Small-Town Living: The Bell Tolls for Thee and Me by Nikki Strandskov

 





















Nikki Strandskov, aka Auntie Knickers or Nikki in Maine, is a (lately quite infrequent) blogger at http://auntieknickers.blogspot.com 
and member of the DorothyL group. She was born in Maine and grew up in various places as an Army brat, graduated from Brandeis University and Defense Language Institute-West Coast, and served as a Russian interpreter on the “duty train” from Berlin to West Germany in the early 70s.

Since then she has raised three children (with quite a bit of help from her husband), worked in libraries and as a church secretary, and done quite a bit of genealogy. Mostly it seems she buys books and reads them. She fights a never-ending battle with disorganization. Her dog’s name is Rusty.

Nikki Strandskov
auntieknickers@gmail.com
Bayberry Hill Genealogy
http://auntieknickers.blogspot.com
http://queuingup.blogspot.com

SMALL-TOWN LIVING: THE BELL TOLLS FOR THEE AND ME

by Nikki Strandskov


       Nearly six years ago now, my husband and I left Minneapolis, which had been his lifelong home and mine for more than half my life, for my home state of Maine. We bought a house in the town where I finished high school, in the midst of many relatives – a town of about 20,000.  We had lived in an even smaller town for a few years in southern Minnesota early in our marriage, but still many aspects of small-town life continue to surprise us. Here’s one.

       When local disasters happened in Minneapolis, we felt sorry for the victims, but they usually weren’t anybody we knew. Any help we gave was at arm’s length or farther, through the Red Cross or church perhaps. Even on the few occasions where someone we knew needed help with medical expenses, opportunities for donations were set up through church and the recipients were not told who did or didn’t give. Not so here.

       It’s a rare week in our town and those surrounding it that doesn’t have a number of public suppers (and sometimes breakfasts and lunches) to choose from. The regularly scheduled ones tend to be in aid of a church or some other organization like a volunteer fire department, Scout troop, lodge or Grange.  

Bowdoinham Volunteer Fire Dept. Bean Supper and Dessert Table

But quite often, the meal will be a benefit for someone who’s having financial trouble because of an injury, illness, or fire. I’ve attended several of these; two, in fact, for cousins.  Although Maine has a high proportion of people with health insurance, there are also many people who are self-employed or work in jobs with little or no sick leave, and they can have trouble paying for housing, heat and food if someone in the family can’t work. In these cases, friends and neighbors step in and hold a supper, sometimes with a silent auction as well. And whenever possible, the recipient and his or her family will be present to greet and thank everyone who comes.  There is no shame in their faces at such times, because everybody concerned knows that next week, next month, or next year, the tables could turn and today’s donor would be the one in need.

       I said earlier that I don’t remember seeing events like this in the city, but there’s an exception. The music and theater communities, whether in big cities or small towns, tend to look after their own in this way. It’s probably because being a musician, actor, or playwright is not unlike being a lobsterman or free-lance carpenter in terms of benefits and job security – there usually isn’t much of either.

       One of the communities I belong to is the mystery community of DorothyL, through which I “met” Kaye and was invited to guest-blog here. Other than attending a few reading-and-signing events, I don’t think I’ve met any of these folks in person. Yet we rejoice in each other’s triumphs and share in each other’s trials. Right now, one of our community members, writer and reviewer Kevin Tipple, needs help.  Through a perfect storm of health and financial problems, things that could easily happen to any of us, Kevin and his family need help paying for the bare necessities of daily life. You can donate securely here http://kevintipplescorner.blogspot.com/

       There are a lot of great things about living in a small town. One is the opportunity to know and help our neighbors, and another is the chance for our neighbors to help us. Isn’t it nice that virtual communities can function in the same way? If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you’re part of my virtual community, or Kaye’s virtual community, and thus within “six degrees of separation” of Kevin – and now you have the opportunity to help him. Another time?  Well, who knows. Could be you, could be me.
 

Workspace photos: Workspaces center, left and right comprise my computer desk. Among the projects which litter it are cataloging (in a very simple way) our 2,000+ book collection, adding to the collection, and trying to come up with a list of all the plays I have seen on stages since my first such experience in about 1962.  The other photo, of the tidier desk, is my latest completed small project – tidying that desk, which serves the family. The photo on the desk is of our daughter Cordelia, who was ordained as a United Church of Christ minister last fall and serves a church in Santa Cruz, CA.

Workspace Left

Workspace Center

Workspace Right

Family Workspace - photo of daughter Cordelia

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Reading Aloud and Listening by Nikki Strandskov

Nikki Strandskov (aka Auntie Knickers) lives with her husband, Onkel Hankie Pants, and their dog Rusty, in Brunswick, Maine, home of the wonderful Curtis Memorial Library. She is enjoying having a bit more time for reading after the end of her census employment. She promises to start blogging and contributing to DorothyL again very, very soon.

READING ALOUD AND LISTENING

by Nikki Strandskov

I have always enjoyed reading aloud. Perhaps it's because I learned to read very young, and demonstrating that skill was something that got me attention and praise as a child. In any case, I like it and I'm reasonably good at it. The first two cars we owned early in our marriage had no radio, so, as the non-driver, I would sometimes read aloud to my husband on long car trips. The books chosen were nearly always mysteries; at that time, in the early '70s, Onkel Hankie Pants was relatively new as a mystery reader (having spent his youth reading science fiction), so I caught him up with Sayers, Stout, Marsh and Christie. I doubt my British accent would pass muster with any recording company, but I did my best and at least kept him awake!

When the children came along, both of us were able to indulge ourselves in this type of performance. Onkel Hankie Pants, who was taking a summer class in Victorian literature when SonShineIn was born, read aloud portions of Thackeray's Vanity Fair to him in his cradle. By the time SonShineIn was 5, we had read to him all the Little House books as well as Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn (yes, unexpurgated -- one of the joys of reading aloud to one's children is the opportunity to stop and explain when language or values differ from one's own). Of course, he also enjoyed the usual picture books and nursery rhymes. Later, when the girls were born, they too learned that a sure and swift way to get Mommy's attention was to ask for a story.  And yes, all three have turned out to be readers.

I've also done a fair amount of reading in church -- both Scripture lessons and, for many years, a Christmas story at the Christmas Eve service in our old church in Minneapolis. Several years ago, when we moved from there to Maine, our youngest, Sisterfilms, the Christmas baby, mentioned that she missed our annual readings of some of her favorite Christmas tales. I began a project of recording them onto the computer and making CDs to send to her with a story for each day of Advent. These days, she transfers them to her iPod so she can listen in bed, on the bus, or wherever the opportunity arises. This year, I've signed up with a file-hosting service, and plan to make the readings available through my blog this December.

AND LISTENING....

So, for many years I've been the Reader; opportunities to be the Listener have been fewer. That changed last February when Onkel Hankie Pants and I were offered jobs in the Local Census Office in Portland, about a 35-minute commute from our home. Up till then, our only use of audiobooks had been on a few long car trips, since we commuted mostly by bus during our years in Minnesota. It only took a week or so of commuting before one of us realized "We could be listening to stories!" Off to the library we went. Our car has only a CD player, so we had a slightly smaller selection than if we'd also had a cassette player, but we were still able to find enough audiobooks to get us through 7 months of commutes.

Since we don't have completely similar tastes in reading, we needed to find books that both of us could enjoy and that neither had already read. This meant primarily police procedurals, hard-boiled detectives, and what I guess I'd call thrillers. These included three of Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch books, read by Len Cariou, and his The Lincoln Lawyer, read by Adam Grupper; Elmore Leonard's Mr. Paradise, Thomas Perry's Fidelity, Ian Rankin's The Naming of the Dead (wonderfully narrated with Scottish and other accents by Tom Cotcher), and Walter Mosley's White Butterfly, read by Dion Graham in a masterful performance. We also listened to Donna Leon's Blood from a Stone and, for a complete change of pace, two young adult novels by Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men and A Hatful of Sky.

I had wondered how the experience of listening would differ from reading. Of course, one thing is that you have to keep your wits about you -- it's complicated to go back a few chapters to remind yourself of what someone said or did. I'd read other works by all the authors except Mosley (I think I tried Devil with a Blue Dress years ago and gave up on it) and in nearly all cases I'd say the experience of listening was at least as good as, and sometimes better, than reading. Hearing Rankin's book read with the proper accents really put me in Edinburgh, and Stephen Briggs, who reads the Pratchett books, is as much a national treasure as Pratchett himself. The one book I felt did not come across as well was Blood from a Stone by Donna Leon. Her books rely so much on setting and, for lack of a better word, philosophy -- Brunetti's interior monologue -- that does not translate as well to reading aloud as a more dialogue-heavy or action-packed book does. I'll definitely read more of Leon's books, but I'll do it the old-fashioned way.

I did have one "pet peeve" about a number of the readers. All the books we chose were narrated by men, but most had fairly major female characters. Some of the readers chose to indicate the female voices by using a breathy, higher-pitched, parody-of-Marilyn-Monroe voice. This was not only annoying in itself (really, how many women, especially women police officers, do you know who talk that way?) but made for constant volume adjustment so that we could hear the dialogue above the ambient noise of driving an old minivan down the highway. 

Last week, our temporary work for the Census ended, and we were in the middle of a book -- George Pelecanos's The Turnaround. What to do? Well, yesterday we drove to Rockland to see some N.C. Wyeths (and other art) at the Farnsworth Museum. We took my artist brother along, and after giving him a short plot synopsis prevailed on him to listen along with us. Now we're on the last disk of the book, and listen to a few minutes every time we're in the car. Since I'm a visual learner and also somewhat distractible, I think I'd find it difficult to listen to audiobooks just sitting in the living room, but I'm glad to know they'll be there the next time we take a long road trip.

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Nikki Strandskov

Bayberry Hill Genealogy

In my mind I'm goin' to Carolina . . . by Nikki Strandskov aka Auntie Knickers

Nikki Strandskov was born in Maine and lived in several U. S. states as well as three German cities before settling in Minnesota, where she lived happily (mostly in Minneapolis) for 32 years. In 2005 she and her husband, Henrik, "retired" to Brunswick, Maine, near her brothers and sister and many other relatives. She and Henrik have one son and two daughters, plus one daughter-in-law and one daughter-outlaw, all of whom live too far away. At home, they have a tricolor English springer spaniel, Rusty, and a calico cat, Heidi.

Besides reading 100 or more mysteries a year, plus other books, Nikki enjoys genealogy, collecting Christmas music and stories, collecting hymnals, watching movies and blogging. Henrik writes hymn and sometimes song lyrics (two so far with North Carolinian George Keck), takes photographs, and also enjoys reading mysteries and books on Polar exploration -- a great interest to have when one lives in the home of the Peary-MacMillan Arctic Museum. Nikki blogs at http://auntieknickers.blogspot.com/ and at http://queuingup.blogspot.com/ (the latter is all about movies), and also posts book reviews at http://www.goodreads.com/ as Auntie Knickers and on DorothyL as "Nikki in Maine." She is awed to find herself in the illustrious company of Kaye's guest bloggers on http://meanderingsandmuses.blogspot.com/.
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“In my mind I’m goin’ to Carolina….” (James Taylor)

…North Carolina, that is.



And, except for two brief drive-throughs (one on a train) when I was 2 or 3, that’s the only way I’ve ever been to North Carolina. Yet, it’s one of my favorite states, and except for the odd politician, I’m predisposed to like anything that comes from there. Why is that?

Well, of course there’s the folklore. As an old folkie (non-performing variety), I’ve been enjoying the music of Earl Scruggs,



Doc and Merle Watson,



and James Taylor



for many years. Appalachian folklore – music, storytelling, handicrafts –



doesn’t take much account of state lines, but I do know that the famous Jack Tales, collected and published by Alabamian Richard Chase, came from the Ward family in western North Carolina. As a native and resident of Far Northeast Appalachia – Maine – the Scotch-Irish basis of much North Carolina culture is part of my culture too.

The land itself is beautiful, as I am reminded nearly every day in Vicki Lane’s blog – her photographs make you want to be there. I’ve been to the Rockies, which are majestic and amazing, but – I’m afraid of heights. The Appalachians are good enough for me – beauty and awe without the paralyzing terror. Kaye, my hostess for today, takes some great photos too, most recently giving us a taste of the Carolina coast on Topsail Island. Every description I’ve read of the Outer Banks has reinforced my belief that I’d like it a lot.

And then, there are the books. You knew I’d get to the books, right? At 10 or 11 it was Inglis Fletcher’s The Scotswoman. I had become a staunch Jacobite from reading Sally Watson’s Highland Rebel and then found Fletcher’s book on my mother’s shelves of historical novels.

A few years later, I discovered Thomas Wolfe – Look Homeward, Angel and You Can’t Go Home Again. Anne Tyler is now best known for writing about Baltimore, but she too is a North Carolinian, and I “knew her when” – having read her first two, North Carolina-set books, A Slipping-Down Life and The Tin Can Tree, shortly after their publication. Reynolds Price is a fine novelist, and his memoir of disability, A Whole New Life, gave my church Faith Exploration group much to discuss, as did Kate Vaiden. Clyde Edgerton, Lee Smith, Charles Frazier, Jan Karon, and Tony Earley are also favorites of mine and all North Carolina authors. I mustn’t forget to mention a publisher – Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill – whose imprint has proven to be a guarantee of good reading.

Now, since I “met” Kaye through the DorothyL list, I need to say a bit about mysteries. What a rich crop of writers have been born in or adopted North Carolina! From Sharyn McCrumb’s Ballad Novels (and I am thrilled to hear that a new one is on the way, featuring Nora Bonesteel), to Margaret Maron’s series featuring Judge Deborah Knott and her large, loving, and sometimes eccentric family, to Kathy Reichs’s books about sometime Tarheel Tempe Brennan – I’d thought maybe that was all there was and then Vicki Lane started publishing her Elizabeth Goodweather books. She not only writes a charming blog and takes great photos, she’s a heck of a mystery writer, and I’m impatiently awaiting her next, The Day of Small Things. Looking back a bit, do search out the stories and novels of Manly Wade Wellman, which are also deeply informed by Appalachian folklore.

But – what is it I really love most about North Carolina? The people. The first Tarheel I recall meeting was Sunnie Strauss, the wife of my 10th-grade social studies teacher. Jack Strauss was one of those stellar teachers who still influences me after 40+ years, and not least because he and Sunnie opened their home to me and my friends with a warmth that seemed natural then. Only as I have grown up, been a teacher’s wife, and had kids of my own in school, have I realized how unusual they were. We had great, deep discussions, a lot of laughs, and enjoyed their unique blend of Jewish and Southern hospitality. Jack is gone now, but – thanks, Sunnie.

In my junior year, I was in a different school, a Defense Department-run high school in Germany. I know I met many North Carolinian students, but what I remember most is my U.S. history teacher, Jerry Pierce. For someone who was taught Union marching songs in my Maine first grade class, his Southern take on the Civil War (oops, I mean The War Between the States) was a salutary lesson in the different ways one can view history. He also was brave enough to be faculty advisor to a weekly “journal of opinion” that I and some other students started. We’re talking about an Army high school in 1964-65 – need I say more?

One summer in college, one of my flatmates was Cathy Haas from North Carolina. It was a pleasure living with her and I still remember that she knew James Taylor and had a great recipe for whipped cream pound cake. A couple of my old friends from various high schools now live in North Carolina at least part time (both being somewhat peripatetic professors) and seem very happy there.

And last but not least, there are the cyberfriends. Kaye Barley in particular. Yes, I know Kaye is originally and always a Marylander, but she does live in and appreciate North Carolina now. She’s the unofficial social secretary and cheerleader for DorothyL, and, I suspect, of any group she’s involved with. I’m glad to know her. I’ve also had some nice email exchanges with Vicki Lane and Margaret Maron. Reporter Allen Breed, who’s writing a book on Malaga Island, Maine, where some of my ancestors lived, has helped me with my research and I, I hope, with his. I’m pretty sure some of my RevGalBlogPals are in North Carolina too. I’m just going to have to go there some day!
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Nikki Strandskov
Bayberry Hill Genealogy
auntieknickers.blogspot.com
nstrands@suscom-maine.net