December 29, 2019

Hi Everyone,

It’s nearing the end of my time in Sicily, having a great time exploring with my son who has planned this all beautifully. It’s really sweet to be cared for by someone you’ve raised! I’m grateful the timing is such that I can still keep up. I love traveling with my kids. First of all, I taught them to travel so we have similar patterns. Second, they know how to find places! If I were alone I’d be spending half my time finding my destination. With my sons, I just follow them like a little rat in a maze and we magically arrive. Their ability to navigate constantly amazes me. Definitely got that gene from their father not me.

Sicily is more beautiful than I imagined. I pictured something more desert-like and it may be during the hot months but now it is green and lush. The citrus trees are dripping with fruit and I’m wondering when they will pick it all. No one seems to be tending these orchards. When we walked through one of the gardens near Agrigento my heart went out to Eve. I personally think she should have been cut a little slack for only picking one apple. I had all I could do to resist filling my bag with clementines, lemons, oranges, and grapefruit. I did resist, even though it wasn’t posted anywhere not to pick the fruit, a signal I thought to interpret as permission. Instead we went to a market on our way home and filled our bags with fennel, peppers, wild mushrooms, cheeses, and pasta and ate well. For all it’s invasions, corruption, and unstable governments, this country somehow continues to exude beauty and enchantment. I’m grateful to be hanging out here with my kid.

Today we head back toward Mt Etna, though I don’t think we’ll get to do any climbing, we might get to drive part way up if there’s not too much snow. I was stunned to see how snow covered it is when we passed from a distance. Then to Catania where we’ll head in different directions on New Years Eve. Full heart.

Happy New Year!

Love to all,

Linda

Hi Everyone,

I had a whole blog written but after an hour of trying to copy and paste it here with my phone, and failing, I will write a short recap.

I left New York a week ago, and though the trip started with my flight delayed over fifteen hours, I’m having a great time! It was not an omen I am happy to report. Friends insisted on collecting me at the airport in Amsterdam even though I arrived at four in the morning. That was a bit above and beyond I thought, but there they were waving and smiling at arrivals and I was a happy traveler. I’d missed the family dinner they’d planned the evening before but I still managed to see everyone, it only meant a night in Eindhoven in addition to Delden. I saw more of the country than planned but it was great to see these kids I’d delivered over twenty years ago, grown up and successful and welcoming. I felt like a princess.

On Wednesday I took a train to Ghent in Belgium to visit friends from Congo ( who feature in my book) and got the princess treatment there as well. Wined and dined and driven around in style to Christmas concert, Christmas market, charity race, night on a houseboat…way more than I expected! Then, since they couldn’t drive me to the airport, insisted on buying my train ticket and dropped me practically on the platform. I am so lucky to have such friends in my life. We talked about how working together there created a very unique bond between us. One of the many blessings from that experience.

From there I flew to Catania, Sicily where my son was waiting for me. I thought I’d take a train but then looked at a map. Sicily is a lot further from Belgium than I thought! He’d Rented a car and we drive an hour to Syracuse where he booked an apartment in this ancient city. We are planning to explore Greek ruins and volcanoes and eat good food. I’ll learn more history which always helps me put things in perspective.

I had some great conversations over good meals about Europeans‘ views of the drama unfolding in our country. It’s heartening to hear the support and satisfying for me to have an audience to spout my views. The news coverage here isn’t as in depth as it is at home and I love seeing how eager they are for details. They definitely feel tied to our well being and pray, as I do, the arc is curving more toward justice.

Happy Solstice! Merry Christmas!

Love to all,

Linda

Sunday Morning ~ New York

Tsiku limodzi silioza mbewa. ~ One day does not make the dead mouse rot away.

~ Chewa proverb

December 15, 2019

Hi Everyone,

I knew when I bought this super cheap flight to Europe it might get delayed–––this airline is famous for it, but I was willing to chance it, knowing I had flexible plans and extra time, not to mention a free place to stay in New York with my dear friend and my kids in town. This is such a luxury. I am so lucky. And, despite my grumblings about all the instant information bombardment, how nice is it to get an email telling you your flight is delayed by a day? In the olden days I’d not have learned that until I shlepped all the way to the airport and my ride had just pulled away. So this entry that I thought I’d be writing on my phone is much more easily written on my laptop while sipping tea in a comfortable apartment in midtown Manhattan. I feel like a princess.  

With an extra day to spend here, yesterday Ruth and I walked past the Bergdorf window displays on our way to the Morgan Library to meet Jake and see the Singer Sargent, Portraits in Charcoal exhibit. Utterly magnificent. If you are anywhere in this neighborhood before January 9th, go.

When I planned this trip, rather last minute, current events were still dropping bombshells hourly. I’m disappointed the timing of the impeachment is such that I will miss the protests (well assuming my flight isn’t three more days delayed) but maybe I’ll find one in Amsterdam. The world is watching, so maybe. Or I can make my own (need to look into that). I keep thinking of the words of my new crush Adam Schiff, “We are better than this.” I will just do what I can where I am, recognize what privilege I enjoy, and carry myself with dignity as much as I can. We need to show the world that this vile administration does not represent the majority of us. 

Next week, Travel Goddesses willing, from Sicily. I realize what therapy travel is for me, how comforting it is to meet interesting people from all over, open the small space that can occupy a life, and get perspective on how big and beautiful our planet is. I am grateful for friends I’ve made around the world who are so welcoming. As always, it gives me hope for the future.

Love to all,

Linda

Sunday Morning ~ Moving Gently

Kwa eni uyenda umaweteka. ~ At somebody else’s place you walk gently and humbly.

~ Chewa proverb

December 8, 2019

Hi Everyone,

Walking gently. That’s what we do here in the winter. And someone else’s place is where I am heading. Away for the holidays and starting a new chapter. Humility requires a tender step. 

The Thanksgiving linens are washed, starched, ironed, and put away. The Christmas cards are made and sent. There isn’t too much else to do besides tidy up for the guests staying here in my absence and most of that is already done. I’m heading to Europe for a bit. This was not my original plan for December but when George canceled the trip to Myanmar, suddenly and without preamble or warning, I shook my head and rerouted. We’d planned the trip for two years and I’d framed this year around a December and January traveling with him. Five days before the phone call that ended it all, he said he couldn’t wait for me to get there; his friends were looking forward to meeting me, and he was setting up a talk at the nursing school for me. Then poof! No trip, and no George.

For a Valentine’s Day gift one year, I took all our original correspondence and put it together into a book for him. It was a much bigger project than I anticipated, sorting through zillions of threads of emails. It’s a sweet love story, really, and there is some really good writing in there. It starts with our first email to each other two days after we met and ends two months later on the morning we’ll be seeing each other again. Mind you, this piece of work is over three hundred pages. We had a lot to say. When we had been corresponding only a week, he wrote that our “relationship” had a certain whoosh to it, like a story of his brother and friends taking off on a toboggan over a ski jump. The sentence ended: Fun. Soft landing. No one was hurt. It’s easy to paint ourselves in prose, controlling the light, especially when the person reading it is wearing rose colored glasses with hearts plastered all over the frames. It feels good to be in love. We had a crazy, impulsive, wonderful adventure that took off like the space shuttle, orbited for four years, then slowly came back to earth, landing softly, with plenty of tales to tell. That rocket isn’t taking off again, at least not with us in it, but I’m grateful to have had the adventure. No one was hurt.

Walk gently. This week I learned I did not get the job I’d been hoping for, and I realize just how much I’d been hanging my hopes on it for five months while waiting to hear. So. The image I had for my immediate future has a few holes in it and I’m both disappointed and excited. I have the luxury of taking my time to figure out the next chapter without pressure to incorporate someone else’s needs. Instead, I can focus on what I have to offer at this stage of my life while preserving my back and sanity. I feel lighter.

I’ve always been goal oriented. I always knew I wanted to be a nurse, then when I decided I wanted to be a midwife, walked straight toward that goal, never hesitating or questioning whether it was the right thing. I just knew it. So there is this element of discomfort to be sitting with the prospect of: no plans. Well, except for rambling around Europe for a month. That’s a bit of a plan, but even that is more unstructured than usual for me. But why waste the time I had allocated for travel? I’m just shifting the latitude and temperature a few degrees. There is part of me that is expecting some religious image to come into focus, something back lit with a clear message only I can see. I listened for it last night when the community sang Oh Come All Ye Faithful together and the soprano to my right harmonized like an angel. There were trumpets. The voices all around me were beautiful and as we sang I got choked up by all the the energy surrounding me. Was it just me? Or was everyone feeling like this is the most vibrant community imaginable? That someone living down the street can hit those notes and execute them in perfect time… I know for sure this is where I want to live. It’s nice to be clear about that.

Maybe I’ll see some message in the mosaics in Sicily. Is this a sign of mental illness? Sometimes I wonder. After mass last evening I was talking to a friend and telling him how my mind was wandering during the service and making me wonder if this is a normal part of aging or if I’m getting dementia? He said, “I think if you’re questioning it, that’s probably a good thing.”  

I feel a little like a college grad wandering around looking for an interesting career but with a place to live and resources to fall back on. It’s exciting. I have no trouble blocking out the onslaught of consumerism December flings at us and can focus on aspects of the season I love. Last night I lit the second candle on the advent wreath representing peace. I love that word. I love all the curves and the softness of the shapes the letters make. I love the image of perfect peace, still knowing the world has a long way to go. I write it inside every card and each time I play with the script I feel it more. I thought about all the kids who had to write something a hundred times on a blackboard as punishment and thought, how wasteful. They could have been making cards, writing something like “peace”, or “love”, or “wishing you well” in perfect penmanship, then selling the cards as a fundraiser for the school. When did creativity stop being a sign of mental illness? I’ll have to look that up.

Next week I’ll be conscious of writing gently and humbly from someone else’s house.

Love to all,

Linda

Sunday Morning ~ To Be Trusted

Nkhwangwa ikhulupirira mpini. ~ The axe-head trusts the handle.

~ Chewa proverb

December 1, 2019

Hi Everyone,

“If you have to go to the bathroom, wake me up so I know where you are.”  She said this as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She is falling asleep in my bed; snuggled into the cradle my body makes as I bend my knees around her. It’s the night before Thanksgiving. Her parent’s room is crowded now that her brother is big enough to sleep in the small bed jammed between the bureau and hope chest while the dog bed covers the only exposed floor. They could take a bigger room; I have one here, but my daughter is attached to her childhood room. Amelia won’t sleep alone, so there we were tucked in together in my bed. I could barely see her head surrounded by pillows and quilts. She was apprehensive when we first made this sleeping arrangement. She was worried I didn’t have a nightlight and she didn’t like seeing the dress forms in the sewing room across the hall. She said they scared her. I closed the bedroom door so they couldn’t see us. I told her maybe they want company too. Maybe they are scared. She said with conviction, “No. They aren’t. They are ok.” I felt her little body relax once the light was out and she saw the Christmas lights in the greenhouse gave the bedroom an approved glow. I thought, shoot, I forgot to unplug those, but when I saw how content she was, I was relieved I’d forgotten. She pulled her knees up tighter with a little quiver, as if she were excited all her conditions were met. Her feet rested against my legs. She reached out her little hand to hold onto my arm, additional insurance that I wouldn’t go anywhere. I assured her I will wake her if I have to get up, but I almost never do so she shouldn’t worry about that. It seemed a mature and insightful concern, an adult having to get up at night to pee. I’d rather suffer than wake her and sneaking away would be too cruel and dangerous. I was more concerned about the morning when I’d want to be up early in the kitchen, quietly drinking my tea and getting things ready for the day. I thought of activities I’d like done before everyone got up: getting breakfast food on the counter, making coffee, making a list so I wouldn’t forget things in the fridge once the kitchen was buzzing–––all a little easier when I’m alone. Amelia sleeps later than me and when she was here this summer, she didn’t mind me being up before her. I’d look up from weeding my garden and see her watching me, her blond hair rumpled, her suntanned legs and bare feet poking out beneath her nightgown. I always startled and she’d crack up laughing. I reminded her of this and whispered, “In the morning, if I’m awake first, could I go down and work in the kitchen while you sleep? I’ll leave the door open so I can hear you. All you’d have to do is call and I’d run up the stairs.” She shook her head no without hesitating and said definitively, “No, wake me up.” It was way past her bedtime and she was exhausted. I watched her and thought about how much she trusts me. She believes I’ll just stay here or wake her if I need to leave. 

I laid awake thinking about this. I looked at this little angel who needed her sleep. I wondered how I’d feel in the morning, anxious to get up but not wanting to wake her. Sneaking away while she slept wasn’t an option. I wouldn’t be able to bear her disappointment in me when she’d learn I hadn’t kept my word. I looked at the stack of books on my bedside table and thought I could catch up on some reading in the morning. I’d just delegate to make up for it later. I thought about all the times adults told me they’d do something then didn’t, never thinking they had to explain or apologize. It was the sixties. I thought of the times I was scolded for being upset about it as though I was the one who’d been dishonest. I was always “overreacting”.  I thought about promises that they wouldn’t rip the band aid off, they “only want to look at it”. I believed them, then whapp! off it’s ripped and though, yes, it was good to be done and over with, it was always a betrayal. I was apparently supposed to appreciate this. I fell for it every time. I thought back to when I was Amelia’s age and our babysitter told me she’d wake me up when the Flintstones came on. I was really tired but didn’t want to miss it so asked if I could nap until it started. It was only on once a week! This sixteen year old beauty said, “Yes! I will wake you! Go ahead and sleep.”  Reassured, I fell asleep and woke just as the show was ending and burst into tears. I said, “You said you’d wake me up!” and she said, quite sincerely and apologetically, “I know but when I went to get you you were sleeping so peacefully I just couldn’t wake you up.”  I laid there Wednesday night, wondering how much electricity white Christmas lights consumed and pictured that little girl wearing baby doll pajamas watching the credits roll with tears streaming down her face. I thought how I’d never want to be the reason my granddaughter felt that way. I laughed to myself as I was drifting off to sleep at how clear that memory was and how it had been triggered. I could imagine the flashback scene in the movie. 

Waking her in the morning wasn’t that hard. I slept later than I expected and when I rolled over, she opened her eyes and saw I was still there.

That’s what I want her to remember.

It was a really nice Thanksgiving. Everyone is gone now, headed off ahead of the approaching storm. Advent begins today and I’ll make the wreath and light the first candle. Hope this week, peace the next, then joy, then love.  Snow is coming and it’s time to turn inward and reflect. I like to keep this season simple. 

Love to all,

Linda