I don’t particularly like going to the bank. I suppose there aren’t many of us who do, being that it’s a place where one’s monetary shortcomings are in full view and relative strangers make compulsory – and sometimes shockingly invasive – small talk while you perform mathematical magical thinking right in front of their eyes. Exiting a financial institution recently, and mired in my own apocalyptic calculations of my personal – and by stress-induced extrapolation, intrinsic – worth, I had a fleeting conversation with the most gorgeous woman who reached for the door at the very same moment, and from her I unexpectedly received one of the best pieces of advice anyone has ever given me.

It happened that she was dressed entirely in layers of plain but startlingly beautiful fabrics that flowed over her as though she was an animated marble sculpture from some wholly other era. She was, indeed, quite a number of decades older than me, and yet walking as quickly as I was. I wondered if perhaps she was just as eager to be getting out of that place.  I held the door open for her, and as she passed by I was struck by how perfectly her gigantic woven hat was situated upon her head, and how regally she carried it above the rest of her ethereal ensemble.

She was so stunning; I’m pretty sure I sounded like a star struck teenager as I complimented her on the hat, saying that I wished I was a person who could pull off wearing something like that.  I have never been able to manage hats. They make me self-conscious, they make my head itch, and even in the coldest of winters I am the idiot who has nothing on her head. And probably also has no socks on. Or gloves, or even long sleeves.  I’ve joked forever to friends that I must have been a starfish in another life because I seem to hate having my points covered.

Anyway, she laughed and responded by saying “Of course you could wear a hat! Anyone can wear one. The key is that you have to just set it up top of your head and then don’t mess with it. Just leave it. Don’t fuss. And then don’t look in the mirror – just go about your day.” Continue reading →

I am beside myself mad / sad / disheartened about so many things right now. I am not sure there’s any point in enumerating the reasons why, other than just to verbally perform the equivalent of hurling glassware into an empty fireplace in hopes of drowning out the screeching of a broken heart with the sound of shattering crystal against stone — something I do actually recommend when called for.

So, rather than subject you nice people to my current laundry list of things that make me want to replace my morning cup of tea with a mug of bourbon, I am going to offer you something a little more useful for the season: My Grandmother’s Chicken Soup Recipe. (Sincere apologies to those of you who would never eat a chicken, for whom I will gladly furnish my own excellent miso soup recipe if you come by the shop mad about this, demanding some kind of amends.) Continue reading →

We’ve asked Karyn Schwartz, owner of the Sugarpill apothecary on E Pine, to contribute to CHS about health and Hill living on a semi-regular basis. If you’re an expert and want to share with the community in a recurring CHS column, we’d like to hear from you.

I missed another entire season of summer movies, except for one breathtaking film entitled “Tangerine” which ended with one of the most poignant and heroic gestures of friendship I have ever seen depicted on a big screen. It made me think about some of the real heroes of my summer, including:

The woman who dressed in a formal dinner jacket, with cufflinks on her shirt and impeccably shined shoes to deliver a picnic, served on fine china, pressed linens and crystal water glasses, to a friend undergoing chemotherapy. Continue reading →

We’ve asked Karyn Schwartz, owner of the Sugarpill apothecary on E Pine, to contribute to CHS about health and Hill living on a semi-regular basis. If you’re an expert and want to share with the community in a recurring CHS column, we’d like to hear from you.

In 1985, my best friend and roommate participated in a medical trial, giving blood from his 19-year-old gay body to see if a new test for a still mysterious but very frightening disease could be detected and understood. He would become the first young man in our little college town to receive a phone call telling him, “You have tested positive for this. We are not quite sure what that means. Take good care of yourself and let us know if you ever feel sick, and don’t have sex with anyone, because they might die.”

He took their advice. He told me and a small handful of other close friends that he was “positive,” and terrified, but determined not to let this stop him from living his life. He went to Italy to study art history. He came home, caught a cold, and decided to go to therapy so he wouldn’t suffer overwhelming anxiety every time he got a sniffle. Three weeks later he called me from the hospital where he was being treated for a rare strain of pneumonia. That was the last time we spoke. He died shortly after, quite possibly alone because his family hated that he was gay.

At a routine visit to my own doctor in the months preceding his death, I was told that I should move out of the apartment we shared, so that I would not catch this disease. When I pointed out that that both my friend and I were both gay and, therefore, not terribly likely to be swapping body fluids, my doctor told me that I could get this illness by sharing the same kitchen and bathroom. She suggested that I reconsider my “lifestyle” because it was going to kill me, and recommended that I make new friends who were “normal”. She asked me if I would like referrals to some “resources.” Continue reading →

We’ve asked Karyn Schwartz, owner of the Sugarpill apothecary on E Pine, to contribute to CHS about health and Hill living on a semi-regular basis. If you’re an expert and want to share with the community in a recurring CHS column, we’d like to hear from you.

Weeks ago I began writing a love letter to my neighborhood – to all the people who on any given day I have interactions with that make me feel like I belong to this place; like I am at home, and that I matter here. Along the way, I kept thinking of some teachings I received very early on about how to assist people living with depression, and how one of the most important things to offer is actually just your presence — your real attention and your company — to anyone who is suffering in their heart or soul. How, in order to really heal, a person must know that their presence and existence matters, and that they are welcome; that they belong.

As i walk through city, i see people who are scared but ready to help, buildings standing still, but fragile. The day we dreaded arrived.

— Kashish Das Shrestha (@kashishds) April 25, 2015

Up early to finish one or the other of these trains of thought, I saw the news that a major earthquake had occurred in Nepal just a few hours prior.  Once I read the initial reports, all I could think about were the people there, and in every place where something is happening that is so tragic and overwhelming that it brings people together in a communal gesture of courage, generosity and selflessness.

Searching the social media streams of everyone I know who has loved ones in that area, I came across a Twitter post by a journalist in Kathmandu named Kashish Das Shrestha, whose photographs of the immediate aftermath of the quake were shared in The New York Times:  “As I walk through city, i see people who are scared but ready to help, buildings standing still, but fragile. The day we dreaded arrived.” Continue reading →

(Image: Kitzen Katzen via Flickr)

We’ve asked Karyn Schwartz, owner of the Sugarpill apothecary on E Pine, to contribute to CHS about health and Hill living on a semi-regular basis. If you’re an expert and want to share with the community in a recurring CHS column, we’d like to hear from you.

Basil, rosemary, oregano, marjoram, savory, thyme, parsley, sage, fennel seed, garlic, onion, maybe a little bit of black pepper and/or red chili flakes…

Even the shittiest brands of Italian Seasoning –- the one spice blend you are guaranteed to find at even the most bleak of grocery stores, contains some combination of these herbs and spices. You can make your own, of course, but the point of this month’s article is not to discuss the gourmet variations of this classic blend, nor to provide culinary inspiration.

The reason I bring up Italian Seasoning is that it’s good medicine, and you can find it almost anywhere. Continue reading →

We’ve asked Karyn Schwartz, owner of the Sugarpill apothecary on E Pine, to contribute to CHS about health and Hill living on a semi-regular basis. If you’re an expert and want to share with the community in a recurring CHS column, we’d like to hear from you.

I tend not to celebrate holidays when you are supposed to celebrate them. I am particularly not fond of New Years, which has always seemed to me like such a random day to stay up later than I want, drink shitty champagne and make promises that I don’t even know if I can keep.

Resolutions are hard enough; making them on the same date as a billion other people, in a state of post-holiday exhaustion seems a little crazy. I am always so grateful for the grace period between January 1st and my Capricorn-cusp birthday to actually think about what I want for my own New Year, and to consider what the habits are — either in actual practice or in thoughts or belief — that I am ready to contend with. Continue reading →

We’ve asked Karyn Schwartz, owner of the Sugarpill apothecary on E Pine, to contribute to CHS about health and Hill living on a semi-regular basis. If you’re an expert and want to share with the community in a recurring CHS column, we’d like to hear from you. This is her second post for CHS.

At least a handful of times every day, emergency vehicles race past the front door of the shop. I’m always fascinated by the different ways people respond to the noise and the implied tragedy of the sirens as they screech by. Some put their hands over their ears and hold their breath while others hardly even seem to notice; some keep talking to me like nothing is happening and as if I can hear what they are saying, while others look like they are in actual pain from distress. Not infrequently, people tell me of times in their lives when sirens have meant something very specific to them, and the memories and the feelings they still bring up are as varied as the people sharing them. Continue reading →