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Tag: relationships

53, or 1 x 53

2022-06-052022-06-05 John Winkelman

Me at 53

Oh, here it is, on the dawn of the first day of my 53rd year. I am still here to welcome you and receive the plaudits and hosannas which are my just due and proper.

Ha! I almost got through that with a straight face.

This is my third pandemic birthday, and so far life is as good as can be expected. The weather is beautiful and poetry events around town are starting to pick up. This past week, for the first time in years, I read at an open mic event, and it was wonderful! And yesterday I attended the reading by the winners of the 2022 Dyer-Ives poetry competition, for the first time since well before COVID.

Now that I am in my mid-fifties I can say that I am doing a lot better than many people my age. I am in a loving relationship with a beautiful partner. My health is good, though keeping the weight off is not as easy as it used to be. My career is stable, my mind is as active as it ever was, even if I am currently severely burned out and counting the seconds to my two weeks off in the first part of July.

There have been a few changes; I am now wearing bifocals (long, long overdue) and my hair has not been this long since, I think, 1998. Compare the selfie above to my birthday photo from 2021.

This weekend was the first Grand Rapids Festival of the Arts since 2019, and the city is full of celebrants. I plan to spend more time out in the world than in past years, though with proper precautions since we are still in the middle of a pandemic which has been exacerbated by some extremely reactionary interpretations of “freedom.” Still, most of what I like doing involves being outdoors, so I will have an easier time staying socially distanced.

I don’t really have any concrete plans for the upcoming year, other than to continue to read, write, practice, and love my partner, and enjoy the company of our two little orange maniacs. That’s enough for my middle-aged self.

Posted in LifeTagged poetry, relationships comment on 53, or 1 x 53

2021 In Review

2021-12-312021-12-31 John Winkelman

Poe and Pepper, asleep on my lap

Oh, 2021 was a hell of a year. I don’t think there’s any argument there. It was certainly one of the most stressful and uncertain years in my life. The successive waves of COVID variants spreading through the world, accompanied by hundreds of thousands of deaths in the USA, and millions more in the rest of the world, made it difficult to concentrate on anything beyond getting from one day to the next. It wasn’t just that the news (as well as the “news”) was distracting; it was that in the context of a global pandemic, everything else seemed a little (or a lot) less important.

Relationship

The high point of 2021, no doubt about it, was my relationship with my partner Zyra, who I have been with for a little over four years, and with whom I have been cohabiting for a little over two. We continue to find comfort and joy in each others’ presence, and are good at working through moments of stress and friction and coming out the other side, closer and stronger.

In April, Zyra officially started her business Gallafe (pronounced “GALA-fey”), making Filipino food and selling it at the Fulton Street and Holland Farmer’s Markets. She also began holding popup dinner specials on alternating Fridays, as well as the occasional Sunday brunch offering and a regular delivery to the South East Market. She has made amazing progress in a short amount of time, and this in the second year of an ongoing pandemic. I have been assisting her where I can, primarily with massages and running errands. And as of the last day of the year, she can be found on DoorDash, if you are in Grand Rapids and search for Asian food or simply “Gallafe.”

Last Christmas we picked up a new cat, Pepper, from the same Upper Peninsula farm where we adopted Poe the year before. Being from the same colony as Poe, they are related in at least one way. They are certainly cousins, though Poe might also be Pepper’s aunt, at no more that two steps removed.

As Zyra recently pointed out, Pepper is Poe’s emotional support animal. The cats have been an absolute joy, providing Zyra and I with endless entertainment and affection, and offering a release valve of sorts for our relationship, giving us other living creatures to focus our attentions on, which was vital for the long days of us having no other human interaction than with each other. Having lived with cats for two years now, I can’t imagine ever going back to a pet-free household.

Martial Arts

Master Lee’s School of Tai Chi Praying Mantis Kung Fu and Tai Chi Jeung continued to meet throughout this past year, online from January through the middle of March, and outside at Wilcox Park in the Eastown neighborhood of Grand Rapids through the end of October. We are now holding hybrid classes, in person at From the Heart Yoga and Tai Chi Center, the studio senior instructor Rick Powell runs with his wife Behnje Masson. We have a camera set up so students who are not comfortable practicing in person can participate remotely.

I and our other assistant instructor Tracy also hold informal “office hours” over Zoom to assist students in the time between classes, which has been a big help for the remote-only students, as well as a morale booster for me, because it provides a little more human interaction, which has been sorely restricted for the past two years.

We are able to practice about 75% of our pre-COVID curriculum. Out of an abundance of caution we are forgoing most drills and exercises which involve more than incidental personal contact. We hope that this will change as we move into the new year, but with new COVID variants spreading through the country we are trying to be patient. Better to have to re-learn a few skills in a year than to be the vector for one of our students becoming seriously ill.

Reading

2021 was a good year for reading. I started the year with Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which I have tried but failed to complete several times of the past three decades, but this time I made it through to the end. And I ended the year with Dostoevsky’s The Eternal Husband and Other Stories, as it seemed appropriate to book-end the year with classic Russian literature. In between I was all over the place, reading genre and literary fiction, a wide variety of nonfiction, and many books of poetry. The grand total for the year was 57 books and over 120 short stories read.

Writing

Much to my surprise, considering how 2020 sputtered and ground to a halt at the beginning of November, 2021 was an excellent year for writing. I completed drafts of two short stories and over 30 poems, and am over halfway done with the pre-first draft of my NaNoWriMo book Racing the Flood Down to the Sea.

Friends and Family

This is where 2021 was the worst. I lost four friends this year, and in early September my mother, Sharon Prine, passed away just after her 84th birthday. Surprisingly, none of them died of COVID, which shows that even in the middle of this pandemic, the mundane world is still taking its toll.

So I will go into 2022 with holes in my life in the shape of Simon, Bill, Caroline, Beth, and Mom.

Work

I am still employed at the same company, and plan to remain here until I either retire or am made redundant. For most of the year I have been on one project, which in other years would become boring and unsatisfying, but for this year, predictability and stability are very much a good thing. And I am learning many new skills.

To Sum Up

I am glad that 2021 is over. Though I had some small personal triumphs and accomplishments, overall it was a year full of hellish stress, and though I am resigned to the fact that whatever is going on now is likely the New Normal, I am tired of reacting to the slings and arrows, or waiting for them to find another target. If I have a  goal or resolution for the new year it is to begin digging myself out of the deep funky hole I have been in for most of the past two years.

Posted in LifeTagged martial arts, Pepper, Poe, reading, relationships, writing comment on 2021 In Review

Archives Are In the Attic

2019-10-21 John Winkelman

Yesterday whilst out shopping with my girlfriend I picked up some cardboard bank boxes, and filled them with books which, until that point, had been on my bookshelves.

Two things prompted this decision. First, as I no longer live alone, space in our living quarters is at somewhat of a premium and, well, I have a lot of books. Second, the two books which arrived last week at the Library of Winkelman Abbey are HUGE.

On the left is Carlos Ruiz Zafon’s The Labyrinth of the Spirits, the last of the four volumes of his Cemetery of Forgotten Books series. It is 880 pages long, several inches thick, and quite heavy. On the right is the latest delivery from And Other Stories, Endland by Tim Etchells. It is also quite hefty. At almost 400 pages it is probably the longest book I have received from this publisher.

So books require space. So do relationships. Therefore one corner of my attic is now the archive, and the first 60 books from my collection to be stored are now in boxes. Since I have significantly slowed my rate of acquisition (again, relationship) I don’t expect to need to shuffle books around more than once every six months or so.

I don’t have a firm criteria for which get archived, other than that I don’t anticipate wanting to read them, or needing them for reference, or otherwise finding them all that interesting at the moment. That could change in years to come, so I am trying to come up with a tracking system of some kind so I can, if need be in the years to come, find specific archived books with a minimum of hassle.

In reading news, I finished re-reading Jim Harrison’s True North, and it was every bit as good as I remember from the first read ten years ago. I am in the middle of Insides She Swallowed, a poetry collection by Sasha Pimentel Chacon which I picked up at Arkipelago Books in San Francisco in June 2018. I haven’t read enough to form a solid opinion, but the poetry therein is beautiful.

As the year winds down my already limited reading time becomes even more scarce and suddenly fifteen uninterrupted minutes is a precious commodity. NaNoWriMo starts in eleven days and the volunteer work for ConFusion 2020 is slowly ramping up. All of this is fun and wonderful but O, the time disappears so quickly.

Posted in Literary MattersTagged books, relationships, Subterranean Press comment on Archives Are In the Attic

Flash Fiction: A Cup of Coffee

2018-09-04 John Winkelman

I wrote this scene at the Lost Lake Writer’s Retreat in early October of 2017. I forget the writing prompt. Maybe “Where were you?”

I was standing in line at the cafe with foggy glasses and a too-warm coat. The air was humid and thick with the smell of coffee and hair product, and Torani syrup so potent that I could taste the drinks as people walked past me out the door.

From the corner, over the top of the low conversations came a loud “Where the hell have you been?” I looked around but couldn’t see anything. Everyone in line hunched their shoulders and focused more intently on their phones.

Behind me I heard a low “…shit.” The line moved forward and another cloud of Torani walked out the door.

“I’ve been here for half an hour. Waiting! We said three thirty!”

I took off my glasses so I could see. The dude behind me was a pale, sweaty blur. He shrugged, “The roads were…”

“I don‘t care about the roads! You’re late!”

All around us shoulder hunched and heads ducked and phones were fiddled with, fiercely. I squinted into the corner.

I could feel fierce attention land on me. “What the hell are you looking at?”

“I’m, uh, nothing!” I made a show of putting on my still-foggy glasses, and shrugged.

The line moved forward slowly. When I got my coffee I debated staying to watch the show, or leaving and enjoying the slush and salt spray of Lake Drive. The dude walked past me to the corner, a cup in each hand.

She started again. “Were you seeing Her?”

“I was working.”

“Work is five minutes from here. You’re half an hour late!”

“The roads…”

“I don’t care about the goddamn roads!”

All around us the vicarious dread had turned into morbid curiosity and everyone was staring into the corner.

He tried again. “I’m not seeing…”

“Half an hour! Where…”

“Hey! Indoor voice!” This was the barista. She was a singer in a local ska band and her voice could cut glass.

The dude shrugged helplessly, “We were just…”

“Pack it in, or take it outside!”

The woman snarled, “Fine!”

My glasses had finally cleared. I recognized the dude. He lived at the end of my street. I had seen his girlfriend around sometimes, and heard her more often, usually yelling at him. To be fair, she wasn’t the only woman I had seen at his house lately. I’d called the cops on them once after a particularly energetic argument. That was when I started spending time in the cafe.

I called across the room, “Hey Sean, is she talking about the blonde with the purple highlights or the one with the black mohawk? Or the one that’s still in high school?”

He flinched and glared at me. “What the hell dude? Mind your own business!”

“I came here to get away from you idiots. Keep your drama to yourself.”

His girlfriend blinked at me, then at him, and stood up. She brushed past him hard enough to spill his coffee and walked out the front door of the cafe. He glared at me for another moment, then followed her out the door.

Now everyone was looking at me. The barista smirked and gestured toward the door with her head.

I pulled a twenty from my wallet and dropped it in the tip jar. “Sorry about that.”

Outside the air was cold and clean and smelled like snow.

Posted in Fiction, WritingTagged coffee, flash fiction, relationships comment on Flash Fiction: A Cup of Coffee

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