Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum.
I’ve come to think of this post as one where you come for the music and stay for the conversation—so feel free to drop a note. The diarist gets to sleep in if she so desires and can show up long after the post is published. So you know, it's a feature, not a bug.
Join us, please.
Tips on Coping
I own three coping saws, each with different sized throats. Two that are relatively new (around 30-35 years old) and an ancient one that was my father’s (which predates my birth by some number of years.) I keep three types of blades handy: 10, 15, and 20 teeth per inch, and am fully aware that most master finishers have double that number. There is grip tape on two of the handles (to prevent slipping) from my old squash days and one tensioner isn’t original. Still, there were many years—through seven of my nine in college and on regular occasions since then, that I relied on these tools to help support myself. In trying to explain my own style, I harp on tension, rhythm, and angle. It’s a feel thing in the end~what’s comfortable and what instinctually seems satisfying when the job’s done. I prefer a pull-cut to a push-cut, but it comes down to personal preference and what sustains and supports your patience when a small piece of a much larger project consumes your time like a smoldering marsh fire.
From my father’s workshop to jobs, I learned that the word cope could refer to the top layer of brick laid as a soffit or overhang as well as the bend in an arch or vault. Being raised in The Church, I knew well a different meaning of cope: that of the long ecclesiastical vestment, sort of circular over the back, worn over the shoulders (often reaching the ground), and open in the front. From books I learned its use in falconry and to describe the muzzling of small animals. In school I learned its etymology and some esoteric uses in ancient literature—everything from a tribute or reward to a hostile engagement. In life, of course, I learned that coping is how we deal with a situation when we finally realize “life isn’t fair.” To cope, to deal with the burden of our being, is to invest actual conscious effort into solving personal and interpersonal problems; when we cope, we use learned and developed strategies to master, minimize, or tolerate the stress and conflict in our lives.
We are all coping at this time—whether we recognize it as that or even refuse to admit and examine the stress that is innate in these times of pandemic. We are all coping. Yesterday morning I did something I haven’t done in years. After getting my coffee and knowing I had an hour before I woke my son, I pulled up YouTube to hear my love sing in the fading silence of a cool Louisiana morning. While she left not that long ago and was here for several weeks on her last visit, it finally set in that she can’t return for some time and my trip to see her (planned for later this month) is postponed indefinitely. And so I listened to her voice and worked through the grief of missing her actual, physical presence.
That morning I sat and felt sorry for myself at least reminded me that coping—in the wood shop and in life—requires attention to tension and rhythm and angle. My own personal mechanisms involve routine and meaningless ritual, hard work and long moments of contemplation. Hellen Keller once wrote that once we experience something deeply we can never loose it, “all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” But we also have to learn to be without even those things that are a part of us. Or at least deal with it in non-destructive ways.
My son is having a tough time dealing with curtailment of his freedom of movement; several of my coworkers are having a hell of a time dealing with just being home for such an extended period of time. While I’ve gotten jig saw puzzles, cooking lessons, and other constructive projects lined up for my son, at this point those really are just distractions. I'm doing him little good by shielding him from the fact that he needs to learn to deal with isolation and periods of inactivity. Then again, this may not be the best time for homeschooling that particular lesson. Perhaps this goes for all of us in some ways: we need to concentrate on the cut and find the patience to handle the finest, most delicate shapes formed by unstructured time.
For more practical tips on coping (or at least those not involving extended metaphors, personal asides, and philosophical tripe), I recommend the Stress and Coping page at the Center for Disease Control and Prevention. Adults are reminded to take a break from all this depressing news, take care of your health (exercise, eat well, avoid drugs and alcohol), take time to unwind or do something you enjoy, and connect with others. The list for assisting teenagers to cope is a bit trickier. The list of things to look out for (in my opinion) essentially define “teenager” in this day and age: irritation, odd sleeping and eating patterns, acting out, avoidance, lack of concentration, use of alcohol or drugs. To help them cope the list does provide some helpful suggestions, one’s I think go a long way in times without a viral pandemic: talk to them, tell them how you feel, limit the barrage of news but discuss what there is with them, stick to routines, and be a role model.
If I could make one suggestion above all else it would be to connect with others. Call, Zoom, text, join the comments sections of on-line blogs, shout across the yard to a neighbor—just check in and do it often.
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Friday’s Lagniappe
This week’s highlight from The Bitter Southerner is “I’ll Take You There” by Max Blau.
“In the early 1970s, when Lawrence Lightfoot was 14, flames tore through his aunt’s house on the east side of Atlanta, leaving his family with nowhere to stay. One of the few places available was East Lake Meadows, a 650-unit development that was being built by the city’s housing authority. As one of the first families to move there, he saw promise in the pristine low-slung brick apartments and neatly trimmed courtyards.
After a few years, East Lake Meadows started to fall apart due its cheap construction and insufficient upkeep. Lightfoot remembers sewage leaks, roach infestations, and rats. Drugs and violence followed. The overall conditions worsened enough for East Lake Meadows to earn a notorious nickname: “Little Vietnam.” But Lightfoot’s strongest memories weren’t the sounds of police sirens, but the piano in his family’s apartment. His mother had bought the piano from the white family whose house she cleaned, paying for it in installments. One of Lightfoot’s younger brothers, Elgin, was drawn to it. They didn’t have money for lessons or sheet music. So when their neighbor dropped the needle on a vinyl record, Elgin played along. It was how he learned his first song — “I’ll Take You There” by the Staple Singers — and developed a skill that would lead to a music scholarship.”
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Grab your coffee or tea and join us, please.
What's on your mind this morning?