The People of LWON took a short winter’s nap this week and revisited a few favorite posts from years past.
On Monday, Erik writes about pilgrimages, both his own and others’. I believe in the open road and the open air and people together on a journey and sore legs and a rejuvenated spirit. I believe in the mountains and the sea and little Medieval villages and canola fields and the sensation of seeing it all with people who feel the same way.
Christie loves some words, and chronicles the People of LWON’s loathing for others. English also has no true equivalent to my own favorite foreign word: gemütlichkeit, a German term that connotes the kind of warm coziness you feel when gathered around a fire with your dearest friends, perhaps drinking Glühwein.
Jennifer gets snarky about Chihuahuas on Wednesday. I’d rather cuddle and kiss a used Bandaid from a public pool. I’d rather spoon with Golem on a bed of cricket shit. Inexplicably, none of the Chihuahuas I’ve met like me, either.
Ann goes to the coffee shop, finds the origins of science. If 1000 years as a science writer have taught me nothing else, it’s 1) that science is the way people think when they’re admiring their worlds, when they’re thinking of explanations of their worlds that they can most reliably believe. And 2) that scientists are just specially-educated versions of the guys in the coffee shops.
Sally wraps up the week with a story about how people find their way when someone goes missing (in this case, her grandfather). The effects of his loss were pronounced and specific. My mother grew up knowing first and foremost that you couldn’t rely on anyone but yourself. . . Hans’ disappearance had a different effect on her brother Frank. He made it his life’s project to understand how the world works.
See you in 2018!
Image by Flickr user Morgan under Creative Commons license