My husband and I have just come back from a refreshing one day, one night away at our favorite Gateways Inn in Lenox, Mass. I'm not quite sure how such a short stay can manage to rearrange my neurons so that they are far more pleasant than normal, but I'll try.
Imagine a very large room, beautifully decorated, with a gas fireplace in the corner and a deep tub with jets to soothe your aching muscles. Imagine sinking onto said beautiful, immense bed and taking out one's kindle to read truly trashy romances. (I have confessed to this before, I believe; I do not, almost never, read current adult fiction. I find it far too depressing.) Imagine the comfort of having one's husband of 44 years (gasp!) nearby, not far away at work, not on the computer, just there--available for hand holding and other good things, which the trashy, steamy romance could certainly lead to. Imagine this aging broad lowering herself carefully into the tub (well, maybe better not to imagine this part...), pouring in mineral bath liquid, and winding up with so much foam that I could totally have done a nude scene without annoying the Catholic Church or any other censors.
Then imagine going downstairs to sit on high stools at a bar--something we almost never do--and staring at the sparkling bottles containing more single-malt scotch than you could possibly imagine. Seriously. There has to be almost $50,ooo worth of liquor back there, maybe $100,000. (And everything on the shelves is polished with furniture polish every three days, in case you are interested.) Fabrizio, co-owner of the inn, suggests various malts to us, telling us which is more "peaty" than another. All I know is which ones make me cough the most. "Peaty" does not mean anything in my vocabulary. In the list of drinks, Rick notes one 25 year-old scotch which costs $875 per SHOT. Seriously. Fabrizio tells us about the man who came in, perched on a stool, and proceeded to have two shots of this amazingly expensive brew. "So, he had $1700 worth of malt at one time?" Rick gasped. Fabrizio nodded. "And then what do you do after that?" my husband persisted. Fabrizio spread his hands in a familiar Italian gesture, pursed his lips and said, "Enjoy."
What a concept. Enjoy. It seemed like a blessing for the entire time of our stay. Enjoy the bed. Enjoy the meal cooked by his wife Rosemary (who trained with the famous Italian cook, Marcella Hazan), including a beef tenderloin so tender it could be cut with the side of your fork. Enjoy the other guests in the small dining room--a man who works for a record company and at one time helped manage both Alex Rose and Courtney Love (who was not remarkably stable at the time, big surprise...). Laughter, wine, and good stories ensue, and the basic word is, "Enjoy."
It reminds me of another word which is frequently in my mind--"savor." It is a word that Fr. James Martin speaks of in his wonderful book, A Jesuit's Guide to (Almost) Everything. The whole concept of "savoring" is to let life's experiences rest in one--to almost rest on one's tongue, if you will. We will not gulp down experience, or gobble people and events, but just--taste them, savor them, and enjoy. It leads to a different stance in life, I do believe. We're not just consumers, rushers-through of our days, but people who wisely take things as they come, enjoying them when we can, and--if some events turn out to be painful, which they inevitably will--there is always help at hand. But then, I'm deeply religious, so my stance is not for everyone.
Enjoy. Savor. Good words for this season of excess and hurry, but also a season of friends, family, home baked goodies, fine wine, beautiful music (I've developed a taste for 16th-century Spanish Advent music, thanks to my brother's recent concert), and maybe a Midnight Mass or two.
And so I hope for all of you that this will be a time of savoring and enjoying; that you will feel as refreshed and nourished as we did after a day and a night away of supping on wonderful food, bathing in foamy baths, being together, and just celebrating this beautiful time of year.
