IT SEEMS TO me that when someone finds a hobby, it’s because they have a natural affinity for it, an elevated level of skill, whether it’s salsa dancing or Sudoku. It’s yours. My hobby is cooking, and I’m pretty good at it for a number of reasons—my mother cooks; I love eating; I have children who need to eat; it’s a nonverbal activity, so I could do it as a dyslexic; etc. It would stand to reason that a hobby grows out of the truth of who you are. Or perhaps your hobby was learned—you chose something unfamiliar; but you practiced whatever it is so well, it became second nature. Have you ever seen someone knitting in a lecture? They don’t even need to look at the stitches and loops—that’s second nature. When you can depend on an activity closely aligned with your essence and interest, I think it becomes cozy. A small skill that you don’t necessarily earn a daily wage by doing. An active respite during the day.
I was an actress for twenty-five years. On movie and TV sets, there is a lot of downtime. If I was done memorizing lines, I tended to wander around the studio looking for a chat, but many actors could be seen tucked into corners, knees up, with a cup of something, a writing instrument, and the crossword. I would instantly assume that that actor, head down, hard at thinking, was smarter than your average bear, and I still do believe that it takes a certain kind of mind to enjoy a crossword puzzle. My upstairs neighbor Tracy has one of those minds.
“You have to make time for them. You think about them all day, turning them over and over—but you need the time to ruminate, relax, and clear your mind, no multitasking while crosswording! And I need a SHARPENED Blackwing pencil, with a neat eraser. If you’re not a real crossword genius and expert (I am not), you have a real mess on your hands doing the Wednesday–Saturday puzzles in ink. I do them everywhere. I used to do the Mondays as a timed test from the moment the subway doors closed at the 103rd stop until they opened at Fiftieth Street. But at home, if it’s a crossword day, I start at the breakfast table with the kids and we talk a little about the words, but I never finish them there. I will migrate to the bedroom, where my round table is and I can see the water. There I have my computer so I can check in with Rex Parker—who is the ninth-greatest crossword solver in the universe, does the puzzles early, and then blogs about them. The cozy part is there are some words and clues that appear again and again. Repetition, pattern, vocabulary—and memory.”
Hobbies, as much as they are about personal skill, are also about connecting. Bonding with materials, your mind, a different language, nature. A friend’s father is passionate about grass. He knows everything about heirloom grasses, varieties of grass, growth of grass. His daughter-in-law was describing his daily grass walks to me a few years ago and I can’t get it out of my mind. A man in his seventies, slowly and peacefully staring out onto a marsh or field with the greatest concern and fascination with something most of us tread on every day without notice. Everybody cares about something different, so in a way, most things on earth are being paid attention to by somebody. That is hopeful.
Hobbies can span decades, even generations if you pass them on, like Irish step dancing. You take care of hobbies with maintenance, organization, and practice. Hobbies are unforced; you choose them, and they can be contagious. I tried to take up crocheting because my stepdaughter, Sage, does it. Sage is such a knitter, she and her pal started a club at their school. I love thinking about them sitting in a circle with other students and some teachers. They made a hobbying oasis for themselves right in the middle of a high school.