quiet so you can get to know your inner self. The you’ll be able to create something beautiful.

5. When your thread becomes twisted, let your needle hang free and allow the yarn to resume its natural state. When life feels too complicated or your anxiety level threatens to ruin your life tapestry, let the pressures go. Come to a stop and let your mind rest. It won’t solve any problems, but your ability to cope will improve.

6. Cross all stitches in the same way. Be consistent in your outlook. Treat others fairly as you wish to be treated so the pattern of your life will be smooth and even.

7. Count and recount as you go. Review your life on a regular basis.. It’s always easier to change course when you do so. While John Lennon says in a song, “life is what happens when you’re busy making plans,” reviewing your direction as it’s happening offers some ability to adjust your trajectory.
8. Small errors in counting do not change the look of the design and shouldn't be given a second thought. Be kind to yourself and don’t judge yourself or others too harshly. We all make mistakes and small errors will not mar the overall pattern of life.

9. Large errors should be carefully taken out without damaging the thread and then restitched. When you make a large misstep, don’t despair. Consider how the damage can be corrected then fix it as best you can. Handled carefully, the problems of life can be managed and the beauty of your life’s design preserved even stronger when patched well.

10. More than enough material is included, provided instructions are carefully followed. This last rule is so important! Eat right, sleep enough, and follow the nine preceding rules. Recognize that you have been given one body to last a lifetime and your psyche has a lot to do with how that body prospers. If you don’t waste your life’s material, hopefully, it should last as long as needed.
Yes, I muse, while I stitch the last rose in a basket of roses, cross stitch offers us a metaphor for all we need to enjoy life plus we are left with gifts we can pass on to others. And besides, it sure beats actually watching TV!

Remembering 9/11

As the tenth anniversary approached, I found myself trying to avoid thinking about that day in 2001. I stopped watching TV several days ago, but this morning I realized I couldn’t simply tune out by not watching. For that day and its anniversaries, however many years pass, will always be sharp and clear in my memory. Many of the tributes say “Never Forget,” but that admonishment is not really needed.

Each of us will always remember in vivid detail where we were and how we were feeling that sunny September morning with all its wonderful promise. I was staying at my daughter, Ginger’s house in North Carolina to care for the children while she was at a business conference in Maryland. My husband, Will, had just returned from walking the kids to the bus stop.

I remember feeling a wonderful sense of the whole day stretched out ahead of the two of us. I took my second cup of coffee into the living room to slowly sip it and watch the “Today” show. When Katie Couric announced a plane had crashed into one of the Towers, I initially believed it was a tragic accident.

But when the second plane hit, I knew. A wave of cold washed over me, taking me back in time to a November day when my neighbor ran from her upstairs apartment shouting that John F. Kennedy had been shot. I held nineteen-month-old Ginger tightly and hurried inside. I felt the same fear and panic then as when I watched the terrible tragedy on 9/11.

And so, I turn on the TV to be a witness for those who died that day, as well as for those who loved them. The empty space in their lives will never be filled, but remembering and sharing that with those who care can help. Throughout it all, the thread of all the brave and unselfish giving throughout that day and the days following weaves a ray of hope. I cry, too.

    We will never forget, but we will go on.

Flowers of Winter

God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.  ~J.M. Barrie, Courage, 1922

 

Every December, as Christmas approaches and the end of the year draws near, for me, is a time of reflection, a looking back. Generally, this contemplative time begins after the shopping and mailing of packages is completed. But this year, my annual life review threatened to sabotage the necessary tasks that come with the holiday.  Daydreaming replaced concentrated, organized gift selection!

I blame the change on my neighbor, Harry, a consummate gardener whose talents we enjoy all summer from our front deck. The day before Thanksgiving, he brought over brought over an armful of roses from his still flowering garden. We were enjoying a wonderfully warm fall, even eating lunch in the sunny protected corner of our porch. "Hard to believe they're still growing," he said.

"Yes," I answered. "Hard to believe, but wonderful, too." I clipped the stems and placed the bouquet in a green vase on my dining room table. In the next few weeks, I passed by the roses a lot. Each time I did, I thought how comforting it was to see them bloom this time of year.

As the temperature dipped and we moved further into December, Harry's bouquet brought to mind Barrie's wonderful quote and my thoughts turned to how increasingly important the role memory takes as we get older. Not that I'm done making memories—not by a long shot, I hope! After all, I'm only seventy now. I still cling to the autumn years of my life, with their wonderful lingering warmth from my summer season.

I like to think the winter of my life is still far from away, but based on how rapidly my life has gone thus far, I know the approaching winter of my life is much closer than I want to believe. Sometimes, I wonder about what it will be like once my winter fully arrives.

We visit a senior center once a month to do a program entitled, "Remember When." These seniors (older than I am, of course!) are firmly entrenched definitely in the winter of their lives. They prefer sharing their memories, memories evoked by old the movies, events, and songs of their summer years, mostly the forties and fifties, rather than their later years. I learn from them that the days ahead can also be filled with joy and laughter, but most of all, bolstered by the memories that keep us warm.

Here's a few nonscientific things I've come to believe about how memory works as we get older:

• Memory is fluid and dynamic, ever changing. Each memory takes on a different hue, tone, and meaning when we view it from a distance created by time.
• Memory is a way of holding onto the things we love. It tells us who we are in our innermost self, and is tied to things we never want to lose. As a result, it only a natural evolution that we find it holds so much a larger part in our lives as we age.
• Memory is the book we write in the silence of our hearts. And like writers, we can discover the freedom to alter our history and tell it a little more like we wanted it to be. Have you ever noticed how the fish in any fisherman's tale gets larger with each telling?
• Memories, like the proverbial fine wine, improve with age. And as we get older, we gradually may become the only one who is the memory keeper of our family. An awesome, but joyful thing to contemplate!
• Memory is selective. As Austin O'Malley notes, "Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food. Nora Ephron speaks of this in her new book, "I Remember Nothing." Have you ever searched your mind for details of some neamingul event in your life and come up blank, yet you can remember an incident that would appear to have no significance whatsoever in the broad schematic of life?
• Memory, like the sea glass we find on the beach, holds fragments that we treasure without reason. Or as Cesare Pavese (The Burning Brand) says so well, "We do not remember days; we remember moments."
• Memory of our childhood remains imprinted in our memory bank for all of our lives. Sometimes, I ask myself why I remember all the details of my elementary school yet scarcely remember the hallways of the college I attended when I was forty years old?
• Memory of bad moments come mostly in the middle of the night. Have you had any of those moments when what you failed to do or did haunt you?

Bob Hope always finished his performances with a song called, "Thanks for the memories." Yet, memories are the flowers of our winter and it would be a very cold time without them. And like the roses of winter, they keep us warm. They're what we're made of and what we're left with.

Strawberry Moments Forever

"… the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls· bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory" -Marcel Proust,  "The Remembrance of Things Past"

Do you have a smell that reminds you of special memories? Perhaps the redolent smell of your childhood Sunday dinners? Or popcorn at Saturday matinees? Does a particular aroma take you back where you can see the scene as vividly as if you were right there now?

Proust's words speak volumes to me because throughout my life, the distinctive perfume of fresh strawberries has prevailed as my memory prompter. Perhaps it can even serve as a metaphor for much of my life. This love affair began in my childhood and I write about this in one of my past blog entries, "A World Without Childhood?"

Since that early experience, strawberries have continued as the framework of my most treasured moments.

Consider our honeymoon, for example. The year was 1962 and segregation was still an issue. Neither Will nor I had ever seen signs "for whites only" before, and the sight of so many appalled us. A truck loaded with cartons of berries pulled in behind us on a Chesapeake Bay ferry boat. Two black men got out of the truck and stood in the hot May sunshine. They couldn't go inside where it was cool since the boat wasn't large enough to have an extra space for what then was referred to as "for coloreds only." I spoke to them and said, "It must be nice to drive a truck with such a lovely cargo." They smiled back and tipped their hats.

When we returned to our car, one of the men handed us two quarts of berries. We thanked them profusely and thought about them as we continued on our way. That night, in a modest motel, I poured the lush, red fruit into the tiny sink to wash them and we ate our fill in bed before turning out the light. So, forever they will represent passion and love, along with a little sadness, too, at how badly people can treat other people by considering them as less worthy.

The following years went quickly for us—perhaps because our four daughters were born within the first five years of our marriage. When our youngest was four, we began taking them to a nearby farm to pick strawberries every June. My mother-in-law, Lib, would often join us and then come home to help clean and hull the berries.

After I washed the scarlet stains off the kids' faces and fingers and tucked them into bed, I'd come back to the kitchen to make pie crusts, usually twelve in all. As I kneaded and rolled, I could hear Will and his mother on our jalousie porch, a soft, gentle sound while I reveled in my solitude and the tactile feel of the dough.

Years later, in California, I picked huge, almost meatball size fruit on a California hill with my second daughter, Cindy, and three granddaughters. And as Yogi Berra says, it was "déjà vu all over again." That evening, however, I was the person hulling the berries while Cindy scrubbed away the ruby hue of the fruit that just couldn't wait another day to be eaten.

Now our family is grown and scattered from the East to the West Coast, but this succulent fruit continues to bring additional memories. Last week, we escorted our youngest daughter down a sandy beach on her wedding day in Santa Cruz, California. A joyous week for all of us with, you guessed it, more strawberries. As I hulled them, I inhaled deeply, drinking in one more strawberry moment while I listened to the chatter of gathered family. And as I did so, I thought how blessed I am to have this thread through my life and look forward to seeing what else this succulent fruit will bring in the future.

So, tell me, do you also have a special scent that takes you back in time? If so, drink it in and find yourself right there in that special place, that special moment. If not, consider creating memory markers by using your sense of smell during future happy moments—perhaps the smell of perfume you put on or notice on a loved one some New Year's Eve, or the sweet distinctive fragrance of the ocean after a storm.

Quotes That Stand the Test of Time

How so many writers throughout history have been able to pen words that endure through the years always fills me with awe, especially when they pack a lot of ageless wisdom into those words.

So, whenever I see a quote I like, I add it to my "angel" book, noting the date and the individual who laced those words together so well. Eventually, I'll collate them all into a small collection, note why I like them and take it to Staples and have it made into a spiral book for family members—my way to keep those wonderful quotes alive and share what I love with those I love.

When I was writing a recent blog, "A world without childhood?" the expression, "youth is wasted on the young," came to mind. While I didn't use it in my posting, I keep wondering: Is it a quote or a cliché? Or a quote that became a cliché? Sayings sometimes seem to have a way of doing that—said so often that time seems to wear them down like the tires on a farm truck. It wasn't in my book of clichés, so once again, I turned to Google, the place where you can find almost anything except a clean pair of underwear.

When the page came up, I was surprised to see George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) coined that expression. My curiosity piqued, I searched through some of his other quotes. Definitely found some that belong in my quote book. But what truly amazed me was how relevant they are today. Consider these quotes:

On Politics

• "A government that robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul." Whatever side of the political fight over what our country should do or not do regarding tax cuts/increases and the nation's debt crisis, this quote would certainly describe the views of some of our politicians, don't you think?
• "An election is a moral horror, as bad as a battle except for the blood; a mud bath for every soul concerned in it." It seems to me whenever any politician appears to rise in the polls, some hint of scandal or incapacitating illness surfaces. Like Michelle Bachmann's migraines. She wouldn't ever be my choice, but would a migraine really preclude her ability to be president? Pundits predict the 2012 election will be the worst negative campaign in the history of our country.
• "An asylum for the sane would be empty in America." Do I need to add any comment to this quote?

On life

• "Don't waste your youth on growing up." This hits home today especially when I see little girls sporting Madonna like outfits and eye make up, or little girls playing with breast feeding dolls. Childhood needs to be a time to be a child. Otherwise, George Bernard Shaw's other quote, "Youth is wasted on the young," becomes sad but true.

• "We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing." So, whatever your age, be silly! Dance in the kitchen or join a flash mob, perform at an Open Mic, sing in a karaoke bar, wear whatever you like no matter how much you hate your flabby arms. As my grandson, John says, "take a risk."
• "I want to be all used up when I die." This quote is perhaps my favorite of all. Such a lovely sentiment—to have done everything you've wanted to do, to have lived life fully with no regrets, to have loved unconditionally, loved long and hard.. Yes, I definitely want to be all used up when I die.

Facts about George Bernard Shaw:

1. He won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1925.
2. For seven years, he wrote five unsuccessful novels.
3. He was a socialist.
4. He supported women's rights and wrote about them in 1891.
5. His last play, Why She Would Not, was completed on July 23, 1950, three days before his ninety-fourth birthday.
6. One of his most famous plays was Pygmalion.

For more information about this great playwright, visit these sites.
Bernard: A Brief Biography
http://www.biography.com/articles/George-Bernard-Shaw-9480925"
http://www.notablebiographies.com/Sc-St/Shaw-George-Bernard.html

A Little Animal in all of us

While we ponder the news of our weak economy, the debt ceiling debate, and yet another rise in unemployment, it's hard not get depressed. Trying to balance being informed but not getting obsessed with the woes of our country and the world is not easy. But adding a little frivolity to our lives, the sort that doesn't require spending any money, can help lighten our spirits at least temporarily.

Recently, we had dinner with lifelong friends and quickly became embroiled in a discussion of what's happening in this country. A heavy pause followed. Seeking to shift the conversation in a more positive direction, I asked a question from one of my blog postings, "A Pumpkin Pie Sort of Woman."

Our friend, John, just couldn't get the concept, insisting on naming his favorite pie, instead. "Well, then, what kind of animal would you be?" asked his wife. "Oh, that's easy," he said, "a lion. After all, I'm a Leo and like a lion, I depend on the female providing the food. I'm proud, too, just like a lion." We all giggled. So much easier than describing yourself in pie terms, it seemed. My significant other, Will, is a horse, of course. Dependable, stable, strong, while friend Elizabeth is a bird, free and able to fly.

A few days later, I found myself thinking about the evening and how much fun it was to imagine magical, semi nonsensical matters so I decided right then and there it was time to do another survey. This time to bring out the animal in some of those I know and love. Surprisingly, there were few repeats. With a little help from my friends, perhaps I could open a small "menagerie."

Here are the "animals" that would populate it:

A tiger: Like a tiger, Julie, part of our West Coast family, sees herself as an introvert and so relates to the tiger which is a solitary creature. Like the tiger, Julie is smart and a bit mysterious. I believe she has an inner strength that's not always visible to others.

A dolphin: Julie's fiancee, Sandy, chooses the dolphin as her alter ego. She has a playful nature similar to the dolphin's. Sandy adds, "while the dolphin is often solitary, she also enjoys the "pod" life spent with loved ones. I concur with her choice because like the aquatic creature, Sandy is also a great communicator and brings joy wherever she goes.

A cat: Janni, our dear longtime neighbor, chooses the feline because she likes the idea that "they have nine lives—imagine that—no chores to do but chase mice." She adds the idea of being able to be so independent and to curl up on a window sill in the sun whenever she pleases sounds just about right. I can attest to her choice because no one enjoys her days more than Janni does.

A puppy: Pat, fellow book lover, definitely views herself as a canine, albeit a young one. She likes the idea that she would become part of a nice family and could grow and be part of the whole. "Faithful, loving, and kind," she adds. It's easy to imagine as Pat consistently demonstrates those qualities as an integral part of our St. Francis Book Group.

A koala bear: Julia, my youngest participant and beloved granddaughter, says she's a koala because like this lovable little figure, she says, "I look calm and innocent, but you mess with me, I'll bite back." I see her as this Australian marsupial for both her athleticism and her ability to hang on to her beliefs and values as the koala clings to the tree.


A chameleon: Elizabeth, the adult daughter of a close friend, loves all animals, but most identifies with her lizard, Charlie. "I see myself as not shy, but reserved. And like my chameleon, I tend to be most happy in the background rather than standing out in a group." A good choice, I think, because in talking to Elizabeth, the colors of her mood and emotions are visible to the listener.

So, tonight, if you feel weighed down with the news, turn it off and turn to your family members and ask, "What kind of animal are you?" After all, there's a little animal in all of us.

Now this rabbit has to hop away…

A World without Childhood?

My lunchtime drink of choice is always Diet Peach Snapple. I love the taste. An added bonus is checking out the fact printed on the lid of each bottle. Some are funny, others surprising, but all are conversation starters. Yesterday's was thought provoking: "Bees are born fully grown."

Now, many of you may have already known that, but somewhere in my science education, I missed that lesson. The thought of anything being born fully grown never occurred to me. Imagine no frisky puppies, soft little kittens, or pink piglets. Sounds rather glum, doesn't it?

Sure enough, Will, my significant other, and I became fully immersed in thinking about this phenomenon. Will brought up a movie we'd seen entitled "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button." The lead, Brad Pitt (Benjamin), is born old and gradually grows younger—the opposite of what really happens in life. And while not quite the same scenario as being born fully grown, it's the same kind of premise that can spur the "what if" in many of us.

So, what would it be like to be born fully grown? As I went through the day, the concept continued to tickle my imagination. Who would I be if I had no childhood? The older I get, the more I realize how my childhood shaped me. I find myself thinking more about those earlier years than I ever seem to reflect on those spent working and raising a family.

We lived in the country—not the countryside you might think of with rolling hills and other houses nearby, but the isolated kind of country in one of John Steinbeck's books. Our house stood surrounded by fields of weeds. And to reach our nearest neighbor, we had to walk down the dirt road in front of our house to get to a paved road to a huge farm.


Until I went off to first grade, I didn’t see too many other children. In today's world, I guess that would sound grim and lacking in socialization, but I had my imagination and daydreaming to nourish me. I spent hours alone in the fields and the woods. Wild strawberries grew in some of the fields and I can still see myself in suspendered overalls eating them, alone but not lonely. That time spent in solitude, I believe, made me self sufficient, but perhaps a little bit of a loner.

Each spring, I followed my cat to find where she'd hid that year's litter of kittens. I'm not sure how I knew she would have them every year but I think it was because she grew fat, then thin. The question of how the kittens came to be within her never occurred to me. I think it was trust—the innocence of a child who assumes all will continue to be the same in her world.

That simple, artless time of growth is why childhood is not something to be missed. What would it be like to be born fully grown? To be without that time to be, to think, to daydream? It's a treasure we carry our entire lives, but often holds pain, too. My childhood, like most people's, is an amalgam of good and bad memories. For me, the good news is that the distance of time helped put the unhappy moments more in perspective.

My wish for you is that if your childhood was laced with more sadness than joy, you will reach that moment when the sadness is like the sting of a bee, intense when it happened, but short lived in your memory.

Breaking the Blog Block

For the last several months, I’ve been feeling rather empty, at least as far as coming up with what to write on my blog. Writing, just like all the writing experts constantly remind me, is not at all like riding a bicycle or swimming—you can’t just start pedaling or jump into the pool. Writing is much harder and the longer you are away from it, the more difficult it is to start again.

So I search to get past this obstacle called “writer’s block," to get back up on that proverbial seat or take the plunge, but with no success. So I go to Google. Everything you ever want can be found on Google, right? I print out some suggestions from the myriad ones I see displayed. Topics like “How to Get an Idea for a Blog Topic,” or “20 Ideas for Writing a Blog Post,” or “25 Blog Post Ideas and Stimulators to get You Unstuck.” All websites filled with starters and great ideas. I tell myself: Pick one, any one and start.

And the winner is: Consider taking a blog tour and highlight some of your favorite blogs. That makes a lot of sense since whenever I need inspiration, I often turn to fellow bloggers who seem not only to have it together, but write great blogs.

Here’s a list of six that I visit often:
1. Society for Creative Sustainability:  Sandy’s writing is full of joy and optimism and centers on all aspects of creativity, from music, art, or simply looking at life and its accoutrements with a different slant. It's hard to pick a favorite but one that spoke loudly to me recently was "Surviving the Mercury Retrograde."

2. Beth's Urban Tales of Wonder and Decay: Beth has a natural ability to put herself out there on the printed page with courage and authenticity. I'm inspired every time I visit her site! At a recent Open Mic, she read a wonderful piece entitled, "Thanks for Finding My Dead Father Peg." Like me, many who listened were touched to tears.

3. Navigating Through Life: What I like about this site is the author’s focus and ability to relate all things in life and nature, however the small the detail, to her Christian faith. She infuses her writing with grace and humor, yet never wavers from her mission. Check out "Sea Glass 101."

4. Healing Through Writing: A professional writer and writing coach, the author shares her life journey in her postings. Her writing is concise and offers the reader the example of how effective it is when each word counts. One of her recent offerings, "Facing Mortality: A Challenge," takes on a topic that we all will face.

5. Eclosion: Whether she chooses to post poetry or prose, her lyrical way of expressing herself reminds me of the power and sheer beauty words can hold when laced together well. One of her poems, "Bee," shows her mastery of what we all hope to achieve.

6. Poet's Pizza: This blogger is a purist, a man of few words of prose. Instead, he lets his poetry do the talking. His postings speak to the human experience, some humorous, some sad, but all, like "Book," will please and stay with you long after you read them.

Now, that I've taken a walk through some of my favorite blogs, I return here feeling ready to blog once more. And definitely inspired by all these gifted writers.

Thanks, one and all, for helping me find my way back! And keep writing. 

 

Revisiting a Classic

A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say.  ~Italo Calvino, The Literature Machine

What truly makes a classic a classic? For me, it's a book that I can still relate to, one that still holds relevance, and as Calvino says so well, still has something to say. A year or so ago, we chose "The House of the Seven Gables" for our St. Francis book group. After reading it, we all agreed it hadn't stood the test of time—at least for us.

So, when another book group here in Florida (our respite from the cold Island winter) chose "The Scarlet Letter," it was with much trepidation that I began to read another Hawthorne book, this one his first, published in 1850.

Still, I reminded myself one of the great gifts of belonging to a book group is reading or re-reading a book that we would not otherwise choose on our own. Those of us who are inveterate book group members feel compelled to read the chosen selection no matter how painful the process. And for me, the pressure was greater because I volunteered to co-lead the discussion of "The Scarlet Letter."

In my second reading of Hawthorne's classic, I discovered the following:

Modern day reading has changed my reading experience expectations.

At first, I fretted over the slow movement of the book, the long passages, and antiquated language, wishing he would just get to the point! I can only liken it to the experience of watching some of my favorite old movies that, when revisited, move much too slowly for me. I realize that I've bought into the world of instant gratification. Newer novels, even good ones, "feed" us faster.


Getting the most from a classic requires slower and more attentive reading.

When I forced myself to read more carefully and thoughtfully, I found great beauty in much of Hawthorne's text. Consider these lines, "…the scarlet letter ceased to be a stigma which attracted the world's scorn and bitterness, and became a type of something to be to be sorrowed over, and looked upon with awe, yet with reverence, too." 

Life experience affects my view much more than I realized.

The premise choosing this book was to see how reading this book later in life might differ from our high school experience. Several members of the group spoke about how their first reading focused entirely on Hester Prynne and how her name remained imprinted in their memories yet they didn't remember any of the other characters. For me, I had a greater appreciation for her strength as a character. As a teenager, I mainly saw her as a victim and felt the injustice inflicted upon her. I realized my view of women in general has changed greatly since the '50's. Clifton Fadiman says it well in his quote, "When you re-read a classic you do not see in the book more than you did before.  You see more in you than there was before." 

Classics withstand the test of time because the themes expressed are universal and timeless.

While no one is overtly placed in a pillory or made to stand with a sign signifying their shame, we still do expect public shaming to take place. Perhaps the Puritans were more honest in doing it as openly as they did. Consider how we expect our celebrities to publicly expose their personal extramarital affairs, demand details, and expect an apology. Or the shame teens heap on one another with pictures and comments on Facebook. We call it bullying and it is, but it's also public shaming and shunning. Presented more graphically and in modern language, adultery, pride, gender issues, and forbidden love still sell books!


The use of symbolism and irony have an ageless quality that continues to resonate with readers.

Did Hawthorne choose Pearl as Hester's daughters name to draw a parallel to the sacrifice an oyster undertakes to make a pearl? Consider his masterful use of irony as manifested how the ambiguity of sin was expressed in the loveliness of the embroidered "A", or how she chose to remain in the village and continue to wear the letter long after her transgression was forgotten.

There's a Chinese saying, "To read a book for the first time is to make an acquaintance with a new friend; to read it for a second time is to meet an old one."

Here are ten other classics I'd recommend:

1. To Kill a Mocking Bird by Harper Lee

2. East of Eden by John Steinbeck

3. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

4. Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

5. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

6. Moby Dick by Herman Melville

7. 1984 by George Orwell

8. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

9. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

10. All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren

These are my top ten, but you can view more at Top 100 Best Novels Of All Time http://wealthwisdomandsuccess.com/.

Whether you read these books with a book group or on your own, they're worth a second look! Take a trip to a favorite place and revisit a classic. You'll learn things about life and yourself you've forgotten or never quite realized you knew.

Let me know which are your favorite classics!

Embrace a classic, and remember, "Books let us into their souls and lay open to us the secrets of our own."  William Hazlitt