Sylvia's Journal

Although I know the answer to my annual question – why do we have to frame war as a honorable endeavor, call killings ‘the ultimate sacrifice,’ – it popped up again as we watched the annual Memorial day ritual – the speeches, the invocation of God (always on our side), even the rainbow speech of the (first) female commandant of the American Legion post in Manchester.

For Axel it is mostly a social event. He can’t walk a straight line from one end of the cemetery to the other because he either knows someone or he has to stop at a grave. It takes a long time to cover any distance. It is also the annual handshaking with people Axel knows but I don’t; old classmates, football mates, relatives. This is his hometown after all.

After the ceremony we walked over to inspect the graves we had prettied up only two days ago. It hasn’t been always like this- there have been years we have been remiss in our duties and the graves were decorated with weeds. Not this year.

We walked home past the house of Sita’s in laws where we made our daily check in call to the expectant mom. No activity there yet. They don’t go to the ceremonies – he knows the nasty side of war and is not interested. If there wasn’t a social aspect I would stay home too.

The rest of the day was devoted to gardening and cleaning up rampant ivy, left untouched for the last 3 years. I was merciless in my cutting back as it had nearly strangled a hydrangea bush and was working on another. I put it back in its place.

Tessa and Steve stopped by from their rare day off together, dropping off a pint of ice-cream from the ice-cream stand run by a former class mate’s mom. Axel demonstrated the utility of my mother’s day present, the outdoor fireplace, and cooked our dinner on it. He had gone out with his fishing rod to bring home dinner but the fish thought otherwise – and so we had frozen shrimp, a standby just in case – with roasted asparagus (our own), a micro greens salad (our own) and homemade potato crisps. The latter are not our own as the potatoes still have a way to go. We sat by the fire until the mosquitoes chased us inside.

We have completed our ancestral duties for Memorial Day and planted the geraniums at the graves of Penny and Herm, Phil and Paul. Diane had joined us; a quick walk from her backyard to the graveyard. Instead of vodka we sprinkled Dutch gin on the graves, a slight evolution – the taste suits us better.

After the work was done we plopped down on the grass and talked for a long time before returning to sunny lobster cove. Axel took out his kayak to check whether he could still use it with his torn rotator cuff (he could). As soon as he left I decided I too should check out whether I could still row in my Alden shell.

Getting it out into the water was a bit of a challenge, but once on the water I was fine. It was a beautiful late afternoon and the water was mostly flat with long slow lazy swells carrying me forward.  Outside the cove I saw Axel kayaking further out. We met up and continued together which is a bit of a challenge because (a) Axel doesn’t have his hearing aid in so we can’t really communicate and (b) he looks forward and I look backwards and (c) I go much faster with my long oars.

We returned back to the cove just when the wedding party next door was picking up steam. We had not been invited to the wedding of our longtime neighbor’s youngest son. I didn’t mind but Axel was a little peeved.  I treasured not having to be anywhere, not having to dress up and being able to do this outing on the water.

We cooked our dinner on the outdoor fire pit that Axel has bought me for mother’s day (alongside with my meditation bench). We tend to give each other presents that we need or that we like ourselves.  The meditation bench I use every morning. The fire pit we will be using every evening throughout the summer I predict.

Sunday was another leisurely day that include Quaker Meeting and my bike ride to and fro, hilling the potatoes, attending the official re-dedication of the newly restored rotunda at Tucks Point – a whole town event with much appreciation for all the people who had made this historical restoration possible. Axel was one of them.

We skipped a cookout on Plum Island because Axel felt punky. He is still feeling punky but watching Sherlock Holmes distracts him while it chased me upstairs. I am not very receptive to modern Sherlock’s antics and franticness late in the day.

We have seen the future….it sounds like the start of a commencement speech but it was actually the ultrasound to check on baby Bliss. He looked straight into the camera with one eye, rubbing the other with his tiny hand. Was that a wink? Is he teasing us?

Sita certainly is ready to hold her baby on the outside. The continued high blood pressure was enough concern to get the ultrasound done. But the little fellow is fine, floating in enough fluids, weighing 8 pounds and something. He looked ready to my untrained eye. We are all ready to meet him and, I was told, his new home is no thoroughly cleaned by a team of professionals so he can move in.

Now, when we are invited, we always have to accept using the ‘tentative’ option, as one would in Outlook. But then I have to remind myself that there is usually plenty of time between the start of the first contractions and the actual birth.

Axel has bought the pink geraniums for the Magnuson graves. It is part of our Memorial Day tradition to plant them at the grave and then pour some vodka to the memory of his ancestors.

I did another superstitious thing today, like leaving all my work stuff at work. I have been packing everything up and schlepping it home every day just in case we had to rush off to Easthampton, so I am taunting fate, again; to no avail so far.

Every evening we are checking in with Sita and every night she answers the phone from home. Her blood pressure is still high and that is some reason for concern – more so to us than it appears to the midwives, although various tests are ordered, alongside with bed rest and extra protein.

We returned from a dinner with Tessa and Steve on the deck of Gloucester’s brew pub. The place is right on the harbor. We enjoyed great beer, mediocre food for me (the others were happy: fish tacos, pulled pork and fish & chips), some great desserts and the last sun rays of a day that started wet and ended warm.

After weeks of eating mostly vegetables and fruits the pub food didn’t sit so well with me, despite the fact that it was billed as a seafood salad (it was more of a seafood antipasta). The food stood in some contrast to a very elegant meal (with its half portions) we had yesterday to celebrate KB’s 61^st birthday at the Duckworth Bistro (also in Gloucester) together with some friends.

This week is full of restaurant fare, two lunches and two dinners so far, all in great company. The freshly picked micro greens and asparagus are waiting for a dinner at home; that should be tomorrow.

We brought the Afghan baby crib into the living room, plus the embroidered baby caps, hoping that this would speed things up. Sometimes superstition is fun.

It has been raining all day which we humans may not like but our newly seeded grass and baby vegetables love. We are ready to serve a full plate of micro greens to anyone who comes by – we have plenty. We will complement them with macro asparagus, also aplenty.

This morning Sabera came to our office to tell my colleagues about the work of Afghan midwives and the challenges they are up against. Most of those are pretty obvious: security concerns in many parts of the country, turnover, restrictive norms for girls and women to travel and work outside the home and attitudes of mostly male, mostly older doctors about their expertise. The male doctor versus young(er) female midwife/nurse dynamic appears to be universal.

Still, in spite of all of that, Sabera and a few hundred very committed women have tapped into something strong and powerful. Where at first they had to beg the fathers and husbands to let their daughters and wives train to become a midwife, now there are long lines of girls that the few midwifery schools cannot handle.  Other countries in the region are looking and asking Afghan midwives to come and teach theirs how they did it. I am learning a thing or two about change and transformation against all odds –  a case study on social change, led by very courageous young women.

Two other Afghan women, one Afghan American, joined the conversation.  I was happy to link them to Sabera. Critical mass is important and any new connection helps as you never know where it may lead.

Afterwards the official part of the program was over I took the three ladies to a Japanese restaurant where we sat around the cooking plate and were treated to knife/spatula juggling and new ways to break and fry an egg. It was very entertaining. Sabera indulged in sushi – I only know two Afghans who are adventurous eater, Sabera and my colleague Saeed.

The afternoon program included a visit to Harvard’s School of Public Health where I handed her over to Gary from western Mass. who is taking her under his wing for the rest of the afternoon. Tomorrow she will go to do some more networking further west. I told her we may be following her if we get that phone call from Sita, now more likely with the crib in place.

Tessa used her artistic talents to put together our window boxes. They look great and with time and TLC will look even better she assured us. It was one of those 10+ days with bright blue skies and full sun. We gardened until we were exhausted and sore. But the reward was instantly visible in happy plants (new soil) and lots of new seedlings in our vegetable garden. We haven’t put up screen around the mesclun and spinach bed and pray that the bunnies don’t read this blog.

We got a taste of both the good and the bad of Afghanistan brought to us by Sabera who arrived late on Saturday for a whirlwind tour of the Boston area. We were very happy that we got to have her all to ourselves for part of that time. After a walk around Smith Point with its exuberant and colorful display of flowering rhododendrons we gave her a taste of Cape Ann and her very first boiled lobster.

Sabera is the president of the Afghan midwives and was in Baltimore to work with researchers from Johns Hopkins on a study that will show that not all money pumped into Afghanistan was wasted. Some children now still have their moms around as a result.

That was the good part. But Sabera and her family are suffering a lot – her dad nearly lost his life in a kidnapping and did lose the use of his right hand in the process of defending himself against a fatal stabbing; a robbery cleared the house of beautiful carpets and a lot of cash, more than I can imagine losing. And if anyone was wondering why it wasn’t in the bank, remember the Kabul Bank mess; they lost all their money their first. Home banking seemed safer. It wasn’t, and nothing is really safer anywhere in Afghanistan.

Waking up in the morning she remarked how she has heard recordings of birds and waves and couldn’t believe that here at Lobster Cove what she heard was the real thing. We talked a lot about the peacefulness that she and countless Afghans are so desperately praying for.  I kept thinking how very unfair the world is. Sabera’s visit was a good reminder of the blessings that we so easily take for granted.

After dropping her off at the house of former colleagues on the way to Newburyport we travelled on to celebrate the 20^th anniversary of our friends Anne and Chuck’s first date. Axel gave a speech about that experience of being at the birth of a love affair that is still blossoming after all these years.

At each call from Western Massachusetts we jump up and think ‘is he coming?’ but then Sita has questions about raising asparagus and knitting and other ordinary things. I had put my money on May 20 but that day has come and gone. My countdown counter says 6 more days till baby Bliss.

No more news on the bruise. It is no longer expanding and looks a lot less scary. Maybe it was the cortisone shot that hit a vein. I am still waiting for the other cortisone shot to have an effect. My ankle has not been very painful, the result of not going for walks. Today I tried a short walk and had to turn home after 10 minutes. I am glad I made an appointment with the top ankle doc at MGH because I need some advice on what is possible. The thought of not being able to go for walks anymore is very depressing.

Today there was an electrical problem in Manchester and we were left without the juice for a good part of the day. It is a startling experience to realize how much of our daily life requires electricity. Without email and internet I was finally able to get some reading done until I needed to check something out on the internet.

That’s when I headed for the public library which has wireless internet access, electrical outlets to plug in and most importantly, electricity. I was not the only one who used the library as a stand-in office.

In burst of serious reading I explored the idea of bookmark stacks on del.ici.us and then of course got lost in other people’s stacks, in particular one on food and recipes.

Axel picked me up and we drove to Gloucester to get some fresh fish. When we returned home the electricity was still off and so the meal we had planned could not be cooked on our (electric) stove; reason to eat out. We invited Woody to join us and found ourselves eating outside in the late afternoon sun with a terrace heater keeping us warm.

The small brown spot that looked like a bruise on my upper right arm was the size of a penny last Saturday. I ignored it. Then another ‘penny’ appeared right above it and now most of my upper arm is yellow and purple.

The physical therapist thought that I was bitten by a tick or a spider but today the nurse, inspecting my arm with a magnifying glass, could not find the place of the bite. We are all puzzled and hope that the blood test will clarify things tomorrow. My right shoulder and upper arm remain a mess.

It was a beautiful evening at Lobster Cove. The rains of the last weeks have colored everything a juicy green. A hummingbird was sipping nectar from the two colorful hanging baskets that came in for mother’s day.

There is much wildlife around our house these days enjoying the new greens. The baby bunny that Sita and Tessa saved from the jaws of Oona about a month ago is hopping around happily and eating all our dandelions. There are enough of those to keep it happy for a while; we hope it won’t discover the salad greens that are just coming up on the other side of the house.

Early in the morning when the day breaks I often see a fox, one a not so healthy looking large male and the other a smaller one, the female I assume, who seems to be better nourished. They sniff at the side of the barn. We think the bunnies are nesting underneath but the fox can’t get in there.

I picked another handful of asparagus. With a little bit of sun after the rains they shoot up like rockets. The potato greens have emerged and the mesclun is like a green blanket, covering the soil with quarter inch sprouts. There are more sprouts but we can’t remember what species they are so we will wait until they articulate themselves a bit more.

In preparation for Axel’s surgery I re-read my blog pages starting on August 4, 2009; a day after my rotator cuff surgery, to find out how long it was before I was able to dress myself, drive to work and even to fly (as it turned out, not very long). I had forgotten, of course, about the unpleasantness; the difficult, long and painful nights, and why having a recliner (the one we gave away) is important for passing those first few nights. And so we are looking for a used recliner so we can give it away again after Axel is put back together.

And then we watched Obama give his Barnard speech – his forward speech – presenting his platform to eager graduates and to the world: a platform that was saturated with messages about girl power. I wondered if Michelle and Hilary (or Sacha and Malia) had a hand in writing it.

There was the usual advice, the usual inspirations about perseverance, not giving up when you are trying to do something important; about long hard work without any visible results for a long time – good advice but not very original.

My favorite part was when he urged the young female graduates to not just get a seat at the table but get the seat at the head of the table.