Condolences

On my nightstand:

Two things happened recently. Last weekend, I went to a library book sale in Hendersonville. Seven years ago, when I first went, it was like winning a big prize. This was the stuff of dreams, I tell you. This was what it must feel like to be a fanilow and meet barry manilow. It is this big wonderful book sale where on the final day, the books are $4 a bag (a brown paper grocery bag). They are organized by subject. I went with my Mom and Susan and sometimes a friend or grandparent. We each got a quota of 2 bags because that was how many fit in the car. Then we would come home and spread out all those piles of books on the floor and read. When I moved to Texas, I thought about it each fall. When I moved back to NC, I put it on my calender. And last weekend my mom, grandma and Susan spent a few hours in the mayhem.

It has gotten more popular over the years. The books were more picked over (sadly, there were no fabulous cookbooks this time).It was like the Christmas sale at the Wal-Mart in Rutherford County or a tax free shopping day in Texas--people used their elbows. They had strategies. They had maps of the book sale. They had shopping bags with wheels so they could get around the book sale with their loot easier. Except it was books, so there was this veneer of politeness. This "we are bookworms, we don't push." Except they totally did push. One lady had a stroller. No baby, just a stroller full of books. It was silent, save the sound of books being scooped off the shelves and people saying "ooops, sorry" and stepping right on your toes.

Still, it was a rush. I got a bunch of authors and anthologies that I've been wanting to read or own--Milan Kundera, Alice Adams, Andre Dubuse, Lisa See--keep in mind everything is so cheap and everyone is scooping things up at such a fast pace, you just get in the zone. And sometimes your greed makes you pick up something that you never knew you wanted. Like etiquette books. I got some books on words, some on language, some gardening books, and then there were three on manners. I don't know what came over me, but I felt I needed them. I got the classics. So I've been reading etiquette books. Particularly the chapters on death. My night stand looks a little ridiculous. I look at it each night and laugh: three etiquette books and a vampire serial novel. (Yes Eclipse is on my nightstand. Still. I'm kind of sick of it. But I refuse to turn back now.)

Which brings me to the second thing that happened. A colleague died exactly two weeks ago today on campus. His wife is also a colleague and her office is around the corner from me. I like her. And I have watched the institution where I work respond in a way that is kind and good. I have thought about what I would do if I were her. She has been thrust into the spotlight-something that I'm not sure I would want. She has handled everything with grace. I have wanted to help her, but not contribute to the clutter of attention that surrounds her now. She is young. I'm used to old people. A casserole seems wrong. I sent the least ugly sympathy card I could find and have made an effort to offer "normal" conversation but not hover and not clutch her hands and say weird philosophical things. I was floored and flattered when yesterday, she asked to do something not serious, something light. So while the etiquette books didn't tell me anything I didn't learn from my own experiences with death, they gave me a little template for how to act. They gave me a plan. Today this article crossed my path and (no offense to amy vanderbelt or emily post or judith "ms manners" martin) it is the best advice on the art of condolences I have found. Plus, it references elephants (my spirit animal since I read this article on post traumatic stress in elephants).




To cook this weekend:
pepita dip
Swiss Chard Lasagna