I’m a sucker for year-end lists. Top 50 podcasts of 2021? I’ll bite. 20 Recipes for a Cardamom Enthusiast? I’ll literally bite. My favorite newsletters put out some excellent year-end lists, chief among them Robin Sloan’s holiday gift guide. To read Sloan’s gift guide is to tour Santa’s workshop for grownups, in which the elves have materialized your unspoken dreams, and in which nearly everything is edible. (Caution: the unguarded reader risks spending half their income on turmeric and olive oil. Hide your wallet.)
As I started compiling my own year-end list, I decided to orient it around a favorite phrase of mine: a small, good thing. The phrase “a small, good thing” comes from a lovely short story by Raymond Carver, in which a couple who has suffered a terrible loss finds unexpected consolation in a local baker’s offering of warm bread and late-night conversation. I’m spoiling the ending here, but you should read it anyway. It’s quite moving.
According to Christina Bieber Lake, my best college professor, a small, good thing is an expression of grace in the midst of contingency. In hard times, the gift of a warm meal, or a cup of coffee, or free babysitting, or a hand on your shoulder can crack the door for grace to sneak in when you’re braced for the worst.
“A small, good thing” is a useful classifier to have in your back pocket. The phrase has come to mind several times as I’ve been reading Bonhoeffer’s Letters & Papers from Prison. Bonhoeffer wrote these letters from a German prison during World War II in the years before his execution. At this point in his life almost everything was contingent: against his will he was unjustly detained in a cold cell, separated from family and friends. It is surprising, then, that his letters overflow with gratitude.
In almost every letter, Bonhoeffer thanks his family and friends for their comraderie, their prayers, and the small packages they send him. He thanks them for used books and for a blanket. He thanks them for a carton of cigarettes, which like everything else in that time were strictly rationed and therefore precious. While his attention could easily have become consumed by the awful injustice of his situation or the evils of his government (literal Nazis) or the threat of imminent death as bombs dropped all over the city, he touches on these things only glancingly. Instead, he is keenly attuned to the worth of every small, good thing that comes his way. I would like to be more like that.
So. As an exercise in noticing and appreciating varied graces in the midst of the varied contingencies of 2021, I offer you this selection of small, good things. Each item is a gift I have either received or given—even the end-of-day stretching, which I have invited friends to join on several occasions. Most of the items are inexpensive or even free, with the understanding that small, good things are not commodities but, rather, gifts.
This list is not at all exhaustive: the more I wrote, the more things came to mind. I stopped at a humble eight items, with the hope that this list expands in your mind as you ruminate on all the small, good things that have come your way this year.
Speaking of! I want to solicit a small, good thing from you. What would you include in your year-end list? I would absolutely love to receive a sentence or two from you, sharing a small gift that has meant something to you in 2021.
Good Stationary
A note is a small, good thing that I am always happy to receive but terrible at giving. On my end table is a wedding card for friends who got married six months ago. In my desk is a birthday card that is so late I eventually decided to save it for next year. Being the kind of guy who would rather go hungry than spend 10 minutes in a grocery store, the kind of guy who stands paralyzed in the “From a Son” section of the Hallmark aisle, sorting through birthday cards with the dead eyes of someone scrolling deeper and deeper into a Netflix cue, the kind of guy who agonizes over a few congratulatory lines and finally, after an hour of deliberation, scrawls “I appreciate you” in illegible print—I need all the help I can get.
Having some stationary on hand gets me one step closer to sending a thoughtful note on time. The right stationary feels more personal than a Hallmark card and suits a wider variety of occasions. The energy I would have squandered combing through a shelf of generic cards is better spent sitting at my desk with a pen in hand.
My current stationary features drawings from my favorite children’s book illustrator, Jon Klassen. The price-per-note is lower than your average Hallmark card, while the satisfaction-per-note is higher. Plus I get to support an artist I like. Instead of rushing to Walgreens to spend $6 on whatever the hell this is, I recommend investing in a good pack of stationary that is close at hand when you need to dash off a thoughtful note.
A Favorite Hoodie
If I could wear a hoodie every day of my life, I would. This year I got the two best hoodies I’ve ever owned. I am happy every time I put them on, without exception. The first is this American Giant hoodie, which some friends bought me for my birthday and is thick and hardy, with reinforced elbow patches. I got a limited edition color that they describe as oxblood but is actually just burgundy. I wear it when I want to feel protected and capable on a harsh, cold day. The second is this Made Trade hoodie, which has a lot of great details and thread-work (although it has not weathered as well as the American Giant one). I wear it when I want to feel cozy and hip hoppy on a bright, chilly day. I look exactly like this, only paler and with less mood:
The Best Cookbook
The best cookbook is the Jerusalem Cookbook. Maybe you think there is a better cookbook out there. Maybe you think I don’t have the expertise to make such an official pronouncement. Maybe you don’t care for middle eastern cuisine.
You are wrong. The best cookbook is the Jerusalem Cookbook.
In my friend group Yotam Ottolenghi’s name is spoken with the hushed awe usually reserved for Gandhi or, I dunno, Meryl Streep? He is such a legend that hip hop artists write songs about him. I have never cooked something from this cookbook that was not a total win. Roasted sweet potato with fig and goat cheese is the perfect contribution for a dinner party. Shakshuka is the perfect fall meal, especially when served with slabs of red sourdough bread. Braised lamb with harissa and eggs is a revelation.
Some of the recipes are complex, and most require a cupboard stocked with provisions like cardamom, za’atar, or rose water. But once you invest in some of these rarer ingredients, you’ll realize how versatile they are and how many meals are brightened by their presence. And if you want a more accessible access point to Ottolenghi’s genius, check out his Simple Cookbook.
A Smoke Break with Friends
My parents are going to kill me for this, but a smoke break with friends is the essence of a small, good thing. Some occasions are special enough for your friend to bring out his secret stash of McClelland pipe tobacco, but a cheap cigarette is more than sufficient for a lazy Sunday afternoon. A pack can be found within a block of your house and lasts several months if you are as sparing as I am. Or, if you are as shameless as I am, you can bum one off your friend and it costs you nothing. Like most hipsters, my go-to brand is American Spirits—the blue label. One or two cigarettes, paired with black coffee, sets a 15-minute timer for relaxed conversation and probably won’t give you cancer.
Candlelit Meals
Some friends of mine have started setting out long-stemmed candles for dinner, and it’s simply the best. With the lighting of a few flickering wicks a good meal is magically elevated to a great one. Our table softens. Our stew becomes a kingly stew. Our conversation takes on the hue of a fireside chat.
A candle costs, what, ten dollars? This is the epitome of a small, good thing. Instead of sitting under harsh light bulbs or splitting the difference with one of those high-pitched-whine-emitting dimmer switches, light a few candles and settle in for a meal that feels intimate and special.
Stretching to the Minari Soundtrack
At the end of a long day, play the Minari soundtrack loudly enough to saturate your body and have a seat on the floor. Close your eyes. Roll your head to your shoulders and chest. Touch your toes if you can.
A Favorite Pen
This Mark One pen from Studio Neat was a gift. Like the American Giant hoodie, it is the kind of expensive treat I would not likely buy for myself, but I am so grateful a friend gave me one. Being the kind of person who loses my shoes the moment I take them off, I am constantly afraid of losing it. But it’s been two years and more, and the pen is still with me against all odds. This is the first pen that I’ve used entirely and needed to order a refill. I’ve never felt so accomplished.
A favorite pen is suited to the hand that holds it, a fine calibration of weight and line. For my hand, the Mark One has the perfect heft and is nice to hold. It has a minimalist, seamless design with a ceramic shell. The clicky part has a staccato punch that marks the passage of time while you think. I like this pen.
I was alerted to this pen by one of my friends who specializes in nice things. It is a good idea to have friends like this around, an aficionado in bougie artifacts. You might have a question like, “Which brand of spices is best?” or “What kind of notebook do you use?” and then settle in for a 20-minute tutorial on the merits and deficiencies of a dozen options. Your aficionado friend has done the research more extensively than you ever could, and they’ve been waiting eagerly to share it with someone.
Fairy tales
I’ve started getting into fairy tales lately and they are so great. A new-ish fairy tale I enjoyed is The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro. Digging back a couple hundred years, George MacDonald is a master of the genre. I’m almost finished reading The Princess and Curdie, a children’s story that is as beautiful as it is wise. MacDonald has a powerful imagination and a good heart. He is the kind of bedtime storyteller you want at the end of a long, stormy day.
Along the same lines, I recommend the fairy tale podcast, In a Certain Kingdom. The host, Orthodox deacon Nicholas Kotar, tells a classic Slavic fairy tale, accompanied by an original piano score. It’s whimsical and also instructive, as Kotar acts as a learned guide through the rich symbols and philosophy of fairy stories. I recommend starting at the beginning. Each episode is a small, good thing.
That’s it for today. Don’t forget to send me a small, good thing you’ve appreciated this year. And if I don’t get a chance to write again before the holidays, Merry Christmas!
I'm late... But, one among many small good things for me was unexpectedly receiving three hot meals in the midst of my family all being ill. It really is a blessing when you're so exhausted to not have to think about a meal. 😊
Splitting a bottle of red with my roommate over a Seinfeld episode. Good conversations inevitably follow!
Waking up early to enjoy the mass amounts of natural lighting in the living room before that same said roommate comes in and flips on all the fluorescent lights.