Thanksgiving morning. I awoke to the sounds of my upstairs neighbor scurrying about, most likely getting things together for whatever he has planned for Turkey Day. Nearby Russ Avenue is oddly quiet. Nobody is heading to work. The incessant construction has ceased for the day, too. 

Georgia poet and author Rupert Fike and I lived in the San Francisco Bay area during the 1970s in a time of social renaissance and spiritual awakening. He was with a core group community of some 300 young activists and idealists. The earliest beginnings of this community go back to San Francisco and a weekly meeting called Monday Night Class.

The Christmas season, dreaded by some, beloved by others, especially children. Already you’ll find houses festooned with lights and yards dotted with inflatable Santas, “Jingle Bells” and “Silent Night” on the radio and grocery store shelves stuffed with cards, chocolates and holiday cookies. 

Recently, I was gifted the use of a book to read on Native American wisdom by my Sylva dentist Dr. David McGuire. Thousands of years ago, the Toltec were known throughout southern Mexico as “women and men of knowledge” and who formed a society to explore and conserve the spiritual knowledge and practices of the ancient ones.

Recently, a teacher of history asked me, a former teacher of history, about ways to bring history alive for high school students. My response hasn’t varied in 40 years: “Make connections.” Students — and the rest of us as well — need to remember we live today with the consequences of events like the signing of the Declaration of Independence or the Battle of Gettysburg.

One of the best things about the East Coast is the fall. Last November, I made a trip to California and was surprised to find mild weather and a nameless time. There’s a reason it’s called the place where seasons never change, and I realized then and there, I was an East Coast girl through and through. 

Fifty years ago this year, I dropped out of graduate school and my studies in medieval history, and set off in a different direction. I’ve never forgotten the thought that came rolling along right behind my escape from academia: “Now I can finally read whatever I want.” 

“In my younger and more vulnerable years” are the words with which narrator Nick Carraway kicks off “The Great Gatsby.” Those seven words entranced me when I first read “Gatsby,” living then in my own younger and vulnerable days as a 20-something whose heroes were writers, most of them American, most of them male. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Thomas Wolfe: that was my triumvirate, with dozens of other novelists and poets sitting just below the salt at the same table. 

Whether you are an expert in folk music or if you can’t tell a banjo from a mandolin, a new biography, “Doc Watson: A Life in Music,” by Eddie Huffman, will draw you in. Along the way you’ll discover not just Doc’s story, but the rich history of our state and the impact of its traditional music. 

When you think “politician,” what picture pops into your mind? In today’s world, regardless of party, it is likely a bald or gray-haired old man, fixated on power and money, loyal only to his corporate sponsors. 

Enter Jacinda Ardern. Prime Minister of New Zealand. Elected at age 37 to lead her country. What kind of young woman could handle such a task, survive the opposition and pull her country together?