Sylvia's Journal

It was hard to get our Quaker meeting started on Sunday. A high pitched sound from the alarm system pervaded the room. I seem to be deaf to that high frequency as I heard nothing and was wondering why people kept getting up and appeared generally frantic about solving a problem I knew nothing about. I found out later about the sound once everyone had given up to change the conditions of our Sunday worship.

If you believe everything happens for a reason you would have been right. The noise interference made for some wonderful messages about trying to keep the external environment under control when you cannot and the role of irritants in creating something of beauty. The pearl and the sand grain in the oyster came to mind, as did the crab grass that keeps growing in our yard (squint and you can appreciate its beautiful lust green color).

Out of the irritants came a wonderful meeting with the spontaneous singing of a round that sounded to me like the four part harmony songs that South(ern) Africans are so good at.

Before yesterday, my last flight with Bill was about 8 months ago. In the meantime his 2496X was repainted with a faster speed stripe on the outside and new leather on the inside. He keeps the leather gleaming after the students mess it up.

Although there were clouds all around us, and some as low as 1800 feet, we managed to stay under them and make our way to Worcester where skies were clear. From there we turned south to Willimantic in Connecticut where we landed. The place was deserted so we didn’t tarry long and headed out to the only corridor that was relatively cloud free, in easterly direction.

The plan was to fly over the Newport mansions but the clouds were too low so we stayed on the other side of the waterway and admired the views over Providence, Fall River and then turned westwards again to fly around Boston towards an off putting and low hanging bank of clouds. On those moments I am happy to fly with someone who has an instrument rating and could fly through the clouds if needed.

In the end we didn’t need to fly on instruments as the clouds dispersed up and sideways, letting us fly clear through to our home base in Beverly.

It was so much fun flying again. On the outward flight I didn’t do much other than putting in the occasional radio or VOR frequencies and admiring the landscape. On the inbound I had the controls for a while. Bill had trimmed the plane so well that I didn’t need to do much to keep the altitude and speed constant.

If I still had my own plane and if I still would have all my confidence to fly solo or with Axel, I could be in Northampton in 45 minutes to get another Faro fix anytime when the skies are clear. May be one day…

We had not seen our grandson for half of his life and so we dropped everything on Friday to get our Faro fix. As soon as Axel was finished with his physical therapy we got in the car for the long drive to Easthampton. It was made longer by roadwork around Worcester, making the trip a good three and a half hours. But it was worth it.

We woke Faro up as he was comfortably asleep in a sling on his mother’s belly.  I got to feed him until he fell asleep again and slept through most of the afternoon.

We brought part of supper and then shopped for the missing ingredients, including a most exotic collection of beers in large brown bottles from the local beer aficionado shop.

We had dinner in the garden, I fed Faro some more and we hang out on a rug on the grass. After dinner we drove the long way back again, more roadwork around Palmer, another 3 plus hours which made, together for a nearly 7 hour drive to satisfy that most aching need to see our grandson. All well worth it.

Many of my colleagues are at the big HIV/AIDS conference in Washington. Every morning I receive a lot of blog posts in my mail box. Everyone is blogging like crazy. In my mind I imagine the end of the day’s session and everyone running off with their laptops and Pads to blog about what they learned/heard today; only a few bewildered souls standing around wanting to just talk. Ha!

It is good that the conference reports are upbeat because we need upbeatness. I attended a brown bag lunch presentations yesterday. A colleague from Lesotho with whom I have worked earlier in the spring talked about the work we are doing there with orphans and vulnerable children. The work is good and important but also a drop on a hot plate. The numbers of HIV infections among young women is staggering and the number of children left vulnerable to abuse (both physical and socially as they are being cheated out of inheritances) is frightful. Especially if you consider that in about 30 years’ time these children will be governing the country. It brings images from futuristic doomsday movies to mind.

The contrast with my life is beyond description but I will try nevertheless:

I drive home in a car I own that is in good shape because I have money to maintain it. The roads are in fairly good shape and the government has ordered maintenance work on the Tobin Bridge. It creates two daily traffic jams, in and out of Boston, but I can count on the bridge not collapsing under me one day.  I arrive at my beautiful home, inherited from my in-laws, that is situated right next to the ocean and has a small beach that we have mostly to ourselves.

I have a loving husband of more than 30 years, two grown up kids who have work (and cars, and one of them a home) and found good mates. I have one healthy grand child who would not have survived the ordeal of birth if he had lived in the mountains of Lesotho, his mom might not have either.

We pour ourselves some drinks and wander down to the beach where we are the only people. We sit by the water’s edge and talk. We decide it is a good time for a pre-dinner swim and change in our bathing suits; we go back to the beach and discover the water is icy cold. We stand around for a while and then sit down again at the water’s edge and talk some more. Then it is time for dinner, a collaborative efforts (Axel picked the menu and did the shopping, picked the chard out of our garden and I assembled the feta-tomato-pita pizzas). We take our plates outside, pour ourselves a glass of cold white wine and eat while we look at the glistening cove and the flowers that surround us. We talk some more. A few chores later it is time for bed. All is well. I wanted to say ‘we are blessed,’ but that presumes that we deserve to be blessed. But what about all these orphans in Lesotho and their predators?

Monday was recovery day, requiring my presence only at 2 phone meetings. The rest of the day I reconnected with Lobster Cove, its land and its water.

The garden had suffered from the up and down weather and a recent rainstorm had flattened the potato plants which are also infested with white flies. Axel feared that our harvest was going to be poor. I decided to investigate and dug up 3 plants. This produced such an abundance of potatoes, especially small ones that we decided to leave the rest alone and let them small ones mature.

I harvested most of the beets, gold and red, several large and moth-eaten leaves of the Portuguese kale and plucked about a pint of purple beans. Thus our dinner was red, golden, green and purple. Axel added a vase with pastel-colored snap dragons from the garden and our home grown feast was complete! We had this fabulous dinner outside after a quick cooling off in the cove. Things can’t get much better than that (except for the presence of our kids and grandkid).

I learned that while I was away Tessa started her own business. I can’t quite understand how we produced two business owners, but we did. Tessa’s company is called Align Graphic Design, LLC and Sita’s is dpict. I realized that I also have two family members who have ‘domained’ their own name (Tessa and Axel). Tessa’s site is under construction and the other is a little inactive (announcing my return on September 8, 2011).

Although I should be used to this by now, it never ceases to amaze me how one moment Axel and I speak via Skype, thousands of miles apart and then poof, we are in the same place again. Of course the ‘poof’ includes 17 hours in planes (this time the baby was sitting in front of me). Still, thanks to the first (or second?) law of thermodynamics and the Bernoulli principle, we are re-united.

During my lay-over in Amsterdam I bought Axel his favorite Dutch drink: Corenwijn. It comes in a 900 gram stoneware bottle. I tried once to buy him Corenwijn that came in a plastic bottle but it was not what he wanted; and so I added about 1 kg to my already overweight hand luggage. I stayed away from the cheese shop (that would have added a few more kgs) and then filled every empty nook and cranny in my hand luggage with lightweight licorice.

Out of curiosity about all the fuss I watched the Hunger Games on my tiny TV screen. I am not an action movie fan but I can manage on a small screen because the blood and gore is less visible.  After having satisfied my curiosity I switched to Robin Williams with his Weapons of Self Destruction. My neighbor had been watching it and was in stitches for a good part of the trip; it was rather contagious and, as a bonus, it killed the time.

I arrived in Boston with plane loads full of young people who were being whisked off to camps and language schools – it is that time of the year. It is hard to imagine crossing the Atlantic to go to camp. But then again, I flew for 18 hours to facilitate a two-day meeting.

It is summer again. I put my warm sweater, scarf and coat back in the closet to wait for our fall and donned proper summer clothes. It was hot and humid in Lobster Cove. If it wasn’t for the off-shore breeze I would have gone for a swim.