Sylvia's Journal

The Maine coast remained in the fog and so we flew south, to Newport in Rhode Island. By doing this we got into one of the more crowded air corridors in America. The chatter on the radio was incessant. The voice from Boston Approach alerted us to planes at 10, at 12 or at 3 o’clock, and positions in between. Some of them were going fast over our heads, or under us on their way in and out of Logan. Having four eyes rather than two in addition to those of the air traffic controllers was comforting but of little use as it was nearly impossible to identify small planes like us (the only ones we really have to worry about since they fly at the same altitude) in the haze.

We got a little more adept at using our Garmin 430. The little pink plane on the screen guided us to our destination via the midway points we had programmed in. And when it told us our destination was at our nose, we could see it from a distance of 6 miles. That is when we discovered there were parachutes coming down right over the field and many other small aircraft coming and going. With all that activity going on preparation for landing was so intense that I did not get to enjoy the landscape from the air. It is rather spectacular as Newport is sited in an area that is entirely defined by water.

On the way back the air traffic was a little less intense and we finally figured out how to use the automatic pilot that kept me on course and less busy. My confidence is rising with each trip and some of the activities are now laid down in neural paths in my brain that get wider, deeper and stronger from the incessant practice. In 3 weeks we are trying the Maine coast again. Then Bill will fly some of the legs of our trip and I get to fiddle with the radio and GPS.

Axel returned home early from politicking in Lowell and went fishing. It was that kind of day, hot and hazy, propelling anyone with any sense to be as close to the water as possible, or in it. He did not catch anything but I have come to understand that this is not the only thing fishing is about.

Tessa called from London in much higher spirits than her last call. She has told the college administrators that she is no longer a student (no one seems to care much about the fact that her stated reason for leaving was ‘disappointment with the program.’). She has ended her lease as per August 1 and is heading our way with a first car load of stuff on Monday. Where it is all going to live is a mystery since Sita and Jim have not moved out. I remember the two suitcases and the ‘duwkar’ (a tiny cart for toddlers who are learning to walk) that held all our possessions as we walked from one apartment to our next in TriBeCa at the tip of Manhattan some 26 years ago. We have acquired much stuff together. A whole village in Nepal could live comfortably for generations off our stuff.

After landing I prepared the goody bags for my fellow Board members of OBTS. We are having our Board meeting at Babson College for the next few days before the official opening of OBTC 2008 on Wednesday. That is also when Axel will join me in my dorm room until the end of the week. This annual conference is one of the highlights of my year, both professionally and socially. I am doubly thrilled this year that I don’t have to get on a plane and can just drive into Boston.

In the evening we went to a wonderful concert of Chorus North Shore at Gordon College that lifted our spirits and energy in ways that coffee can not. In the intermission and at the end there was much conversation as we live in a small community and most people that come to these events know each other. One of the topics was Hillary’s concession speech which we had not listened to. Back home we looked it up on the internet and listened. We agreed that it was a great and gracious speech. This election season has given us some very good pieces of oratory from which we can mine many great quotes for years to come. I particularly liked the line about the 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling after having heard in the afternoon some of the venomous language about her from conservative radio talk show hosts that made me sick. It seems that their venom is really directed at strong women in general. The comparison with nagging wives made me think that all they know about women is from marriages gone sour. The poor bastards.