Polymaths, dilattantes and the Renaissance Woman

    My great grandmother could do anything. At least that's what I thought at eleven years old. She crocheted afghans. She could gut fish, can tomatoes, and make the best peanut butter cookies in the universe. After so many years my memory of her is dim and probably colored with inaccuracies and stories that aren't true memories, but I always thought she was somewhat remarkable in her versatility and the things she could do. 

    I'm a dabbler. I know a little about a variety of subjects, but I would probably fall in the category of loving many things, mistress of none. It's shameful to me, the fact that I haven't ever stuck with anything long enough to master it. I dabble and flit between activities, taking up one thing for a few months and dropping it when something shiny catches my eye.

    A few months ago I came in contact with a woman, we’ll call her Beatrice. That’s not her name but it’s interesting. Beatrice shined with an ultra-violet light. I was immediately drawn to her personality. She was a woman who had lived. We started chatting and it seemed like she had experience in every subject that came up. She had just finished hiking Mt. Whitney, making the 22-mile trek-- in one day. I did it in three days, with a full posse of guys to set up and break down tents, cook, carry gear, and fetch water. Beatrice climbed the highest peak in the contiguous United States at 62. I was 23 and nearly collapsed.

    She shared delicious gourmet recipes with me, which included ingredients I’d never heard of, like endives and shallots. Endive is basically a kind of lettuce used in salads, and shallots are onions. They sound so much more exotic. She brought cuttings from her garden of plants and knew the biological names for all of them. Beatrice hiked with her dog almost every weekend. One day, Beatrice showed up in painter’s pants because she had what she called an “outdoor day” planned-- painting, finishing cabinets she was building, and changing the oil in her car.
 
    Before she retired she was a teacher. For five years she taught school. Then she got bored. She started her own line of couture. She sold her business when she was ready to move on and with the proceeds she bought a motorcycle, some new camera gear and took herself on a  a trip to Europe. She got a job at the post office. She worked for a senator as an administrative assistant. She was a docent at the museum of natural history. She was a photographer and her work was shown at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. She was married and had four children and eight grandchildren.

    Her husband died, so she moved to Japan for a year and taught English. Then she moved to San Francisco. She lived in New York for a year. She was fluent in Italian, Spanish, and Japanese.

    I realized after a few months of knowing Beatrice that she and I are not so different. She was a dabbler too, a jack-of-all-trades. Only she would be what’s referred to as a Renaissance woman or polymath. A person  well educated or who excels in a wide variety of subjects or fields. I know a little about a lot of things. Beatrice excelled in a lot of things. But the world wouldn’t criticize someone like her. She’s not so different from me. She skipped around from career to career, never settling on a single option. She did things that she wanted to do and when she got bored, she switched.

    Despite this seemingly drifting nature, she developed her skills as a part of her life and made it work for her. She told me once that she didn’t want all her eggs in one basket, so with a teacher’s pension and a post office pension, she was covered. Plus she saved by doing things for herself instead of hiring people whenever she could. She was efficient and thrifty without losing out when it came to comfort and style.  She stayed healthy and trim and in style-- she didn't look her age, despite her long silver hair. She sometimes wore men’s shirts and work boots and she still looked as cool and stylish as she did in her Seven for All Mankind jeans or yoga pants. She pulled off a lot of different looks-- her personal style was as varied as her life.

  After meeting her I realized I am not as much of a “failure” as I have sometimes thought. I am an aspiring Renaissance Woman. There are so many things out there to learn, so many interesting subjects to invest time in and master. It's thrilling and I feel the energy surge every time I think of the things I want to do. I don't think life has to be limited to just one passion, one commitment.

    My first commitment is always going to be to my writing, but I have plenty of second best affections to bestow. It's liberating to know that it's okay to be multi-faceted-- to realize I don't have to apologize anymore for my interests or be ashamed if I express a desire to start a band or become an astronaut or learn to write shorthand. I can do it all if I want-- no holds barred. I can blog and still write novels. I can learn to ride a motorcycle and play the guitar and fish and garden and knit and build model airplanes if I want to. My only caveat-- and it's a newer ideal-- is to master each skill I commit to. If I want to learn to play guitar, I will work until I can do it. It’s a pretty exciting idea and I’m ready to get my hands dirty.

    So here's to Great-Grandma Jean, to Beatrice, to new adventures, and to never, ever settling for ordinary. Cheers!

Reboot

    I’m back. I have neglected this blog for the past two months, mostly because I was pouting. I started to feel like no one was reading it, like I was just talking to myself and the sparse handful of loyal readers who are always there for me. I tried brevity. I tried shock value. I tried to entice readers in with cheap tricks and over posting on Facebook.
    I started this blog (let’s call it an “online column”, shall we?) to gain credibility and attention as a writer. I hoped that the column would gain popularity, and then when I submit my stories and manuscript, editors might say hey, I recognize that name. Right now I have no other way of building up a frame of reference, aside from actual publication. I am vigorously collecting rejection letters to that end. Still, I’m willing to keep trying the online column thing in an attempt to get my name out there. Obviously it only works if I have readers, but I recently read something on Penelope Trunk’s blog that made perfect sense-- if you write it they will come. I’m not getting a lot of readers right now, but then I’m not posting anything new either.
    So I’m back and I’m done pouting. To the few of you who are my ever-loyal readers, thank you from the very center of my heart (because the bottom of my heart sounds like a place where the dregs collect, whereas the center is the source of the lifeblood and very much more valuable). This is just a notification that I will commence writing and not let myself give up just because of reader-greed.
    If you loyal few do feel like being supportive though-- you can help by posting on Facebook, forwarding links via email, subscribing to the blog-- every little bit helps. I will post a “real” blog first thing tomorrow so if you feel helpful please do what you can to forward it along. I will keep writing regardless. But helpfulness is appreciated.
    Love you all!