The Woman in Black with a Touch of Blue

Traveling is my favorite thing to do.  I plan a trip for months, organize check lists for weeks, read about destinations endlessly.  Nothing spontaneous about me.  I like building anticipation, feeling prepared for eventualities.  Will we make our connections or have to contend with an unplanned overnight?  Can my shoes manage cobblestones in the rain?  Have I anticipated losing my glasses or credit card [ugh]?

I know the worst case scenario [short of physical disaster just before or on the trip, of course]: it’s dragging TOO MUCH STUFF with me.  Being prepared and moving light seem at cross purposes.  Each “what if” adds an item to the suitcase; each test of lifting the suitcase overhead removes two items.

I am traveling with one roll aboard bag for the overhead bin, and one microfiber tote for under the seat.  We have several tight connections, train rides, long platform walks with jostling crowds.  I have been the tourist whose suitcase loses a wheel and I have to carry it, and one whose backpack is so heavy that it’s hard look straight ahead when bent over by it.  I refuse.

We’ll be on the road for nearly a month, our longest sojourn [yet].  Our weather is likely to be chilly and rainy.  We will bus, sail, and rail from the Netherlands through Belgium and across northern France [in Amsterdam for Dick’s birthday, in Paris for mine!]  I’m sure I lived there in another life since I long for it so much, and I intend to keep my head up and leave behind anything that prevents full engagement every minute.  If you see me on the road, I’ll be recognizable as the woman in black, with a touch of blue.

Sometimes the Easter Bunny brings Ducklings!

After more than a month of watching her nest, this morning I was sitting on my patio drinking coffee when Mama Duck poked her head from the bushes, jumped in the pool and was followed headlong by 11 ducklings.  I didn’t even have time to grab my camera before the first swimming lesson was over.  I totally enjoyed the rest of the day watching them learn to follow her out of the pool [they climb onto the edge of the spa and then have to jump up to the pool ledge.]  They figured it out in about 10 minutes after Mom gave instructions.  So far they’ve eaten a lot, taken a few naps, scaled tall walls, made friends with their siblings, met their dad, and seem to have had a mighty fine day.  

In the Aftermath of Storms

Many of you were very kind to check in with us after the tornados came through Dallas this week; we were among the lucky ones with no damage whatsoever.  It was only the second time in the 17 years we’ve been here that we were alarmed enough to collect flashlights and move patio furniture, and were happy to have little to sweep up in the evening.  We thought the news stations did an outstanding job of following the storms, alerting neighborhoods as to the minute the worst was going to move through. With all the hideous damage one saw on TV in the aftermath, no one died – we think in large measure to good warning sirens, systems and news coverage.  Pretty miraculous.

My garden looks different after the storm, nonetheless.  The allergy debris is entirely gone from the pool, and the rain and cool night temperatures have encouraged new plant growth.  I have a perennial known as phlomis that grows like a weed here, fills up space overnight, and requires no maintenance.  It doesn’t seem particularly attractive to me from afar except for being bushy and green, but up close, it’s long tiered flowering stalks are amazing and currently the star of my small show.

The gorgeous Texas mountain laurel that bloomed like mad a few weeks ago has now turned to covering its branches with attractive pods, wild life has begun to attack the vinca, the oak leaf hydrangea is preparing itself for an entrance, and Mama Duck is still sitting on her nest.  The storms didn’t bother her one bit.

The River, the Boat and Discernment

My earlier blog about why I like being an Episcopalian elicited some interesting responses that I’ve been thinking about.  And this is Holy Week, so I’ve been even more attuned to the subject than usual.

One of my friends was puzzled that I hadn’t written about God in that post [to me, it was all about God, but she was correct in pointing out that I hadn’t said so].  Another said she read it and felt guilty and sad that she had no similar connection to a church or spiritual life, and another reflected that I was lucky to be “imprinted” early, as he found it more difficult to find his comfort zone later in life.  I thoroughly enjoy the intellectual exercise that comes with discernment [defined as “perception in the absence of judgment with a view toward obtaining spiritual direction and understanding”] and love discussion with others, since it’s been a life-long process to me.

I have very little grounding in Bible study and I am not a literalist anyway.  I believe the Bible is a wonderful collection of stories [not myths or fables], written over a long period in many languages by many people. I like the stories and their power to connect to present life experience with their testaments of doubt and transformation and restoration. I don’t think the human condition has changed over 2000+ years; I think we’ve been terribly flawed seekers forever.  But seekers of what?  No matter how much we know we have to be grateful for, everyone I know admits to familiarity with that weird feeling that something is still missing in their lives.

I don’t know what to tell you the solution for filling that hollow space is, and wouldn’t presume to offer my advice if I had any. I only know what can quiet me when that nagging discomfort arises for me.  I try to quit talking and turn more to listening, and find it easier to do that in church than most other places.  I also find it possible to dissipate more life noise when immersed in natural beauty, but I have to make it a point to find that soothing place.

I like it that prayer is a conversation [not just an opportunity for me to talk and ask, but an opportunity to slow down and shut up, which often enriches me with something entirely unanticipated.] I like it that music can be prayerful as well. I appreciate the commonality of human neediness that chooses to come together in a gathering space, creating a community which shares in prayer.  And I absolutely believe that God moves through my life, although I mostly don’t do a very good job of paying attention.

I think it’s up to me to seek and hear and read and ask and follow a path the best I can.  When I want life “my way” and it isn’t, chances are very good that I’ve been carrying on all the conversation.  I think it’s my responsibility to dial down the noise and find time and space for connection.  And I think that weird feeling tells me more often than not when it’s time to do so.  It’s not very complicated, and for me it works wonders.

When my husband and I joined our current church, the rector held a class for newcomers, and began his discussion by drawing a river on the chalkboard filled with lots of different boats.  He used the analogy that the river was God-given life, fast-moving and beyond our control or understanding.  There were many boats one could board, many ways to navigate with more ease and comfort than trying to manage alone, but he cautioned us not to confuse the boats with the river.   He wished for us to find our spiritual direction with discernment and without judgment, and, prayerfully in “the blessed company of all faithful people”.  I liked his perspective.

Happy Easter.  

A Few “Obamacare” Questions I Need to Have Answered

I’m glad the discussion of “Obamacare” has been raised to the level of the Supreme Court because I now have hope for some reasoned discourse about its merits or lack thereof.  I confess to knowing too little about it to have an informed opinion on the matter.

I have read that the proposed mandate that requires people to buy an insurance product is considered by many to be a prime example of inappropriate government intrusion [insert power, control] into personal lives, which could lead to “the next step”, whatever that may be. [Yesterday I believe Justice Scalia wondered if the government would mandate that everyone exercise to stay healthy, as an example.]  OK, I get that, and I understand that being required to “buy a product” from a private enterprise [an insurance company] involves an element of commerce and triggers more discussion of government’s regulatory role in our lives.  It’s complex, or it wouldn’t have reached the Supreme Court.

My questions are simple, and I hope the Court can help clarify these issues for me:

1.  I want to understand why a requirement for citizens to buy health insurance is different from a work life requirement to contribute to Social Security.  I know the mechanics are different [government collection vs. private enterprise collection], but isn’t the purpose similar? It seems to me there is an element of concern for the “common good” here.  We contribute to Social Security when we are working so that those who are aren’t working [because of age, disability or dependency] have some base of financial support, and that same support is available to us when we need it as well.  It isn’t an elective option, nor is it an “ultimate solution” without problems.  But it seems to me that it’s a relatively painless way to try to tackle a very difficult social problem for which there is a price to pay. [And yes, I did say "social" problem, which could lead some to take this discussion further along the lines of, gasp, socialism.]

2.  I want to understand why the concept of individual consumer rights [in this case, you don’t have to buy insurance but can use the service without cost anyway] is the more compelling argument than the proposed government  mandate [in this case, everyone buys insurance and can use the service ].   I realize that I have made an incendiary statement and qualified it with the “in this case” phrase and the use of the word “consumer”. We are all consumers of health care at one point of another, and I want to understand why it is that those of us who can [at the moment] afford heath care seem willing to bear the burden of escalating costs to protect the rights of those who pay nothing for it.  [The option of denying care to the uninsured does not seem to be acceptable national public policy, nor would I support that notion.]  Protecting one consumer’s right NOT to pay for a service that he will use passes on the cost of his care to those who feel responsibility for sharing the national cost burden, as is now the case.

In addition, polls tell us that we like some provisions of “Obamacare” [no denial for pre-existing conditions, kids on parents policies to age 26] sending a message that many of us want expanded benefits.  If we think the government should provide these benefits [more government intervention], then let’s raise taxes.  If we think private insurers should provide these benefits, then people need to buy insurance [thus a government mandate]. What else is possible if the bills are to be paid?

3.  I wonder who stands to gain, and who stands to lose in this conversation.  The Supreme Court is not likely to sort this out for me, but with the huge amount of money in play, one has to wonder what’s really at stake under the high-minded rhetoric.  I would surmise that insurance companies would like the mandate which would bring them additional premium payments from the newly insured, but perhaps the fine print says otherwise.  Underlying layers of marketplace interests are at work in what we’re hearing, and will have consequences to us.

We are a nation of people with health care needs.  We have skilled health care providers and wonderful hospitals and technicians and researchers and equipment and innovative pharmaceutical companies and all manner of fabulous care options available in this country.  And we have insurance companies and lobbying organizations and ideologues arguing positions that represent their interests.  It’s all part of the wonderment of a representative democracy and I embrace the discussion when it’s logical and civil. Any argument can be taken to an extreme, and we are hearing some highly charged, fear inducing rhetoric that can cloud our reason.

We all know we have a problem.  Other countries have figured out some solutions.  I hope the Supreme Court can provide us with a basis for reasoned debate, and  move us along toward a cure for this painful and totally aggravating problem.

The Other Side of Spring

Allergy shots anyone?  This beautiful little flower floating in my pool is wreaking havoc.  It covers everything with a pale yellow dust, and gets the upper hand every time I turn my back. Sweep up once, clean out the pool filters, and the next morning it looks just like this again.  I managed to get a few Vinca and a couple of herbs into pots before being driven back inside the house over the weekend, but now I sit and wait till it all disappears as mysteriously as it arrived. And no, I am NOT trying tomatoes this year. Rosemary and basil can survive [I think] where the past few attempted crops withered.  We’ll see.

January-March Reading List

I’ve been reading as much as usual, but satisfied less than usual.  Maybe it hasn’t been cold enough this winter to keep me inside and wrapped up around a cup of tea.  Or perhaps the following books are far above average, knocking the ordinary off my list.  It’s a weird collection I’ll admit.

Albert Brooks and Alexandra Fuller [and the parents she writes about] are characters, and I like characters – people who think totally out of the box and create an opportunity for me to see something differently.  It’s all the better when they make me laugh out loud, which their books did.  I think Sarah Dunant is a lovely writer, and she takes me back in time to places that I would never have seen even if I’d lived then.  And then there is Dick Cheney.  OK, so I am a political junkie and have always been fascinated by those who choose to live that life, and yes, I found his memoir a good read.  Silly to feel defensive about having read it and liked it;  the Cheney memoir also created an opportunity for me to see something differently.

As usual, all reviews are clipped from the Barnes & Noble website.

2030: The Real Story of What Happens to America by Albert Brooks

Publishers Weekly: Comedian and filmmaker Brooks welcomes the reader to the year 2030 in his smart and surprisingly serious debut. Cancer has been cured, global warming is an acknowledged reality, people have robot companions, and the president is a Jew—and oy vey does he have his hands full with an earthquake-leveled Los Angeles and a growing movement by the young to exterminate the elderly. And when the Chinese offer to rebuild L.A. in exchange for a half-ownership stake in Southern California, President Bernstein is faced with a decision that will alter the future of America.

In the Company of the Courtesan by Sarah Dunant

From Barnes & Noble: Sarah Dunant’s second historical novel thrusts us into the maelstrom of Renaissance Italy. In the Company of the Courtesan tracks the triumphs and tribulations of the clever dwarf Bucino Teodoldo and his mistress, the beautiful courtesan Fiammetta Bianchini. As Rome is sacked in 1527, this unlikely pair escape the city with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a few swallowed jewels in their bellies. Like many other refugees, they land in Venice, where their shrewdness and allure helps them navigate the city’s shadowy world of intrigue. Well researched and captivating.

In My Time: A Personal and Political Memoir by Dick Cheney

From Barnes & Noble: He’s been called a great American patriot and the spawn of the devil, but whatever your views on Dick Cheney, you can’t ignore the influence this former Vice President, U.S. Senator, and Republican administration official has had on government policy and world affairs. In this personal and political memoir, this ever-outspoken politician and statesman delivers candid opinions on Iraq, the economy, and other political controversies. Bound to be a bestseller.

The Birth of Venus by Sarah Dunant

The New Yorker: Lorenzo de’ Medici has just died, Savonarola is busy consigning Florence to the flames, and Alessandra Cecchi, a plain, headstrong girl from a prosperous Florentine family, is about to be married off to a much older suitor (who secretly plans to use her to hide his passion for her brother). Alessandra, who loves to draw, is besotted with the young painter who has been hired to decorate the family chapel. Part feverish thriller, part historical romance, the story of the outspoken heroine’s sentimental education—a comprehensive curriculum including every conceivable transgression—sometimes comes off as a heady blend of Browning’s “My Last Duchess” and Anaïs Nin. But Dunant’s skill lies in combining these elements with a finely textured and pertinent depiction of a cultured citizenry in the grip of rampant fundamentalism.

Cocktail Hour under the Tree of Forgetfulness by Alexandra Fuller

Publishers Weekly: A sardonic follow-up to her first memoir about growing up in Rhodesia circa the 1970s, Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, this work traces in wry, poignant fashion the lives of her intrepid British parents, determined to stake a life on their farm despite the raging African civil war around them. Fuller’s mother is the central figure, Nicola Fuller of Central, as she is known, born “one million percent Highland Scottish”; she grew up mostly in Kenya in the 1950s, was schooled harshly by the nuns in Eldoret, learned to ride horses masterfully, and married a dashing Englishman before settling down on their own farm, first in Kenya, then Rhodesia, where the author (known as Bobo) and her elder sister, Vanessa, were born in the late 1960s. The outbreak of civil war in the mid-1970s resolved the family to dig in deeper on their farm in Robandi, rather than flee, to order to preserve a life of colonial privilege and engrained racism that was progressively vanishing.

February Disappeared

Where did February go?  It went fast, that’s all I’m sure of.  Perhaps that’s because it was filled with lots of things I like to do [which means travel] and seeing friends.  I went to Florida for a couple weeks and saw places I’ve never seen, done things I’ve never done, and indulged in the ease of long time friendships.  Pamela lives in a fabulous abode in Palm Beach.  I’ve never been there before, and everything in town is something to see.  It’s all perfectly manicured and blossomed and colored and I took few pictures because I didn’t believe what I was seeing and want to be sure I have to go back and see it again.  But I did like this photo for the sense of it:  oh so very elegant.

Then to the east coast beach [I’m usually on the west].  More friends, this time lunch with John and Merrily whom I have known forever [literally].  Very special time in a wonderful condo with Susan, and walks on the beach and long talks and good food.

On to the annual reunion with college girlfriends.  We rented a house in Orlando this year and spent the time as girlfriends do, so no need to elaborate on the details.  Seeing the Cirque de Soleil show was an additional treat; always a remarkable experience.  This group has been able to get together for a few days in February for a number of years now, and every time is a celebration of our good fortune and remarkable friendship.

Then I got additional time with Susan and her family, a bonus to see very tall and handsome young men now, boys no more.  Nice to live in a place where orchids drip from pots hanging in trees and the fire pit warms the patio for evening cocktails. 

So home again, and after some good rains we are welcoming spring’s arrival.  These wonderful dripping purple blossoms are from the Texas Mountain Laurel which was unknown to me until planted in my yard by the nurseryman a few years ago.  They grow to look like a very large lilac bush but are more tree-like, and at this time of year are simply gorgeous, with a light chocolate aroma as one passes by.  And yes, the ducks are back!  We’re waiting…..

Political Propaganda

Just when I think we’ve already reached new heights [or lows], the Republican National Committee raises the bar.  I am a registered Republican, spent a few years working as a political appointee in Washington and can actually thank a few Republicans for enhancing my retirement income, all of which has made me somewhat slow to criticize.  I did quit listening to media noise some time ago to protect my sanity, but when this envelope arrived I think I actually sputtered, and then waved it around quite a bit to cool down.

You see, I am the recipient of an OFFICIAL 2012 Presidential Platform Survey [emphasis not added, it’s all part of a letter from the Chairman of the Republican National Committee].  I am exhorted to comply with instructions: “We need your response immediately – And no matter what – DO NOT DISCARD THIS SURVEY DOCUMENT.”  “This DOCUMENT IS REGISTERED…and must be accounted for during tabulation.”  [I think I got something similar from my credit card company last week, or maybe it was a time share auction.]

For two pages, both sides, I am charged to provide my advice to “directly impact the 2012 Republican campaign to elect a president – So we can STOP the creeping socialism, massive accumulation of federal debt and economic stagnation that Obama’s policies have wrought on our nation.”  I certainly had no idea that the GOP would be relying on me to guide the nation forward, particularly within the next 7 days when I need to return the survey or undoubtedly the country will fall to ruin.

The language of the Chairman’s letter and the survey questions are not remotely coercive or directive either.   How about this: “I’m asking you to please give the Republican Party your input to fine-tune our strategy to expose Barak Obama’s terrible record of callous disregard for the best interests of the American people as he pursued an unrelenting drive to expand the federal bureaucracy, increase tax rates, and implement radical left-wing policies.”  Or a survey question such as “Is it time for the United States to start closing our military bases in Europe to save funds and force our allies to pay for their own defense?”  Yes or No.  Or this: “Do you support President Obama’s unprecedented decision to ignore federal law and order his Justice Department to stop enforcing and defending the Defense of Marriage Act?” Yes or No. Hmmmmm.  No leading questions here, just high-minded statesmanship.

Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s what political parties do to raise money and incite their faithful.  Bet the other guys are doing the same or worse. And it must work, or they wouldn’t be doing it at all.  It’s nice to be asked one’s opinion of course.   Maybe I should return the survey just to counter what some other survey recipient will do.  And after I tell them how to run the country, I do have the option to support the party with a personal contribution when I return the document.  I can say “No”, but if that’s how I feel, perhaps I’d include $15 to “help cover tabulating my Survey”?  So it’ll cost me $15 to have my advice registered?  Hmmmmm.  

An 11” envelope with a registration number and “PROCESS IMMEDIATELY” alarm notations is enclosed for returning the survey [no postage required, although a note on the envelope tells me that if I use my own first class stamp, I’ll help them save much-needed funds, which they must need since they’ve spent so much money producing and sending this trash out in the first place.]

The Republican National Committee did incite me, but not the way they intended.

Cuba Postscript

The week spent in Havana was part of a cultural exchange license between Cuba Cultural Travel and Santa Fe Photographic Workshops, and I have to define my personal photographic experience there as extremely humbling.  Not humiliating, but close.  I thought I had a bit of “an eye” for a good photograph and previously enjoyed travel photography, at least enough to put together the coffee table book of snapshots when I returned home.  I can still do that will the photographic results of this trip, but I certainly had my eyes opened to serious photography in ways I hadn’t imagined I would.

There were 45 photographers on this trip, traveling in three groups, accompanied by Santa Fe Workshop professionals and two Cuban photographers in each.  We usually ended up in small collections of 6 people with a Cuban photographer, and had some choice about where we wanted to go [I went to the market while Dick went to the boxing gym, for example].  We had access to locations that the “normal” tourist doesn’t see, a terrific advantage to this program.  But I was in waaaaaay over my head.

Our schedule started with dawn patrol at 6:15 in the morning; by the 3rd day we had our first group critique of photos [at this point Dick dropped out of the picture game all together] and I had the first rumblings of an ulcer.  By the 6th day, each of us submitted 10 photos to be included in a public showing at Fototeca de Cuba, our host gallery in Havana.  I was stressed to the max.  Furthermore, this was “street photography” which I consider “in your face” and very uncomfortable to do.  There were several professional photographers in the group along with very, very capable “advanced amateurs” with serious equipment and lenses, lots of experience, and total joy in their work.  I, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep at night.

But I coped.   These are the photos I submitted as my best for the final show.  My problem was in finding 10 reasonable shots; others literally had hundreds to choose from.  Trust me on this as I say it again: I have returned home extremely humbled, grateful as an American for the advantages of my life, and as a pretend photographer, having learned to appreciate what a REAL photographer sees through the camera lens that I entirely missed!  But I will also say that Cuba offers a phenomenal world of viewing opportunity, no matter the eye of the beholder. If you have the chance to go, I hope you’ll do it!