February 28, 2021

Take the Plunge

February 21, 2021

For all the years you have been working you have had to put off the things you want to do. There was always some other priority, some reason that your dream would have to wait.

You always wanted to write, or paint, or sculpt. It was something that you would do "someday."

So let me be very, very clear: Someday is now!

*This isn't even a questions, is it? You know what the answer is, so don't be afraid of it!*

Believe me, I understand how important those other things were. How many responsibilities and constraints were placed on you. How many times you had to put aside your creative endeavors to handle practical, mundane matters. How many times the demands of the "real world" overwhelmed your creative dreams.

You always told yourself that you really wanted to create. Maybe you spent time mooning over amazing knitted creations, or longed to become a star in the kitchen. If you only had the time.

Don't get me wrong. I know you stole a few moments when you could. Some of you got up an hour before the kids every day so you had time to write - though kids seem to catch on to that trick pretty quick and alter their rising time accordingly. Or you left your spouse to watch their favorite TV show while you went to your studio to draw or paint before you fell into bed. You stayed up after everyone was asleep to have time to sew one more costume, or finish decorating a cake.

Every day, in whatever way you could manage, you made time for your creative life. Even if only for a few minutes.

*I've never been much of a morning person, but for many of my writer friends with jobs and families finding time to create means rising with the sun, before the demands of daily life take over.*

There were certainly times you couldn't even manage that. A sick child or spouse, a household emergency (you can't really create when the toilet is overflowing), a crisis at work that kept you there after hours.

After you retire, when the kids are grown and gone and the boss can no longer "request" that you work late, you finally have all the time you want for your creative pursuits. Within reason, of course; you still need to eat and sleep and occasionally take a shower.

So why aren't you?

That is, as they say, the sixty-four thousand dollar question. (And if you don't get that reference, are you really old enough to be retired?)

The answer takes many forms, and has broad implications.

Are you still putting other things first? Things that may not truly deserve to be a higher priority?

Are you setting goals that are so lofty they scare you away?

Are other people still demanding your time? And are you allowing them to do so?

Do you keep telling yourself that you have to do X, Y, or Z before you're ready to dive into your project?

Have you decided that you have to have the proper environment - a real office, or studio, or woodshop - before you can really create, so making that space has to come first?

In short, are you procrastinating?

*It's a scary question, but a necessary one, if you value your creative life.*

I know. I know. Those are important chores you've been putting off, knowing you'd have more time for them after you retire. You've been promising yourself you would simplify your wardrobe when you didn't have to dress for work every day. But is that really more important than your art? Is detailing the car such a high priority that you don't have time to make music? Does catching up the ironing (Really? You still iron anything?) matter more than building a decorative cabinet for your teacup collection?

Somehow I don't think the answer to those questions would have been "Yes" while you were working. You set priorities and you let things go to the bottom of the list. Personally, I think ironing fell off my list long ago, and while I will wash my car occasionally I leave the heavy lifting to the pros.

But we allow all those things to crowd our creative pursuits to the bottom of the list. We tell ourselves it's because we put off all those things and now is the time for us to catch up before we allow ourselves to pursue the things we want.

We call those things "needs" and call our arts "wants."

Honestly, needs and wants will change over time, but they will always work toward the same goal: a happy and fulfilling life. Creativity shouldn't be dismissed as "just a want," but embraced as a need for our own peace of mind.

Yes, there are some things we need to do. (See above. Eat. Sleep. Personal hygiene.) But it's a short list, and our art should be high on that list. We need our art, have always needed it, and now we should give ourselves the freedom to have it.

They why aren't we doing it?

Simply put, fear.

We are afraid to do the thing we love.

I can't tell you what exactly you are afraid of. Maybe it's failure, or success. Of you may be afraid of letting your family and friends down. Of being judged if your house, or car, or wardrobe isn't up to some arbitrary standard of cleanliness.

Maybe you are afraid that you will find out that this isn't exactly what you wanted after all. That your dreams were just that, dreams, and you don't enjoy the reality.

Whatever your fear is, this is the time to face it. Examine what is really holding you back, keeping you from that creative outlet you dreamed of.

Stop waiting for the right circumstances. Stop making excuses. Dive into a project, any project, and see how it really feels to have all the time you want for whatever is your creative passion.

You never know what you might discover until you go exploring.

Because the joy of creating, of riding the wave of your very own creative energy, of letting go and submerging yourself in your art - that joy will triumph over the fear if you let it.

Christina York

February 14, 2021

Fortress of Solitude

Christina York

February 14, 2021

Since I’ve used the Superman/Supergirl comparison in the past, I thought it might be an apt theme for today’s discussion – because right now we are all in our own Fortress of Solitude, whether we want to be or not.

*At least a fortress in an ice cave is beautiful. But cold!*

Even those of us who identify as introverts, who enjoy the peace and quiet of our own company, who find social interactions and especially crowds to be draining? Yeah, even we are realizing that there is such a thing as too much solitude. The extroverts around us are suffering acutely as the restrictions on their social interactions have continued.

The isolation imposed on us by the pandemic raging around the globe is overwhelming our sense of well-being. I am seeing it in people I never expected to be as seriously affected as they are.

Recently I phoned a friend. I knew they were an introvert and fully expected to get voice mail and a return call when they were up to a chat. But instead of a return call within a day or two, I received an email a few days later that said, in effect, “I can’t cope with the phone.”

*Ignoring a ringing telephone can be difficult, but turning the ringer down or leaving it in the other room solves the problem. Temporarily.*

Honestly, that shook me to the core.

My husband is a serious introvert. He doesn’t like crowds, or having to make small talk with people he doesn’t know, but he does like to get out of the house, to walk around the local casino, or the grocery store. He likes the occasional presence of other people, even if he doesn’t want to directly interact with them, and even that outlet is no longer available to him. I can see it wearing on him, fraying his nerves and leaving him restless and unsettled.

I touched on this last week when I wrote about my well of creativity running dry. I had columns I could have posted. They were completed and run through my review board, ready to go.

But it felt like it was important to address the very real issue facing each of us every day as we try to negotiate the minefield that is the constant threat of a highly-contagious and life-threatening disease.

I have thought a lot about this in the last week, as well as in the weeks leading up to that post. My retirement was carefully planned and I was in the process of putting those plans into action when our world crashed headlong into a virus that didn’t give a damn about our plans.

We’ve distanced, and masked, and washed our hands thousands of times in the last year. We’ve used gallons of hand sanitizer, wiped down our grocery carts, given up restaurant meals, and not ventured more than a few miles from home. And we have maintained that vigilance for the last year.

It has taken its toll. While we have all experienced isolation in our lives, very few of us have experienced it this deeply, for as a long a time, and under such incredible threat. Combine that with a major life change (like retirement) and it becomes a perfect storm of emotional and physical stress.

Social distancing has removed so many of the small, organic personal interactions we normally experience. Exchanging greetings with a friend or neighbor in the supermarket? With one-way aisles you’re not as likely to see someone you know. Share small talk with a cashier? They’re behind a shield, and just trying to keep the line moving to lessen their exposure. Smile at someone you pass on your daily walk? With a mask they will never see your smile, and you won’t see them return it. The people you normally see at the gym? If your gym is even open, you make an appointment and keep your distance. Chat with a co-worker? Not when you’re 6 feet away, so that your conversation is shared with anyone in the vicinity.

*Even the groceries are maintaining the proper social distancing!*

In short, we do not interact with other humans in any normal manner. Every encounter is distant, rushed, and fraught with possibility for disaster.

I have talked privately with several people since last week’s post. Many of them had suggestions, tricks that they were using to maintain some social contacts, ways of filling the emotional well that helps fuel creativity. Some of them were new to me, and some were things I have been doing for months.

For instance, my kids’ birthdays were early on in the pandemic. We had Zoom-call birthday parties with friends and family. We could see and talk to each other, though it wasn’t quite the same.

My kids are gamers; my son is active in the gaming community, even helping run game conventions – even dealing with the challenge of running them virtually this year. But he missed the opportunity to hang out with friends and family and play games. We worked out a way to log into an online board game site while on a Zoom call, and have spent many evenings at our computers. As a bonus, we have learned a lot of new games.

*This is one of the new games we found on BoardGamesArena. How could you NOT try something called Battlesheep?*

One of my friends has scheduled a daily call with their elderly parent since they are unable to visit in person. Another checks in with a co-worker even though they work from home and regularly see each other in work calls.

We have had guests a few times, during the good weather when we could sit outside in a wide circle of lawn chairs, distant and masked. We will again when weather permits.

What underlies each and every one of the suggestions was the need for mindfulness. We have had to create opportunities to interact with our friends and families, and to create even more opportunities than we might have before. We need to not only maintain our social contacts, but to increase them in order to replace those small, organic interactions that happened every day.

For now, those consciously-created interactions are taking the place of dozens of tiny connections that we made every day. And it is the loss of those myriad fleeting moments, even with strangers, that is reinforcing the sense of isolation that is draining our emotional wells.

*I hope your schedule doesn't look quite this crowded, but there should be at least a few human contacts on there. Yes, you need them on the schedule since they won't happen the way they used to.*

So until the time when we can resume at least some of our usual activities we need to be aware of our need for social interaction and to take a mindful approach to making sure we fill that well with human contact in whatever way we can. For now, we can’t expect these encounters to happen naturally in the course of our day, we have to make them happen.

And maybe this is a lesson we can take with us into whatever the “new normal” will be.

Christina York

February 7, 2021

How Are We Doing?

Christina York

February 7, 2021

Well, here we are, it’s Saturday night and I have a column due tomorrow.

And I don’t have a clue what to say. This is the week I am supposed to talk about something fun, something that doesn’t necessarily relate to creativity (though, since I am writing it it’s likely it will on some level), something that I hope will make you think or feel something.

This is the week I share some fun thing I have seen or heard, even if it doesn’t fit the theme I have here – and the well is pretty damned dry.

It’s been a busy couple weeks for me personally. Our new hire started at the first of January, and I spent the first two weeks working on getting him familiar with the job. He’s a quick study, very bright, and he listens, takes notes, and seems intent on learning how things are working before he starts making wholesale changes.

Reassured, I went back to working from home this last week, but the transition has kind of thrown me for a loop. I am glad to be safely out of a public space, but the abrupt transition back to working alone was a jolt. And because of computer access issues I am mostly working late at night or on the weekend, so my schedule has gone instantly from a “day shift” to “night shift.”

Being home more also means I am doing some catching up on chores that I let slide a bit while I was putting in a lot of hours, and taking care of personal business that I mostly ignored the last couple months. (Tax time is coming!)

To top it off I have a minor medical procedure scheduled for Monday, which meant some lab work and a COVID test, and some dietary restrictions for a few days.

I am pretty sure part of what is going on is the continued isolation we are all experiencing. I am working on a post about how isolation can impact creativity, even when we may have been looking forward to a bit more time to ourselves.

But there’s a difference between solitude and isolation, and most of the creative people I know are feeling that difference deeply.

So today I am going to ask for your help, your feedback.

Tell me about what you’re doing to combat isolation, because I am looking for answers.

If you’re an introvert tell us about your reactions, whether you’ve exceeded your quota of “alone time” or not.

If you’re an extrovert how are you managing to keep yourself going when you can’t interact with other people in person.

If you live alone, what are you doing to keep yourself company?

If you’re isolating with a family, or roommates, how do you give everyone some space when you are all in the same place, all the time.

Consider this a place to share your frustrations, your triumphs, your failures, your concerns. Possibly someone else is going through a similar experience and has some insight to share.

Christina York

January 31, 2021

Really, Who Are You (Part 2)?

Christina York

January 31, 2021

We all learn rules as we grow up, we internalize definitions, and we establish metrics that set limits on our world.

Just as we need to define success for ourselves, we also need to rethink the way we define our roles.

When I was a kid I read incessantly, but it never really occurred to me that actual people wrote the books that filled my days (and nights, under the covers with a flashlight). Books were a magical thing all by themselves, an artifact that simply appeared unbidden on the shelves of the library or the paperback rack in the dime store. I didn't think much about how they got there, I was just grateful that they existed and could educate and entertain me.

*Doors like this were the entrance to a magical land. What lay inside was the work of magical creatures called 'writers.' How could I ever be worthy of that title?*

When I began to understand that authors wrote books I thought of them in the same way. Magical creatures that created worlds out of nothingness. I could not imagine them as mundane mortals with lives outside their creations.

Even when I gained at least an intellectual understanding that creative people were still people with lives and families and bills to pay it didn't change my perception of them.

They were something magical, with powers and abilities far beyond those mortal men. They were supermen. (And I still hadn't figured out that some of them were women.)

That. That right there is why I had so much trouble calling myself a writer. While my head knew writers were just regular people whose job was to sit in a room and make up stuff, my heart knew differently. Writers were magical, maybe even mythical - and I was neither. I was just a normal, boring girl who followed the rules and never did anything remotely magical.

*This is what that little voice is saying to you. You're not authorized, you don't belong. It's time to silence that voice - but that's easier said than done!*

And if I wasn't magic, I certainly wasn't a writer.

That was the root of my imposter syndrome, the foundation for that little voice that told me I shouldn't call myself a writer, shouldn't claim membership in that mystical band. That I was a fake, even after everything I'd done.

Now that you have given up your old identity as a butcher, baker, or candlestick maker, and embraced your new identity - however tentatively - if you haven't encountered imposter syndrome you will soon.

In our day jobs we didn't have any trouble identifying ourselves as clerks or managers, lawyers or accountants, linemen for the county, truck drivers, nurses or doctors. These were easily identified roles, and we fit neatly into those slots because they described the actual jobs we did.

Now our first impulse, as I discussed elsewhere, is to say, "I'm retired," rather than claim our new creative identity. But even when we do use our new description we tend to downplay it, at least in our own minds.

We can call ourselves a writer, or a quilter, or a cabinet maker, or a programmer, but there is always that little voice in our heads telling us we aren't really. We're just someone who dabbles in that pursuit, who's a wannabe, a dilettante.

An imposter.

Much has been written about imposter syndrome in recent years. Perhaps one of the most well-known example was from world-famous author Neil Gaiman, posted on his blog on May 12, 2017 (https://neil-gaiman.tumblr.com/post/160603396711/hi-i-read-that-youve-dealt-with-with-impostor). I urge you to read the entire post, but the short-and-sweet of it is that Gaiman was at a conference and lamented to another attendee with the same first name that he was sure he didn't belong. The other man replied that he felt the same way; he hadn't done anything, he had only gone where he was told. That man's last name was Armstrong.

Yes, that Neil Armstrong, first man on the moon.

*Even the man who left this footprint had his moments of "imposter syndrome."*

Now maybe Armstrong was just that humble - acknowledging that it took a huge team to achieve the goal of landing a man on the moon - but Gaiman's account certainly doesn't feel that way.

The point is that no matter what we do, how much we achieve, we all have uncertainty about whether we belong, whether we deserve the title we are claiming. This is perhaps even stronger when we move from a familiar role to a new one. When we are an old dog with a new trick.

This is more than not being the best; this is not being anything. A pretender. A fake. A fraud.

It is your own insecurity telling you that you're lying when you call yourself a writer, or an artist, or a maker. Telling you you're none of those things and you don't deserve to call yourself one.

Confession time. I am really, really bad about this. Even after dozens of publications I live in the fear that someone is finally going to realize that I'm a fake, that they are going to tear down the curtain and expose me for the humbug I am.

*It doesn't matter how much I create, I still expect to be revealed as a fraud. It is a battle each of us has to face again and again.*

More important, though, is the point illustrated by Gaiman's story linked above. Everyone lives with this fear. The writers I know and love, the ones I talk with about our lives and our work, our hopes and fears? They all feel this way. People who have been at this for thirty and forty years still worry about being unmasked as pretenders. We worry that we will be exposed, that someone will discover we have no clue what we are doing, and our deception will be uncovered for everyone to see.

The truth is that none of this matters. I have to keep reminding myself that we are defined not by our results, but by our actions. If you write, you are a writer. If you paint, you are a painter. When it comes to creative pursuits, your proof is in the doing.

Every creator has days, or weeks, when they simply cannot move forward. When the words won't come, or you can't get your seams aligned. When you have to walk away and take some time to regain your equilibrium. When your life interferes (more on this in another post), but as long as you keep coming back, keep practicing your particular craft, you are a creator, and you can call yourself whatever you want.

Don't let those voices in your head tell you that you are an imposter.

Maybe it's time to examine where those voices originated.

Think about what rules and definitions you've internalized over the years. About the myths that have formed around those magical creative people you don't think you belong with. Chances are there are plenty of those old attitudes hidden deep in your heart.

Take them out, examine them, and then discard them. Silence the voices that tell you you're a fake, an imposter.

Choose your new role based on what you do and what you love. That's all that matters.

Christina York

January 24, 2021

Recommended Listening: Dolly Parton's America

Christina York

January 24, 2021

Recommended Listening: Dolly Parton's America

WNYC Podcast, a co-production with OSM Audio

Hosted by Jad Abumrad

As with some other celebrity recommendations, I could not license the rights to any photos of Miss Parton, and will not knowingly violate any other creator's rights.

This nine-part series tells the story of one of the most iconic musicians in American country music. Parton has had a career that stretches from her early performances as child on local radio to superstardom and continuing success and influence today, more than 60 years later.

Parton made a career of being a blonde bombshell in a glitzy package, and the voice of a country angel. But when you hear her story you realize that she is much, much more.

Parton may be one of the most savvy businesswomen in the country, and maybe in the world. She recognized early on that control of her creative output was where the power and profit resided, and determined to retain that control, often in defiance of traditional music publishing.

While a quick on-line search will bring multiple lists of her accomplishments, awards, philanthropy, and personal life, you have to dig a little deeper, and talk to the woman behind the image, to get a full appreciation of her business acumen and her respect for the creative process.

Each of the nine episodes covers a different aspect of this powerhouse entertainer, and they are all worthwhile, though some are more focused on her performances, her fans, and her personal history. But in nearly every episode there are things to be learned.

There is an anecdote from another Parton interview that seems to sum up her approach. She wrote and recorded "I Will Always Love You" in 1973.

But it was almost a hit for a different artist.

It seems that Elvis Presley wanted to cover the song, and Parton was initially thrilled with the prospect; until she was presented with the terms Presley's manager insisted on. She would have to give up half the publishing rights to the song.

In that interview with CNBC she is quoted as saying, “Well, now it’s already been a hit. I wrote it and I’ve already published it. And this is the stuff I’m leaving for my family when I’m dead and gone. That money goes in for stuff for my brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews, so I can’t give up half the publishing.”

That story alone should recommend Parton as a strong, smart, and gutsy creative. She was willing to turn down what was certainly a guaranteed smash hit in order to retain control of her creation.

We all know how that worked out for her. The song was eventually recorded by Whitney Houston, used as the theme song for the movie "The Bodyguard," and became inescapable for a time in the early 1990s. It stayed at number one on the charts for 14 weeks. All while Parton retained complete ownership and control of the work.

Over the years Parton has often been a punchline for her appearance, her country twang, and her "hillbilly" background. She herself has acknowledged that in the famous line, "It takes a lot of money to look this cheap." This series allows us to look beyond the jokes and behind the music, and to see the savvy, smart, creative - and, yes, sassy - real woman who has given the world the gift of her music and her heart.

I highly recommend this entire series, and I dare you not to fall in love with the Dolly Parton you will meet in these broadcasts.

Dolly Parton's America, hosted by Jad Abumrad

Stream for free at the WNYC Studios Website https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/dolly-partons-america/episodes

Christina York

January 17, 2021

Freedom to Succeed

Christina York

January 17, 2021

As we start the new year and perhaps consider our plans and resolution for the next 12 months (and beyond) it might do to consider what success really looks like.

In our work lives we have had successes which are based on some fairly objective measures: the corner office, promotions, raises, benefits, power, control, the list goes on and on, depending on what kind of work you do.

I never had a corner office exactly, but when this is what's outside your office every day it certainly feels like you're on top of the world! — *I never had a corner office exactly, but when this is what's outside your office every day it certainly* feels *like you're on top of the world!*

We all knew, more or less, what the metrics were and we used them to measure our accomplishments. While they may not have been nearly as objective as we wanted to believe they were, they were an accepted shorthand for "success."

Now, with the stroke of a pen signing our retirement papers, all those day-to-day standards have disappeared. We no longer have the ready-made corporate standards by which to judge ourselves.

It can be argued - and I agree - that these are artificial constructs, that real success is measured in the personal and intangible emotions that define a life: love, happiness, contentment.

But like them or loathe them, they were the basic definition of our working life and they are gone.

What will you put in their place?

For some people the answer is easy: they define their success in material terms. A big house, or a luxurious apartment or condo. New cars with all the bells and whistles. Household help like cleaners and gardeners. Vacation homes in exotic locales. For them, these outward symbols of financial success are the measure of their lives, and they are content with them.

*My dream house always includes a pool - and someone else to maintain it!*

For others their success is defined by their families. The children who are successful in their education and careers. "My son, the doctor," is a cliché, but like all clichés it arose from continual real-world usage. (Full disclosure, my son is a lawyer and a college professor, and my daughter holds multiple degrees. Make of that what you will.) These are the proud grandparents whose social media is chock full of grandchildren's pictures, with captions boasting of their accomplishments, their cute comments, and their intellectual brilliance. For them this is the ultimate success, and more power to them. We need people who will raise and nurture the next generations.

But if you're embarking on your next act with creativity as your driving force you will need some new standards. You will need to re-define success for yourself and your new circumstances.

*It's time for you to write your own success story. You can choose how this story ends, and change it however works for you.*

Over the years I have talked at length with other writers who have had to create their own definitions of success, and for most of us those definitions have had to be revised again and again as the publishing industry changed around us, and as our own goals evolved over time.

I am sure it is the same in every creative field. For me, when I started writing seriously 20-plus years ago the ultimate goal was a book contract with a major publisher. It was a naive choice, but typical of a writer early in her career. I couldn't imagine anything more than getting that elusive contract.

That goal was however completely unrealistic. Not for the reason you might think, that it was far too lofty - in fact, my first contract with a major publisher was for three books - but because it was both far too low, and completely unrealistic.

Too low is pretty easy to deal with, if you think about it. You achieve one goal and you set another, higher, goal. It's what you've done all your life. When you were thirteen you wanted to kiss a boy or a girl. When that finally happened you wanted something more. When you were sixteen you wanted a driver's license and when you got it you started scheming about how to get your own car. You landed your first job and started figuring out how to get a better one. It's a pattern that's familiar to all of us.

But the other part, the unrealistic part, that's a lot harder to see. You may have encountered this in your working life. There are, after all, only so many supervisor jobs, and manager spots. There's only a handful of regional managers, and even fewer vice presidents, even in a huge multinational corporation.

*There isn't much space at the top. Which is why we have to decide for ourselves what success means for us.*

In publishing (the example which I am most familiar with) there are, or were, a finite number of books published per year. That's changed with the advent of indie publishing (like I'm doing with this series), but it was the reality when I set that first goal. I could have written the ultimate, absolute best all-time murder mystery, but I would never have sold it to Harlequin because they only published romance. Scholastic, the children's book publisher, was not going to buy a spy thriller set in Cold War Berlin. And every publisher had a limited number of slots available. Once they were full they weren't likely to buy your story, no matter how good it was.

In short, the goal of selling to a specific publisher, or any publisher, was out of my control. It wasn't that I couldn't hope to achieve that fabled contract, it was that I could not do anything to bring about that success.

I was defining my own success by the actions and caprices of other people, people who didn't know me or give a damn about my dreams and goals and aspirations. I had given those faceless first readers and editors on the other side of the country the power to decide if I was successful.

Instead I had to define my success, set my goals, and determine my own criteria for achievement. I had to set goals that I alone could control. Could I make that contract happen? Absolutely not, that was in the hands of other people.

But I could set a goal to finish writing that first book. I could set a goal of attending a writing conference to learn more about my craft. I could set a goal of reading a trade journal every month to become better educated about writing and publishing. I could set a goal to write a certain number of words or pages each day, or week, or month.

I could set goals that were about me, and that I could meet without depending on other people.

The covers for my foreign editions, which I published myself. These covers are a concrete reminder that I successfully wrote and published this series, and that there will be more books to come. And I can define that as success!

That is the ultimate freedom that comes from the combination of retirement and creativity. We can set our own goals, create our own definition of success, without depending on anyone else to define it for us.

Retirement gives us control over our creativity and our sense of accomplishment. That's the ultimate freedom.

Christina York

January 10, 2021

Creative Gifts

Christina York

January 10, 2021

In September I wrote about our local wildfires and the devastation they caused. I talked about the losses; not just of vehicles and structures, but of absolutely everything the fire victims owned. Many were forced to flee their homes with only a few minutes warning, leaving behind possessions both exotic and mundane – everything from clothes and shoes to kitchen goods, linens, and furniture. They were reduced to what they could cram into their vehicle in just a few minutes.

I described my own indecision when faced with a voluntary, preemptive evacuation. I had time to think about what to take and yet I still managed to miss some vital items (passports, anyone?).

*I think this will become like that old American Express commercial, "Don't leave home without it."*

We were lucky. The fire didn’t get close and we returned to a home that looked exactly as it did when we left. Friends and co-workers were not so fortunate.

In retirement we are not rolling in dough. Most retirees are not. We still were better off than those who lost everything, and we donated and volunteered though it often felt like a tiny drop in an ocean of buckets.

I had something else, though. I had a creative urge, some rudimentary beading skills, and a stash of materials. In short, I had a potential stash of jewelry.

Frivolous? Perhaps. But for women and girls who left home with nothing more than the clothes on their backs that tiny bit of frivolity could be a bright spot of “normal” in the barren reality of their loss.

Even more than my basic skills and accumulated supplies, I had friends. Two of them, women I have known for decades, recently moved to our small coastal town (fortunately, to one of the neighborhoods not threatened by the fire). They both have excellent skills, and their own hoards of beads, wire, thread, clasps, and tools.

One morning just after Thanksgiving we hauled out boxes and baskets of supplies – each of us masked and at separate tables – in their living room. We had done this once before, right after the fires, and found we worked well together, exchanging supplies and techniques, sharing ideas, admiring each other’s creations, and chatting amiably as we worked.

Fueled by our shared creative energy – and several pots of coffee – we set to work.

We worked through the afternoon, finally calling a halt when our hands were too tired to twist another wire and our eyes were strained from staring at tiny components as we tried out one combination after another.

We did not make as many pieces as we had in September. That day we had produced about 60 pairs of earrings. But our November workday still produced more than 50 pieces, including many bracelets and some necklaces, as well as couple dozen pairs of earrings – many of them holiday-themed.

*Our day's work. We put stoppers on each earring and placed each pair in their own zippered plastic bag. The necklaces were also bagged to prevent tangling.*

A few days later I met with one of the organizers from the local relief distribution center and handed over our bounty. I made sure she knew there were holiday pieces in the mix, so that the recipients could have something special to wear in the last weeks before Christmas.

*Some Christmas lights, and some mis-matched cloisonne charms. There were other holiday-themed pairs as well.*

We also talked about the not-so-holiday items as potential gifts. It was our sincere hope that someone still struggling with the aftermath of the devastation would find something pretty to give their wife/mother/daughter at a time when gift shopping is nearly impossible.

*Bracelets! We got a little crazy with the bracelets. Colors! Bead shapes! Crazy combinations! But when we were through? What a blast of creative energy!*

I know that our contribution is not going to keep anyone fed or clothed, or put a roof over their heads.

Those are all very real needs in our community right now, and they will continue for many months, or years. Clearing the debris from home sites is ongoing, and after that will come inspections and permits and replacing utility access.

Even the rare family that could immediately afford to replace their homes – and many of the lost structures were rentals, or older manufactured homes that insurers refused to cover – are finding that manufactured housing is backordered by many months and construction companies are booked well into the new year. It may be summer, or even next fall, before they will have a place to move.

I can’t operate a skip loader to clear debris. I can’t fund new homes to replace those that were lost. I can’t even spend my days shoveling ashes into dumpsters right now. There are a lot of things I can’t do.

But I am trying not to focus on what I can’t do, and look for the things I can.

I hope that I was able to share my creativity and make someone else happy, even if only for a little while. It is a small thing, but I hope it will bring a smile to someone. I hope some girl, little or big, opened a box on Christmas morning to find a bracelet, or a pair of earrings, or a necklace that brought her joy.

There is a postscript to this tale of creativity.

As I noted above, we often shared/traded materials while we were working. If I needed a particular color of bead and hadn’t brought the right thing, one of my friends would offer something from her bead stash, and I did the same.

I brought a bag of graduated beads in a pale pink/beige color but I didn’t use them. My friend remarked on them, and I handed them over to her, telling her she was welcome to them as I had no immediate use for them.

We got together on Christmas Eve, and exchanged gifts. And I got those beads back – knotted onto silk thread with a gold clasp.

*Not only is it lovely, it's an absolute perfect length!*

I will be forever grateful for her gift of creativity.

Christina York

January 3, 2021

Who Are You?

Christina York

January 3, 2021

As a mystery writer I was a big fan of the TV series CSI, and the soundtrack is deeply embedded in my brain. For those of us who remember either the series or the 70s, it's nearly impossible to read the question above without hearing Roger Daltrey demanding "Who the f*** are you?"

*When I need some inspiration, this soundtrack is often on my playlist. Especially that theme song!*

I was thirty when The Who released this album, and my answer to the question then centered around my family and my job. I was a wife and mother, a student who had returned to university after my kids were born, and the bookkeeper for my then-husband's engineering firm.

Now, as a retiree the question sits front and center as I contemplate the formation of my new identity, demanding an answer.

I left school years ago, and though I am still a mother my children are grown and on their own.

The business we owned then died many years ago, even before that marriage did.

Even the job I held for the last 21 years is now in the past.

So who am I now? A retiree, sure, but - at least for me - that is not nearly enough. Retiree implies who I was, not who I am right now, in this time and place.

*Even a fortune teller can't predict who you will be. But you choose who you are and who you want to be in retirement.*

As I said, this isn't a new question. We ask ourselves the same question in hundreds of little ways every day of our lives, and we answered it every day by our actions and the roles we played.

Until this moment. Until we walk away from those easily-defined roles in the workplace, there was always a safe, easy answer; I could always tell people I worked in the accounting department of a resort on the Oregon coast.

*The job had its perks. I took this photo from my desk, two days before Christmas last year. 53 days to retirement, and the chance to re-define who I am.*

I am not, was not, an accountant with a degree and certification, and I never claimed to be. My exact title was Assistant Controller, and the job encompassed a variety of duties. I could describe my job in a few words, and it gave strangers and acquaintances a handy role in which to place me.

I am no longer that person. In truth I haven't been that person, that role, for most of those years - or at least I wasn't only that person - but it was a safe way to label myself for public consumption.

I have always had trouble calling myself a writer. Other people were writers, I just hung out with them and sometimes I put some words on paper. Yeah, whole lot of baggage there.

Besides that, there is the ego-bruising exchange that always seems to accompany that revelation. "You're a writer? Have you written anything I might have read?" The reaction, the one you swallow, is to ask how in the name of all that is holy I would know what you might have read? Instead, you smile and shrug - and maybe ask what kind of books they like to read. So many times the answer is something you wouldn't write in a million years (never say never, you don't know what might come along) and you're left lamely replying that no, they probably haven't read any of your stories.

Really, who needs that?

Much easier to identify yourself by your job title.

Now that job title is gone, and with it the handy identifier that you have been using for years. Yes, you can just say "I'm retired," but like I said above that feels like who you were, not who you are.

Now is the time to decide who you want to be when you grow up, and then be that person. No, you're not going to pitch in the majors at 65 if you haven't picked up a baseball in fifty years, nor will you - well, what can't you do? As I was writing this sentence I really couldn't think of very many things you couldn't do if you really wanted to.

*I may never have a 100-mile-an-hour fastball, but I can still play the game if I want to!*

Learn to fly? Why not?

*My friend, romance writer Susan Grant, shared this picture from her "office." She wanted to learn to fly, now she's a captain with a major airline. Oh, and a New York Times bestseller!*

Become a fashion model? There are women in their 70s who are modeling, and they're in demand because some designers have woken up to the fact that the market includes women that age.

Study law, or economics, or physics? There are classes available in every community college, university, and graduate school for those that want to learn something they didn't get a chance to when they were younger.

The creative life is for anyone who wants it, and there is so much more time and freedom to create when the pressures of a day job are removed.

Your identity is yours to shape in whatever way you want.

Decide who you are, and don't be afraid to let the world know.

Christina York

December 27, 2020

Recommended Listening: Event Horizon

Christina York

December 27, 2020

Recommended Listening

Event Horizon: How Creativity Works with Anson Mount and Branan Edgens

by John Michael Godier

Anson Mount, actor/writer/producer, and Branan Edgens, editor/cinematographer/effects makeup artist, are longtime friends and the creative team behind the podcast The Well.

These two professional creatives have joined forces to interview a variety of other creatives about their lives and their creativity. But before we talk about their podcast (and I promise you, I will), I highly recommend that you listen to this interview.

I have to issue one warning about this podcast. It does have commercials (which you can skip), and I am in no way endorsing (or condemning) any of the things being advertised. I find this necessary, given that some of the ads I heard were somewhat questionable. You may not hear the same ads, or you may not find them problematic, but for my own sake I wanted to make that clear. With that out of the way, let's talk about this episode.

I would love to add a picture of Anson Mount (or Branan Edgens), but I don't have any pictures I own rights for and I don't want to violate any other creative's copyrights.

Godier is an excellent interviewer; he asks good questions and then gets out of the way so his subjects can answer them at length. This works well with Mount and Edgens, both experienced storytellers who are equally relaxed and articulate in front of a microphone. The combination makes for an hour that goes quickly with equal amounts of entertainment and information.

One thing I found particularly refreshing was the two subjects' response to the question about having performers and celebrities on their podcast. It seems that while these two are well-connected in the entertainment industry, they speak with Godier about their deliberate choice not to focus on those obvious choices.

Their other tenet, the basis for their series, is the belief that everyone is creative, that the impulse to create, to tell stories through our art, is a basic human impulse. Throughout this interview they reinforce that belief. I am sure we will come back to that when we talk about the actual series episodes.

The series itself focuses on their guest, not as much on the hosts, and as a result we don't learn as much about the hosts. This interview will provide a good introduction to the hosts and their approach to creativity, and to the thought process behind the series.

I hope you enjoy this introduction to Mount and Edgens, and I look forward to recommending episodes of their series in the near future.

Event Horizon podcast https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZlh7wJ3Dnc