Sylvia's Journal

It was nice this time not to have to say goodbye to Axel at Logan airport and to go through security together for a change. It has been nearly two years since we last traveled together to Holland for the Vriesendorp family reunion. Now it is for a reunion of my maternal grandmother’s extended family. It was also nice not to have to worry about touching your neighbor when positioning your head for a try at sleeping. Not that it did any good; I think I slept less than I usually do.

As usual when I fly the Boston-Amsterdam route (or the return), someone else from MSH is in on board. This time it was Matt, on his way to our office in Dar es Salaam.

I had looked very much forward to the flight because it would be the first time in weeks that I could actually relax and read (for fun) rather than chipping away at my to-do list.

The virtual celebration that I had prepared for the course was well received. The best part was being copied on an email that circulated among the members of the first team that I had called to the front of our imaginary ballroom to accept the imaginary applause from the imaginary audience in honor of their very real accomplishments. Completing such a course for busy professionals is no mean feat. I totally get that. It was no mean feat for us facilitators either.

Yesterday was still a full day of work; cleaning out accumulated emails, responding to forgotten or postoned requests; there was another virtual event to close and one to attend, this time as a participant. OBTS had organized its third webinar, a one hour conversation with Bill Torbert from Boston College. He looks at leadership through a developmental lens which appeals greatly to the developmental psychologist that I am by training. Of the 20 people that attended there were three of us from MSH. I am not sure my colleagues enjoyed it as much as I did but it was worth a try to see if they would.

It is always a strange experience to enter Holland. I speak the language, I carry its nationality but it is not the Holland I left more than 30 years ago. “Count me the ways,” said Axel and I did, in my head. I am more of a stranger in this country of my birth than in my new adopted homeland.

We arrived at an empty house in Aalsmeer; Sietske is in France and Piet was in Amsterdam. The cat was there to greet us. We had some coffee and a few ‘boterhammen met kaas,’ bread with cheese before heading west out in our tiny rented car (a one size upgrade from what I had ordered – my big suitcase barely fit) to the middle of the country and meet the relatives, some I hardly remember, many I never met.