Tears and Smiles

November 19, 2015 – Tears and Smiles

It was nearly a week ago.  It was an ordinary day.  Elliott was taking his afternoon nap, and I was working on a new blog post, a light-hearted entry I was going to call A Reason to Smile.  As usual, when I’m writing, I lost track of the time.  Around 5:00 p.m., I decided to take a break.  For some reason, maybe to catch the local weather report, I flipped on the television news.  And that’s when I learned about the attacks in Paris.  One horrific detail after another, one disturbing image after another – part of me wanted to shut it out, but instead, I stood transfixed in front of the screen. 

I tore myself away to wake Elliott and we sat together, stunned, listening to the news coverage.  It would be terrible anywhere on the planet.  Yet Paris holds a special place in our hearts.  It’s the city where we met.  And now our beloved Paris was reeling from this savage attack.  We felt a certain numbness, similar to what we felt at the time of the 9/11 attacks in 2001, when we wondered if life could ever return to “normal.”  Although the obsessive worry subsided over time, our sense of security was shattered, never to be completely regained.  This is the world we now live in, a world where random acts of terror threaten the lives of every man, woman, and child.  Yet we learned to go about our lives, as we must, and eventually we learned to find joy again. 

In the last couple of days, when I thought about going back to my writing, I knew that A Reason to Smile was no longer an appropriate title.  However, I still want to share with you some of the brighter moments from the past week or so. 

First of all, Elliott is smiling again.  That’s because he has his lower teeth back, and they’re even better than before.  No more mush meals!  He’s relishing “real” food, and he’ll be ready to chomp his way through Thanksgiving dinner next week.  In addition, his new hearing aids are working out extremely well.  Also, in a recent marathon of medical appointments, Elliott got a good report from his ophthalmologist.  His eyes are stable and he’s experiencing less bothersome irritation since he started using antibiotic eye drops and ointment on a daily basis.  Finally, Elliott’s pulmonologist is extremely pleased with the condition of his lungs.  We’ve set up Elliott’s next appointment for May of 2016, the same month he turns 104. 

I’ve had reasons to smile as well.  I’ve done several days of subbing at Annandale High School, which requires me to get up a little earlier than usual.  While working takes a big chunk of time out of the day, it has certain advantages, such as allowing me to witness the sunrise.  Of course, there’s a financial benefit (paychecks!), a social benefit (seeing old friends), and a psychic benefit.  After much reflection (and a few good therapy sessions), I’ve come to the conclusion that I retired a bit prematurely.  Teaching was a huge part of my life and I really wasn’t ready to give it up four years ago.  Although caring for Elliott takes up much of my time and energy, I realize it’s important to continue working in a way that’s useful to society.  Already, I’ve noticed that I feel more content. 

I’m even feeling good about the shorter days.  Strangely enough, I’m looking forward to a few months of evening hibernation at home.  However, if you’re craving more afternoon daylight, did you know that you don’t have to wait until the winter solstice for the sun to start setting later?  It’s true.  I just discovered that, in Washington, DC, the sun will begin to set later on December 14.  On the other hand, the sun won’t start to rise earlier until January 12.  This is due to several factors:  the elliptical shape of the Earth’s path around the Sun, the axial tilt of the Earth, and the latitude of the particular location.  You can read more about this at the time and date website where I found this information. 

 

And for your edification, here’s the quote of the week from my art history class, where we’re studying Post-Minimalism:  “The tautological play in Conceptual Art is a linguistic play on Modernism’s emphasis on art being self-reflexive and self-referential.”  What fun! 

Last but not least, I get my daily dose of smiles by looking at Sylvie pics.  A big thank you to Elisa and Christian for the wonderful photos and captions.  It’s hard to believe my adorable granddaughter is four months old.  What joy she brings to our lives!

Playing Catch Up

November 9, 2015 – Playing Catch Up

It’s time to stop being so busy, busy, busy so I can catch up with my writing.  This seems like the right moment:  a drizzly fall afternoon, while Elliott naps.  Wrapped in a cozy sweater, I’m sipping my cup of vanilla almond tea and watching the gray sky darken.  Sometimes, it’s just good to be home.  I haven’t had that opportunity very often these past few weeks. 

Shortly after Elliott and I returned from our road trip to Orange, VA (which I wrote about in my previous post), I packed up for a 4-day trip to New York.  As usual, I had a whirlwind of activities planned.  First stop, Brooklyn, for some fun time with Elisa and Sylvie.  (Sorry, it was a workday for Christian.)  Activities included reading books, giving Sylvie a bath, and taking a walk in the neighborhood.  My granddaughter is bigger, more active, more alert and communicative, and, if possible, even cuter than before!  

with Sylvie (3 1/2 months)

It was hard to tear myself away but my next stop was Manhattan for a long-awaited reunion with two dear friends from my school days on Long Island.  I re-connected with Sherry, who was visiting from California, and Hilary, who still lives in the New York area, through Facebook.  We had a lot to talk about after more than 46 years, and I must say that the three of us looked great!  We’ll definitely plan another get-together in the coming year.  

with Hilary (left) and Sherry (center)

Next stop was Greenwich Village, where I checked into the Washington Square hotel and met up with my longtime friend Gale, who relocated to Florida after she retired from teaching in Alexandria, Virginia.  Thanks to Gale’s research, we had made our reservations well in advance to coincide with the famed Greenwich Village Halloween parade on Saturday night.  We may not have been the oldest spectators lining 6^th Avenue, but members of our generation were certainly not in the majority.  It was fun to watch the colorful, noisy spectacle making its way north, although the crowd was so dense that it was hard to see many of the participants.  After an hour standing in one spot and craning our necks to get a glimpse of the parade, Gale and I meandered back toward Washington Square and Eighth Street, admiring the costumes of the revelers.    

In addition to joining the Halloween festivities, we found time to see two Broadway shows over the weekend.  The first, Something Rotten, is a wildly clever, witty and high-energy musical set in Shakespearean London.  The outrageous storyline centers on a not-so-successful playwright who’s looking for a way to compete with the Bard.  He consults a soothsayer who tells him that in the future, plays will feature characters bursting into song and dance.  There are numerous references to past musicals, and if you’re a fan of the musical theater like I am, you’ll find this show extremely entertaining. 

The second show we saw was the Tony-Award winning musical, Fun Home.  This was a beautifully constructed, staged and performed show that is based on the graphic memoir of Alison Bechdel.  Although it’s a musical and has its funny moments, Fun Home is primarily a serious piece of theater about growing up in a dysfunctional family and dealing with gender identification issues. 

Of course, there was time for eating.  Before the Friday evening show, we had a very tasty Greek dinner (lots of mezze) at Dafni Taverna in the theater district.  And since it was unseasonably warm, some frozen custard from Shake Shack was de rigueur on our way to the theater.  After the show, Gale had her obligatory slice of Junior’s cheesecake while I munched on my customary evening chocolate.  (I never travel without a bar of Trader Joe’s 85% dark.) 

On Saturday morning, we took a quick subway ride up to MOMA to see the Picasso sculpture show (and to shop at the gift shop).  The exhibit showcased Picasso’s range and development as a sculptor over more than 7 decades.  Some of my favorite pieces were the assemblages he did in the 1950s while living in the South of France.  By the way, we had very good quick lunch in the museum’s café.   

I spent my last morning taking a leisurely walk through the Village right after breakfast.  Barricades still lined many of the streets.  In Washington Square Park, most of the evidence of the previous night’s events had been cleaned up.  The only people out at this early hour seemed to be runners, dog walkers, and a few neighborhood children with their parents.  

Washington Square Park, Greenwich Village

My thoughts traveled back in time to the late 1960s when Greenwich Village was my escape from suburbia.  In those days, a wave of excitement would sweep over me as soon as I exited the subway at West 4^th Street.  On sunny afternoons, I’d sit on the ledge of the fountain in Washington Square Park, talking to strangers (don’t tell my parents!) and listening to scruffy boys playing guitars.  The sweet smell of marijuana would fill the air.   Picture a girl 17 or 18 years old, dressed in bell bottoms and a flowing Indian print top, with long brown hair rippling down her back.  That was me.  Now, on this grayish morning, the once familiar streets – 8^th Street, Bleeker, Macdougal – conjure up memories, but they don’t hold the magic they once did.  I’m not a teenager anymore, but it seems impossible that I’m 65 years old.  Somehow, when I’m in Greenwich Village, I always feel young and free.  

Even though I had a wonderful time in New York, I looked forward to getting back to all the good things that awaited me at home.  Also, I was eager to show Elliott my photos and to tell him all about my trip.  I was disappointed, but not surprised, when Elliott welcomed me with a harsh statement about "abandoning" him (his words).  It turned out that he had a couple of problems while I was away.  The first problem, with the remote control for the TV, took me only a second to fix.  The lack of heat in the house, however, was a challenge I couldn’t overcome.  It took a visit from the heating repair person to pinpoint the cause of the problem:  a bat had gotten into the heating system.  Once he had extracted the bat (fortunately, deceased), our heating system worked perfectly once again.  And Elliott gave up his grumpiness, too.  Good news – he can hear much better now, thanks to new hearing aids.  Bad news – he dropped his lower dentures on the floor and they broke in half. 

After my New York getaway, I plunged right back into my regular round of activities (exercise, concerts and lectures, Elliott’s medical appointments, classes, etc.).  I even did a couple of days of subbing last week, which left me exhausted.  Over at George Mason, in my jazz class, we’re learning about bebop, and in art history, we’re studying minimalism.  The reading for art history isn’t getting any easier to understand.  Here’s an example from an article by artist Robert Morris, written in the 1960s:  “The trouble with painting is not its inescapable illusionism per se.  But this inherent illusionism brings with it a non-actual elusiveness or indeterminate allusiveness.”  Got it?  Want to hear about gestalt, the known constant and experienced variable, phenomenology and embodied perception, relational composition and serialization?  No, I didn’t think so. 

A three-dimensional piece by Robert Morris

At least I’m having a great time with my fused glass.  I wish I had more time to spend at the glass studio but I’m pretty much limited to one day a week for the time being.  However, I’m sketching out lots of ideas and experimenting with materials and techniques.  And at the Mantua Made Market last Saturday, I sold quite a few pieces.  

My table at the recent Mantua Made Market

Some of these pieces are still available.

Somehow, I’ve been able to find time for reading and have enjoyed two excellent books.  Night in Shanghai by Nicole Mones is a novel set in Shanghai in the 1930s, Shanghai’s Jazz Age.  It has an international cast of characters, including an African-American musician as the main character.  It’s a very atmospheric novel, full of music, nightlife, organized crime, and political strife (Nationalists fighting the Communists) at the same time Japan is taking over China city by city and establishing its brutal rule.  There’s an interesting subplot that features Jewish refugees who have found a safe haven from the Nazis.   Next, The Marriage of Opposites by Alice Hoffman is a work of fiction based on the life of Impressionist artist Camille Pissaro, in his birthplace, St. Thomas, and later in Paris.  It provides fascinating insights into the small Jewish community on this Caribbean island in the 19^th century.  

That’s all for now.  As I wrote this post, I realized how these recent days and evenings have been too full of scheduled activities, and I will try to reserve time for reflecting and writing more often.