July 4th

The morning was so quiet. This always happens on holidays. It feels like at least half the neighbourhood empties out. Since we have no family nearby and very little faraway, this day is always very quiet for my husband , son and I. In the past, we attended my neighbour Shelia's BBQ.
she and her husband did for all the neighbours in our street. Shelia and I met at church 21 years ago, and she and her family moved away in 2013. Our other neighbours who are our friends usually have their own family over. We have a few more friends, and as our children are becoming adults we seem to see less of these friends too, on this holiday. It seems like a political holiday, as soon as you think outside of your own little circle. There is no denying that this big country is full of contradictions. It seems it is easy these days to criticize the US, but considering how large this country is and the large numbers of different cultures all trying to get along and make sense of things, we also should remember how young this country is. It occurred to me that in spite of its youth, the US has some very old wounds already, not the least of which is what President Obama referred to so poignantly as "our original sin ", when referring to slavery in the aftermath of the horrific shootings in Charleston and the recoil of the debate on the Conderate flag. I think this country can figure out its problems, but it will take time and wisdom, and youth is not known to appreciate the first or have any interest in the second. And as in any times of contention, ill intentioned political opportunists will try to take the ball and run with it. I hope that does not happen, or if it does, that it will be very temporary. I was thinking of some of my foreign born friends, who like me have made this country their new home. Like me, several of them come from complicated families and have struggled with overcoming some very stressful personal circumstances. Perhaps that is why I find myself more tolerant of the constant bickering this country seems obsessed with politically these days. I am hoping that phase will pass, and this country will find a way to make peace with itself for the benefit of all of its citizens, like myself. I remember how proud the 4th of July would make me when I first became a citizen in 1994, as I would watch the beautiful fireworks in Seattle with my American husband and our young son.
I have to admit that pride today is tinged with melancholy, wondering where the future will lead this country and what legacy it will leave our son who just graduated from college in June. I hope the confidence this country inspired so far, will not fade over time with doubt and scepticism, with bad politics and narrow minded decisions that surrender to selfish motives and dubious explanations.
It is hot and quiet outside. I look forward to cooler weather. The heat is a bit oppressive. Not unlike the weather politically in this country, my country, right now. Political seasons come and go. Let's hope the next one will bring the kind of weather that will give us renewed growth and hope all around.

The Birthday Party

Relaxing in the evening in our wet bathing suits after an evening swim to cool down from another day of relentless heat, my husband and I revisited the 2012 James Bond movie, starring Daniel Craig, "Skyfall". Somehow, this time around, the figure of Raul Silva, played by Xavier Bardem, left a deep impression on me.The Spanish actor portrays a former MI 6 operative, out for revenge against his mother who betrayed him, a role played by Dame Judi Dench . My dreams often take me where during waking hours I would hesitate to go, so last night I had a dream where I visited my estranged brother in Texas. Interestingly, my brother's hair in the dream was dyed the same yellow colour of the character Xavier Bardem was playing in "Skyfall". That definitely was intriguing, considering my brother took take of my mother the last 2 years of her life, and Xavier Bardem plays a man desperate to torment and kill his mother who betrayed him. My mother betrayed me, and as a result I became estranged from her and my brother, who was by then my only surviving sibling. So, to see my brother in a dream, as a younger version of himself, looking like the Raul Silva character, and sporting the character's yellow hair, set the stage for an emotionally tense and conflicting dream script. The setting of the dream was a large, modern and luxuriously furnished condo with large bay windows where my brother and an apparent male room mate lived. My brother was holding a large birthday party for his daughter who looked about eight in the dream. He had at least a dozen children invited, along with their parents, and had set up a very fancy dessert table loaded with fancy cupcakes and a huge cake that looked custom made. His daughter looked so happy, and all the children were having a great time. I remember tasting one of the large cupcakes loaded with sprinkles and cream, and it tasted delicious. I remember smiling as I bit into it. My brother seemed both proud and relaxed. We sat next to each other for a while, and I told him he should come visit me some time soon. He did not answer, but seemed to look away into the distance. He smiled, but it was a distant smile, born more out of politeness than concern or emotion. I remember crying at one point. He was not mean or cold, just indifferent, which seems to be pretty accurate as far as our actual non- relationship goes. I told him he should read my memoir on Amazon, " Lioness in exile", and especially the story I did on him called " The Mallard", which recalls his love of birds and ducks as a child, based on the visit of a mallard in our pool a few winters back, and the longing it unleashed for my brother, and the pain of having lost him. My brother did not seem to hear me, which only added a deeper layer of both meaning and poetic melancholy to the dream. I woke up feeling I wanted to relive the dream, and relishing remembering the details and mood. The dream ended with me leaving the condo, catching a glimpse of its beautiful large stained glass bay windows as the setting sun cast a glow of warm light on the happy birthday celebration. 

Tropical Heat

The grass smells like wet rain this morning, and the scent reminds me of wet hay in summer after a surprise shower, a scent that brings back the fields around my village when I was growing up. The relentless heat the past weeks seems to change things , emotionally and socially. I am living in my bathing suit, as the temperatures continue to rise, and peaked at 92 Fahrenheit yesterday. I almost burned my bare feet yesterday afternoon as I was crossing the patio tiles to go swimming. The soft feel of the dry, hot grass felt like a massage compared to the searingly hot tiles. The water in the pool just soaks my body and soul with relief, and I love walking around in my wet suit in my bare, wet feet in the house, pleasantly chilled to the bone as the window fans blow cooling air through the house. The house is dusty from the air the fans bring in, the floor is wet and the dog adds her wet paw prints from rolling around in her own little pool, to get some relief from the beating down sun. The house feels like a small beach house, wet towels everywhere, wet bathing suits. I soak my hair to keep my head cool, and do not towel dry after I get out of the pool. The added chill keeps me comfortable until I am all dry again, and go swim again and again, drinking cold water all day to stay hydrated. The houses here, built on Scandinavian models inspired by the largely Nordic 19th century immigrants in the area, are made of wood frames and absorb the heat like sponges. If the summers increasingly keep getting hotter, I wonder if builders will have to switch to brick and mortar to ward off the challenges of overheated wooden houses. I think back of being a child in Belgium. We had a large custom built pool, full of ice cold water, as my father funnily did not want to spend the money on a heater for his fancy pool. We lived in that thing anyway, and would swim until our lips were purple and our teeth rattled with the cold. Our nanny would make hot chocolate and as soon as we were warmed up, we  would go back in the pool. For all the subliminal stress the hot weather here creates, mostly some irritation trying to keep the house below 80 Fahrenheit, which usually fails, even with all the window fans on maximum capacity, and the stress of the always on the verge of being resolved issue of when to install central air conditioning, I love the heat,because of the casual attitudes it invokes. BBQ dinners, ice cream every night for dessert, fresh berries from our garden, and fresh squash and beans, snap peas and green beans, living in bathing suits, wet hair and towels. It is a perpetual beach vacation in our own backyard. All the neighbours are out in their front yards in flip flops and shorts, no one cares what they look like in their bathing suits, everyone is united in the cause to stay as comfortable as possible in this scorching heat. People walk outside in their swim trunks to go check the mail, the men pause to chat in their shirtless jeans while mowing the lawn, women walking to the neighbourhood pool down the street in their over sized middle age bellies wrapped in towels and sporting large summer hats, their spouses trekking behind them in dark sunglasses and Hawaiian print baggy swim trunks, grand kids clattering along with pool toys and brightly colored swim gear. Humanity on display in all their comical flaws, off to enjoy a cooling swim on a hot day, united in the pursuit of happiness as they see it on a summer weekend day, as the hot sun overhead seems to melt not only assumptions about the summer weather, but also about clocks, schedules,and our obsession with filling every moment of time tied to them.

The Eulogy

I had just finished watering the garden, trying to beat the heat. I had gone swimming in our pool, relishing that it was still completely in the shade , as it was late morning, and the sun would not hit the water until about noon. At 68 degrees Fahrenheit, the water felt delicious after having the sun beat down on me for close to an hour, getting water to all the flowers, veggies and fruit bushes. I knew President Obama was about to give the eulogy for the Reverend Clementa Pinckney in Charleston, South Carolina. I was impressed by what I heard. The president touched on the sore issue of unresolved racism in this country, and on the brave history of the black church in the US, a history that is intrinsically connected to the fight against prejudice and discrimination and the long battle for civil rights from the days of slavery to today. It is a history rich in heart and strength, politically and spiritually. The President praised Rev. Pinckney for his commitment to his community, for his heart and wisdom, his dedication and his unwavering faith, and how the murderer had failed to instill fear and division, as the black community came together in a spirit of forgiveness, believing love and forgiveness trump evil any day. The President dealt next with the issue of the Confederate flag, and said it was a symbol of a war that was fought for the wrong reasons, since it was in the name of perpetuating slavery, which he called " the original sin of our nation." He talked about the need for better education and training for our police officers, to avoid the temptation of prejudice towards black men in the judicial system. He brought up the need for honest dialogue about the undercurrent of prejudice that affects opportunities for blacks in the work force, and the threat to voting rights. He called on the need for sensible gun laws, before calling on grace as a gift from God that should propel us a nation towards action on all these issues. It was a stirring, bold,heartfelt intelligent message, as the president finished by expressing the wish that God may continue to bless the "UNITED" with great emphasis on the word, the UNITED States of America, in other words, a united, not divided against itself, country. I hope this wonderful eulogy will translate into some noticeable action on Capitol Hill. Together with the announcement that the Supreme Court had just decided that gay marriage is legal now in all 50 states, today is an amazing day in the history of the nation I call my own.   

The Carry - On

It was a glorious morning, one of those perfect early summer mornings with plenty of sun and just the right touch of a sweetly scented breeze. My husband was outside watering our abundance of brightly coloured flowers. He was looking all relaxed barefoot in his shorts and without a shirt. I was happy to see him checking on our garden before he was to take off on a 5 day short trip to Nevada to visit his mother and two younger brothers for their mother's 90th Birthday. At this point in the juncture, the trip was sure to be fraught with emotional challenges and tensions, dealing with a mother in denial about her age and how that stubbornness weighed down and frustrated her three sons. To see my husband Michael walk around his garden was touching, it was clear he'd just as soon stay home, as from previous experiences his mother rarely listened to his and his brothers' solid advice on matters of diet, socialization and money. Issues with her were resolved at a snail's pace. The whole thing over the years reminded me of a noir western. But, for now, Michael was happily eying his sunflowers growing steadily taller in the heat. He was pleased with the progress of growth of the squash and cucumber and tomatoes, beans and snap peas. The Fuchsia and Morning Glory were multiplying in blossoms it seemed each day, looking like brightly coloured jewels mixed in with the fruit bushes and veggies. Michael was walking around all the flowers watering each flower and plant lovingly, like he was taking leave of them until he was to return on Friday. It made me smile. Thinking of this garden would get him through the possible rough spots of his visit. Michael is not a man of many words, but the way he was taking leave of his garden this morning was like watching a silent lovely dance, imbued with spiritual light and feeling. I will remember it always. My husband came in and changed into his casual traveling pants, shirt and leather coat. He put on his socks and shoes, grabbed his carry- on bag, put on his Husky hat and kissed me and hugged our son as he went out the door, where the air porter transport bus would whisk him away to the airport. A part of Michael would stay, and it would be with my son and I, but it would most certainly be walking in his garden until his return, and that is where I would find him each day during watering hours in the morning and at night.

College Graduation

My son Nicholas graduated from Evergreen State College on June 12th, 2015, with a Bachelor's degree in Liberal Arts with an emphasis on creative writing. It is his intention to pursue a Master's degree in writing at Pacific Lutheran University. It is so much fun to see his creative side blossom as I at 58 finally am pursuing my long delayed dream to write. We encourage each other, it is an enriching experience,artistically and intellectually.
For young people today, the world is proving to be a challenging place, some would say, an increasingly more dangerous place in view of certain international conflicts that seem to take on a rather nerve wracking turn, whether it be in the Middle East or the Ukraine. Tag on the enormous challenge on all levels of global climate change, and you want to wish young people today both courage and intelligence to overcome these daunting assignments. I wish my son the best of luck and heart in what his creative mind will contribute in his own unique way and with his own crystal clear perspective that is hopeful without being naive.    

Tiger Embroidery with Metallic Threads

 
My post "Embroidered Eyes," is about this project.