dual personalities

During my epic attic clean-out, of which you will hear more in up-coming weeks, I discovered a small booklet by Norman Vincent Peale titled, You Can Relax (I believe that it belonged to my grandmother Cameron). Here’s a picture of NVP relaxing at his desk.

Since my niece’s wedding is ONE WEEK AWAY and the intervening days are bound to be a little fraught (so much to do, so many people traveling!), I thought it timely to share some of Mr. Peale’s advice. It’s really pretty good. I won’t include it all, but here are some choice suggestions:

1. Drain Your Mind. Use “the vacuum cleaner prayer” for this: “Dear Lord, by the power of Thy spirit draw now from the unseen crannies and crevices of my soul the dust of the world which has settled there.”
2. Relax Muscle Tension. This involves some stretching and breathing exercises.
3. Don’t Take Tomorrow to Bed with You. Don’t think about what you have to do; repeat the Bible verse, Matthew 6:34 “sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”
4. Practice the Presence. When you wake up in the middle of the night, assume that the Lord wants to tell you something. Lie there quietly and when He has spoken go back to sleep.
5. Tranquilize Your Thoughts. This does not involve drink or drugs. Rather, NVP suggests that you hum or sing a tranquil hymn with words like “Drop thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease.”
6. Relax by Positive Thinking. Before you go to bed affirm, “I am going to enjoy a sound and restful night and will waken with renewed energy and eager zest for tomorrow’s activities.” When you wake up in the morning reaffirm your intentions for the day.
7. Drop Relaxing Bible Verses into your Mind. Whenever you start to feel anxious, repeat “Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself” (Psalm 37:7), or something like it.
8. Add up Your Blessings. Remind yourself of all that you have to be thankful for.
9. Become the Expert Forgetter. Don’t hold grudges — let them go. Forget all annoys you.
10. Rocked in the Everlasting Arms. “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee” (Psalm 55:22).

There. That’s better, isn’t it? Don’t you feel more relaxed? Many people find Norman Vincent Peale schmaltzy and out-of-date these days — or at least embarrassingly religious — but personally I think it’s far superior to most self-help advice (aka pseudo-mystical, self-indulgent, New Age navel gazing). Just saying.

Stay tuned for pre-nuptial excitement and remember, all is well and all manner of things are well. And don’t forget to cultivate an “eager zest” for life!

Or, in our case, just an embarrassment.  I’ve been amusing myself this week reading old letters and my adolescent diary (what a bore!). Most of the diary is just angst-ridden drivel and reports on hockey scores, but there are some choice tidbits like this one from 1973, the very year I blogged about last week.

Wouldn’t you know that my idea of fun focused on eating a bunch of candy. Some things never change.

With posterity in mind even as a teenager, I think I kept every letter ever sent to me. In our attic excavation we have uncovered the mother-lode of correspondence, most of it from my college days, but some from that “magic” early 1970s period. The summer before 8th grade I went to visit my aunt Susanne in Massachusetts. It was the first trip I’d ever been on without my immediate family, and it was a long one — I bet I was gone for at least a month. My darling dual personality and I corresponded throughout. She even illustrated her letters — she was quite the artist, don’t you agree? (In case you are wondering, I didn’t tear out the picture. That’s the result of my freeform cut and paste using Paint).

She also included amusing quizzes, one of which I reproduce here.

Quizmo directions: Identify who said these words (the actor)

1. “I say, Holmes! (clear throat…. chuckle, chuckle)”
2. “You remind me of a Viennese Waltz”
3. “Pity! Pity me!?”
4. “Ouch! Sun-burn pain needs SolarCaine.”
5. “It is, indeed, a bad scene…”
6. “I hate to leave you here like this, Digby, but…”
7. “76 trombones…”

I identified them all except for the SolarCaine one, which was apparently an inside joke that I didn’t get even then. How did you do?

My dual personality wrote very amusing letters. Here are a couple of examples — note the bright green ink on shocking pink paper. Ah, the ’70s…

And this, a few days later:

I have spent a happy few days reading all these wonderful missives, as I’m sure you can imagine. Just wait until I post about my college days! But beyond making me laugh out loud and recall past times, I have come away feeling very loved. My parents, siblings, and friends all wrote funny and informative letters exhorting me to work hard, have fun, and be happy. Not only could they all write well, but they composed long letters. It’s a dying art that we should revive. I  hereby vow to start sending snail-mail letters again!

As a historian, however, I read these letters with a growing sense of unease. What will later generations make of these things? Anyone reading my diary would think I was deeply unhappy and quite dim-witted, but the truth is I only wrote in it when angry, depressed, or bored out of my mind, and I rarely included any actual news. By contrast, the letters, in which I still recognize many hilarious in-jokes, might lead an unknowing reader to believe that we actually liked Barry Manilow, thought Robert Preston the epitome of masculine virtue, called people “peasant fatso” (okay that’s true), and regularly corresponded with someone named Pancho. The mind reels! Perhaps I should annotate them? I’ve already decided to ditch the diary.

Stay tuned for more from the dual personalities’ wayback machine, including my dear sister’s love story in her own words (!), and have a good weekend!