Elinor Nauen

All readers are tourists. We want to make sense of what we see and hear, to find the balance between what is unknown and what we can call ours.

~ Margo Jefferson

Hot.

Humid. 

Hotter. 

Muggier. 

Back when the weather allows. 

Not excited about anything in particular, just kinda wired from taking a hard class on yet another really hot & humid day - if I had left my house before the cutoff for canceling class, I would have, so that I wouldn't have to drag myself to the gym. There was a second class but as it's "stretched & balanced" with the lights turned down, I can't really claim that it's hard. I have a lot of deadlines but none of them are today so I'm farting around when I really need to get crackin'. Is that an expression anyone still uses? Weggy's didn't have the herb tofu I like so I didn't bother getting anything else & now I'm hungry. I had a frozen Indian dinner for breakfast but there wasn't a lot to it. I have lots of appointments for the week that keep getting moved. Gotta write a sermon & a blurb, figure out if I need to buy waterproof sneakers for Norway & do I need kroners or can I charge everything. I appreciate the minutiae of my life because it means I'm not on the run, the same as I appreciate paying taxes because it means I'm a citizen, a member of society, someone who belongs & has a stake. 

Lovely Glorious Nothings

It could be god or wealth I long for

but it's poetry, scattering

bright in a Massachusetts farmhouse

or a New York tenement

Life is poetry

          (What else is there?)

It doesn't matter if it's good

          (It only matters,

          all that matters

          is if it's good)

Fall down 7 times get up 8

Museums are places of conservation, education, and about protecting something sacred. We need to assign those same values to our oceans.

~ Jason deCaires Taylor

Jason deCaires Taylor is a sculptor, environmentalist, professional underwater photographer, and founder of MUSAN (Museum of Underwater Sculpture Ayia Napa) in the Mediterranean in Cyprus. For almost two decades, he has been creating underwater museums and sculpture parks, submerging some 1,200 living artworks throughout the world's oceans and seas to highlight the climate emergency and environmental activism. "The sculptures create a habitat for marine life while illustrating humanity's fragility and its relationship with the marine world."

Just came from seeing Folktales, a documentary focusing on three 19-year-olds & the year they spend at a folk school in northern Norway, 200 miles above the Arctic Circle. They learn to work as a team caring for dogs, survive alone in the wilderness, & how to be less anxious about themselves and their futures. We see plenty of Norway's beautiful nature too. I went with two 14-year-olds who both found it appealing, although they couldn't quite imagine taking a whole year off to actually attend a school like that. 

It was about half in English & half in Norwegian, & I'm happy to report that I understood almost all of the Norwegian. At one point I was following so well that it took me a moment to realize they were speaking in norsk. 

Almost every day I go to the library for a book or 2, buy an e-book for a buck or 2. By the time I get them home, I sometimes barely open them. I like them piling up, lush with potential. I knew someone who had 5 kids. A mutual friend said, He likes to have a lot of stuff. I don't like to have a lot of stuff, only a lot of books. Paper is elemental. Pleasing. Words too. For a project I've been asking if people have a favorite word. I'm curious what it is, but mostly just if they have one. The writers & poets all do, everyone else says "favorite word?" as in a concept new to them, & then tells me "love" or "heart." (The writers' favorite words include yonder, companion, & I've forgotten the others.) 

Update: I didn't know when I wrote this that August 8 (or was it August 9?) is International Book Day. But that's every day, no?

Well, I looked in my file of "scanned treasures" too plop in something from the vault, but today they didn't seem all that valuable, except in being happy to see familiar names, many of them no longer around, which is, of course, bittersweet - my happiness at knowing them matched by the loss. I found a lot of obscure in-jokes that are funny to me but would require a ton of explanation & then you still would have had to be there. The weather is pleasing & I did a bunch of those things that I didn't do the last couple of days AND I DID MY LAUNDRY, my favorite task to cross off the list. I'm reading about Norway & the Sami & a million other interesting things & if only we had a sane president & an unsheep congress, life would be about as good as I could ever want. 

Just came from the funeral of a 101-year-old friend, Bebe Beder. Living to a great age was the smallest of her accomplishments. Having been married to Sy for 78 years was a big one. (Sy died in January 2022, a few months after his 99th birthday.) Being the queen of our synagogue was right up there, & that's thanks to her qualities of wit, listening, frankness, & kindness. I think the secret was that she & Sy made you feel that while they liked everyone, they liked you just a smidgen more. I think everyone felt that they were secretly the favorite. Why'd you get married so young? I asked her. Look at him, she gestured. I didn't want anyone else to get their hooks into Sy (the Paul Newman of the synagogue). Bebe was surprised that she was exactly the same age as my mother ~ she thought we were peers. And we were, just not in age. She & Sy counseled draft resisters during Vietnam, this after Sy had flown a bomber (named "Bebe") during WWII. He & I would occasionally go to a baseball game together. Once he called & canceled: "I don't want to be away from Bebe that long." 

I didn't go to a movie (Folktales, set in Norway), though I had all afternoon free. I didn't do my laundry, because I'm not quite desperate enough. I didn't find the bag of $20s & my bank card that I managed to lose, although I did cancel the card. It's weird to lose cash & have no idea where it could be. My pants have deep pockets, my bag is zipped, & I don't know where else to look. While I didn't start either of the new projects I have in mind, I did spend time pondering how to go about them, with mounting excitement at the possibilities. I didn't finish any of the zillion books I'm in the middle of. I did buy shampoo & toilet paper, & I did take a nice soaky bath, & I did comb the aisles of the soon-to-close Rite Aid on my corner, where I bought some moisturizer for half off. I guess that's my life every day, isn't it, doing some things, neglecting or forgetting others, being surprised / pleased / discouraged / infuriated / cheered..... 

It is not down on any map; true places never are.

~ Herman Melville

A quick trip to Cannon Beach, Oregon, where approximately 43 FCs (Favorite Cousins) laughed, reminisced, caught up, bonded across generations, cried, showed our "talents," took a ride on a 100-year-old train, walked on the beach, survived a tsunami, ate expensive, mediocre food, laughed some more & vowed to do this again soon. 

Writing this in advance. When you read it, I'll be dozing down on the entire continent, flying from NYC to Portland, OR, for a family reunion of approximately 35 of my favorite cousins. 

Maybe will post while I'm away but maybe not.... 

The most difficult thing is the decision to act; the rest is merely tenacity.
~ Amelia Earhart

According to an article in The New Yorker — "So You Want to Be a Dissident? A practical guide to courage in Trump's age of fear," by Julia Angwin and Ami Fields-Meyer, April 12, 2025 (sorry, no link but can be found) — "Political-science research reveals that autocratic leaders can be successfully challenged. Erica Chenoweth, a professor at Harvard University, has analyzed more than six hundred mass movements that sought to topple a national government (often in response to its refusal to acknowledge election results) or obtain territorial independence in the past century. Chenoweth found that when at least 3.5 per cent of the population participated in nonviolent opposition, movements were largely successful."

Let's go, team! 

Walking through Village View from 1st Ave to Ave A. Someone called, I like your t-shirt. It was a laundry-day selection from B&H restaurant with their motto: Challah por favor.

I like your dog, I called back. 

B&H is closed now? he continued. 

Yes, til mid-August. We commiserated & that led to talk of his dog & our desires to monetize things like his cute dog & my ability to remember birthdays. We talked about a surprising amount of things, agreeing, joshing, stopping just short of making a playdate between Murphy, his corgi, and my cat. I know his name (Robert) & birthday, & somehow, everything I need to. I love that kind of New York City encounter, brief but complete, leaving both of pleased & feeling like we have a new friend even if just for a few minutes & we never see each other again. A one night stand friendship: satisfying & it ends there. 

Someone told me that in medieval China and Japan, incense clocks burned different scents throughout the day, so you could smell the time. 

Did people take it for granted: that's the way we do it, or did they marvel at the clever combinations? Were they trained, like Pavlov's dogs, to know it was, say, 9 o'clock when cinnamon wafted through the room? Could you torture someone or deprive them of sleep by lighting the early a.m. scent hour after hour? Would it influence people to experience synesthesia, the phenomenon of sensory "crossovers," like seeing letters as colors.

I remember I invented the AromAlarm, designed to wake you with the scent of coffee, but of course I didn't build it & was mostly pleased with the name. It's not a bad idea. 

During the pandemic, my neighbors and I went up on the roof of our building every night. We banged pots with people all over the neighborhood & sat & talked. It was a way to get out of our houses & have a social life. 

This summer it's been mostly too hot but we went up last night. The sun slowly bowed out & the pink sky turned to turquoise. Cool breezes & interesting talk.

Suddenly it's not such a bad summer.

Sensationally great to go to a game last night (despite it taking 2 3/4 to get home from Queens, what was with the train?). The weather was as perfect as it's been this wgike year, & the game had variety: homeruns, some good pitching, some thrills, some lulls. Exactly how a baseball game should be. It's a little like making love, it occurs to me: pleasantly familiar but you never know exactly how things are going to go. 

I just found a clipping I'd saved [not sure what paper I cut it out of], with the headline above, a photo of a newborn, & this text:

Fifteen day old Emilio Marco Palma Is unique. He's the first human born in Antarctica. Born Jan. 7, he's son of the commander of an Argentine military base. Argentina, trying to reinforce territorial claims, has sent families there.

According to wiki, he's featured in the Guinness Book of Records as the first person born on the continent. His father was head of the Argentine Army detachment at the base, and his mother was airlifted there when she was 7 months pregnant. 

"While 10 people have been born in Antarctica since, his birthplace remains the southernmost." None of those babies died as infants. Antarctica therefore has the lowest infant mortality rate of any continent: 0%. 

What happened to him? You can't dine out forever on having been born. Can you?

Apparently, I am the last person in the United States to discover that Frozen is based on Hans Christian Andersen's "Snow Queen." Certainly the only person who is reading little other than books about snow, including Barbara Sjoholm's The Palace of the Snow Queen: Winter Travels in Lapland and Sapmi, which begins with her describing how fascinated she was as a child with that story. Well, there you have it. HCA, coming right up! As far as I remember, the only story I've read of his is "The Fir Tree," which I read in Norwegian ("Grantreet") for a class. 

The young man caught up to me in front of Cooper Union. Hi, he said, I'm Adrian, what's your name? I told him. You like nature, right? Not particularly, I said. (I, City Girl!) That threw him off for the briefest second. Do you agree that NYC air is pretty polluted? he asked confidently. No, not really. He started right back in. Then I realized he was shilling for the Nature Conservancy. I support you! I declared; as nature goes, you're OK. He was pleased. Half a block later, I realized that my friend who works for the Nature Conservancy actually works for the Environmental Defense Fund, & now I can't remember which group I in fact have donated to, if it's even one of those two. 

There is a CONCENTRATION CAMP on U.S. soil. I can't think of much else. 

This is from Lucian K. Truscott IV's substack. He talks at length about Dachau then:

 Governor Ron DeSantis has built his own concentration camp, which he calls "Alligator Alcatraz," on the land of an airport in the Everglades. Nearly 900 undocumented migrants are kept there in cages inside huge tents, 30 or more to a cage. There are only three toilets and sinks for dozens and dozens of inmates. Reports from the camp say they are being fed spoiled fruit, moldy bread, ham or cheese sandwiches and little else. Swarms of mosquitoes are everywhere. Inmates are covered in festering bites.

... Nobody knows what the temperature is inside the tents, because no one is allowed inside the concentration camp to inspect conditions. A few Florida lawmakers from both parties, including state representatives and members of the Florida congressional delegation, were allowed into the camp last Saturday for two hours. They were not permitted to bring phones or cameras inside. Journalists were not permitted to accompany them. Citizens from the local area, including members of the Miccosukee Tribe of Indians of Florida who live nearby on land in the Everglades, are not permitted entrance to the camp.

Guards are being hired by Critical Response Strategies, a company that has been contracted to run the camp. The pay is $29 per hour, with $39 per hour for overtime. ... One guard who worked at the concentration camp and quit told the Washington Post that she had been put to work at the camp the same day she was hired ... If people are being hired and put to work as guards on the same day, it does not appear that they are given training or much of a background check.

There is much more, & it is shocking & intolerable. Unconscionable. But as a small antidote to this horror, my rabbi sent an email this afternoon, with the above photo & this message: Our neighbors at Madina Masjid [the mosque around the corner,] are in the midst of a construction project and ... since June, we have been hosting them on Fridays. We have been in relationship with the Imams and lay leaders of the Madina Masjid for decades. They participate in our annual, community-wide Spiritual Sounds concert and we have been there to support one another in difficult times as well. 

Shabbat Shalom.

1) Homeless veteran. Hungry. He had striking blue eyes. Do you want half a sandwich? I showed him the bag, sealed with an Elephant & Castle sticker. What is it? Cheddar and watercress. He thought for a moment. OK, he said, & held out his hand. I felt like I was supposed to thank him. 

2) He was sitting outside the pharmacy. No shade but the sidewalk is wide there. A deep box for contributions. Can you buy me deodorand at Rite Aid, he asked, miming applying it. No but I can give you a dollar, I said. Like the first one, he thought about it for a minute before he took my money. 

OK. 

Has it been long enough since I complained about the weather that my chance has come around again? Not so much a complain as a question: How is it possible that it rained so hard yesterday that some of the subways were flooded & yet today it's just as humid as it's been for a month? 

Hey WillisWeather, fix this for me! Or least explain it in way that makes me have hope for the future?

Looking for them* doesn't do any good. Maybe saying I can't find them will. 

* Right now, here are the books that I know I have but can't find. I don't know where else to look but that's where they are:

A Voyage to Pagany, William Carlos Williams

How Spring Comes, Alice Notley (I did find Johnny's copy) 

The Origin of THE Species, Barbara Barg

Magpie Rising, Merrill Gilfillan

Greggo lost his copy of Pagany years ago & would always ask me if I had it. I bought a copy a few years back & now it's gone. 

I feel like a teenager could come over & spot any of these, all of these, on my shelves in seconds. 

If you want a book, I have it. If you want a specific book, good luck. 

All music is folk music. I ain't never heard a horse sing a song.

~ Louis Armstrong

Not a Bastille Day quote. 

Not a profound quote either. 

Just a moment of levity. 

I tagged it with that frequently used title, because I have barely left my neighborhood this summer (except for a week in South Carolina, which is a different neighborhood of mine) but it isn't inspiring me to an anecdote. My mind is full of a problem in Norwegian: in English, "coat" means both a garment and a covering/varnish. But not so directly in Norwegian. I'm trying to find a word that implies both. It's riveting to try to track down words, in either English or Norwegian. I can appreciate the etymology better in English, of course. 

The weather has scrambled my brain so egg-like, I want my momma: friend chicken. I mean fried chicken (a telling typo!).

My pigeons had 2 eggs. One hatched on Monday. On Wednesday a dead newborn was lying on the ground in front of my door. On Thursday, there were 2 babies in the nest, one of which has to be at least a week or 10 days old. Very puzzling. 

I haven't actually eaten any chicken & it kind of turns my stomach to think of it. 

Nonetheless, a craving. 

Pigeons can feel the distress of their companions & at times will foster or adopt others' birds. 

Apparently, that's more than I can manage.

Someone said that about me this morning and within an hour 2 people had asked for directions: a couple with suitcases trying to find the Freeman's Alley hotel & an older lady who possibly has never been below 57th Street. I have, it seems, maintained my miniature-golf, ask-me-anything face despite all my years as a black-wearing East Village Malcontent. 

I didn't know her well but a lot of people I know relied on her. Her being is strong. Her writing is necessary.

"In the spirit there are no accidents. God is already ahead and waiting: the future is full." ~ Fanny Howe