Category Archives: The Examined Life

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Katherine Gorringe: ‘Documentarian of living voices and stories’

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A film is never really good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet.
– Orson Welles, American actor, director, writer, and producer

Filmmaker Katherine Gorringe grew up immersed in the performing arts. As a musician and singer, she was active in theater, choir, and music throughout the Twin Cities, MN. At the same time, she was passionate about humanitarian issues. While a student at Northwestern University, Katherine pursued all of these interests through an ambitious academic program – a BA in gender studies and history, in which she researched social justice and radical social movements, and a conservatory degree in music. By the time she was studying abroad in Buenos Aires her senior year in college, she’d already decided that she didn’t want to become a professional musician. Film, so to speak, found her when she made her first student film. “The first time I picked up a camera and put it on something I cared about, I thought – ‘this is it, this is everything,'” Katherine said.

Katherine checks out her equipment while filming the short film, "Lady Parts."

Katherine checks out her equipment while filming the short film, “Lady Parts.”

She shot her short film, “Los Vecinos” (“The Neighbors”), in her host family’s neighborhood of Almagro. The townspeople were installing engraved tiles into the sidewalk to commemorate the lives and deaths of loved ones – brothers and sisters, children, parents, and friends – who were kidnapped and killed during the Argentine Military Government’s Dirty War of the 1970s and early 1980s. Some of the colorful tiles were placed in front of the missing person’s home or marked the site where the person was last seen. Through the medium of film, Katherine found fulfillment putting something artistic, beautiful, and meaningful out into the world and having people respond on an emotional and intellectual level. “It was a marriage of all my passions,” she said.

The Power of documentaries
After graduating from Northwestern, Katherine lived in New York for a couple of years, interning and working with filmmakers, including independent filmmaker Laurie Collyer. She fell in love with the West Coast when she moved to southern Oregon to farm and has remained out here ever since. While living in the Bay Area for a year, Katherine reclaimed “the compelling need to tell visual stories” and applied to grad programs in filmmaking as the next natural step in her journey. At the time, she wasn’t sold on focusing solely on documentary filmmaking, but her calling became clear when she sat down to write her application for Stanford’s Documentary Film and Video MFA program. “It felt so right,” she recalled. “I’m not a scriptwriter; I am a documentarian of living voices and stories.”

In recent years, according to Katherine, “the documentary film genre has blossomed, entering what many have considered a golden age with more films made than ever before with higher production value and powerful stories.” She was inspired by the 1976 film “Harlan County, USA,” which, she says, “opened up the possibilities of what a film could be” for her. The documentary chronicled a strike, called the Brookside strike, initiated by 180 coal miners against the Duke Power Company-owned Eastover Coal Company’s Brookside Mine and Prep Plant in southeast Kentucky in 1973. “When I saw ‘Harlan County, USA,’ I saw a group of people acting collectively and bravely for justice. I witnessed, understood, and felt deeply for their struggle,” she said. Not only did the documentary change people’s minds, but it did so by creating an empathetic experience for viewers. “[In documentaries], we see real people who we wouldn’t have access to in real life, who think a different way, and who have a different life experience, and yet, we identify with them and feel for them, and leave the theater having felt something, and it changes us,” Katherine said. “That’s my very idealistic moment about what we do. It’s what I love about nonfiction storytelling.”

While on a trip to Costa Rica, Katherine worked on a photography project on her family.

While on a trip to Costa Rica, Katherine worked on a photography project on her family.

The Joy of collaboration
At Stanford, Katherine paired up with classmate Emily Fraser to make a short film funded by a grant they received from the Revs Program, whose mission is to “forge new scholarship and student experiences around the past, present and future of the automobile.” As environmentalists, both were disinclined to “exalt the automobile culture,” according to Katherine. When Emily stumbled upon Lady Parts Automotive (3033 Middlefield Road, Redwood City, CA 94063, 650.369.5239), however, they both saw the potential. “A piece exploring the space and the themes of the space and what drives someone to have an automotive shop that’s built around women – it just really fascinated me, us, so we went for it,” Katherine explained. She and Emily “clicked really, really well” during the filming, but little did they realize that they would develop a strong bond with Lady Parts Automotive founder and owner Mae De La Calzada, and an affinity for her family, staff, and customers. This connection and appreciation lovingly shines through in their short film, “Lady Parts,” which was one of eight films chosen for the 2014-2015 Lunafest film festival, “short films by, for, about women.”

“Collaboration in film is so important and essential,” Katherine said. “That’s one of the many things that drives my work.” Her commitment to co-creation allows her to work with many filmmakers of many different styles and visions. With partnerships, she noted, filmmakers need to come together to present a film that combines both visions and styles. While filmmaking is rewarding and fulfilling, it’s also a lot of work. “A huge part of the collaboration for me for filmmaking is having that one person you can rely on to work really hard, too, and knowing you have each other’s back in the most challenging moments of the process,” she confided.

Behind the scenes, Katherine and Emily film "Lady Parts."

Behind the scenes, Katherine and Emily film “Lady Parts.”

Leading the way for environmental storytelling
Katherine’s passion for the environment and desire to continue making films over the summer of 2013 led her to apply for the Southern Exposure Film Fellowship, sponsored by the Southern Environmental Law Center (SELC). She, along with Emily and four other emerging filmmakers, spent six weeks based in Birmingham developing short documentaries about environmental issues affecting Alabama. Katherine’s documentary centered on local advocates’ efforts to open up dams that had been erected in the 1920s and then again in the 1960s, and educating people on the impact dams have on rivers and the environment. “I was inspired by Alabama’s incredible biodiversity and beautiful landscape,” she said. “I became fascinated by the possibilities of environmental storytelling.”

The fellowship program was only in its second year when Katherine and Emily were fellows. When the position of program director became available, Katherine immediately applied for the job, with the vision of growing this promising program. Now she returns to Birmingham every summer, where she is reunited with Alabama’s Southern Appalachian forest, rivers, cypress swamps, and sandy beaches. “Alabama is a special and beautiful place – I did not know this before I experienced it,” she said. “And some of it is still pristine and needs to be protected.”

Shooting the final scene of her Stanford thesis film, "Ostara."

Shooting the final scene of her Stanford thesis film, “Ostara.”

Katherine noted that the program is a great “training ground” for anyone wanting to make films about the environment. Not only are some of the issues polarizing, especially in the region, filmmakers are also challenged with invoking interest and empathy for nonhuman subjects – endangered animals and rivers or forests being destroyed. She envisions the program as serving as an “incubator,” where people can collaboratively develop solutions to these challenges and make impactful films. The involvement of SELC, which seeks to protect the environment in the South through the legal system, is also critical in expanding the program’s mission for even greater reach. “It’s not just me making a film on my own and hoping people will see it and it changes their mind,” Katherine explained. “There are concrete ways that our films are going to help someone who’s doing good and essential work like the Southern Environmental Law Center.” For example, advocacy tables are strategically set up outside the theaters, so when viewers exit the screenings they can learn more about the issues and can take action by signing petitions, volunteering, or donating to the causes while the impact of the film is still fresh on their minds. Having this network and infrastructure already in place is, as Katherine calls it, “a filmmaker’s dream, a way to have a direct impact on social and environmental justice.”

As program director, Katherine wants to grow collaboration and community building among filmmakers, who flock from different areas of the country and filmmaking programs and bring their unique vision and voice. “There’s a skill share that’s going on naturally,” she said. “Bonds are built over the summer.” Katherine envisions the fellows returning home with a new set of skills and connections. “What I hope the program will eventually become –and is becoming – and what I want to build it into is this network of fellow alums who can rely on each other and connect with each other to do environmental work through visual storytelling skills,” she said.

Katherine and Emily developed a strong bond with Mae while filming "Lady Parts."

Katherine and Emily developed a strong bond with Mae while filming “Lady Parts.” They chatted with attendees after the San Francisco premiere of Lunafest in September 2014.

Building community, creating a better world through filmmaking
While one of Katherine’s near-term goals is to make a feature film, she also enjoys working on other people’s projects. “I believe in community-building in every aspect,” she affirmed. Her hope is that her work comprises both producing films and bringing people together – audience, subjects, and filmmakers. For her own films, she strives for a more collaborative relationship between filmmaker and subject. In order to achieve that, Katherine pointed out, “It’s so important to think deeply about what stories you want to tell. That takes a lot of looking inward to find what you’re passionate about, what you’re really driven to say, and what you’re driven to show.”

Making films is enormously challenging and difficult, but one’s passion is the way to one’s liberation. “At the end of the day, in those darkest moments, you have to know that you’re doing something that you truly, truly believe in,” she said. When the going gets tough, Katherine advises, dig deep and remind yourself that “you’re on the right path and that you’re doing something that has always felt important.”

Filmmakers and their subjects huddle for a group picture at the San Francisco premiere of Lunafest.

Filmmakers and their subjects huddle for a group picture at the San Francisco premiere of Lunafest.

She is currently in preproduction with her film partner, Lauren DeFilippo, also a Stanford alum, on a film about the new space race to Mars. “We want to show people who are creating right now this future vision of being able to colonize Mars,” she explained. The various subjects run the gamut from scientists conducting Mars simulations to spaceship builders to researchers trying to determine if, for example, plants can be grown and women can reproduce on Mars. The subtext is how these activities are being fueled by the rapidly deteriorating state of our global environment. “That’s turned up the urgency to become an interplanetary species,” she pointed out. Katherine and Lauren are in the process of writing the proposal and reaching out to potential subjects to identify collaborators and participants. She hopes to start shooting this spring or summer, with filming continuing for a least a year.

Katherine feels like she’s just getting started as a documentary filmmaker, but she knows what she wants to do – make films that invite people to think and feel deeply. “Let’s talk about these things and see that they’re not black and white – and then envision a better world,” she said of her aspiration. “For my films, I’m interested in people who have a vision for a better world, a way the world could be different. I want to, as much as I can, tell those stories.” Katherine is quick to interject, “It’s not necessarily what’s wrong, but it’s about what direction we should be heading in: What are we looking at that’s right to take a step toward it?” It’s an ambitious aspiration and directive, and an urgent question that must be posed and addressed. But where there is hope, Katherine will surely be there, with her camera capturing it all – these steps in the right direction.

Emily, Mae, and Katherine at the San Francisco premiere of the 2014-2015 season of Lunafest last September.

Emily, Mae, and Katherine at the San Francisco premiere of the 2014-2015 season of Lunafest last September.

Meet the filmmakers at Lunafest
Katherine and Emily will be honored guests at the VIP event hosted by the Lunafest East Bay Committee on March 21st at 6:00pm, 638 Clayton Avenue, El Cerrito. Following the reception, the Lunafest film festival will be shown at 7:30pm at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Center, at 540 Ashbury Avenue, one block up from the VIP event. I will be conducting a short on-stage interview with Katherine and Emily before the screening, and both filmmakers will be available to meet after the screening. Come visit with them at either event. You can purchase tickets (for the VIP event/film festival or just the film festival) here or contact me directly.

Emily Fraser: Inspiring change, finding poetry in our lives through storytelling

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Film is incredibly democratic and accessible; it’s probably the best option if you actually want to change the world, not just re-decorate it.
– Banksy, pseudonymous English graffiti artist, political activist, film director, and painter

Real life is stranger than fiction, as the saying goes, which is what interests Emily Fraser about documentaries. “There are so many interesting, amazing stories out there that are waiting to be told, and once told they can affect our understanding and our experience of the world,” the filmmaker and graduate of Stanford’s Documentary Film and Video MFA program related to me in a recent interview. Emily and fellow Stanford classmate Katherine Gorringe directed “Lady Parts,” which was one of eight films chosen for the 2014-2015 Lunafest film festival, “short films by, for, about women.” Emily graciously took time out of her busy schedule to talk with me about her chosen path.

Emily Fraser, Mae De La Calzada of Lady Parts Automotive, and Katherine Gorringe, taking a break from filming.

Emily Fraser, Mae De La Calzada of Lady Parts Automotive, and Katherine Gorringe, taking a break from filming.

Marrying two passions
Emily, who hails from Virginia, studied environmental policy at the College of William and Mary, and worked in the environmental nonprofit sector in Washington, DC, and with a consulting firm that focused mostly on renewable energy issues. “I really cared about the subject matter that I was dealing with, but I felt that my strengths weren’t being fully utilized,” she said. Emily has always loved watching documentary films, but while the 2002 documentary “Spellbound,” about the 1999 National Spelling Bee competition, was one of the first films that she started thinking about “the people behind the camera,” she never considered it as a career or felt that it was accessible to her. As she continued with her day job, however, she began the journey of determining what she really wanted to do with her life and building up the confidence to pursue it. “One morning, I literally just woke up and had this thought in my head: ‘You need to be making documentary films. That’s what you need to do,'” she said.

While working full time, Emily completed the George Washington University’s Institute for Documentary Filmmaking certificate program, which was at once difficult and rewarding. “I just clearly loved it. By the end of the program, I knew for sure that’s what I wanted to be doing,” she said. Having an audience respond to her film was also an affirmative experience for her. “A big part of it was having the drive to work on environmental issues and realizing that film and storytelling can be such a powerful vehicle for changing people’s minds and affecting their emotions,” she explained. Film, Emily believes, is going to play a big role in driving the “sea change” needed to address global climate change and environment destruction wrought by our unsustainable economic system. “I want to tell stories that bear witness to the destruction but also that celebrate the beauty of the world that we still have,” she said. “I hope that I can create films that tap into our emotional intelligence as human beings and that can help us react emotionally to the problem and inspire change.”

Documentary filmmaker Emily Fraser celebrating the beauty of the world through film.

Documentary filmmaker Emily Fraser celebrates the beauty of the world through film.

In-between her two years at Stanford, Emily spent six weeks in the summer of 2013 in Birmingham, Alabama, on a film fellowship sponsored by the Southern Environmental Law Center (SELC). The organization brings together a group of new documentary filmmakers to work on short films about environmental issues that SELC is working on. Of course, environmental activism is perceived differently depending upon the region – with the San Francisco Bay Area being more receptive and the South more hostile than not – which is what makes the establishment of the fellowship a smart, strategic move. “They [SELC] realize the power of storytelling and the power of film to help people to understand and then change their minds and hearts,” Emily said.

While her film dealt with storm water issues, which required interviewing people who were active in that area and supportive of SELC’s stance, another filmmaker who was focusing on energy issues in Alabama faced resistance from potential interviewees who opposed SELC’s position. Roadblocks and challenges, especially unforeseen ones, are part of the documentary filmmaker’s world. Chalking it up to lessons learned from all of her films, Emily noted that the solution is to find a creative way around these problems. In the case of trying to access uncooperative subjects who shoulder opposing views, she responded, “It’s all about connecting with people individually and understanding where they’re coming from, empathizing with them, and trying to be very respectful of their opinions. There’s a reason why everybody feels what they feel and thinks what they think, and we’re not going to be able to have a conversation if we aren’t respectful and acknowledge that.”

Behind the scenes of "Lady Parts," Emily does some heavy lifting.

Behind the scenes during the filming of “Lady Parts.”

Emotional connection, emotional resonance
The themes of human connectivity and empathy not only guide Emily’s work, but they, more often than not, lead her to her subjects. At Stanford, Emily and Katherine applied for and received a grant in 2013 from the Revs Program, whose mission is to “forge new scholarship and student experiences around the past, present and future of the automobile.” The only requirement was that the short films had to involve cars. Although neither personally considered cars a burning topic of interest, they nonetheless wanted to continue to make movies over the summer and brainstormed for ideas. In a serendipitous moment, Emily was driving through nearby Redwood City and at an intersection saw a big sign for Lady Parts Automotive (3033 Middlefield Road, Redwood City, CA 94063, 650.369.5239). Amused, she and Katherine reached out to the shop to satisfy her curiosity. “We met Mae [De La Calzada] the owner of the auto shop and had just an amazing connection with her,” Emily recalled. The scheduled 30-minute meeting evolved into a four-hour conversation. “We were inspired by her and her vision of the shop,” Emily went on. “We got along really well. In that moment, we knew that was the film we wanted to make.”

What transpired between the filmmakers and Mae is a critical component of the filmmaking process for Emily. “When I’m looking for subjects, the most important part for me is having an emotional connection to it, having a visceral, emotional resonance, whether it’s to a character or the setting or the ideas that I’m dealing with,” Emily explained. “The challenge for me is finding things that resonate for me emotionally, that are creative and artistically inspiring, but also have a message that I want to convey.”

Emily and Katherine developed a deep connection with Mae De La Calzada.

Emily and Katherine developed a deep connection with Mae De La Calzada.

Finding poetry in our lives
For Emily, artistic inspiration can be found in unexpected places. When she was at Philmont Scout Ranch in northern New Mexico, producing short educational and marketing films for the Boy Scouts in the summer of 2011, she heard about a nearby ghost town. Dawson, once a bustling coal-mining town founded in 1901, was shut down in 1950 when the company closed its mines. Buildings were either relocated or razed, and the company told everyone to leave. Isolated, set in a canyon, Dawson today boasts nothing more than a giant cemetery. Still, Emily said, “I was really blown away by how beautiful this place is. I felt this magic when I was there.” She never forgot about Dawson and now this ghost town is her current project. Emily has been meeting with and filming former residents, most of whom are in their 80s. [Interestingly enough, the town’s most notable resident is Dolores Huerta, farm labor activist and one of the leaders of the United Farm Workers, who was born there in 1930.] Many of the former residents return every other year for a Labor Day Weekend reunion. “I love the metaphor of these older people who are losing their loved ones and their health, and they’re getting ready to say good-bye to the world,” Emily said. “But they’re doing it in the context of this town that no longer exists.”

Her filmmaker’s approach to this project speaks to her commitment “to finding the poetry in everyday while provoking discussion around pressing social and environmental issues.” Emily loves poetry – reading and writing it – and she brings that love to her work. “I try to come to filmmaking with a poetic sense of metaphor and playfulness and attention to language,” she explained. “I’m trying to say more by saying less.” At the same time, Emily pointed out, “There are also moments of poetry in our daily lives, and part of my job as a filmmaker is to recognize these moments and give them a platform to live on and breathe, so that other people can appreciate them.”

Filming by the San Francisco Bay.

Emily sets up her equipment by the San Francisco Bay.

Rewarding the brave and the relentless
Emily expects to complete subject matter filming for Dawson this year, with the onsite reunion being the final shoot. While the editing process and timetable are unpredictable, perhaps we’ll be able to screen her ghost town documentary sometime in 2016. As one can imagine, the process of going from concept or idea to final product takes a long time and is constantly evolving. Pre-production requires careful planning and clear vision to solidify the story, including making decisions around what is going to be told and what is going to be shot, according to Emily. Not surprisingly, changes occur during the shoot and in the editing room. “When you’re looking at the footage, new realizations happen, and you end up changing things again,” Emily said. “It’s such a creative process – every moment you’re making creative decisions, and it’s really invigorating and exciting. You can never just ‘paint-by-numbers’ – it never gets old.”

Emily strongly entreats those who are passionate about documentary filmmaking to take the plunge: “Go for it!” At the same time, she shares words of wisdom. “Don’t let yourself get in your own way because there are going to be other things that get in your way,” she said, with a laugh. “It’s going to be hard at times; you’re probably going to question it. But it’s a career that really rewards people who are brave and relentless.” She emphasizes that making documentaries consumes all of one’s time and energy, and it doesn’t make much money. Therefore, fledgling filmmakers need to earn a paycheck through other means, such as commercial work, teaching, and/or freelancing on other people’s productions, while carving out time and preserving energy for themselves and their own artistic projects. “It’s definitely a balancing act,” Emily admitted. “You have to be really passionate about what you’re doing, or you’re just not going to be able to do it.” Lucky for us, Emily has passion in spades.

Behind the scenes: Emily and Katherine capture Mae's warm and upbeat personality on film.

Behind the scenes: Emily and Katherine capture Mae’s warm and upbeat personality on film.

Meet the filmmakers at Lunafest
Emily and Katherine will be honored guests at the VIP event hosted by the Lunafest East Bay Committee on March 21st at 6:00pm, 638 Clayton Avenue, El Cerrito. Following the reception, the Lunafest film festival will be shown at 7:30pm at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Center, at 540 Ashbury Avenue, one block up from the VIP event. Emily and Katherine will be introduced with a short interview after the welcome and will be available to meet after the screening. Come visit with them at either event. You can purchase tickets (for the VIP event/film festival or just the film festival) here or contact me directly.

Mae, Emily, and Katherine join the other women filmmakers and their subjects at the San Francisco premiere in September 2014.

Mae, Emily, and Katherine join the other women filmmakers and their subjects at the San Francisco premiere of Lunafest in September 2014.

Sirona Skinner Nixon: Personal chef as artist

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Through all the world there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist: Give me a chance to do my best.
– Isak Dinesen, nom de plume for Danish writer Karen Blixen, from Babette’s Feast & Other Anecdotes of Destiny

As this year’s chef for the Lunafest East Bay Committee’s Lunafest VIP event on March 21st, Sirona Skinner Nixon intends to do what she’s always done as a private chef – “to provide food that is unique, beautiful, and deeply flavorful, and to wow and delight my clients and their guests.” Based on the glowing reviews of her work, there’s good reason to believe that she will meet and exceed great expectations.

Sirona and her mom Nancy Skinner cooking in her mom's home in Berkeley.

Sirona and her mom, Nancy Skinner, cooking in her mom’s home in Berkeley.

Berkeley roots,
grandma’s cooking
The daughter of recently retired California State Assemblywoman Nancy Skinner, Sirona grew up in Berkeley – the “birthplace of California cuisine” – and attended Martin Luther King, Jr. Middle School, where Chez Panisse (1517 Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley, CA, 510.548.5525) owner Alice Waters co-founded the original Edible Schoolyard. Waters pioneered the culinary philosophy of sourcing fresh, seasonal ingredients that are locally and sustainably grown. “At a young age, I understood that food tastes better when it’s prepared with ingredients at the peak of their season,” Sirona said. She remembers her excitement over taking an after-school cooking class in seventh grade. “We used the lettuce grown right there in the schoolyard to make a simple salad showcasing the beauty and flavor of the leaves,” she recalled. As a child, she was – and still is – a big fan of the popular Cheese Board (1504-1512 Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley, CA, 510.549.3183). Noting that her favorite childhood breakfast was a fresh warm cheese roll from the Cheese Board, she said, “I understood what good bread was, what the difference in flavor and texture was between the over-processed stuff at the supermarket and the good fresh stuff that was made with time and care.”

Sirona's grandmother Helene Hurd Nixon.

Sirona’s grandmother Texas Helene Hurd Nixon.

Even with the Berkeley influence, it’s clear that her culinary love was in her DNA. While other kids watched cartoons, when she was as young as two years old, Sirona was mesmerized by cooking shows hosted by chefs such as Jacques Pépin. She’d wait all week for Saturday mornings to jump on her parents’ bed and ask to turn on the television set to the PBS station KQED. Most importantly, she was inspired by her grandmother, Helene Hurd Nixon, who cooked family dinners several times a week right up until she passed away – at age 102. Some of Sirona’s fondest childhood memories were watching her grandmother make macaroni and cheese, buttermilk pancakes, French toast, crispy chicken, and glazed carrots in her grandmother’s small apartment kitchen.

Her grandmother encouraged her to experiment with ingredients, which included knowingly allowing Sirona to mix ingredients that weren’t going to work well together so she could find out for herself by tasting her creations. “This is the way we learn – throw it together and see what happens,” she said, of her grandmother’s philosophy. This trial-and-error experience became the foundation for what she loves most about her work – “creativity in menu development – combining flavors and combining dishes on a menu to tell a story.” Sirona’s cooking style pays homage to her grandmother’s “1950s Americana” style, which she says was infused with “a lot of love.” She added, “I love plays on sweet and savory combinations and elevated comfort food.”

Sirona and her wife, Sinead, campaigning for her mom's State Assembly primary race in 2008.

Sirona and her wife, Sinead, campaigning for her mom’s State Assembly primary race in 2008.

A Mom’s influence
Sirona credits her “superhuman” mother, Nancy, for her drive and determination. “It still blows my mind that she ran for Berkeley City Council at age 26 while pregnant with me and still a student at Cal,” Sirona said. “She has always pushed me hard to do better and achieve more.” Her mother instilled in her a “conscientiousness” about the provenance of ingredients and how they’re produced, and their impact on our health and environment, which led Sirona to pay attention to her menus’ “carbon footprint.” Her mother’s undergraduate work as a naturalist also influenced Sirona’s philosophy of sourcing fresh, local ingredients. “She has an encyclopedic knowledge of local edible plants,” Sirona said. “She used to take me on walks through our neighborhood in Berkeley and point them all out. We’d sample loquats, blackberries, sour grass, and nasturtium.”

Sirona's mom helps out with dishes after a pop-up dinner.

Sirona’s mom helps out with dishes after a pop-up dinner.

Sirona earned her Bachelor of Arts degree in community studies from the University of California at Santa Cruz (UCSC), which put her on a path slightly similar to the one her mother took. She still harbored a love of cooking, but feared jumping into that career and instead followed her mother’s advice to get a well-rounded education. While at UCSC, she completed a semester-long field study, participating in food service job training – essentially, a cooking school – for low-income and homeless people at the now-defunct Haight-Ashbury Food Program in San Francisco. The program taught her the difference between charity and social change. “Charity is a Band-aid over the problem, but if you go to the core of the problem and give people the tools to make a change and have a career, you can make lasting change,” she said. Participating in the program made her realize that she could no longer push aside her love of cooking, and upon graduation, she set out to follow her passion.

At work at BayWolf Restaurant in 2010.

At work at BayWolf Restaurant in 2010.

Following her passion
Sirona cut her culinary teeth, so to speak, at Michael Wild’s BayWolf Restaurant (3853 Piedmont Avenue, Oakland, CA, 510.655.6004), where her wife and business partner, Sinead O’Rourke, also worked. For five years, she worked her way up the ranks, from lunch chef, who is responsible for planning all lunch menus, to sous chef. “That restaurant was all about local, seasonal California cuisine, which was a huge foundation for me,” she said. In 2012, Sirona and Sinead moved to New York City, where they both worked for Danny Meyer’s Maialino restaurant, in the Gramercy Park Hotel. Sirona was in charge of the fresh pasta for its menu of classic Roman-Italian soul food and served as a party chef at his events company.

At Maialino Restaurant in New York City.

At work at Maialino restaurant in New York City in 2012.

Working in a restaurant with the line cooks is akin to being on a sports team and developing a tight camaraderie. Sirona acknowledged that lifestyle changes such as settling down and raising a family, however, required a shift from the physically demanding career paths of either owning and opening up a restaurant or getting promoted to executive chef. Most executive chefs, in fact, no longer cook, which is at the heart of why Sirona is in the business in the first place. Her eight-plus years in the restaurant business provided the foundation she needed to be a successful private chef, such as learning how to cook in an open hearth and wood oven, and making flawless handmade pasta. “I look at restaurant work as a rite of passage, a school to graduate from,” she explained.

Sinead and Sirona cheffing a 30-guest dinner.

Sinead and Sirona cheffing a 30-guest dinner at the host’s home.

While culinary schools and training are important, Sirona emphasized that being technically perfect isn’t enough. You have to have a “built-in or nurtured palate” to make a delicious meal that is infused with soul and love. “That’s what separates me from a lot of cooks,” she said. “You have to pay attention to your own palate when you’re layering and developing flavors.

Sirona and Sinead plating dinner.

Sirona and Sinead plating dinner.

Bay Area homecoming
Sirona and Sinead’s stay in New York City was also temporary, but their three years of success there gave them the confidence to become self-employed under their private chef business, S&S Foods, and return to their “incredible network of friends and family” and make the Bay Area their permanent home. “One of the beauties of being a private chef is you can really do it anywhere,” she noted.

“My favorite thing in the world is menu development, and the private work we do allows me to create something totally unique for every event,” Sirona said. While Sirona serves as chef, Sinead runs the hospitality part of their business, making guests feel welcomed and relaxed, thanks to what Sirona cheekily calls Sinead’s “gift of gab” – handed down from her Irish heritage – and her warm personality. “Working for ourselves and having the freedom to cook the foods that we want to cook is a dream,” Sirona said. “I get to physically cook every single day and earn a real living.”

Making a great team in life and work, Sirona and Sinead in 2007.

Making a great team in life and work, Sirona and Sinead in 2007.

In Manhattan, Sirona and Sinead’s clients hosted events in their amazing homes, including museum-like penthouses, but one of their most memorable events since coming back to the Bay Area was cheffing a 70th birthday celebration for a Napa family’s grandmother – an al fresco dinner in an autumn garden setting. “They were such a sweet family and so appreciative of our food and service,” Sirona enthused. “I remembered thinking, ‘I can’t believe this is work; I am so lucky to be able to support myself doing what I love surrounded by so much happiness and beauty.'” While she and Sinead eventually want to open a small brick-and-mortar food business, right now their private chef business is “perfect for us,” she said.

Come meet Sirona and Sinead, and enjoy their culinary offerings at the 6pm VIP reception at 638 Clayton Avenue in El Cerrito, CA. The Lunafest screening begins at 7:30pm at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Center, 540 Ashbury Avenue, one block over from the VIP event. Tickets for both the VIP reception and films are $50 per person. You can purchase the tickets here or contact me directly. Bon appétit!

Sirona Skinner Nixon (photo credit: Albert Law, Pork Belly Studio).

Personal chef Sirona Skinner Nixon (photo credit: Albert Law, Pork Belly Studio).

 

Praising the struggle, the beauty of ‘yet’

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If parents want to give their children a gift, the best thing they can do is to teach their children to love challenges, be intrigued by mistakes, enjoy effort, and keep on learning. That way, their children don’t have to be slaves of praise. They will have a lifelong way to build and repair their own confidence.
– Carol Dweck, American professor of psychology and one of the world’s leading researchers in the field of motivation

Carol Dweck listens raptly to a parent's request for advice.

Carol Dweck hears out a parent’s request for advice.

Last Thursday at El Cerrito High School, Stanford professor and educator Carol Dweck told an audience comprising mainly parents and educators that we need to nurture our children and students, respectively, as learners who can grow and continue to grow as a result of our experiences with struggling, working through conflicts, and overcoming challenges. She warned that praising our children’s intelligence and ability doesn’t foster self-esteem; in fact, her research shows that such praise leads them to believe that they don’t have to work hard because they’ll get by on their smarts and natural ability. When faced with hardship, they flee or shut down because having to work hard will expose them as frauds – they’re not smart after all – in their minds and in the eyes of everyone around them. Studies show that fear of failure often trumps the desire to invest in the effort to overcome obstacles.

Dweck noted that the self-esteem movement, which instructed parents and teachers to praise kids and tell them how smart they are at every opportunity, is responsible for this “fixed mindset” mentality. Telling kids that they’re smart or they’re natural athletes also feeds into this mindset that your intelligence and skills are set for life. Research shows that they are far from set. When exposed to new stimuli, our brains reorganize neural pathways, making learning, struggles, and different experiences wonderful opportunities for our brains to grow. In order for new knowledge to be retained in memory, changes in the brain representing new knowledge must occur. In other words, you can’t grow unless you’re exposing yourself to different experiences, challenges, and struggles, and taking risks. That’s the thesis of Dweck’s book, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, which was first published in 2006 to wide acclaim and embraced by preschools and schools across the country since its release.

The conclusion of a very inspirational talk at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Theater.

The conclusion of a very inspirational talk at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Theater.

Abandoning the non-learner mindset
While I constantly tell the kids that few things in life are easy and if they were life would surely be boring, I am guilty of this learner/non-learner mindset. Case in point: my daughter has loved animals since she was a toddler. Many people have commented through the years that Isabella’s calling ought to be as a veterinarian, given her compassion toward all animals and the solutions she seeks for protecting or rescuing animals in danger. I thought this would be her path, too, until David and I saw her struggle in the primary grades with math and science. I worried that either she had a learning disability or just didn’t have the knack for math because she would go over concepts time and again that seemed, at least to me, fairly easy to grasp for her age and abilities. I was alarmed when she was forgetting and relearning multiplying and dividing fractions throughout one academic year. I consoled myself with the fact that Jacob got the engineering side from David – he loves building and he excels in math and science – and Isabella got her creativity from me. She has a wonderful imagination, loves to tell and write stories, and is stronger academically in language arts. The trait that I love the most about her, however, is her compassion for all living things and her sense of stewardship of the earth. Oh well, I thought to myself, although she’s “weak” in math and science, she doesn’t have to be a vet to take care of animals.

Signing away....

Signing away….

Dweck would have smacked me for shutting the doors and closing the windows. For one thing, who knows if Isabella is even interested in pursuing such a career. But more importantly, I’ve just labeled her a non-learner with fixed intelligence and skills, incapable of taking difficult math and sciences classes required of pre-vet majors in undergraduate school and soldiering on. Again, Dweck pointed to research that supports the brain’s capacity to grow through challenges and hard work. While she noted that not everyone can be Einstein, even Einstein had to put in years of hard labor to become who he was. Dweck acknowledged that you can have a fixed mindset in one area and a growth mindset in another, but the bottom line is that you shouldn’t shut doors. You should encourage and support. You should validate that hard work pays off. Her advice to teachers to give to students – “I have complete faith in your ability to learn and grow, and we will work with you until that happens” – is a promise that parents can offer in the home.

Grades and working hard
Dweck would also point out that my emphasis on grades is wrong-headed. And I admit that she’s right. I didn’t use to nag about grades in elementary school or even middle school. I emphasized working hard, making learning fun and interesting, being your own advocate, and getting organized. But once Jacob entered high school, suddenly everything changed – with the changes coming from me. I warned him at the end of eighth grade that once he hit ninth grade, “grades mattered.” There was no turning back now. If he wants to get into one of the higher-ranking University of California schools – and I’m not even talking about the stratospherically-out-of-league Cal or UCLA campuses – he has to work for A’s. An 88 on a Spanish test, which he thought was pretty good, was not acceptable to me. I’ll admit that I was aghast that he accepted that score because to me it were beneath a good, conscientious student’s standards. What I really should have asked him was whether he learned something from studying and taking the test. Did he retain any of the Spanish words, phrases, sentences, or meanings? Did he learn how to prepare himself better for the next test?

On my way to an educational evening.

On my way to an educational evening sporting a ruffled bolero, boyfriend jeans, and vintage purse.

Since he entered high school this past fall, I’ve struggled internally over putting too much emphasis on grades. I sincerely want him first and foremost to be a critical thinker, writer, and reader because ultimately these are the skills that will serve all college students well, no matter what they major in, and all adults in their working world and for the rest of their lives. I don’t hesitate to point out to him how his English papers can be written more clearly, logically, succinctly, and thoughtfully. I must be making headway in this area because he shocked me by thanking me for my help on his last essay for his cultural geography class. I mark up the usual grammatical errors and words that spellcheck missed. But I also ask questions about some of his statements, which force him to think more deeply about what he had written, what he unwittingly had left out, and what he was trying to say. Dweck pointed out that if you focus on working hard and overcoming challenges, you appreciate your accomplishments more, it inspires you to continue on that path of persistence, you gain more confidence in your abilities, your brain’s neural pathways light up like firecrackers (my words, not hers), and you end up earning good grades as a by-product.

When I was in college, I cared about grades, but I cared more about loving what I was doing in my classes and soaking it all in – reading great and minor works of literature, analyzing these works through literary criticism, writing short stories and poems and sharing and critiquing the original works of my classmates, and discovering Asian-American history within our country’s history. I truly loved learning for the sake of learning. I couldn’t imagine majoring in anything but English; if I had gone into nursing or business, which were areas of study my mother had gently pushed for, I would have been miserable. So I followed my passion and that’s what I tell my kids to do.

Chocolate and brass: vintage purse (Feathers, Austin, TX), ruffled platform peep-toe pumps, Sundance belt, Laura Lombardi necklace and hoops (Eskell, Chicago), and reclaimed vintage bracelets by M.L. Moore (Green & Gorgeous, Berkeley, CA).

Chocolate and brass: 1940s vintage purse (Feathers, Austin, TX), Anthropologie ruffled platform peep-toe pumps, Sundance belt, Laura Lombardi necklace and hoops (Eskell, Chicago), and reclaimed vintage bracelets by M.E. Moore (Green & Gorgeous, Berkeley, CA).

Despite my lapses in parental judgment regarding grades, I have been sharing with my kids my stories of working hard and struggling with the hope that they’ll appreciate how I learned and grew from these experiences and apply perseverance in their own lives. For example, it took me 17 years to write my first novel and not abandon it when so many things, such as my job and other obligations, kept me from writing. When I sent out a version of my novel back in 2005, I was crushed by the tens of rejections from literary agents, and I let the rejections shut me down for several years. But my passion wouldn’t allow me to remain silent, and nearly three years after the last rejection letter of not writing or reading fiction, I picked myself up off the shoulder of the road and started writing again. And in those years, in those struggles and dark days, I became a better writer – better than when I started on the novel in 1998 and when I sent out the manuscript in 2005. These are the stories I need to remember to keep telling when my first thought is to ask Jacob about his grades when we talk about school at the dinner table.

A great combo: chocolate and brass.

A great combo: chocolate and brass.

The Beauty and promise of ‘yet’
One of the things I appreciated from Dweck’s talk was the beauty of “yet.” Instead of looking at a low grade on a test as a failure, we should view it as a concept or a subject matter that they haven’t learned yet. Instead of saying, “I’m not a math person,” we should say, “I’m not a math person yet.” Last night, Jacob told me that math hasn’t been fun since seventh grade, which I had noticed but tried to ignore. He complained that concepts were becoming more difficult for him to grasp and by the time he understands them, the test has already been administered. I quickly thought of Dweck. I dutifully told him that when he comes to understand the concept and solve the math equation, he’ll appreciate the victory more and feel a greater sense of pride because he struggled and pushed through to the other side. Persistence won over apathy. And then, breaking the spell of that revelation, that epiphany, David piped in that opening up the textbook doesn’t hurt, either.

As for Isabella, who knows if going to vet school is something she will want to pursue when she’s 18 years old? It might be the furthest thing on her mind when she’s filling out college applications six years down the road. I just want to make sure that the reason she doesn’t want to go – especially if it’s her passion – isn’t because the path is too hard. That’s where mindset parenting needs to step up: embrace the struggle and believe in the promise of and the journey to “yet.” And know that we parents, who are also continuing to learn and grow, are supporting our kids – all the way to the moon and back.

Adding stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito CA) and Anthropologie chocolate bolero jacket.

Adding stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito CA) and Anthropologie chocolate brown bolero jacket to this ensemble photo.

Lost, found, and forever kept: sisterhood and cousinhood

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Jo’s face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her, and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg observed it, but did not trouble herself to make inquiries, for she had learned that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so she felt sure of being told everything if she did not ask.
– Louisa May Alcott, American novelist, from Little Women

Celebrating Jacob's 5th birthday and my mom's 80th birthday, with Joshua and Isabella, June 2005.

Celebrating Jacob’s 5th birthday and my mom’s 80th birthday, with Joshua and Isabella in Folsom, June 2005.

When the kids were younger, I used to take them on weekend trips to my sister’s home in Folsom, about an hour-and-a-half drive from the Bay Area. My mom had been living with my middle sister Joyce and her husband when my nephew, Joshua, was born almost 18 years ago. Jacob was born 3.5 years later. When Isabella came along 2.5 years after Jacob, and David was working a lot of overtime hours, I sought refuge, relief, and motherhood support in Folsom. There, my mom doted over her three grandkids and I hung out, exhausted on the family room sofa, enjoying the cozy retreat. Oftentimes, I had to bring work, but I always carved out time for catching my breath, flipping through Joyce’s stack of People magazines late at night, and gabbing around the kitchen table.

The grandkids and Nellie at my mom's grave site in Folsom, Christmas Day 2014.

The grandkids and Nellie at my mom’s grave site in Folsom, Christmas Day 2014.

We visited a lot, and my kids really loved spending time with their cousin and their “lola,” my mom. Once Jacob started playing youth baseball, my work encroached beyond the 50-hour work week, and the three-hour roundtrip became too onerous, we didn’t visit as much. Joshua didn’t want February birthday parties anymore, so we didn’t come that month, and soon, we only came at Easter, my mom’s birthday in June, and Christmastime, then just June and December. I harbored feelings of regret, which got eaten whole, by everyone’s schedule and the resulting exhaustion. The kids complained about not visiting as often, and after my mom passed away three years ago, it was difficult when we did visit. Somehow, Jacob and Isabella became aware of the fact that when kids graduate from high school, they “go away from the house” afterwards, whether it be for college or work.

Their oldest cousin, Nick, on David’s side of the family, Joshua, and my college roommate’s son Grant are all seniors this year. In Jacob’s and Isabella’s eyes, they were going to be leaving their homes and that meant the two of them wouldn’t be able to see them easily anymore. Last year, they started lobbying for me to set up the next dinner with my college roommates so they could get together again with Grant and his younger brother Michael. They wanted to stay longer in Stockton, where David’s parents live, during the holidays to visit with Nick and their other cousins. And they especially bugged me about going to Folsom more – like old times – so they could hang out with Joshua. I’m glad they infused me with their urgency, which ignited my own urgency, which had been smothered by my to-do list and other obligations.

Ready for the short road trip to Folsom in comfortable clothes.

Ready for the short road trip to Folsom in comfortable clothes.

Though I didn’t have Martin Luther King, Jr. Day off, the kids had a three-day weekend, Jacob finished his semester so he didn’t have any weekend homework, and we had no sports commitment on Saturday. Seize the day, I told myself. Go to Folsom. The kids were ecstatic. And even I looked forward to relaxing a bit, which I wasn’t able to do this past Christmas in Folsom. I even looked forward to driving, listening to mellow music, letting my mind drift, enjoying the gray skies and the landscape bathed in a sheath of fog. I caught myself getting excited to see mom, who used to always answer the door when we arrived. When Joyce answered the door this time, however, I was overcome by that old home-away-from-home feeling, which took my hand and led me in.

Textures again: scarf (Personal Pizazz, Berkeley, CA), stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito, CA), Laura Lombardi hoops, jeans, eyelash sweater (H&M), and my own vintage Talbots crossbody bag from the early 90s.

Textures again: scarf (Personal Pizazz, Berkeley, CA), stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito, CA), Laura Lombardi hoops, jeans, eyelash sweater (H&M), and my own vintage Talbots crossbody bag in mint condition from the early 90s.

Laura Lombardi spheres hoops and Kate Peterson Designs stack of rings.

Laura Lombardi spheres and hoops earrings and Kate Peterson Designs stack of rings.

Joyce made spaghetti sauce and pasta for lunch for us. Now that she’s retired, she’s cooking, which is saying a lot for someone who had a framed saying that declared “I’d cook if I could find the can opener.” She informed me that she had “ceremoniously dumped it [the framed picture] last month.” I brought our thick binder of favorite recipes, and I marked with stick-it notes the recipes I thought she would like – easy ones with few ingredients – though she requested recipes that didn’t call for exotic ingredients that can’t be found in a regular grocery store. I’m thrilled that she’s cooking healthful meals and not eating a lot of processed frozen foods, which were her staple during her long days of teaching. It was fun to share recipes with her. And I was surprised and delighted to hear that she bought a ukulele and would take up an instrument that she had longed to play for a while. As she talked, I was content to see her finally relaxed because much of her working life was filled with deadlines, stress, report cards, and difficult students and parents. I was happy for her.

Three sisters at Christmastime in our old house, me with my baby doll, middle sister Joyce with Chatty Cathy, and oldest sister, Heidi.

Three sisters at Christmastime in our old house in Terra Bella, with me and my baby doll, Joyce with Chatty Cathy, and oldest sister, Heidi. Check out the encyclopedia dinosaurs!

The Enrado women, sans Mom, Christmas in Folsom, 2014.

The Enrado women, sans Mom, Christmas in Folsom, 2014.

We ran errands, with Isabella tagging along. We checked out the premium outlets. We Enrado women have a history of shopping, a tradition of shopping the day after Thanksgiving to get our Christmas gifts bought and out of the way and the day after Christmas to spend the $100 my mom gave each of us for Christmas. We would get up early and she’d drive us to the malls in either Bakersfield or Visalia. Of course, we would make our dollar stretch and buy clothes and accessories on sale and on clearance. When Joyce and I came home from the Folsom shops, Joshua was sprawled across the family room sofa, his pillow leaning against Isabella, while Jacob was spread out across the other sofa. Aside from the fact that they were watching the dreaded show, Walking Dead, a sense of contentment was draped around me at the sight of the three of them hanging out, if only for a very short weekend.

Joyce and me in our Auntie Leonora's house, our old house, 1972.

Joyce and me in our Auntie Leonora’s house, our old house in Terra Bella, 1972.

After dinner, Joyce suggested we spend the evening watching the movie Bridesmaids, which I hadn’t seen but she did see when her old high school friends were in town a few years ago. I’d always wanted to see it, having heard good reviews, but never got around to doing it, which seems to be a constant theme in my life. The movie was funny, and it was actually heartwarming for me to watch this chick-flick with my sister. At points during the movie, I was conscious of the fact that we hadn’t sat down and watched a movie like this – outside of a few distracted times with kids zipping in and out of the family room – since I was an undergraduate at UC Davis, spending the day or weekend with Joyce, who had recently graduated from Cal State Sacramento and was working and living in Sacramento, about 15 minutes from my campus. Those were the truly endless days when nothing seemed pressing, and it was so easy to pop over and hang out.

Hawk in a tree on our neighborhood walk.

Hawk in a tree on our neighborhood walk in Folsom.

Sunday morning, with the kids in charge of steering Nellie, the family dog, Joyce and I chatted while walking to the park and pond and around the neighborhood. It was cool and foggy, a perfect January day. She wanted me to walk with her because she felt she needed to exercise. I told her it was important to do some sort of exercise every day, how she ought to walk Nellie daily – both she and dog would benefit and she’d get some fresh air. I told her to keep moving. I told her about sleep studies that recommend women going to bed by 10PM. Knowing that she goes to bed late and sleeps in late, I told her she ought to push back her sleep pattern a few hours and her health would improve. I was always worried for her when she was teaching and only getting two to three hours of sleep a night.

Dad (his shadow) taking a photograph of us three sisters at our home in Los Angeles, February 1964.

Dad (his shadow) taking a photograph of us three sisters at our home in Los Angeles, February 1964.

After the walk she made soggy French toast, which we all ate not because we felt forced to, but because of gratitude. She had taken the time to make it. I was really proud of her. Not in a condescending way because David makes really wonderful meals and I’ve been cooking regularly for years, but proud that she was proud of her cooking. The kids took off for Joshua’s room soon after eating half of their French toast. Since we had to leave midday to make it back in time for Jacob’s hitting lesson, and I had precious few hours left that Sunday morning, I decided to wait until I got home to take my shower. I wanted to hang out at the kitchen table and keep talking, just talking. We caught up on old classmates and family and relatives. I felt like we weren’t almost 53 and nearly 55. We were in our 20s in Joyce’s Sacramento apartment. We were teenagers in her Ford Pinto coming home from high school the next town over, fearful of the blanket of hot-white fog on Old Highway 65. We were 7 and 9, playing our homemade version of the Mystery Date Game, laughing at the dud guy behind the white board game door, in the cramped screened-in porch in the back of our house, on an endless summer Sunday afternoon.

Joyce and me in front of our first house in Terra Bella, 1967.

Joyce and me and one of the many dogs in our childhood, in front of our first house in Terra Bella, 1967.

Don’t let the b@st@rds get you down

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Those who don’t know how to suffer are the worst off. There are times when the only correct thing we can do is to bear out troubles until a better day.
– Deng Ming-Dao, Chinese-American author, artist, philosopher, teacher, and martial artist

My New Year's Eve outfit - faux fur jacket, vintage pin, velvet burnout trousers, and pumps.

My New Year’s Eve outfit – faux fur jacket, vintage brooch, velvet burnout trousers, and pumps.

Jacqui Naylor, San Francisco jazz-pop vocalist and songwriter, wrote a song called “Don’t let the bastard get you down,” which she released on her 2005 CD, Live East/West: Birdland/Yoshi’s. It’s a song about lovers and totally unrelated to my here and now, but when I started thinking through this particular blog topic, the catchy refrain stuck in my head.

I had a bad day at work this past Friday. It’s not really important to recap what happened. Suffice to say that an unexpected event occurred on a morning in which I was already exhausted from a chaotic week. It was the proverbial last straw that broke the camel’s back. But the silver lining was that it had happened on a Friday. As the day played out, I realized that I was going to need a mini vacation from work the moment the clock struck 5. I texted David: “Let’s watch Selma tonight.” Before he had left for work that morning, he brought up catching the Civil Rights historical movie, which was opening that day, about Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1965 march from Selma to Montgomery, AL, to support blacks’ right to vote. I wanted to see it anyway, but I thought it timely to see it Friday evening. We took the kids. All four of us thought it was a great movie, and we appreciated its theme of equality and justice for all.

Texture in every piece of this outfit: velvet burnout, bejeweled and pintucked blouse, vintage Weiss brooch, metal sequins and beads purse, glossy pumps, and faux fur.

Texture in every piece of this outfit: velvet burnout trousers trimmed in satin, bejeweled and pintucked blouse, vintage Weiss brooch, metal sequins and beads purse, glossy pumps, and faux fur.

But it was important for me to see this movie on the heels of my crappy day because it put everything into perspective. People were getting severely beaten up. People lost their lives over a right that many of us take for granted today. My problem and my work day shrunk as each scene in the movie played out. By the time I came out of the theatre, I saw my work-related problem as a miniscule issue that will get resolved one way or another. On this I was clear: It wasn’t worth exerting another tear or another moment of weakness or anxiety.

Alexis Berger Glassworks chandelier earrings (Castle in the Air, Berkeley), vintage Weiss brooch (eBay), Sundance stack of rings, and sterling silver shell ring (Eskell, Chicago).

Alexis Berger Glassworks chandelier earrings (Castle in the Air, Berkeley), vintage Weiss brooch (eBay), Sundance stack of rings, and sterling silver shell ring (Eskell, Chicago).

What a cure, I thought to myself, as I went to bed that night. But it didn’t stop there. On Saturday, we took down the Christmas decorations. We all agreed that we felt sad to say goodbye to a what seemed like an extremely short holiday season. The house is so bountiful and festive when decked out. It always looks so stark and empty come January. At the same time, I enjoy having my clean, decluttered house back. I brought up Pandora radio on my mobile phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I chose my Peter, Paul, and Mary station, and was immediately immersed in folk music of the 1960s, much to my son’s chagrin, who took to his earplugs and listened to his own music. For me, I was in heaven. “Blowin’ in the Wind.” “If I Had a Hammer.” Crosby, Stills & Nash’s “Teach Your Children Well.” Every song by Simon and Garfunkel. Arlo Guthrie’s “City of New Orleans.” Songs I sang as a kid. Songs that were rooted in the turbulent era of the 1960s. Songs that took me back to my childhood.

Close-up of Alexis Berger's amazing glass-blown chandelier earrings, David's Christmas present to me.

Close-up of local artist Alexis Berger’s amazing glass-blown chandelier earrings, David’s Christmas present to me.

Choosing this station Saturday morning was an extension of watching the movie Selma the night before. I was in the moment. I was mindful. Life was full of vibrancy. I was in an exuberant, hopeful mood as I put away the Christmas ornaments, the Santa and snowman collection, the Department 56 Christmas in the City village settings. While boxing everything up was a sad chore, the promise of the New Year lay before me. A clean house, which translates to a cleared mind and head, allows me to focus and move forward. I also snuck in some Zen weeding in the front yard on Sunday after I took down the outdoor garland on our railings, which also made me feel cleansed.

Another close-up.

Another close-up.

I told the kids Friday evening that I’d had a bad day and it was something I had to get over, like a bump in the road. I gave them hugs. I told them I was grateful to have them in my lives because they are far more important than a lot of little things that trip me up in life. David allowed me to vent. He listened patiently. He made a point of clearing off the remaining obstacles on my road this past weekend. Gratitude is a wonderful thing to feel. It makes you buoyant. It makes those other problems shrink to the size and weight of gnats – ones you can smote with a flick of your finger. When you have a mindful weekend and are surrounded by supportive family and friends, you are ready for Monday. You breathe om with inner peace. And you say, “I won’t let the b@st@rds get me down this week.” Bring it on, Monday.

Ready for Monday. In. Style.

Ready for Monday. In. Style.