The Goldenrod Chronicles, Our Archives

What we can teach ourselves + 🦌🐕🦠📆❔

January 10, 2024 / January 10, 2015

A story in multiple chapters. It’s gonna be a long one (perchance).

Did you know you can LISTEN to Substack notes? Yes, in the app. Just press the play button at the top of the page (see here).

Dedication

To my friends and readers who have been here from the first quote (and before!) Thank you for being such a big part of this practice.

Prologue

TinyLetter is was a simple, easy, free newsletter platform started in 2010. It was heralded as the re-dawn of the newsletter and a way for people to easily write and be read, among the hustle and overwhelm of social media. It was, simply, a very straightforward way to write and send newsletter notes with no fuss, minimal design, and no distraction.

Many of you do or used to publish missives via TinyLetter. And in fact that may be how we met! In March 2014 I started a little TinyLetter called #365Quote Project (more on that below) which evolved to A Fierce Practice, followed by The Goldenrod Chronicles as we know them today. I published 1,598 editions on my TinyLetter before switching to Substack in December 2020.

📢 Public Service Announcement 📢 TinyLetter is in the process of shutting down and everything published through the platform will (poof) disappear on February 29 of this year. If you are a TinyLetter writer - you won’t be able to login, your archives will be gone, your images will be gone - everything will be gone. If you are a TinyLetter reader - all those past missives will still be in your inbox, but (apparently) images won’t show up and links won’t work. Also, the online archive (ie, the way anyone can view old posts) will also go away.

So, fare thee well TinyLetter. RIP. And if you (at any time) had a TinyLetter account, be sure to export your content before it disappears. (And if you want any support on that, let me know).

And that sets the stage for today’s story.

Chapter One

Over the winter holiday, when 2014 slipped into 2015, I traveled to my old stomping ground in Portland. A wedding, visit friends (you!) and to be in a place that has always held me in a way that feels like home, that feels like love. (At I time when I really needed to feel both those things ♥.)

I spent a few days and nights with my friend Miss P, whose house is decorated head to toe in ephemera and literary delight and snail mail love and evocative images. In her studio, her kitchen, the hallways - everywhere. It’s perfect to Miss P, and I am now realizing it embodied the way I wanted to live out loud (but had been stymied for a while, and visiting Portland was a way to tap into my voice again.)

In her kitchen, Miss P, in her iconic and always-recognizable handwriting, pinned this quote to the wall on an index card. I was struck by it, both the words and the freedom to tack anything to whatever place you want, and took a photo.

author

vanessa jean 🌈 on Instagram: “time for a new project: #365quote a quote a day for the next full year. let’s see how this goes! first one thanks to the inspiration of miss p in portland.”

January 11, 2024

I arrived back home (a complicated word at that time) in Wisconsin and settled in and somehow decided to start a practice. To make a little commitment. I was going to find and write up and post (to Instagram) one quote each day.

I am not exactly sure why or how I did this (except I had seem someone else do it on Instagram, and deep in my heart I knew I needed one, consistent, grounded thing for me to focus on and do each day) but I am so glad (understatement of the decade) that I did.

What started with sharing Miss P’s quote turned into finding a quote (research and learning!), typing it out on one of my vintage typewriters, making some sort of collage, photographing it, and posting it. About two months later, upon hearing about TinyLetter, I decided to start a newsletter as another way to share the quotes. Which turned into quotes and some writing. Which turned into this newsletter.

Which turned into nine years of practice, reflecting, sharing, evolving, making, writing and have a space to be me (with you!) online.

The quotes lasted for a while, I made it through 365 quotes, a full year, without missing a day. Which included traveling with my typewriter (to my brother’s wedding, for work trips, everywhere) and making sure to come home each night in order to type something up. I have to look back in the archives, but I think I made it at least two years of showing up each day.

It has been the biggest gift to myself. First, the practice of showing up to write on a regular basis. How that is ingrained as a habit. Built into reflecting, collecting - but also the way it makes it easier to show up (to start writing on a blank page) because I have done it so many times before. But ALSO, grateful I have this archive of the last nine years of my life. Both what I have written, and what I can read between the lines.

How far I’ve come, and also how much in life is just cyclical. How is it we can be moving forward so much, which also rotating in the same circles over and over?

Chapter Two

Late last December I mused a bit that I felt lost and uninspired to write and suggested I may take some quiet time to step away to help reground and listen deep (The Goldenrod Chronicles, Watching Paint Dry). And then, of course, it’s like I freed myself immediately by saying those words (I don’t know what to do and I don’t feel inspired or energized) because THE IDEAS JUST FLOWED.

It was a confluence of sorts: the instinct to reflect and look backward at the end of the year, the messages that TinyLetter (and the archives) are going away, and the realization I’ve made so much visual art (the quotes) that should come back to see the light of day!

So, for this year, I am going to repost the quote from the day (ie, today I am sharing the post from January 11, 2014) for the next year. I will also take some time to reflect back on whatever I wrote, and share the link back to past writings. And, to be honest, 2015 writing Vanessa was on fire in a way 2024 Vanessa is not.

So, stay tuned for a little art and visuals at the opening of this missive now :)

In addition, I am trying to move ALL of those old TinyLetter posts over to Substack before they POOF! Although I did an automatic import to Substack when I started this missive, it turns out there is a limit of 999 posts that TinyLetter will export. This leaves me with about 500 old posts to (manually, gasp!) import over here by February 29.

Does it feel futile? Yes! Does it feel dumb? Yes! But does it also feel like wanting to have all your old journals in one place and organized in chronological order? Yes! (This was one of those deep desires behind having a permanent home and bookshelf!) There is SO much in the old notes we have written ourselves.

Chapter Three

I have always been a writer. Starting an pink puffy journal with a ‘lock’ on it. Poetry and stories through high school. (This year during basement cleanout I found my high school’s literary journal!). Making art comics and stories through college. Journaling. Making lists. Writing my own website content when I ran a small business. More journaling. Blogging. Taking the best creative writing class in Portland. Academic writing. Grant writing. Words on a page or screen. Just getting things out.

I started reading one of my Portland journals (2008) over the holidays. I should post the opening page. It was something I could have written here last week. All the same big questions about live and creativity. About purpose. Fear I don’t have my act together or that I am not doing enough. Reminding myself I should do less and just enjoy life.

Some are cringe to the max (double triple max). Some old notes take me right back to where I was in a specific moment in time (right in the room). Some stories remind me of happenings of which I have completely forgot. I am reminded how so many chapters of life can be divvied up as ‘phases’ or ‘chapters’ by time or location or circumstance, AND ALSO there is such a unifying thread through all of it (me!).

This is reminder to, if you have not lately, look back through YOUR old archives. Make sure they are safe. Turn some pages. Read some old stories.

Check to see if that thing you think of as ‘a very specific stage’ is something actually on repeat. Or that you learned from it. Or changed from it. Or maybe some times and places in our lives are discreet little packages we can (and do) set aside and walk away from.

Set a timer for 15 minutes: Go read an old journal, a story you wrote long ago, an old-old Blogger post. It doesn’t matter - but take your back and get immersed in a past window of time.

Chapter Four

Back to current times. Covid has come to visit our house. Yay! Actually, not yay at all. M, who managed to be Covid free this WHOLE time, was struck down with cold symptoms on Sunday and randomly took a Covid test on Monday at lunch time after which I heard one very loud, single curse word echo through the house from downstairs. She has tested positive these two days since. She’s doing okay, but she’s a tough-one and this is definitely the worst I have ever seen her.

It was likely germs picked up from our Iowa trip (coffee shops? women’s basketball game?) but we have been in close quarters before she got sick. I have symptoms as of this morning, but am testing negative.

The worst part is we were supposed to fly to DC on Thursday for six days to attend a bat mitzvah, see M’s old stomping grounds, and for me to finally meet a bunch of her friends I haven’t met yet. Today we decided to cancel the plans because 1) for safety and not traveling while contagious! 2) To not get anyone else sick 3) Because it would be hard to enjoy if we’re feeling crummy and 4) Because it would probably knock us out a lot!

That said, it did feel weird (for a lot of reasons) to be making this choice. Maybe because it’s so easy to perceive Covid as “over”. Maybe because younger Vanessa approached almost everything with a ‘nose to the grindstone’ let’s just get it done attitude, whereas older Vanessa thinks about consequences like how my body feels and how my body may feel in the future. And because it was SO SAD feel M’s disappointment at not getting to see and celebrate with her friends. Although we’ll surely be taking a DC trip soon.

And, as a reminder: if you feel sick - stay home. If you have symptoms - stay home. We’re a community and we all win when we take small steps to keep us all safe.

Chapter Five

For those of you following along at home, the elders have come home to roost for the winter. As in, my parents who live in the backyard have returned from California for their winter Wisconsin adventures. They are snow-birds in the most actual sense - choosing to come here for the snowiest months. And, of course, that means Roux has been reunited with her best dog friend Cali and watching them wrestle in the snow today was the highlight.

Chapter Six

Yesterday afternoon, I was waiting outside with Roux, waiting for my parents to arrive. I was walking the hayfield with the dog when ALL OF A SUDDEN I noticed something unusual in the snowy field. It was one of those double-take-is-this-real moments. It was a dead deer. Pecked bare. Maybe it was the slow moving deer Roux saw before we left on our trip. But I realized between being in Iowa last week, and focusing on finishing the trim the week before, we hadn’t walked the field in at least two weeks, maybe more. (M created a new game with the dog we call “d balls” where we take two tennis balls out and as soon as she drops one we throw the other. This has taken the place of walks.)

The deer carcass is just over the little rise in the field, and not visible from the house, even from the second floor. I guess I thought I would have noticed a lot of extra bird traffic, or something - but sure enough not. The carcass is picked to the bones on the top side, eye removed. Tufts and chunks of fur in a fifty foot radius. Roux, shockingly, didn’t seem to notice what it was (or how much joy it could bring her) possibly because it was frozen and she couldn’t smell it. She was, though, interested in all the little puffs of fur scattered around.

I don’t exactly know what to do with it. I can’t leave it there because the dogs will undoubtedly discover it soon and will not forget. I am open to your suggestions. (Always).

Chapter Seven

I can’t remember how much of this I said before - but our Make Time word for the year here is FERAL. If you don’t think there is a connection between being feral and thinking about time - welp - stick with me and you will. What exactly does this mean? It means each month will have a theme based on this year’s theme (feral). Each month the make time essay, snail mail, and playlist will likely have some sort of feral tones.

Don’t think this makes any sense? That’s fine! I’m going to share more in my next post. Join up as a paid subscriber (monthly or annual) to get snail mail love in your inbox :)

Chapter Eight

I hope you come back tomorrow for more. Now you know you can open this email to get a quote too!
With love (and a mask),
vanessa 💞