Hello, everyone,
On June 27th I wrote A Writer’s Introduction to Google+ for Media Tapper Magazine, which chronicled the last several years of my moveable life with my surgeon husband, during which I continued to work at a job I love in New York, all the while trying to be a good wife and partner and maintain my friendships, and all that while trying to retain some semblance of a respectable writing schedule.
During this last year of that moveable life I gratefully discovered that the dreaded social media was not so dreadful after all – Google+ gave me the opportunity to communicate with people I’d never met about things that matter to me, all the while allowing me to remain intellectually connected to a diverse group of people no matter my continually shifting geographic landscape and time zone.
But my first close encounter of the Media Tapper kind had been in an interview with the Magazine’s James Barraford way back on October 5, 2011 (http://mediatapper.com/giselle-minoli-interview-on-social-media/) in which I likened the conversations I was regularly having on G+ as similar to those held around the seminar table when I was a student at St. John’s College eons ago. Little did I know that by the time I would pen A Writer’s Introduction…. half a year after that conversation with James, that I would have had the pleasure of getting to know another two other Johnnies on G+,Leland LeCuyer and Meg Tufano. It turns out that Meg and I, in a rather stunning bit of serendipity, actually roomed in the same dorm at St. John’s when we were Freshman many decades ago, although we did not know one another then.
St. John’s holds to a Liberal Arts curriculum stuffed with the Great Books, and in true classical fashion named its dorms after the Muses. Ours was called Euterpe, the Muse of, variously, lyric poetry, music, joy, pleasure and flute playing. When the Gods of St. John’s assigned me a room in Euterpe, they had no idea that I had played the flute for 7 years, nor that I was a lover of poetry (nor did I really, at that time), nor that I would leave college to work in the music business. But that’s yet another bit of serendipity altogether.
The attached story is really a paean to re-meeting Meg Tufano all these years later on G+, and to a particularly feelingful email I received from her at a time when I really needed to receive a particularly feelingful email from someone who had experienced what I was experiencing this past summer when my house was attacked by a plague of water and mold.
While I don’t really believe in serendipity (I don’t think), I do believe in Muses and music and flute playing and joy and pleasure. Here’s to those things and everything else that matters to each of us individually.
And here’s to Meg. Sometimes meeting later is ever so much better than meeting sooner.
Have a good week.
Giselle
P.S. In case you missed it in Media Tapper, A Writer’s Introduction to Google+ appears at the end of the attached story.
August 12, 2012 at 10:26 pm
Welcome Giselle Minoli ,im Bill nice to meet you.
August 12, 2012 at 10:35 pm
What a lovely surprise. This VERY sunny day in San Diego got even sunnier. Will read and write more when I get back to the owls. ;’)
August 12, 2012 at 11:08 pm
Hello “Bill” william carter. Nice to meet you, too. And hello Meg Tufano. Hope you are having a lovely time in SD and delighted to hear you brought out the sun. Would love to catch up and hear about your trip when you have the chance…
August 12, 2012 at 11:19 pm
Giselle Minoli If you let it, that house will become a home. You are IN IT, aren’t you? … And yes, Meg Tufano knows what needs to be said, and when.
August 13, 2012 at 12:10 am
No, George Kozi. Had to move out. Thankfully we were insured. The reason I was so upset about it was because it is already a home. The number of people who told me that we could just get another one was staggering. Has everything really become that disposable? Or are we afraid to develop attachments to “things” because we think we can’t really have them for long, or shouldn’t or that we are taught detachment and that we think that means we shouldn’t “own” anything.
August 13, 2012 at 12:25 am
Perhaps we do develop too many attachments to things, and perhaps we shouldn’t… A home is different though, it is the place where your life happens. Even the hermit who took a vow of poverty has a cave. Renunciation needs to happen somewhere…
Am I rambling? Is this making any sense at all? I’m just catching thoughts that fly by…
August 13, 2012 at 12:36 am
You are not a rambler, George Kozi. That is how I feel about “home.” It’s where creativity, love, friendship, safety, health, healing, dreaming, ruminating, company…and a lot of other things happen. I just spent the afternoon with a group of people for whom I cooked brunch. Everyone had such a good time. Laughter, conversation, one couple brought their two-month old baby. What happens to friendships over the breaking of bread together is something that, as a cook, never ceases to amaze me. I love it.
August 13, 2012 at 12:37 am
I’m sorry this happened to you (the thing with the home). I am one of those people that search for meaning in things that happen, and I can’t escape it. It is the way the world makes sense to me. That meaning is sometimes illusive and all jumbled up, more a puzzle than anything else, but it is there.
When we find it, that’s another matter… it could be years later, it could be never. Nonetheless, when bad stuff happens, it inevitably ends up changing something about ourselves… and change is supposed to be a good thing, isn’t it?
August 13, 2012 at 12:42 am
For example…. I know you don’t believe in serendipity… but do you think that you have met Meg Tufano at this stage in your life, purely by blind chance? What’s your gut feeling about it? (keep the brain out of this one)
August 13, 2012 at 12:53 am
I think that St. John’s is self-selecting George Kozi…meaning its students choose it because of what its curriculum has to offer. I also think that G+ is self-selecting in the same way. People who need what they participate in to be anointed by the Pope wouldn’t attend St. John’s or sign up with G+. For whatever reasons, perhaps Meg and I (and others to whose brains and hearts I am attracted here) have all “serendipitously” reached places in our lives where we might be asking the same questions, reacting to our surroundings in resonant ways. We’ve lived our lives differently but on parallel tracks, acquiring knowledge, experience, heartbreak, joy…and when you put them in a room together (G+ in this case) the resonance is revealed. Is that serendipity? I don’t know.
August 13, 2012 at 12:56 am
😀 you are wondering about things…. I like that…
August 13, 2012 at 1:46 am
“Hello, everyone,” is insufficient warning for what followed those two words.
By the time I went from your post to your blog entry to your Media Tapper post and ended reading pio dal cin’s comment I was . . .
well, not quite able to do anything but wipe my eyes.
August 13, 2012 at 8:44 am
Thanks Bill Abrams and nice meeting you and
George Kozi in this thread sparked by my Angel friend Giselle Minoli . Meg Tufano You always bring the sun with you, in HO as ib real life.Have you met with Jack C Crawford yet?
Giselle Minoli I sent you a private album of GIRASOLI pictures, just for you, I hope you have got the notification. The system needs a bit of refurbishing here but that is another question.
I am not interacting much lately as I am “defragging”from computers and social networks, hangouts and pixels trying to clean up my mind from the virtual trash.
Been hiking the Dolomites with Aurora my daughter ( post and photos yesterday). Loving my one month long vacation ending Aug 27th.
Kisses and hugs to everyone.
Ciao ciao
August 13, 2012 at 10:45 am
Good morning Giselle Minoli – well, frankly, it’s too early for me to be close to tears and that is only partly the result of being in the wrong time zone and not sleeping well and forgetting to change the time on my iPhone and waking up too early with the correctly set alarm. Mostly it is due to you. Your writing so often moves me to tears and this time is no exception. Now I do believe in Serendipity (at least I think I do) but if you don’t (or you don’t think you do) then how to explain the fact that having woken up way too early (and fearing that I had overslept, having finally fallen asleep) and having this bit of extra time before I send my husband off to work, waving on the doorstep, I opened Google+ to find your 11 hours old post first in my stream? Now you are going to find this a very oddly written comment, as I am on a mobile device and there is no way to scroll back and read ramblings and correct them. That is my excuse.
So, dear Giselle, it is lovely to know you on G+, to have the opportunity to read your writing and to go through the experiences as you relate them, as though at your side when you lived them.
However, it must be because it is SO early and I am SO tired (and not altogether well, truth to tell) that I missed the bit that said what went wrong with your house. How did the others find it? What happened? Please provide a link. I am so sorry that it happened and also that I missed it, but I really feel that in order to feel properly sympathetic, I need to know what actually happened.
Now I must get up and prepare breakfast so that my hard working husband can go and teach the students of Maine (Rockport, Center for Furniture Craftsmanship) well fed, with sandwiches in hand for his lunch.
Hope to speak soon (and please forgive the grammar for the above reasons which I can no longer read). Big hug from us both. xo
August 13, 2012 at 11:27 am
To me, serendipity is not something that each of us decides to believe in or not; it’s a concept that summarizes the recognition that everything can be turned into a personal or collective advantage — if the mind’s user so decides.
John Kellden might have some unique insight to tack onto the ideas shared with this post.
August 13, 2012 at 11:34 am
Thanks for alerting me Bill Blonigan – there’s so much more to reality than meets the eye! Could it be that our Muses nudges us towards certain paths, certain excursions away from the path? Taking the road less travelled?
August 13, 2012 at 12:41 pm
Good morning, everyone. Thank you Bill Abrams (and everyone else) for taking the time to read this post, which, with its “attachments” was a longish one, even for me!
Ellie Kennard dear, to be honest, I do and I don’t believe in serendipity. Or, rather, as you and Bill Blonigan and John Kellden suggest under your words…there is something else at play that is gravitationally interesting. Serendipity seems to accidental to me, fate and destiny seem to have too little to do with any consciousness on our part. But there is decidedly something spiritual going on and I have always rather liked the idea of Muses, rather than Gods.
Perhaps meeting someone, or encountering an event or person that changes our lives is more like creating good fortune. Two people can be in the same room at the same time but not venture a conversation because their individual circumstances do not lead them in that direction. Years later, influenced by different circumstances, a walk toward one another might be completely natural.
I have always been “brave” in certain ways that some people (mostly women) question. I think nothing of renting an apartment in a small town in Italy for a month where I know not a soul, or of learning to fly a plane. But I was much more shy in college than I am now.
So, Yes, Bill Blonigan recognizing that everything can be turned into a personal or collective advantage…this understanding has slowly built up within me.
Ellie Kennard Steven Kennard is a master craftsman. Mastering serendipity…perhaps that is what is going on for a lot of us here.
As for the specifics of what happened to the house, I never did post it. Just had to get busy fixing it. It was a leak in a half-bath, from which the entire space between the wood floors throughout the house and the subfloor was flooded with water and there was simply no way to dry it out. It all had to come up. ‘Nough said.
August 13, 2012 at 1:06 pm
As for you and our girasoli pio dal cin, I did get that post, to which I responded. Did you not get my message? Or did you send another post which went by me so fast I missed it? I hope you are having a lovely month off. I cannot imagine a lovelier time than hiking in the Dolomites with Aurora…and is Luna with you???? How perfectly beautiful. I imagine you are taking lots of photos, which I hope you will share with us when you are fully “defragged” and ready to be re-fragged once again.
As for serendipity everyone, meeting pio dal cin, in my father’s homeland (and I do consider Italy my spiritual home)…serendipity? Fate? Destiny? Coincidence? Happy accident? Blessing? Silver Lining? Pot of Gold at the end of the Rainbow? You tell me!
August 13, 2012 at 3:59 pm
Thank you for this post Giselle. You inspire me!
August 13, 2012 at 4:12 pm
Great post and I re-read that great Media Tapper post again;a MUST read for all. Funny;I went into G+ having no idea it was going to be so much FUN and kudos to Meg Tufano who is one of the “funnest”!
August 14, 2012 at 5:44 am
Giselle Minoli Your articles and post are always inspiring. You are THE Muse of Google+
We did not take Luna on the trail as the small and pointed rocks would have been too hard on her pawns. I did take lotsa photo that I posted on my profile . Here is the link(https://plus.google.com/u/0/115135005437142391944/posts/TVWYYCf2UiV)
As for us meeting here on G+ I believe that certain people are meant to meet each other for some reason.
The GIRASOLI photos: I didn’t get the notification (the system needs serious refurbishing) I will post it publicly and mention you there:)
Ciao my dear friend…
August 14, 2012 at 6:06 am
Giselle Minoli I found your comment on the GIRASOLI:::))))
August 14, 2012 at 12:33 pm
Good pio dal cin. I just responded to it. I wish you and Aurora a great trip. You will have a wonderful time. E grazie mille ancora per i miei girasoli, mi sono piaciuti molto. Mi hanno fatto un grande sorriso.
August 15, 2012 at 3:25 am
Hello Giselle Minoli I’m baaaaack! To the owls and “my” woods and to the reminder (which is the essence of your wonderful writing) that there are synchronicities to which we must just accept as good luck, fate or grace. However they arrive. . . . I know that, at this point, I just feel grateful.
August 22, 2012 at 3:02 pm
I remember having read that very good piece.I don’t believe in serendipity in the void, but I believe in serendipity when you adopt the proper attitude in an appropriate environment. I wrote how and why you can be a Serendip Prince on google+.
August 22, 2012 at 5:04 pm
Thank you so much Marie Hélène Visconti. I don’t really believe in serendipity either, although I confess I would like to very much. It’s that old saying about creating our own “luck.” Something like if you stop peddling the bicycle it will stop and you will fall over with it…
August 22, 2012 at 5:36 pm
Leland LeCuyer I don’t know if you ever got pinged on this. BTW, I should write about how I got to St. John’s.
#megstories I was 19 and had a date with someone I secretly loved from long ago, someone I had known since I was 15. I knew I didn’t have a chance with him, he was way too handsome, way too smart, but he had asked me out, so? I was excited!!!!! I lived in Georgetown in DC and we had a very romantic evening (no, not that kind of romantic, actual romance (as in talking about your deepest feelings, suggestive glances) and then we even climbed over the brick wall at Dumbarton Oaks (such daring!) and walked through their formal gardens as if we owned them (you can’t do that now, the tree that you could climb to get over the wall is long gone; and now they have security). It was like being IN a painting by Fraganard.
Then he walked me home and I expected a kiss, but didn’t get one. Sigh.
Went to sleep with all the visions of the night mixed together, especially the conversation which ranged wide and deep, and felt a slight ache in my heart, but like Scarlett, there was always tomorrow. I didn’t have work the next day and I slept late. When I awoke, I literally sat up staring at my phone. Bright yellow phone (don’t ask). And I stared at it, hardly moving, waiting, willing it to ring. Modern girls cannot imagine this kind of thing, the everpresent cell phone and the equality of who calls whom now eliminates this kind of agony. But in those days (pretty much), girls waited. And I waited. And stared.
My “apartment” did not have a kitchen or a hot plate (I lived in Georgetown which then was like living in Manhattan is now; if you can find a closet to live in that you can afford, you take it and sleep standing up.) But I had a tiny bed, not much else. The bathroom was actually larger than the “bedroom.” No room for any furniture but there were large stacks of books everywhere (no room for a bookcase). It was an “English basement” so at least a window on which I had a few pieces of fruit. I put on the only record I owned on a really bad record player (but it was MY record player) that sat atop a stack of books: “The Brandenburg Concerto.” I forget which orchestra. And I stared at that phone and filled myself with as much music as I could to stop the rising irritation. (I can still see, all these years later, that damned yellow phone in my memory.) And I waited. But by 5 o’clock? I’d had it. I was mad.
I stalked out of my apartment (no answering machine, no cell phones, you miss the call, you miss the call). And stomped my way back up the hill to Montrose Park where I kicked stones and looked over at the brick wall (Dumbarton Oaks (a private museum and park owned by Harvard University) is next to the public Montrose Park) and I wanted to kick the brick wall, too. And I rambled around the public park, slightly disoriented until I came upon a group of musicians who were playing odd instruments. One was playing a sitar. I sat and listened to the weirdest music in the world (if you have never heard Indian music before, it is very strange) and I felt as though I really was in a dream.
Then the young man playing the sitar, handsome and, it turned out, quite nice, just asked me very simply if I would go with him to a dinner party. Defiantly (let the damned phone ring off the hook!!! Ha!), I said, “Sure,” never expecting what would happen next. We walked back to his friend, Tammy’s, house. She lived in a real Georgetown house, although hers was renovated and very posh. Tammy, it turned out was going to be going to St. John’s College the next week. There was a party of about ten of her friends and her siblings, and we ate a ridiculously enormous dinner (food just kept coming, one course leading to another, any one of which would have been “dinner” enough for me) and in those days it was legal to drink alcohol in Washington, so we drank Sangria, something I’d never had before, adding to the sense I had entered some altered state. Very convivial and relaxed and full of laughter.
“Grown-ups” were in the next room keeping the food coming but staying out of our way. I liked Tammy immediately. And she was gaga about St. John’s and went on and on about it. It sounded like a place that was right up my alley. My family had been calling me “Professor” since I was a baby. “But I’m sure it’s too late to go,” I said to her. “Maybe not! I’ll call and find out in the morning.” Well, that would be amazing, I thought. (St. John’s begins Freshman year two times a year, once in September, and once in February. This would be the February Freshman class.)
The handsome sitar player was also quite interested in the college. As I had done, but for different reasons, he had left his college the year before. I had left Carnegie-Mellon’s drama program because I decided I loved all things theater except theater life. I wanted to be a professional actress, do Shakespeare. But the “life” of the theater involved a whole lot of what I can only call “messiness.” I couldn’t understand the half of it, especially the whole sleeping around to get a part in a play. Not my thing. I had come back to DC to think things out again about my future and was working as a secretary to support my tiny room in Georgetown. Tammy took out the St. John’s catalogue and we pored over all the BOOKS that she would be reading. My pulse was racing. _Could it be possible?_
The sitar player walked me home and did kiss me. One very nice, “You’re cute!” kiss. And he said he would call me the next day. But it was Tammy who called first. And she told me to get dressed, she had arranged for me to have an interview at St. John’s. I called my parents to check out that this was OK with them. (It was VERY OK with them: they were worried I wouldn’t go back to college.) And I went to the interview with Tammy and within a few days, I was living in Annapolis, studying Ancient Greek and reading Homer and deep into a life of the mind that I have pretty much never left (my employers were very gracious about my leaving, they also thinking I should be back in college.)
The sitar player decided to come to St. John’s too (about a week after classes had started). He decided I was VERY cute and we were an ‘item’ for quite a long time, including going to Santa Fe together for the second year, but each in our own dorm of course. Tammy and I at Euterpe where I “met” our very own Giselle Minoli (I must have! We even were on the same floor and shared the same bathroom!) but we did not become friends then. She remembers me as being, “The one with all that energy.” ;’)
Oh! My romantic date from the beginning of the story! The one whom I secretly loved? The one who, if he had called, I never would have gone to St. John’s? He called eleven years later. This time he stepped up his game ;’): we quickly eloped and have been married ever since.
So George Kozi , do we vote for luck or fate or what? ;’)
August 22, 2012 at 5:39 pm
That is the most divine and wonderful story Meg Tufano. My husband however beats your husband. It took him over 30 years later! Worth the wait isn’t it dear Meg?
August 22, 2012 at 5:40 pm
Giselle Minoli Amen Sister! ;’)
August 22, 2012 at 6:01 pm
Giselle Minoli By my calculations, your husband must have been chatting you up in pre-school!
August 22, 2012 at 6:16 pm
Bill Abrams Ha! Then he would have been divining my presence! Thinking that is good for a woman’s ego…so I shall believe it if you say it!
August 22, 2012 at 6:47 pm
Giselle Minoli I was just marveling about how you can refer to a romance interrupted by 30 years when you don’t look more than a couple of months over 39!
During our courtship my wife and I discovered we represented two different schools in the same contest some 25 years before the year we were married and even though I was a mischievous romantic, we don’t recall any pulling of the pigtails, so I can’t claim an interrupted romance for that long. I did pester her some years later, but there were always other boys in her life.
August 22, 2012 at 6:49 pm
Well, even though I started late I aim to join the club of those long marrieds. Hint: I’m over 50!
Meanwhile, congratulations to you and your wife. I believe love makes people younger….