Long Reach, my novel due for release by The Wild Rose Press in July, has numerous passages about the cry of the loon, a plaintive song heard in particular moments in the novel. The cry provides a thread of memory about a treasured night for my protagonist, Nora, with her then young husband, Joe, her television reporting partner, as they watch the northern lights together in British Columbia, Canada. Twenty five years later, they return to the same place in the midst of a break-down in their relationship. The cry, reminding her of their former bonds, echoes her despair.

Nora and Joe undergo numerous traumas. He falls from his fishing boat, after being hit on the head by a damaging force. She is accused of attempting his murder. Nora is fearful that indeed, in her anger, she brought her fish bopper down onto his head.

Before the case is resolved, Nora is kidnapped, her life and the lives of her friends are threatened. Environmental hazards are exposed. At the end, the song of the loon and the power of the nurturing tides give Nora hope that she and Joe will surmount the challenges they face for the future.

With this thread resonating in my heart, I read the Tribune article, April 11, 2024 in despair. The article reports loons are diminishing. Fewer chicks are being born and those fledged are often underweight and less strong.

The reasons are not clear. It may be the added rainfall of climate change that makes lakes too murky for the parent loons to find food for their nestlings. According to this article, it may be that climate change is bringing a heavier black fly season. Their torment to the parents may drive them to abandon their nests. (My husband and I spent a week in southern Canada’s wilderness area in black fly season. We were newly-weds. The black flies did not chase us away, but I can understand a loon’s torment.)

For me, the diminishing loon population causes another cherished hope that our society will awaken from our sloth in time to save the loons. Whoever has heard their cry has touched a bit of nature’s mystery.

My parents read aloud with friends, sometimes passages from articles for discussion, sometimes short stories or poetry. These readings rose spontaneously from a topic in the news or a piece of writing that someone of them wanted to share. There seemed to be time then for casual meetings with conversation and storytelling. Later, living near a small town, ‘neighboring’ or ‘visiting’ was the phrase for summer afternoon tea under a shade tree, or winter cocoa by a wood stove, quiet talk while the children played nearby.

I miss those casual gatherings that now seem displaced by more formal appointments, arranged events in public settings. These too can have rewards, sometimes even a sense of shared appreciation. Yet, the particular intimacies of sharing time merely to share connecting may be lost in our daily hustle.

Kate DiCamillo, as discussed in this blog on March 20, 2024, promotes reading aloud for refining one’s own writing. She also encourages reading to adults. “It is an act of love to read to somebody…You feel cocooned, almost. It’s kind of like everybody puts down their defenses and you’re together in the story.” Maryanne Wolf, a scholar at UCLA’s School of Education and Information Studies says “it (reading aloud) triggers our ability to go beyond ourselves and to reach into the thoughts and feelings of others. We are transmitting emotions, we are transmitting affection.” New York Times, First Section, February 23, 2024.

I now hope to build excuses for little readings. On my next longish car trip with a friend or a visit to a patient in the hospital, I plan to take along something to read aloud, a favorite poem or a short, short story, in an effort to recapture that old-fashioned idea of making time to share, a little “act of love” to quote Kate DiCamillo.

Yesterday, I sent off my second novel to a prospective publisher which lets me turn again to the next unfinished novel on my computer. I have set myself the task of reading this third novel aloud in an attempt to solve some of its problems.

By chance, the New York Times “By the Book” section of February 29, 2024 has comments by Kate DiCamillo on the process. “I read each book aloud so many times before it’s published, I don’t read it again, which is interesting, because the readers often know the book better than I do.”
I’ve yet to read my novel aloud through more than the first three chapters, much less reading it many times, but I’m hoping to persevere with her process.

Asked if her style had changed over time, Ms. DiCamillo, author of many riveting books for the young, answered, “I still write the same way – which is trying to get out of my way and listening for the voice of the story. And that means, I guess that I’m not trying to write for the moment, but for the heart.”

In addition, Kate DiCamillo, author of multiple riveting books for the young, gave this bit of advice. “I tell kids who want to write: Pay attention to everything. I think paying attention is the way to love the world.” Paying attention is one theme of my unfinished novel. My thanks to Kate DiCamillo for giving me this nudge to keep on with the story.

I have my first novel, Long Reach, published by The Wild Rose Press, due to be released in July, four months before my 90th birthday. I worried about talking about this to other people, so a friend sent me the following information for encouragement.

Doris Lessing (born October 22, 1919) published Alfred and Emily at almost 89.

Elmore Leonard (born October 11, 1925) published novels until his late 80s.

Tom Wolfe (born March 2, 1930) released Back to Blood, his first novel in 8 years at age 82.

Toni Morrison (born February 18, 1931) published her 10th novel, Home, at age 82.

Alice Monro (born July 10, 1931) released Dear Life at age 81.

I’m not comparing my work to any of these greats, but it is interesting to note that it’s never too late to put our stories out there for others.

In this morning’s Chicago Tribune, Laura Washington wrote a tribute to Ida B. Wells and Richard Hunt, the Chicago sculptor commissioned to honor Wells. This article alerted me to a screening of a film about these two remarkable black artists. Thanks to this splendid article, I plan to attend the screening on Wednesday, February 28 at the Epiphany of the Arts Center and recommend it as an opportunity to celebrate these two important Chicagoans.

Like Ms. Washington, I was privileged to know Richard Hunt, “an unassuming, soft-spoken legend” as she aptly described him. His Lill Street studio, a former L train repair center rigged with heavy duty lifts, a perfect place for an artist creating multi-ton works of art, was near our home.

When Joan Mondale, the Vice President’s wife known as Joan of Art for her work promoting public art and artists, came to Chicago, Richard opened his studio to her, describing some of his technique, a special moment. I hope the film will include some views of Richard at work. Look around Chicago for Hunt’s work. He used his skill with generosity to honor those he admired. One of Richard’s sculptures will grace the Obama Presidential Center on the center’s completion. Happily, his statue, Quest for Peace, welcomes visitors to the Adlai Stevenson High School in Lincolnshire.

Film honors the truths illuminated by Chicagoans Ida B. Wells and Richard Hunt, The Chicago Tribune

My walking buddies and I circle the Lincoln Park South pond on every opportunity. Through the summer, we worried that fewer turtles came to study us this year as we leaned over the pond railing to admire them. The book Of Time and Turtles: Mending the World Shell by Shattered Shell by Sy Montgomery tells us we are right to worry. (We don’t look for turtles in the winter. They bury themselves in the mud for warmth.)

Ms. Montgomery points out that turtles are a link to our distant past. They populated our planet over 250 million years ago. “…they walked with the dinosaurs.”

The book introduces the Turtle Rescue League and its founders who are determined to heal wounded turtles and better, to prevent their destruction. Like us, turtles are endangered by pollution, climate change, loss of habitat, cars and invasive species. But they are also hunted for meat and eggs by people, dogs, raccoons, and skunks.

Of Time and Turtles tells astounding stories of turtle healing. They can regrow organs and fractured shells, but turtle growth, like turtle movement, is slow. Also new to me, the book describes turtle to human bonding, a turtle’s special personality and its ability to recognize and connect with friends.

The Turtle Rescue League trains volunteers to dig up turtle nests when spotted near parking lots or on a piece of ground that lies between the nest and a pond and replant the nests near healthy water. Turtles are often crushed by cars and trucks in the process of crossing highways. If you see a wounded turtle, stop and take it to a turtle healer or veterinarian. As the book says, “if you save a turtle, particularly a female turtle, she may be able to lay eggs for another hundred years.”

Of Time and Turtles opens new visions of the past, present and future.

Two Sundays ago (10/21/23), the New York Times magazine had a series of articles on climate change. One of these discussed the increasing number of people plagued by climate anxiety. (“Climate Change Is Keeping Therapists Up at Night” by Brooke Jarvis).

Research shows that thoughts of climate change can lead to a gloom and doom, all is lost scenario leading to a do nothing attitude, or conversely, individual and group actions to mitigate climate change. Yesterday’s news reported that Illinois is developing a factory to build charging stations for the increasing number of electric car owners. Many cities are creating composting systems to reduce garbage in landfills, a big methane reducer.

Preventive medicine for climate anxiety can take many forms. Appreciating these actions of change and reading inspiring observations of nature as listed last week can be positive antidotes for climate change anxiety. For me, the uplift of taking a walk to see the fall colors, or the red-purple glow of sunrise, in my case, often seen in its reflection on a skyscraper, these have healing powers. I hope you will share your thoughts on climate change anxiety.