Jacquie's Reminder Email
"When you're writing, you are robbed of your delivery." - Calvin Trillin
Hello Literary Ladies!
Although I was saddened to realize that this Wednesday, May 19th's meeting of The Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson will be the final one for this year's tremendously enjoyable theme of Comedy, Humor, and Satire, I know we are going to have a lot of fun with Carla's presentation on Calvin Trillin because I've already had the best time just choosing a quote for my reminder email. There was this: "As far as I'm concerned, 'whom' is a word that was invented to make everyone sound like a butler." Or, "The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found." Or even, "If Lincoln freed the slaves and preserved the Union, how come 'Lincolnesque' just means tall?"
But the quote above in blue won the day because not only did it make me chuckle, but it also made me think; think of our dear Lit Club and the myriad ways our form of exploring different themes and the work of different writers brings added richness to what we experience together. Sharing the words of our writers by reading them aloud gives them new meaning - we hear them differently with each new reader, as well as through the minds and enthusiasm of each presenter. It might not be the 'delivery' intended by the author (ha!) but we are grateful to all our writers for bravely giving up that privilege so that we can find our own way through their thoughts and ideas, leaving our time together a little fuller than when we first came. (Pun intended, with dreams of soon returning to shared luncheons!)
Although I missed the chance to hear everyone laughing together (or not!) this past year, Zoom still kept us all close and I think we should give ourselves a standing ovation for the new computer skills we all mastered and the creative way we persevered. I look forward to seeing you all on Wednesday. Enjoy this beautiful weather! xJacquie
Christine's Minutes
For our first in person meeting in over a year, thirteen fully vaccinated and hence maskless members of the Literature Club gathered in Carol Barkin’s backyard. We were seated upon a variety of folding chairs. For our benefit the garden was extravagantly displaying its ornaments: bright pink and pale pink peonies were at their peak, chives were topped with lilac pompoms, and mingled all about were Rose Campion (Silene coronaria). Even the landscapers had yielded to the imperative of out literary gathering, and had rescheduled their noisy mechanical ministrations.
President Fran Greenberg rang the bell at 1:40, and it was a treat to hear the ding-a-ling unmediated by cyberspace. The minutes of the previous meeting were read and accepted. The treasury remains at $267.52. Fran told us she is in the process of affixing our club bookplates to the books donated to the library. Connie requested that members please tell her their chosen subjects for next year’s program.
What better way to end a year of humor with one of the most humorous humorists out there? Carla’s presentation was on Calvin Trillin, and her chosen readings had many of us weeping with laughter.
Along with copies of our readings, Carla had for each of us a gift-wrapped Chuckles™, elegantly described by one member as a “madeleine of a 1970s childhood in Poughkeepsie.”
Calvin Trillin was born in Kansas City in 1935. He went to Yale, where he wrote for the Yale Daily News. After serving in the army, he moved to New York City to begin his writing career. He started writing for The New Yorker in 1963, and in 1967 he began writing his column “Uncivil Liberties” for The Nation. Most importantly, in 1965 he married Alice Stewart – yes, the famous Alice of all his stories. They had two daughters, and several grandchildren. She died in 2001.
Trillin has been a prolific writer, with 177 works, in over 463 publications. In 2013 he was awarded the Thurber Prize for American Humor.
The club read, with great merriment, dare I say giddiness, selections from Floater, Tepper Isn’t Going Out, and The Tummy Trilogy. Your secretary particularly appreciated an extract from “To Market, To Market” in which their friend Jeffrey, who “had finished second in the other-than-white egg division,” chats about eggs with the poultry vendors. It must be admitted that like Jeffrey, your secretary has been known to turn up her nose at the color of yolks not produced by her own chickens.
One hilarious selection demonstrated Trillin’s technique, while traveling out of town, for deciding whether or not to accept a colleague’s dinner invitation, that is, if the food would be good.
Some members almost laughed themselves into a veritable snort, as we listened to the story of Chubby, the collie dog, who turned out to be named George. Trillin was the one called Chubby.
Throughout his writing, his wife Alice is often brought in, as a straight (wo)man to Trillin’s extravagant gastronomic adventures. His tenderness for her is palpable.
Trillin’s comic genius is made manifest when he takes the mundane and makes it extraordinary, and hilarious. What is more mundane than finding a decent parking spot in the city? His last novel, Tepper Isn’t Going Out, is about Tepper who enjoys parking for its own sake.
A fine time was had by all. The club looks forward to this September when we can meet in person, and in the spirit of Calvin Trillin, enjoy the delicious lunches prepared by members.
Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary
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