The Mimi Sampler

 

Six nags and mottos to embroider, when I master the satin stitch.

1.     Always bring a book.

 Over the years of parenting five children, this might have been my most frequent directive. Most of them were teenagers in the days before phones with data. But I stand by it still.

Having a book was my refuge through everything, growing up and into adulthood. Nowadays I have to remind myself of this more frequently, since I can now read on my phone. But the book is a distraction, a comfort and an excuse. I still need all these things.

With a book, you’re never stuck somewhere, feeling like your time is being wasted.  You don’t even have to feel like you’re there—wherever there is—because you can be lost in the pages.

Also, note the versatility of this phrase. It can be said pre-emptively (as in, Do you have your book?) and also as an admonition (I’m sorry you had to wait for me to get you, but I had to get your sister first and if you’d had a book, you wouldn’t have been bored, would you?).

2.     Should have gone to bed on time.

Not: Go to bed on time. Because clearly you didn’t. And therefore, whatever suffering you are now enduring is a direct result of your own poor decision, and therefore my sympathy is, at best, limited.

My daughter Evangeline once did a long riff on all the things that might befall her which would still elicit this reply. It culminated in:

Sentenced to prison?
Should have gone to bed on time.

This nag has legs, because the person hearing it, knows it’s true. However, it is largely ineffective, because: they did it before, and they will do it again.

And so will I.

3.     Done is better than good.

A borrowed expression, which I’ve claimed through repetition.

It also has miraculous powers of divination. People’s responses reveal their working style.

The quick-to-jump-in-and-get-things-done folks, think this is ridiculous. Why would I suggest that someone not take the time to do their very best?

The too-careful, the so-worried-I-might-never-make-it-happen folks understand its loving truth, even if they can’t embrace it.

These are my people.

People who need a reminder that the perfection we seek will never be realized, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take something on. That nothing can be good, if it remains undone.

I say it often.

I forget. I say it again.

4.     Always bet on you.

Of course, you’ve watched the Dixie Chicks documentary, Shut Up and Sing about what happens after the lead singer says from the stage that the band supports the people outside protesting the Iraq War. What? You haven’t seen it? Stop reading now and go watch.

This documentary is one of the most influential and inspirational things I’ve seen as an artist, and a person. I’m serious!

It’s too good to boil down to only a takeaway, but this one concept may be on my family crest: Always bet on yourself.

If you don’t, who else will? Maybe you’ll lose, maybe you’ll fail, but at least you’ll know you tried. And if you win, it’s a win you can claim.

It’s the thing I say over phones to distant kids hedging about opportunities and risks, and to fellow artists whose confidence is floundering, and I say it like a rallying cry to my husband when he doubts, and I try to remember it for myself, especially when it’s hard.

Try it. It helps.

If you need an extra boost, say it while listening to The Dixie Chicks sing “Not Ready to Make Nice,” and you should be good to go.

5.     Be your own role model.

My children are all adults now, but when they come home it’s still as loud as ever. A few years ago, they were laughing about their poor prospects every take-your-kid-to-work day. We have a blended family, and while the elder three could go with their mom to see her teach school, in our house there were two writers in home offices. The younger two had a parent who also worked from home. We parents, of course, were the butts of this ribbing.

My defence was to reply that it was a life lesson we had imparted: Be your own role model.

That made them laugh, and led to a list of ways our parental example had forced them to do that.

But it stuck with me. The truth of it.

At the time I made that joke, I was deeply dismayed at my own writing and publishing community and the way that established writers had silenced female writers who had dared to voice their experiences with a creative writing professor who was A Big Deal ™ and The World’s Nicest Guy ™.

Many of the people I admired most—friends, and also people I looked up to—were part of it. My dismay turned to sadness, then depression. I was angry that they would leave these women unprotected, and I was sad that they weren’t really my people anymore. What now, I wondered?

The punchline was my answer. It still is, most of the time. Be your own model. Make the highest standards your own. Follow the lead that only you will set.

It’s hard sometimes. But it helps.

6.     The Gift of Better Lighting

A design philosophy. A way of life. And the only bit of advice of mine I know my son offers to friends and roommates.

It’s so simple and easy to give. To yourself. To others. Turn off the ceiling fixture. Use a lamp. Change a bulb. Light a candle.

Everything—everything—looks different when you do.