Tuesday, December 31, 2024

“Life In Transition: Essays And Diversions”

“Life In Transition: Essays And Diversions”
“I was born in Chico,” author Karen Gilden writes me, though she spent most of her public school career in Willows. Her dad worked for the U.S. Forest Service there and “Mom was the secretary at the grammar school in Willows for years.”

She went to Chico State for a year, but really wanted to travel. In 1970 she and her husband, Ray, moved to Eugene, Oregon and in 1977 spent six months journeying through Europe and the USSR. They lived in Turkey and southern France. She became a freelance writer, blogging (“Random Vectors” on Substack) and writing books.

After Ray passed away early in 2018, Gilden began compiling some of her and Ray’s favorite travel pieces. “Life In Transition: Essays And Diversions” ($12 in paperback; also for Amazon Kindle) is a celebration of cultures and the natural world, and a poignant account of caregiving and loss.

“The poet John Berryman once said, ‘We must travel in the direction of our fear.’ He was speaking, I think, about the fear that nibbles away at our self assurance, the fear that cramps our gut, inhibits creativity and risk-taking, and denies us the right to shine in front of strangers. And somehow I find that, unaware and without forethought, I have followed Berryman’s advice. … There is nothing better I think, than putting yourself in a difficult position and coming out of it whole, and travel is an engaging way to do that. It may even be addictive.”

In 1996 they moved to a small town in Turkey. “Nothing mechanical ever seems to be junked here, it gets rebuilt and repainted and repaired and resold and recycled and redeemed.”

Now, without Ray’s voice, Gilden must find her own way. “There is no pattern to grief,” she observes, “and that lack of pattern makes it confusing and difficult. Just when you think things are looking up, down you go.” Her heart “makes room for boundless love and seemingly endless grief.” It is a painful transition, as one year, one era, gives way to the next. But it is also a hopeful time because, she writes, “there’s still so much to see.”