The Week in Review: A Controlled Explosion
There has been no time to reflect in the last eight days, but plenty of time to live every moment. If I spread it all out here, it will seem ridiculous so that is what I am going to do.
A week ago yesterday, Sunday, we started out as usual with trucks going to market at dawn. Very normal. And then all the not normal stuff starts: we went to a lovely and sad memorial service that deserves a whole post of its own. In the late afternoon a group of neighbors met for our first rehearsal, learning a new song for the upcoming Blueberry Hill recital. That evening we went out to Loudoun to kegaroke, a party that was concocted by our energetic and creative and ridiculously joyful crew -- another event that could use a post of its own. It was like being in a club (never done that but that's what I imagine) with loud music, beer, dancing, crowds of young people and lots of silly singing. The greenhouse lounge was filled with farm workers from all around. It was a scene. Jon sang three songs. I should write about this more later.
Monday was a piano lesson (that's normal) and a second rehearsal for the recital. We were learning a song with four parts and there were just about six of us, so it took some focus. Plus the rhythms were complicated for my part, which is extra hard when you are singing alone. I am not all that competent singing by myself, especially when everyone else is singing something different right next to me. That afternoon Jon and I went out to Loudoun to do all that we could to get the farm ready for a week, since we would be away for the rest of the week. I had gambled and won because we were too busy to get out there on Sunday -- it didn't rain, so the soil was good and ready for plastic laying. Michael and I put down enough plastic to plant about 5000 winter squash plants. I felt like that would keep everyone busy well enough. We got home after dark.
Tuesday we got up, packed, drove to Boston. On the way we stopped and visited our friends Carrie and Al. Truly another blog post in that visit. Al has been in bed for over a year (ALS) and Carrie has been his sole caregiver. It is humbling to see them, and also uplifting in some ways. We left them with a pan of fresh sauteed bok choy and I had the opportunity to help Carrie give Al a sponge bath because the aide didn't make it on that day. They are both staying steady and strong.
We went to Boston to attend Alissa's graduation. She told us well in advance what day we should be there, and that she wanted us to come. When you get invited to something by your child, you make plans to go, even if graduations are only a little bit better than going to the dentist. Of course it is way better than the dentist but gosh they take a long time and there is a lot of pomp and circumstance. In my family or origin, there is no tradition of attending graduations (my parents never came to any of mine). Another post there, right?
On Wednesday Jon loaded up the truck (oh yes, I forgot to say we drove up in a box truck that usually goes to market, and it is a rattly loud thing when it is empty on those terrible roads in Pennsylvania and New York. Connecticut is only marginally better these days.) while I attended to the farm by text and phone. Back at home both crews were working in 90 degree heat, while it was barely 60 degrees in Boston. It seemed cruel. In Loudoun they heroically planted, mulched and covered 3600 winter squash plants in two days before they had to pay attention to getting ready for markets. In Vienna they marched through their list, one patch at a time, dripping sweat. Meanwhile, I sat in Alissa's kitchen and wrote a piece for my online writing class. In the afternoon I got to go and visit my dear friend Sarah for three hours. We sat in her kitchen and talked non-stop. I had forgotten to tell her I was coming, so she had to rearrange her day, but she did, and we used our time well. Then I had to rush off to dinner at a place that Alissa had made a reservation for a month before. It was worth it -- some sort of fancy Middle Eastern food on small plates. Scrumptious.
Thursday was graduation. I had never expressed an ounce of interest in attending the regular Harvard graduation, so Alissa and Jon set off on foot (she lives a mile away, conveniently) and I stayed home to chop vegetables and clean up the apartment a bit and then I went to pick up my beloved aunt who is 81 and up for anything when it comes to Alissa or any child. We had a leisurely trip into the heart of the hospital district and we expertly found a parking place in a garage and we walked slowly and carefully to the gigantic tent on the medical school quad/lawn/yard. Not sure what it is called, but the tent covered all of it. There we sat, in this humongous space, with friends and family of the 200 grads. We were too far back to see the stage but we had a very nice screen right in front of us. My aunt and I arrived at about 11:30. Everything was over by about 5:00 or maybe later. That was one long afternoon. Alissa wore her regalia proudly, with the red stethoscope prop that all her fellow med students had around their necks. There were speeches and awards and speeches and awards and then there was the name reading. I just thought to myself, these are the doctors who are supposed to make everything in the world of medicine better. They sure seem like they will be able to do it. Along the way we learned a lot about a lot of different things -- why it is vital that dentists be trained alongside medical students, about the illustrious careers of amazing people, the pediatrician who figured out that the water in Flint, Michigan was toxic was the main speaker, and the students were told up and down and around that they are the future of medicine and they have a big job to do. The oath that they wrote for themselves was long and inclusive and full of social justice goals. Then we all went back to Alissa and David's apartment to have a graduation party with 15 of Alissa's long time friends and family. It was a small subset of the people who have loved Alissa for most of her life, but we represented them gladly. Jon and Alissa put a simple but delicious spread on the table in minutes while I sat with my aunt and had some tea. Just before bed I got a phone call from some friends telling me about a bad cancer diagnosis. Life is full of whiplash.
Friday morning we got up and finished loading the truck, rolling out of Boston by 6:30. It was a very long slog home because of traffic and not being able to use the parkway because our truck was too tall. We stayed in touch with the farms and made sure that everything was poised for our return because Jon had three vital things to accomplish before Saturday morning. When we finally got home after ten hours, we hit the ground running. Carrie and Michael were ready to unload everything with me, Jon took off to get his tasks done, I made the lists for market trucks the next morning and then rushed up the hill for a third rehearsal of the song (May the Circle Be Unbroken) with our little group of passionate singers. Jon got all of the vital stuff done, finishing up in Loudoun at 10:45. It is a good thing he is healthy. We keep pushing him to the edges of what is possible and he keeps managing to fix, build, create, buy, assemble all in the nick of time. We get a lot of help from everyone, but Jon is critical to keeping it all going (partly because he really is bad at asking for help, and feels the need to think everything through himself, but that's another post).
If you think I am done, I am not.
Saturday was a full-on farm day (back to Loudoun for both of us) but I had to come home in time to practice our piano duet with Nell and then another rehearsal with the BBH Festival Singers (that's our glorious name) and then Jon made dinner and we sat on the porch with our entertaining and lovely niece Tillie who was just passing through and needed a family to visit. We won.
Sunday was opening day for the CSA. Carrie and I met at the stand at 8:00 and went through a routine that is familiar and fun. The room was ready on time with shelves full of gorgeous shiny vegetables. I went to my weekly lunch with my girlfriends and then had to get ready for two performances in a row. It was the day of our annual "adult musicale" where all the adult students perform for each other at one of the homes of one of the students. We are generally nervous about performing but it has gotten much easier over the years. We only see each other once a year, we are so impressed by each other's progress, it is a very nice event really. Nell and I got through our duet without bursting out laughing or bursting into tears and I managed to do almost my whole solo performance without imploding. Somehow I missed the very last note on BOTH of my teeny little pieces. Oh well. Mom and I raced back home for the annual Blueberry Hill recital (truly worthy of a post of its own and I absolutely have to write that one). It 's a tradition started and maintained by my lifelong friend Betsy and her singer/choir leader husband (who taught us the song we sang). Most of the little kids in the neighborhood perform: singing, reciting, dancing and a few adults get up too. My mother and I played the same duet that I had just done with Nell a few hours earlier. It went swimmingly. And May the Circle Be Unbroken was SO MUCH FUN with its harmonies and rhythms. I have always wanted to be able to sing in a small group like that. We had such a good time. It sounded great.
So what is the point of this post? The same as always. Intense gratitude for my health and the health of those around me. Intense gratitude for the life I get to live and the people I get to be with. Intense gratitude for the beauty that surrounds me, the music that accompanies us all, the joy that comes with every single thing. I am also surrounded by people who are struggling with their health and who have much sadness to endure. And this is part of the whole thing, being part of the struggles and the hardship, while also getting the vegetables where they need to go, taking care of what needs to be done, and loving every single minute. This week was one for the record books, but it is not unique. We have these weeks more often than we realize -- this one just ended up being a compressed version. Funeral, kegaroke, farming, graduation, recitals, CSA start, visiting, laughing, eating, singing.
Our house is a mess. Oh well.
If you think that any one of the topics that was glancingly introduced should be pursued further, then just say so. I like prompts.
A week ago yesterday, Sunday, we started out as usual with trucks going to market at dawn. Very normal. And then all the not normal stuff starts: we went to a lovely and sad memorial service that deserves a whole post of its own. In the late afternoon a group of neighbors met for our first rehearsal, learning a new song for the upcoming Blueberry Hill recital. That evening we went out to Loudoun to kegaroke, a party that was concocted by our energetic and creative and ridiculously joyful crew -- another event that could use a post of its own. It was like being in a club (never done that but that's what I imagine) with loud music, beer, dancing, crowds of young people and lots of silly singing. The greenhouse lounge was filled with farm workers from all around. It was a scene. Jon sang three songs. I should write about this more later.
Monday was a piano lesson (that's normal) and a second rehearsal for the recital. We were learning a song with four parts and there were just about six of us, so it took some focus. Plus the rhythms were complicated for my part, which is extra hard when you are singing alone. I am not all that competent singing by myself, especially when everyone else is singing something different right next to me. That afternoon Jon and I went out to Loudoun to do all that we could to get the farm ready for a week, since we would be away for the rest of the week. I had gambled and won because we were too busy to get out there on Sunday -- it didn't rain, so the soil was good and ready for plastic laying. Michael and I put down enough plastic to plant about 5000 winter squash plants. I felt like that would keep everyone busy well enough. We got home after dark.
Tuesday we got up, packed, drove to Boston. On the way we stopped and visited our friends Carrie and Al. Truly another blog post in that visit. Al has been in bed for over a year (ALS) and Carrie has been his sole caregiver. It is humbling to see them, and also uplifting in some ways. We left them with a pan of fresh sauteed bok choy and I had the opportunity to help Carrie give Al a sponge bath because the aide didn't make it on that day. They are both staying steady and strong.
We went to Boston to attend Alissa's graduation. She told us well in advance what day we should be there, and that she wanted us to come. When you get invited to something by your child, you make plans to go, even if graduations are only a little bit better than going to the dentist. Of course it is way better than the dentist but gosh they take a long time and there is a lot of pomp and circumstance. In my family or origin, there is no tradition of attending graduations (my parents never came to any of mine). Another post there, right?
On Wednesday Jon loaded up the truck (oh yes, I forgot to say we drove up in a box truck that usually goes to market, and it is a rattly loud thing when it is empty on those terrible roads in Pennsylvania and New York. Connecticut is only marginally better these days.) while I attended to the farm by text and phone. Back at home both crews were working in 90 degree heat, while it was barely 60 degrees in Boston. It seemed cruel. In Loudoun they heroically planted, mulched and covered 3600 winter squash plants in two days before they had to pay attention to getting ready for markets. In Vienna they marched through their list, one patch at a time, dripping sweat. Meanwhile, I sat in Alissa's kitchen and wrote a piece for my online writing class. In the afternoon I got to go and visit my dear friend Sarah for three hours. We sat in her kitchen and talked non-stop. I had forgotten to tell her I was coming, so she had to rearrange her day, but she did, and we used our time well. Then I had to rush off to dinner at a place that Alissa had made a reservation for a month before. It was worth it -- some sort of fancy Middle Eastern food on small plates. Scrumptious.
Thursday was graduation. I had never expressed an ounce of interest in attending the regular Harvard graduation, so Alissa and Jon set off on foot (she lives a mile away, conveniently) and I stayed home to chop vegetables and clean up the apartment a bit and then I went to pick up my beloved aunt who is 81 and up for anything when it comes to Alissa or any child. We had a leisurely trip into the heart of the hospital district and we expertly found a parking place in a garage and we walked slowly and carefully to the gigantic tent on the medical school quad/lawn/yard. Not sure what it is called, but the tent covered all of it. There we sat, in this humongous space, with friends and family of the 200 grads. We were too far back to see the stage but we had a very nice screen right in front of us. My aunt and I arrived at about 11:30. Everything was over by about 5:00 or maybe later. That was one long afternoon. Alissa wore her regalia proudly, with the red stethoscope prop that all her fellow med students had around their necks. There were speeches and awards and speeches and awards and then there was the name reading. I just thought to myself, these are the doctors who are supposed to make everything in the world of medicine better. They sure seem like they will be able to do it. Along the way we learned a lot about a lot of different things -- why it is vital that dentists be trained alongside medical students, about the illustrious careers of amazing people, the pediatrician who figured out that the water in Flint, Michigan was toxic was the main speaker, and the students were told up and down and around that they are the future of medicine and they have a big job to do. The oath that they wrote for themselves was long and inclusive and full of social justice goals. Then we all went back to Alissa and David's apartment to have a graduation party with 15 of Alissa's long time friends and family. It was a small subset of the people who have loved Alissa for most of her life, but we represented them gladly. Jon and Alissa put a simple but delicious spread on the table in minutes while I sat with my aunt and had some tea. Just before bed I got a phone call from some friends telling me about a bad cancer diagnosis. Life is full of whiplash.
Friday morning we got up and finished loading the truck, rolling out of Boston by 6:30. It was a very long slog home because of traffic and not being able to use the parkway because our truck was too tall. We stayed in touch with the farms and made sure that everything was poised for our return because Jon had three vital things to accomplish before Saturday morning. When we finally got home after ten hours, we hit the ground running. Carrie and Michael were ready to unload everything with me, Jon took off to get his tasks done, I made the lists for market trucks the next morning and then rushed up the hill for a third rehearsal of the song (May the Circle Be Unbroken) with our little group of passionate singers. Jon got all of the vital stuff done, finishing up in Loudoun at 10:45. It is a good thing he is healthy. We keep pushing him to the edges of what is possible and he keeps managing to fix, build, create, buy, assemble all in the nick of time. We get a lot of help from everyone, but Jon is critical to keeping it all going (partly because he really is bad at asking for help, and feels the need to think everything through himself, but that's another post).
If you think I am done, I am not.
Saturday was a full-on farm day (back to Loudoun for both of us) but I had to come home in time to practice our piano duet with Nell and then another rehearsal with the BBH Festival Singers (that's our glorious name) and then Jon made dinner and we sat on the porch with our entertaining and lovely niece Tillie who was just passing through and needed a family to visit. We won.
Sunday was opening day for the CSA. Carrie and I met at the stand at 8:00 and went through a routine that is familiar and fun. The room was ready on time with shelves full of gorgeous shiny vegetables. I went to my weekly lunch with my girlfriends and then had to get ready for two performances in a row. It was the day of our annual "adult musicale" where all the adult students perform for each other at one of the homes of one of the students. We are generally nervous about performing but it has gotten much easier over the years. We only see each other once a year, we are so impressed by each other's progress, it is a very nice event really. Nell and I got through our duet without bursting out laughing or bursting into tears and I managed to do almost my whole solo performance without imploding. Somehow I missed the very last note on BOTH of my teeny little pieces. Oh well. Mom and I raced back home for the annual Blueberry Hill recital (truly worthy of a post of its own and I absolutely have to write that one). It 's a tradition started and maintained by my lifelong friend Betsy and her singer/choir leader husband (who taught us the song we sang). Most of the little kids in the neighborhood perform: singing, reciting, dancing and a few adults get up too. My mother and I played the same duet that I had just done with Nell a few hours earlier. It went swimmingly. And May the Circle Be Unbroken was SO MUCH FUN with its harmonies and rhythms. I have always wanted to be able to sing in a small group like that. We had such a good time. It sounded great.
So what is the point of this post? The same as always. Intense gratitude for my health and the health of those around me. Intense gratitude for the life I get to live and the people I get to be with. Intense gratitude for the beauty that surrounds me, the music that accompanies us all, the joy that comes with every single thing. I am also surrounded by people who are struggling with their health and who have much sadness to endure. And this is part of the whole thing, being part of the struggles and the hardship, while also getting the vegetables where they need to go, taking care of what needs to be done, and loving every single minute. This week was one for the record books, but it is not unique. We have these weeks more often than we realize -- this one just ended up being a compressed version. Funeral, kegaroke, farming, graduation, recitals, CSA start, visiting, laughing, eating, singing.
Our house is a mess. Oh well.
If you think that any one of the topics that was glancingly introduced should be pursued further, then just say so. I like prompts.
https://highline.huffingtonpost.com/articles/en/everything-you-know-about-obesity-is-wrong/?fbclid=IwAR3mCOWLiSrVQQEUHPpikl0Ick9jWJRmR9QzHxYGa_MXiBY-aC5RZlkBYk4
ReplyDeleteThis (which Emma posted) made me think of you. Congratulations to Alissa!
Great article.
Delete