- Apr 19, 2021
This last year I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time watching Gilmore Girls. It was my first time watching the series all the way through, and just a nice breather and reminder of a simpler time. What I loved most was the witty and whimsical writing (honestly not going for alliteration there). To me, the whole point of Gilmore Girls isn’t just the girls, it's the town. As much as we enjoy the banter, shenanigans, and junk-eating movie marathons, it's Stars Hollow we love, right? There is something about that sense of being known, feeling safe, and snickering at the quirky people in your town whom you really do love.
Six things Gilmore Girls reminded me about community:
1. Sometimes people are weirdos, but what would life be without them? Perhaps it would be more tranquil, but it would also more boring. I mean, you can't watch Gilmore Girls without laughing at the quirks of Kirk. I feel like there should be a montage entitled "The Quirks of Kirk." Yes, I'd definitely watch that.
2. Having fun and making memories is your choice (whether it’s a movie night, a town meeting, or yet another festival or parade)—life is meant to be celebrated and enjoyed. Embracing and creating happiness and even the cheesiness of certain events and holidays will leave our lives more meaningful. COVID has stopped many festivals normally happening in our area, but we have found a few fun events and try to have movie nights at home (with a bit of junk food, I might add).
3. You can love your community and still role your eyes. Think of Luke’s character. I mean, I’m all about positivity, serendipities, and sunsets but honestly, nothing is better than a cute guy who is a little grouchy and yet loyal. He didn’t do a lot of fussy things, but he was always there and helping the community; he was consistently there for his friends. And he was always serving up coffee—which leads me to my next point...
4. Coffee and donuts (but mostly coffee) bring people together. Never underestimate the power of delicious drinks and maybe a treat to disarm hostilities and encourage conversation--something we need so much right now.
And for me, coffee is an elixer of life. As Lorelai said, “I can’t stop drinking the coffee. I stop drinking coffee, I stop doing the standing, and the walking, and the words-putting-into-sentences doing.”
5. Relationships can wring us out, and yet it’s important to avoid quickly writing off people as being toxic. In a world where pop psychology would tell us in sweeping broad strokes to dismiss people who bother us, it is possible to have boundaries but still love others and be there for them. I'm not speaking of true abuse situations here--more about people who annoy us or just feel like more work to be around.
6. Make your couch the best place to collapse. Life is especially challenging these days, and I'm trying to cultivate a home culture that is relaxing and fun. There is lots of teaching and training that goes on around here, but at the end of every day, the fact that we can collapse on our couch and enjoy a bit more time together is pretty great.
What I've noticed on social media the last few years, is that everyone seems to have so many things to say. So many tips, hacks, recipes. So many “Hey, guys! Let me tell you what you should care about.” For success, for happiness. There are glossy, beautiful photos showing the "expert" on her expensive couch with a view overlooking the ocean. Clearly she has it all; clearly we should listen up.
There is a lot to learn online, but it's not community in its truest form, it's just not. It's a fabulous place to gather and exchange ideas, but it's not the place for your soul to rest.
I’d much rather meet you for a cup of coffee at Luke’s and talk about life and beliefs. Since, for multiple reasons, we can’t actually do that, let’s look at the people next door, the people right in front of us. Let’s not forget the sweet little things of community living (even during this time) that make life rich. It can take years to get to that comfortable spot, but it doesn’t have to take years for at least some level of connection and care.
Perhaps it means going to the same coffee shop, to the same church, to the same park. I absolutely love exploring, but routinely visiting certain places helps us to bump into the same folks. Commit to your community, and just maybe it will start to feel a little more like the Stars Hollow we know and love.
- Apr 13, 2021
Dirty feet, morning mist on the lake, and hoodies with the aroma of campfire smoke—these are a few of my favorite things. Okay, okay, I don’t really like the gritty feeling of dirt-meets-sand on my feet, but I like the reason they’re dirty! Several weeks before we moved to England, we were able to go camping on family property in Michigan, and it was balm to my soul. I wanted to stay forever. The congestion of the Charleston area was getting to me—especially during months of being told to stay at home.
Growing up in rural Indiana, I took expansive land for granted, having a field next to all *six* of my childhood homes. I now see I wasn’t “landlocked”—I was land free. My college years were spent in the soft-spoken mountains of southeastern Tennessee, rolling hills of eery whispers and entrancing folklore, maybe true.
During my time there, I read story after story of human love, angst, and despair. Pivotal lessons on life and the hardest parts of love were yet to come. They were to come in the lush colors and humidity of Guam, the unassuming beauty of Indiana’s autumn, and the outskirts of Charleston, pretty but smug, and smelling a strange mix of magnolias and the paper mill.
Natural surroundings play a part in our lives—they are more than the backdrop. They are a contending character in our story.
Since college I’ve mostly lived in congested places— a small island and then crowded towns near Charleston, South Carolina. For the price of a drive, there was the ocean! In South Carolina, interstates and tight parking often kept me from havens of nature.
It seems I really do want that piece (peace) of land, as Wendell Berry writes:
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
~The Peace of the Wild Things
While I cannot rest with the wood drake forever, I will reach for, notice, and rest in the moments I can. It’s frustrating when Dollar Generals are easier to find that the solitude of nature, but we will enjoy the little bits we can find.
Even in a small backyard, it can be found. Listen for the rustling leaves, gently touch the pinecones, smell the flowers, crane your neck for the wisps of sunset, purple, orange, and pink. Slipping out the door to check the mail and take a dirty diaper to the trash bin, the wind lifts my hair and touches my face. It can be jolting, this grace. Barefoot I walk through the poking crab grass, my feet curving around the hard lumps of earth. With each step, I am a bit freer than the one before. With each step, I feel a bit more at home.
Q: Hello, dear friend! Give us a few lines about who you are, what your perfect day looks like, and the major moves you've made.
A: Håfa adai! My name is Tabitha Espina, and I teach Rhetoric and Composition at Eastern Oregon University. A perfect day for me begins by waking up whenever my body tells me to. I then would spend my day having nowhere to be and no one expecting me, so that I can read, cook, and dream all day. I moved from my home of Guam to the mainland a little over four years ago, first to Pullman, Washington and now in La Grande, Oregon. Q: Is the word “home” complicated for you--what does it mean to you?
A: Home, for me, is uncomplicated. Guam is and will always be home. The ways I have come to understand Guam as home, however, are what I find complex, given my family's immigration history and how it affects conceptions of belonging. Q: What are some practical ways you keep traditions alive and help you stay connected to your roots?
A: It's probably unsurprising that I believe in the power of language for cultural preservation and discovery. I keep and share traditions by reading about them, talking about them, and writing about them. Sharing lessons and memories in community helps me stay rooted, and I am grateful when these roots expand. Q: What is an important character trait or skill for living in new place?
A: Grace--for others and especially for myself. Q: What would you say to those who feel out of place in a new area—what encouragement would you give them?
A: I've found it's possible to find community in even the most unlikely of places. Sometimes what's kept me from reaching out to others is fear, of discomfort and even rejection. Seeing a place and its people as our Father sees them, however, helps me recognize opportunities for connection. Q: Could you tell us a little bit about your doctoral studies and how it connects to the topic of making a home in the faraway?
A: My work looks at Filipinos' decolonial rhetorics in Guam politics, specifically as they relate to identity, community, and self-determination for Guam's indigenous people. What I found is that making a home is complicated. There is both joy and pain, which can bear out across generations. What I am interested in, most of all, is how we relate to others with respect and reciprocity, or inafa'maolek, in the place we all call home.
Q: As someone who grew up on Guam, which is a very transient place (particularly with military folks), what kind of advice would you give for those who desire to make authentic friendships with the local people of their new area, but know they'll only be there for a short time?
A: I think our friendship certainly attests to the value of investment. When C.S. Lewis tells us "to love is to be vulnerable," I think it's less an observation than an admonition. Love requires a commitment to the friendship, in the time we have been graciously given. Q: Any funny stories about misunderstandings or cultural faux pas you can tell us?
A: I learned just this year that it is a common practice in the Pacific Northwest to purchase whole cows from local farms and butchers, instead of purchasing beef from the grocery store. I would hear many people say that they "bought a cow" and assumed they were buying it as a pet and placing it in their backyards. When they talked about "splitting with neighbors," I assumed the cow would spend its time roaming between them. I figured everyone just wanted to be a part-time farmer or rancher.
Q: Hahaha! This is great. So, you've travelled a LOT! What is the current tally? Of the places you've visited, what is the one place you'd hop on a plane to visit today (sans Covid considerations) and why?
A: Haha! I think I'm at 34 at the moment, but the number doesn't look likely to change soon! I really enjoyed Greece. I would love to be able to see more of it and explore more of its history! Q: Do you have a favorite quote on the topic of home or the topic of living in a different culture?
A: Gloria Anzaldúa in Borderlands/La Frontera says, "I am a turtle, wherever I go I carry 'home' on my back." I think the quote speaks to the responsibility and the inevitability of home, which I find challenging and comforting.
