With Love to Gen Con

At our house, it’s Disney World, Christmas and Gen Con, but not necessarily in that order. Assuming you’re familiar with Disney World and Christmas, let me briefly expound on Gen Con. Gen Con is a four-day table-top gaming convention held in Indianapolis since 2003. It originated in Geneva, Wisconsin (hence the name Gen Con – not to be confused with the Geneva Convention held in Switzerland in 1949). It was founded by Gary Gygax, one of the co-creators of Dungeons & Dragons. Dungeons & Dragons is still a huge part of Gen Con, but it has expanded to include gaming of all kinds, performance, cosplaying and community. The Schaefers have been coming to Gen Con since, I think, 2006. We, like many before us and many to come, attended on a Sunday – the family day – where family passes are inexpensive. What a shady trick, Gen Con, because once you’ve been and once you’ve seen it, you’re hooked. There’s no going back. And now, 18 years later, it’s hard to define the feeling of being at Gen Con. You walk in and – you’re home. It’s comfort food; it’s wrapping up in your Snuggie on the couch; it’s stepping into your flip flops after eight hours of office high heels; it’s taking a deep breath and letting it out very, very slowly; it’s bouncing joyfully through the heavens from cloud to cloud. (I’ve never actually done that, but I needed some kind of cozy cloud analogy here and that image seemed to fit.) I SO wish I could remember the first time I saw cosplayers, or…the expanse of tables covered in red, green, yellow, blue, orange and purple tablecloths through an entire room, two rooms, no three, all opened up into one big room; the first time I saw a guy in a Utlikilt. The first time I saw all the GAMES. I wonder what I thought. I wonder how long my mouth hung open. Now, it’s as natural as breathing. (See the above paragraph.) After that Sunday initiation (you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave – but in a good way), we bought four-day passes for the next year. We walked the exhibit hall (ah, the exhibit hall – that deserves a blog post unto itself!) and we admired the cosplay. And one evening, my daughter and I decided to stay late. The exhibit hall had closed; we didn’t have any event tickets; we wandered into one of those open gaming areas. There we met a man and his two grown sons. They were sitting down to begin a game of Settlers of Catan. They invited Charlie and me to join them (because as we all know, a Gen Conner is never happier than when explaining the rules of a game). Catan, that gateway game – it was our first exposure to a game that lasted longer than 45 minutes, a game where each individual turn had multiple parts (a key feature of Gen Con board games). We played and learned it (and bought it). That man was from Chicago; one of his sons lived in Texas and the other in New Jersey, but every year, they met up at Gen Con for four days of family and playing games. I gained a huge takeaway from his example. Over the years, even as I got older, playing games is something I would always be able to do with my children. And even if my kids moved far away, they, like this man’s sons, I knew in my heart they would always come home for Gen Con (like “all hearts come home at Christmas,” but different). I think of that man and his sons every year. Every year. I don’t even remember his name, but I wish I could thank him for what he gave me and my family. Gen Con today. We cosplay. We demo games. We learn a new skill. We participate in tournaments. We peruse the consignment store. We eat at trendy downtown restaurants. We admire Cardhalla and the balloon sculpture. We marvel at the dice. We watch the costume parade. We make trips back and forth to our car with our way-too-many games and purchases. How fortunate we are to live within driving distance of this mecca of nerd-dom, of inclusion, of individualism, of gamer joy. And we laugh; we catch up with each other; we take joy in being together and sharing something we love with people we love. It’s just that simple. On the Monday after Gen Con, if someone were to ask us what we did for four days, answers are vague. “Oh…we, uh, we played games. We walked around. We talked. I dunno.” Because how do you describe Gen Con? You just….had to be there.

If I Had Nothing to Do

1. If I had nothing to do, I would sit down and read my husband’s three novels back-to-back. 2. If I had nothing to do, I would make new curtains for the front room. 3. If I had nothing to do, I would stop at every garage sale I pass. 4. If I had nothing to do, I would teach myself piano, and Spanish, and American Sign Language. 5. If I had nothing to do, I would finish the Star Wars jigsaw puzzle I started before Christmas. 6. If I had nothing to do, I would make a Little Library to put out at the corner of my property. 7. If I had nothing to do, I would repaint the KidsPlay logo on the trailer. 8. If I had nothing to do, I would put down new tile in the guest bathroom, and paint it, or at least replace the Christmas shower curtain that’s in there now. 9. If I had nothing to do, I would make that cute little jumper that Amy and I bought a pattern and fabric for…three (?) years ago. 10. If I had nothing to do, I would read all of Barbara Kingsolver’s books in chronological order; and reread John Irving’s; and Christopher Buckley’s. I would reread the Harry Potter books; and all of Larry McMurtry’s. 11. If I had nothing to do, I would return to my blog. 12. If I had nothing to do, I would gather in all my photos from their assorted drives, my phone, my laptop and all those CDs and organize them. 13. If I had nothing to do, I would take Lily to the dog park and let her run. 14. If I had nothing to do, I would reorganize the garage and maybe park a car in there. 15. If I had nothing to do, I would single-handedly bring back the art of letter-writing. I would write to Kate and Charlie and Roberta and Gail. And Jennie and Andy and Kurt and Amy and Dennis. If I had nothing to do, that is.

New Year's Day -- 2022

 January 1, 2022. 

2021 decided to deliver one last sucker punch with the death of Betty White. I wasn’t a HUGE Betty White fan, but she stood for so much: feminism and perseverance and smart-mouthed-ness. She WAS, as many of the tributes have said, an American treasure. 

No plans for NYE. We watched “Death to 2021,” but it wasn’t nearly as funny as last year’s “Death to 2020.” We then started “Tick, Tick…Book!” but didn’t finish it. (https://screenrant.com/tick-tick-boom-movie-true-story-jonathan-larson/)

We went to bed at 10:30. John fell asleep, but I stayed awake watching Anderson Cooper once again embarrass himself with Andy Cohen. Don't get me wrong; I LOVE Andy Cohen. I read his autobiography. It was hilarious; he's hilarious. And I know Andy and Anderson are great friends, but it always seems to me that Anderson is clearly out of his comfort zone having Andy Cohen force shots on him all evening. Also, Don Lemon on remote in New Orleans in a purple-sequined zip-up hoodie. That falls under the category of wtf.

And suddenly it was 12:04 a.m. I totally missed it. Sigh. 

But today is another day. My Chicago babies are coming today (racing ahead of 5-9" of snow....) and we'll be having Christmas #3 this evening. I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for them to text me and tell me they've left.

Tomorrow, we leave for Disney. Yes, yes. I know. I KNOW. Believe me, I know. But we are vexed and bolstered (that's vaxxed and boostered in non-auto-correct text) and we have our NC-17 masks, so we are ready. My biggest hope is that we'll get there and we'll be the only ones there.

So Happy New Year, everyone. I feel like I want to sit down and write long, rambling letters to at least half-a-dozen of you, maybe more, but I have a gazillion and one things to do before 7 a.m. tomorrow.

Resolutions? Aside from the usual lose weight and exercise (sigh), 1) I’m resolved to go through the stuff on the top of my computer desk and frame anything that’s still relevant. The top shelf of my computer desk has been the depository for anything that deserves a frame. This includes art work, both purchased and created; photographs; some posters; something that we got signed at a long-ago Gen Con (I know you’re dying to know what this is; so am I….). 2) I also resolve to pay more attention to my house. I stepped down from the newspaper in June (I did NOT retire, because retiring makes it sound like I’m sitting around waiting to die, which I am NOT) and immediately began painting the trim on my house along with several other home-improvement projects. I need to make curtains for the front window (I mean, we’ve only lived her 31 years, right?) and maybe do some interior painting. In the good intentions category, I will continue to read (I read a LOT in 2021) and watch still more awesome TV and keep my brain working with the daily crossword. 

2022. Gosh, I hope this year is better than the last two. Still, at the risk of getting preachy, let’s all just remember to count our blessings. Really. Stop and do it, because they always outweigh the stress and sorrow. “And if we worry, and we can’t sleep, we’ll count our blessings instead of sheep.” So again, Happy New Year, all.

Anything and Everything

Today is my last day of work. I haven’t really announced it, because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say about it. 

 “You should start a blog,” my husband said. 

“I have a blog. It’s called ‘Better in Writing,’” I replied. 

 I have been working as the Arts & Entertainment reporter, the editorial assistant, the Schools editor and the Lifestyle editor at the Greenfield Daily Reporter for the last five and a half years. Everything good that can happen at a job has happened at this job. I made new friends, I made new connections, I learned new skills and I learned SO much about my community, the arts and its often unseen and unsung pockets, and about the soul of the human race and what makes us tick. All wonderful, all enlightening, all awe-inspiring. 

 In the time leading up to this day, I have wondered if I was doing the right thing. I have wondered what my structured life full of deadlines and interview appointments and curtain times, of quiet times set aside for writing would evolve or devolve into. But it is the right thing to do. It’s time. 

 People who know asked me, “What are you going to do next?” 

The answer is: Anything and Everything. 

 I’m going to be productive, clean and redecorate my house. I’m going to read. I’m going to travel. I’m going to make new curtains for the front room. I’m going to paint the trim on my house. I’m going to ride my bike. I’m going to finish losing that 10 pounds. I’m going to clean out the garage and maybe, finally, toss the last of my teacher stuff. I’m going to scrapbook and get all those photos organized. I’m going to go back and read all my flagged emails dating back to 2017. I’m going to sew on missing buttons and re-hem dresses. I might decide to learn Spanish and take up quilting. I might get involved in politics. I might volunteer my time where it is needed. I might start tutoring or mentoring somewhere. 

 And I’m going to waste time like I’ve NEVER wasted time EVER. 

Here is the short list of my total time-wasting activities. 

• Crossword puzzles 
• Jigsaw puzzles 
• I’m going to join my husband in looking out at the birds at our nine bird feeders and three birdhouses 
• I’m going to match all the unmatched socks 
• I’m going to clean all the fuzz out of the Velcro straps in my sneaker collection.

It all sounds good to me. 

 When I get home tonight, we might order pizza from Mozzi’s. I might call my daughter and tell her about my day. I’ll wish I could call my mom and dad and tell them, but they already know. I might walk the dog. I might jump right into reorganizing my computer desk or I might just sit on the couch and put my feet up. 

Sigh. 

And, yeah, a little sniffle, too.

Unseen guests at the table

The Schaefers just made the decision to cancel Thanksgiving. Not to say that the holiday itself is canceled, but our formal dinner – with family from outside our immediate home – is canceled. It makes sense. With the television news, medical experts and most of our country’s leadership, all but screaming at us to stay home, don’t travel, Zoom with family, etc., and events publicized one day only to be canceled the next, it made sense. And although it would have been just me, John and Ben, my sister Diane (a member of the medical community who has been super careful), Charlie (unemployed, staying home and taking all precautions), her partner Jamie and her son Brodie, it still gave us all pause. For two weeks, we all fretted and talked about it off and on and finally made the decision to alleviate worry and stress and stay home. And we talked about last Thanksgiving. I talked with Charlie last night, during a long drive back from Chicago after delivering the first load of furniture and belongings to ‘the new place,’ and I talked with my sister this morning. Last Thanksgiving was our last Thanksgiving with my brother Daniel and Mom. Daniel was sick; he had just gone into hospice. We were talking about going to a restaurant so that Mom, who wasn’t in that great of shape herself, wouldn’t have to cook a meal. Then, it occurred to us that Daniel wouldn’t be able to go with us to a restaurant. Duh. So much uncharted territory… So, as averse as I am to just about anything that takes place in a kitchen, we – John and me -- agreed to go up to Fort Wayne on Wednesday and work together with Mom and Diane to prepare a dinner. I told Diane this morning on the phone: “We had to make a lot of decisions, and most of them were good ones.” From here, a year later, I cannot imagine even considering going out to a restaurant and leaving Daniel alone in his hospital bed – even for a couple of hours. Dinner was good. We had Christmas music on and we decorated Mom’s tree. And that was the Last Thanksgiving. This year – 2020 – is the first year in 61 years, where I will sit down to a turkey dinner fixed in my own home. Before this year, it was Grandma Finley (my mother’s mom) in Lafayette, and then it was my mom’s house in Fort Wayne. For 60 years. For the first time in 60 years, I will get to see Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. In past years, we were always on the road to Grandma’s or Mom’s. It will be my Christmas dishes, my tablecloth and just us – John, Ben and me. And COVID-19, of course. The unseen guest at everyone’s table this year. But we won’t be setting a place for him. We will carry on, remembering Thanksgivings past and making new memories. And hopefully, this time next year -- with my sister and BOTH of my children with their significant others – we will push back from the table and move into the living room with our pumpkin pie, chocolate cake and coffee. And we will say, “Remember last Thanksgiving? It was COVID and our first Thanksgiving without Mom and Daniel. And Charlie was moving to Chicago. And the news was screaming at us and we finally decided to cancel? It was a hard decision, but it was a good one. Remember that?” And we will sigh.

The Coronavirus Diaries: Breaking News

I’m way late with this second entry. I really wanted to look back and reflect on what it was like when this all came rolling in, but I no longer remember exact dates, but I still want to capture the moments. This entry is mostly for me, so I can remember the sequence of events when and if everything gets back to normal.

Some advice from the television, still early on, suggested that those over 60 should stock up on things they needed for being sick. I suggested to John that each time he went to the store, he should get a couple extra cans of soup, tissues, Sprite, cold medicine, etc. I remember being concerned about my friends’ spring break plans.

The last place my husband and I went was on a weekend trip to Clifty Falls State Park. The KidsPlayers had given us state park gift cards, and we had a bucket list of staying at each of the state park inns over the next few years. We’d been to the Abe Martin Lodge in Brown County; Clifty Inn was next.

We actually started the day at Charlestown State Park. I had heard about an abandoned amusement park – Rose Island – from the 1920s and 30s that had been flooded out (since it was on the Ohio River). A hiking trail ran through its ruins. I thought it would be a great place to explore.

We were practically the only ones there. We saw others on the trail, but at a far distance from us. I had the wherewithal to take photos and notes to write a story – one of the last I would write before things tightened up – to fill the Just 4 Fun pages for the newspaper I worked for.

From there, we went on to Clifty Inn. We ate our meals at the lodge and read in front of the fire, and we watched the news. The NBA shut down; the NCAA basketball tournament first said they’d play without crowds, then canceled altogether; schools began to close; baseball shut down. Breaking news came every few minutes with another alarming change to our society. We learned that Tom Hanks and his wife had tested positive for the coronavirus, and our sense of concern heightened. If Tom Hanks, with all of celebrity and money couldn't stay safe, what hope was there for us? We listened for medical advice on how to stay safe, how to recognize the signs of the virus and what to do if we felt sick. We swallowed and took deep breaths, felt each others' heads for fevers. We were nervous.

Saturday was cold and rainy, so, with some relief, we scrapped our plan to wander around in Madison. Instead, stayed in, read more books in front of the fire; we taught ourselves a new game:  Horrified, a game we bought at GenCon. And we watched the news. We kept to ourselves. We felt wide-eyed at the rapid pace of changes that were going on. We ate in the dining area, where there were a surprising lot of people still. But there was hand sanitizer at the hostess station, our waiter for gloves and wiped everything down before we sat at the table.

It was such a strange and surreal weekend, normal, and yet not normal. Sunday, we slept in and watched still more news. My friend’s cruise was canceled; my other friend came home early from Florida. We left the inn around noon and drove home -- all at a heightened sense of awareness, on edge, uncertain about the changes, uncertain about everything.

The Coronavirus Diaries: what a difference a year makes

I woke up slowly, as I have for past week or so, and got dressed, putting on a long-sleeved t-shirt extolling the accomplishments of the Wright Brothers – First in Flight. I bought this shirt approximately one year ago while my husband and I traveled Ohio and North Carolina in the footsteps of the illustrious Wright Brothers on a spring break trip.

What a difference a year makes. A year later, and we are sheltering at home, because of world-wide pandemic. Is that redundant? World-wide and pandemic? Probably.

A year ago, my dad was still with us. My brother was still with us. My mother’s aging Schnauzer, Hansi, was still grumping around her condominium; my sister’s Westie, Wylie, would still let you pet him, as long as you didn’t step on his toes.

And now, here we are, self-quarranting or whatever we’re supposed to call it, trying to stay healthy, trying not to attract the attention of germs they say can hang in the air for three hours and live on surfaces for up to eight hours.

Last week was incredibly hectic. I spent Monday and Tuesday frantically trying to get ready for KidsPlay’s Tuesday night Photo Night. Wednesday and Thursday, I visited my mom up in Fort Wayne. Good thing, huh? Friday, Saturday and Sunday, John and I went off on a strange and secluded weekend trip to the Clifty Falls State Park Inn courtesy of the KidsPlayers. And in between all that, I wrote up my last Just 4 Fun pages for the paper for awhile, although I didn’t know it at the time.

I said to my mom, as I was frantically packing up to get back to Greenfield in time for a 6 p.m. rehearsal: “You know, what I want is time. Just time. To take care of myself, to read, relax, watch a movie, sew for myself.” I was thinking of the dozens of things I wanted to do – to write in my journal, to finally find the quiet to make a decent website for KidsPlay, to clean my house.

And now, curiously, it seems I’ve gotten my wish. Our front room is cleaned up. The costumes that have been hanging in the hallway for weeks are sorted and put away. And I’m embarking on some creative projects that I’ll write about later. Time. Time to blog about what is happening around all of us. Time to remember what boredom is like. Time to cherish my husband and pet my doggies. To write responses to 10 years worth of Christmas letters. Lol. I’m not going to end this with some sappy quote about time, but, nerd that I am, I DO love this exchange between Frodo and Gandalf….

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”