Reading 2024 . . .

Dear you,

Christmas night, 2024. The day here, in Seagrove Beach, Florida, has been lovely, warmish, peaceful, clear. The local smooth jazz radio channel provided a soundtrack for this holiday. The selections aired surprised me, not typical in sound, tone, or interpretation.  Imagine a Dave Brubeck version of "Away in a Manger"; that I did not actually hear, but you get my point. Interesting, arousing, uplifting. I did my holiday thing atypically too in terms of food choices and activities. I fried up corned beef hash for brunch, sided it with a huge chunk of cranberry sauce. For supper, I enjoyed perfect albacore tuna with crunchy lettuce on toast. Ice cream with chocolate sauce await for later. Now? I feel rushed, like time is ticking, these precious hours, precious days. So much to say about the passing year. So much to testify to, like George Plimpton doing participatory journalism. Ah, yes, Plimpton. My actual/physical experience the past year has been informed by the whispers (or screams) of writers like him .  They are in my head. Here are the voices in my head from 2024:

Michael Cunningham - Day

Jonathan Franzen - The Discomfort Zone and Crossroads

Kristi Coulter - Exit Interview

Bruce Schneier - A Hacker's Mind

Ashley Poson - The Seven Year Slip

Adam Grant - Hidden Potential

Stacey D'Erasmo - The Complicities and The Sky Below

Brian Klaas -Fluke

Anna Quindlen - Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake

Rowan Beaird - The Divorcees

Laurie Frankel - Family, Family

Tracy K. Smith - Ordinary Light 

Richard Todd - The Thing Itself

Cheryl Stray - Tiny Beautiful Things

Pressfield - The War of Art

Catherine Newman - Sandwich

Amanda Montell - The Age of Magical Overthinking

Dan Morain - Kamala's Way

Bill Maher - What This Comedian Said Will Shock You

Zadie Smith - Intimations

Elin Hilderbrand - Swan Song, Golden Girl, and Hotel Nantucket

Kristen Miller - Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Books

Ann Patchett - Tom Lake, Run, Commonwealth, and These Precious Days

Joan Didion - Let Me Tell You What I Mean

George Plimpton - The Man in the Flying Armchair & Other Excursions & Observations

What do think about that collection? Do you see, do you intuit, some kind of overarching theme or message? Are those choices, gratefully pulled from my local library shelves, motivated by particular questions or hungers? Some titles are explicit in terms of why they called me (tiny beautiful things, run, a story of Kamala), but others? Who knows. I know that I enjoyed them all and was/am "stretched" by what these authors put on pages.

As 2025 approaches and our nation is tilting somewhere uncertain, I am concerned about access to the things I read in 2024.  Will public libraries be deleted, deemed as unnecessary expenses? Will contemplative works that examine the darker side of our nature be purged, forbidden?  Will our new "library" shelves only feature books about selling real estate, cryptocurrency brilliance, and fairy tales about the good old white/faux-Christian days? I cannot imagine that is possible or even probable. However, being the "participatory journalist" I am here in zip code 32459, it occurs to me it could be possible, probable.

What say I to that, what say you?  Easy answer: hell no. The lights (in our minds, our spirits) will not go out in 2025.

They (see the listed authors, among many others) have said too much, said too many truths with efficiency and artistry, to be erased or silenced in terms of legacy/influence. 

2024 ends. 2025 begins. What is my point? Please, support your local libraries, your academic institutions, your journalists, your neighbor who chalks poetry on your shared driveway, whatever. Support the voicing of experience and dreaming.

#Resist

Love,

Joyce