Comforting Friendships

Oasis Feature: Friendship and Books

Do you order books and forget which books you've ordered? I do. I also make a habit of immediately reading every book I order- that way I won't stockpile and feel driven to persevere through the pile until the task is done. Now that books are so accessible online, I try to pace my reading. I have spent long periods of my life just living to get back to my book-for example, my entire 18th year was spent in a fiction-soaked haze. (While I was being hazed in the Navy.) No plans. No conversations-and I mean no dynamic conversation because my mind was focused on the book. Eventually, recognizing my escapist tendencies, I cut myself off from reading most fiction (except classics). I needed to learn from what I read, come up with a plan of action to solve my real life problems, and live in the moment.
 

Recently, I read The Wednesday Sisters (Meg Waite Clayton), and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I saw the book at Borders in Plaza Las Americas, and was drawn to both the title and the cover design. I picked it up but hesitated to buy it. I thought I might order it online. Coincidentally, the next day I had contact with the author through She Writes, and immediately clicked over to Amazon to order the book.(I consider chance events to be a sign!)  However, later, I couldn't be sure if I had ordered it.

Confession:  My covert-okay I admit it-sneaky book reading happened innocently enough. 

After a long airplane journey, I waited  in Plaza until someone could come by and collect me. Since I had so many hours to kill before their arrival, I thought, why don't I look for the book and read a bit? I enjoyed reading The Wednesday Sisters so much that I forgot I was tired and hungry. When my company arrived, I reluctantly set the book down. I had such a pleasant time! I was hooked. Still uncertain as to whether I had ordered the book, I started making excuses to stop at Borders where I would willingly wait to be picked up. I read as much as I possible while in the store. I confess, I purposely mis-shelved the book so that I alone could find it. (I made sure there was a copy left in the correct section in case someone came in to legitimately buy the book.) I couldn't stop thinking about the characters. I made excuses to wait at Borders. I even took the bus. No easy task in Puerto Rico because the signs haven't been updated to reflect the new bus numbers. Is the T-3 the same as A-3?  (It is.) Another day, I took the train, which left me a good 20 hot-and-humid-walking-minutes away from my goal. One day, I persevered through the pouring rain, negotiating a heavy book bag and over-sized umbrella just so I could make it to Borders. As I persevered through the torrent, I visualized that hot cup of Earl Gray tea with milk and honey- and most importantly- the book. A week later, my husband found an unopened package in our cavernous mini-van.  Oh this arrived while you were away. I think it's a book. Umph!

What is so special about this book?

The story centers around a group of women who happen to meet at a local park, and eventually decide to start writing together. All of the women have different personalities but share an interest in reading books and the Miss America pageant. Watching the pageant together over the years brings the women together, and provides a set-point frame to highlight changes within the women, and within society as a whole. However, it is the meaning of sharing life through friendship that gives the book it's profound emotional impact.

It takes place in California and reminded me of the time I spent in Alameda, a little town across the Golden Gate Bridge. My personal experience with an area near the setting helped me to visualize the surrounding houses and the park where the women met. I thought deeply about the era the book covers, and wondered how life was for those who weren't right in the middle of the struggle for change. I went to a State college in Southern California, and most of my professors were involved in some aspect of the 60's- either they were involved protests to end the war in Vietnam and/or fought for equality of rights for women and other minorities.  (Remember when women were referred to as a minority?)

My professors were about nine years older than me, and I often wondered if I had been born too late. I admired the commitment of people who fought for civil rights during the 60's. Even though I am a veteran, I still appreciate people who stood against the war. I believe that their fight was against the decision makers in government and not the soldiers. I also knew people in the military who were against the war but when you're in the military, you do what you are told to do. It's part of your duty to follow orders.You don't decide which wars to support. Clayton brilliantly captures the ordinary woman's feeling of being caught in opposing ideas.
She brings alive that time of change for those on the fringes of the action, and shows how it impacts the ordinary lives of five women. You experience how it might have felt to grow up at that time, and realize that your life could be about more than getting married and raising children- that it might also include a space for a mother who wants to be a writer, for example.

Mother's Aren't Always Satisfied 

I was a young teenager when one of my aunts ran away from her her husband and children. It was shocking. Unheard of ! What kind of a mother leaves her children? Later, she was reunited with her children but she filed for a divorce. It mystified  her husband. Why would she leave? Didn't he take care of her and provide her with everything? He became enraged and then bitter that she had left him. To this day, he continues to hold onto his "anti-woman's-libber" grudge. I can't be angry with my aunt. She was the only person around who knew that books were important; and she gave my sisters and me the best books for gifts. She could discuss the mysterious Kierkegaard , and I remember my uncle hating her passion for study. He ridiculed her elevated conversation, and her love of books. Reading Clayton's book made me remember how difficult it was for women such as my aunt to find a way to thrive.

Even in the 70's, it was challenging for women to negotiate a new place in society. It's easy to forget. When I was in the Navy, the sailors wrote "Bitch go home" on my locker. They wrote vulgar comments about me on the bathroom walls, stole my coffee cup and clothes from my locker, taped up torn out pornographic pages from magazines and wrote my name on them. I know that not all sailors actively participated in this behavior, but I also know they all knew who was involved.

A few years after I was out of the military, I ran into the blond, soft spoken, beautiful and thin young wife of one of the Sailors that I had served with. She was widowed after her husband's motorcycle crashed somewhere in California. When we talked, she offered me an apology because her husband was the second class petty officer who secretly led the other Sailors on a vendetta to make my life miserable. I asked her why he did it, and she said he hated you because you were a woman in the military, and that was a man's job. 

I appreciate The Wednesday Sisters because it offers a  perspective on how important it is for women to support each other. It makes me aware of how much society has changed. It reminds me to value friendship, and know that genuine friendship, including complete acceptance,  is one of the greatest gifts you can give or receive.

Click the Amazon link on the sidebar to buy your own copy of Meg Waite Clayton's, The Wednesday Sisters.

Have a lovely week and remember to celebrate your friendships!

A Visit from Earl While I was Away

Beauford Delaney, "Throw it in the Creek" c. 1938

Oasis Reflection;

Turbulence and Change

 I remember standing on a street corner with the black painter Beauford Delaney down in the Village, waiting for the light to change, and he pointed down and said, “Look.” I looked and all I saw was water. And he said, “Look again,” which I did, and I saw oil on the water and the city reflected in the puddle. It was a great revelation to me. I can’t explain it. He taught me how to see, and how to trust what I saw. Painters have often taught writers how to see. And once you’ve had that experience, you see differently.*  James Baldwin, Paris Review 1984

A lot has been happening lately, and life events are encouraging me to look in new ways.

The painting above references the folk wisdom that if something gets bad enough it should be thrown away, "Throw it in the creek." This is a disturbing thought, because I keep thinking of the Bosnian girl whose brother filmed her throwing black and white puppies in the river. You wonder how could those puppies be bad? I'm making an unsettling connection, but I've just returned from taking my daughter off to college. I don't know quite what to do with myself right now; however, I am delighted that she got into a good school and that she is enjoying her new life. Ultimately, that is what makes me the happiest. Still, we don't realize how our daily lives are shaped by our loved ones until they are away.

My college girl entering Mystic Pizza

 ~~~
While I was off the island of Puerto Rico, Sr. Earl, the hurricane, came to visit. My husband called me during the storm, which he was driving through, and gave me a blow by blow (pun?) account! I hear the loud wind while I yell, "Don't talk to me! Drive! You might get hurt!" Then he says, "All the lights are gone. I can't see the road." Finally, I told him I couldn't take the stress anymore- and it was making me not hungry-so please hang  up the phone. Oh, I know how bad that sounds! But it was such a surprising response from me that he did get off the phone.

I was at Mystic Pizza when he called. Do you know the restaurant in Mystic, Connecticut? It was the location of the movie, Mystic Pizza with Julia Roberts. The movie features three teenage girls who all work at the pizzeria and are trying to figure out what to do with their lives; one is reluctant to marry, another attracts the son of a wealthy family (Julia Roberts), and one is saving up for Yale University. I kept thinking of the story, while we were looking around the area. I never realized that Connecticut was such a sea oriented society. We stopped at the Portuguese Fisherman, and had a very large breakfast! (but no seafood!) It's only open for breakfast and brunch. (I think it should be called a diner now instead of a restaurant.)

Waffles cannot be contained on the plate! Huge serving sizes!

The entire area seems to be patriotic and though I may be mistaken, it also seemed conservative. The flags were at half-staff because of an officer who was killed in the line of duty. (I first wrote half-mast but I think that term is best used on ships.) When I was seventeen, I served in the US Navy for four years and I think that this coastal area of Connecticut could be called a Navy town- only it's Coast Guard all the way! I felt that familiar but distant feeling of being around many people who are connected to the military in some way, either business or family. Veterans were proud of their service, and one waitress talked about her boyfriend overseas. Everywhere, the presence of the military was strongly felt. I asked a group of young men for directions and one carefully groomed man stopped in the middle of the road to make sure I got the correct directions. A car honked at us for making them wait, but I just thought that guy was so helpful with his southern accent and polite manner, he probably was in the Coast Guard, (Yes, I know all servicemen are not gentleman- I was in the Navy, after all!)
 ~~~
When I arrived home, the yard was full of hurricane debris; branches and abundant piles of long pine needles. It smelled a bit like Christmas. It took a half day to clean up the yard. I was thinking about hurricanes as I raked and washed.  

A hurricane moves in a wide circle, the outer rings bring light rain, and as it picks up strength winds blow and bend trees. If it passes directly over, there is a time when it's profoundly hot, humid and the wind is still. It's a false calm because the storm is getting closer, but if you understand the hurricane's process, you have time to organize for the next ring of wind and rain to arrive. Usually, it's light rain again but then quickly turns into a dangerous storm. In the mountains, trees fall, mud slides, and a telephone pole may fall. But an amazing thing happens- you find the nicest people out on the road waving flashlights and yelling to passing cars (and complete strangers) that the road is blocked. "Slow down! Turn around! Be careful!" And though you cannot hear them, you know they must be warning you of approaching danger because they are risking their own lives while standing out in the storm. You slow down, see the telephone poll, and turn around as my husband did on the night that Earl brushed passed Puerto Rico. He was saved from a car crash because of those people shining their dim flashlights and yelling to save a stranger with all of their might.
The windy rings of change are turbulent, too, but don't you love it when you find heroes along the way? It's in the difficult times that we know how best to serve each other.These were my thoughts as I cleaned up after the storm. I'm having a storm in my life, but it's good. I have so much to celebrate and be thankful for!

Waiting at the San Juan airport.

Thank you for reading Oasis- I'm sending you good thoughts.


*Thanks to writer, Cynthia Newberry Martin, for the quote and inspiration.

Embracing Sadness?

Studying Memoir Under a Cieba Tree (Mayan Kapok/Tree of Life)

Oasis Moment: Dealing with Loss

Grieving doesn’t have to be a process that keeps us rooted in our thoughts of fear and sadness. For the moment we might feel despondent, but by expressing and coping with our true feelings, we face the sadness head-on. Daily Om 


The above quote comes from the Daily Om web-log,that was founded by Scott Blum author of Summer's Path and Waiting for Autumn. 
If you ever were curious about how people who are "spiritual but don't call themselves religious" might think, these books are a must-read. Both are incredibly imaginative, insightful and connect to experiences and thoughts I have also pondered. 

A Death in the Family

My young brother-in-law, Joel, died last week. He was still in his thirties, not always healthy but death is a shock whenever it arrives. When my father died of diabetes complications at 49, I stayed in a kind of shock for years. When my mothered was murdered at 55, it was a shock. When my niece died in a car accident at 17, I was shocked. And now this death is no exception. Age doesn't matter. I'm just shocked by the finality of death. I have trouble feeling when I first encounter the news of death. I become quiet inside and observant outside. I'm treading water out in the middle of the funerary sea. 

All the death details and surrounding dialogue feel unreal when the shocked-state is in place. I remember the words, "He's in a better place," repeatedly sounding, but I'm not so religious anymore. Besides, those words never spoke to my heart anyway. I remember the last time I saw him in the intensive care hospital ward, he had trouble breathing and couldn't talk. Just before I left, I said "I'll see you later" and he nodded affirmatively. He wanted to live. He loved life. He loved to laugh. He held no grudges and didn't complain. He was a journalist and editor who celebrated my children's triumphs in writing, bringing them a little local fame and boosting their self-confidence. I appreciate his generous and considerate heart.

Feeling grief is difficult

In Blum's books, though they are spiritual fiction, he talks about the psychological process of embodying your feelings and allowing them to be fully felt without bodily resistance. I think I have more "embodied feeling work" waiting for me when I'm ready. Encountering deep feeling is frightening. 

I think most of us cope with loss by cushioning memory with distraction.

Some of my distractions?

Reading fiction at Borders drinking Earl Gray-er Tea

Mom and daughter bonding over a homemade honey and oats facial mask

Capturing a funny shot for my Twilight fan, Miss A

Confession. I have laughed inappropriately while waiting for death to arrive. It's like a dark humor enters my body, and I forget death and grief. I hope that I don't offend anyone with my behavior. I have seen death up close when it feels far away. It's just a shock-adaptation. I remember it when it happens- a kind of coping humor. True, I also distract myself with study and focused work where I block out all thought, I think. But then I realize I'm talking about death and loss to my poor happy fresh-faced freshman students. Bummer! I also need plenty of comfort time such as bonding with family, reading fiction or about comfort food and cooking it, immersing myself in nature, and, yes, laughing.

How do you go through difficult times of loss?

The Ceiba tree rooted in life as we are while living

The ceiba tree (or kapok) in Mayan cosmology was considered to be the tree of life that connects earth to sky, or man to the divine. They left notes with requests at the base of the tree, and poured rum around it, ‘feeding’ the muse. Trish and Rob MacGreggor- authors of The Seven Secrets of Synchronicity .

Joel Villanueva Reyes

May your journey be peaceful. May your family and friends feel surrounded in love and support during this time of your passing.

All I Ever Wanted

It was all I ever wanted.
Not that I minded the age,
it was an old key meant for it's worn place.
But something was different.
After the death and robbery, I understood.
It couldn't be any other way. Things change. Life moves on.
I've heard this.

Passing through the keyhole,
a life lived and shared was worth it after all.

So soon, it became clear to you that the shine was gone.
But did you know you were so beautiful?
Did you know that every wrinkle
opened my heart even further to your inspiration?

What was worthy became more so.
It didn't matter that your surface had a rough feel.
It didn't matter.

Your opening was all I ever wanted.
When I could turn the key and find you,
in your scuffed and worn beauty,
I was immersed in a new light.
An innocence revealed us,
I opened in the sun of you, Mom.
It was all I ever wanted.

Cynthia Pittmann
(A writing assignment from the worthy Ms Willow of Magpie Tales)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wanted to share a poem reaction (sonnet) in response to, "All I Ever Wanted" by my poet friend, Neill Edwards:

Cynthia, here's a sonnet, related to your poem. It came because I was so impressed by your work.

CYNTHIA PITTMAN

Cyn wrote something fine, a full creation
Yet delicate; the roughness unheeded
No real wall, feeling need, in reaction
To that warmth, that heart that her love seeded.
How you got there, without real direction
In this piece you made what you so needed -
All you ever wanted was ‘perfection’

Pittman’s place, among poets, we’ll find -
If she writes at all, her work flies, a dove
Touching sky, the work you think first as ‘kind’
Tears out the guts; mention ‘Mother ‘above’;
Mom’s epitaph is now sacrosanct, bound
All in one piece, grief replaced by this love
No mere ghost, she has her place in your mind.

Neill Edwards
July 31, 2010

The Mountains are Falling!

Oasis Feature: Summer Views while I'm away....
We had a mudslide that covered our main exit out of the mountain. We had to find another way out! The road was closed for nearly a week! Even after the cleanup, we still have falling rocks.

A Rainy Afternoon in El Viejo San Juan

Oasis Feature: Summer Views;

Snapshots from the Enchanted Island

A walk through the Old City...

who minds just a little cooling rain?

El Viejo San Juan

Garden Food for the Soul

Oasis Feature: Grappling with Gardens and Untangling Memories

I ride my bike, I roller skate, don't drive no car
Don't go so fast but I go pretty far
For somebody who don't drive, I've been all around the world
Some people say I've done alright for a girl...(Melanie Safka, Brand New Key song lyric.)

Do you remember when you were young and you got your first bike? I remember my parents making an announcement to our group of five children, "We are only going to buy you one bike each. You can select any bicycle you want, but that is the last one you will ever get from us." They were so serious about their parental pronouncements! I chose a Schwinn 10 speed. (Click here to read a fun and informative blog post about this extremely popular bike.) It was the best bike ever. Perfect timing! I was 13 years old, and seriously into health and saving the planet. I didn't care at all about driving a car. I wanted to bike everywhere, rain or shine. I bought a little license plate to hang behind the back seat which said, "Look Ma, No Exhaust". I was inspired to personally help our Mother Earth-and save gasoline! (Remember the oil crisis in the 70's?)

Why am I thinking of this? Have you ever noticed how committed young people can be? My own daughter, Ms A, reminds me to continue my concern about the environment. Through her own effort, I remember that seemingly insignificant lifestyle changes do matter.

Miss A was highlighted in a new gardening magazine, Agrochic, recently. I'm so proud of her!

A new magazine from Puerto Rico that encourages growing your own food-even in Urban areas.

La estudiante Amber Villanueva me dio un 'tour' por el huerto escolar de Baldwin School en Guaynabo.... La chica es presidenta del Club Ambiental y mantiene junto a sus compañeros el huerto. Allí pueden encontrar productos, como: el quimbombó, batata mameya, guineo, recao, romero, espinaca, caña de azúcar, maíz, entre otros. -IVS

In English, it says something like this:

Amber Villanueva,a student of Baldwin School of Puerto Rico in Guaynabo led a tour of the school's vegetable garden. She is president of the Environmental Club, which planted and maintains the vegetable garden. The garden contains this produce: okra, root vegetables, bananas, flat leaf cilantro, rosemary, spinach, sugar cane, corn and other vegetables.
(My imperfect translation-If you read Spanish, I'm afraid I had to add a couple of words. Also, I found this information on the magazine's Facebook page and at the Agrochic.com website.)

Growing Food at Home

Recently, my girl asked me to cook her Healthy Soup, which is our name for a broth based soup concocted to fight colds and the blues. I have made various versions of this soup ever since we moved to Puerto Rico, and as time goes by, I've noticed that it takes on a local flavor. The soup is made from a collection of ingredients that happen to be either in the refrigerator or the garden- no shopping involved. Think of it as a vegetarian kind of "Chicken Soup for the Soul".
One day it might have green bananas, plantains, tomatoes and garlic. On another, it could have corn, green beans, oregano and a bit of pasta added to it. It depends on what is in the refrigerator and what's in season. (I recommend that you choose either pasta or rice, but never select both.)

Readers, you know that I veer from a strict recipe whenever I can get away with it, but here serious diversions are cultivated. Consequently, I suggest you follow these intuitive directions with care. I cautiously warn you that only the brave go into the Land of Insight Cooking where great experimentation may equal great failure or success! (I watched the extended movie version of JRR Tolkien's, The Hobbit and the The Lord of the Rings this week- hence the fantasy language and drama.)

Healthy Soup Recipe

Saute a cup of chopped onions in olive oil until transparent and fragrant. Add some smashed garlic and continue cooking until soft- about another minute. Add 6 cups vegetable broth (or water). Chop the starchy and/or large vegetables- any roots or green bananas-to about the same size (1 inch), and add them to the pot. After about 20 minutes, add softer vegetables-corn, green beans, tomatoes (tomato paste is fine). Season with homegrown herbs if you have any. I like basil, oregano and racao (see photo), which is a flat leafed cilantro. Cook for about 30 more minutes. If you want to add a cup of pasta or even rice, you should estimate the time it takes to cook. (Make sure you don't overcook the pasta.) Add salt and pepper to taste.

In my recent batch, I added cubed homegrown calabasa (photo), which is a green encased but orange fleshed squash pumpkin. It's plentiful here in Puerto Rico and is easy to grow. (It can also be the base of a wonderful squash soup.) I also had some white chayote, Christophine, left over from my trip to the local Farmer's Market in Santurce so I added that, too. (photo)
Looking at this as a creative cooking adventure, I thought about what everyone needed and added/subtracted ingredients based on what you might call, insight. Caution: This type of cooking drives onlookers mad as it looks so imprecise. You may change you mind about ingredients and combination at any time, but I think it's a great way to move into the creative feel of cooking.

~~Child: What are you cooking?

~~Mom: You know I don't like to be asked that question!

A Note on Composition: Think of your cooking as an evolving process so that it becomes a bit like creating a painting. You have an opportunity to combine into your cooking all of your food-life-experience, and you get to share it. I like to bring in cooking colors from the north and south- from my childhood and my adulthood. Though impressionistic, this insight method of cooking requires that you consider who you are cooking for. For me, this means I have to consider that my dear ones do not like heat-spice even if it's homegrown! (I make a hot pepper oil that I keep in the refrigerator exclusively for my use.) I have to forgo the selfish desire to warm the soup up with ever so few drops of hot oil.

Enchant your family with "Healthy Soup"created especially by you!

Thank you for spending time with me in my Puerto Rican life. I hope your garden's harvest is plentiful and that you share your version of "healthy soup" with me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Untangling Memories' Vine

My Healthy Soup this week surprised and delighted me. While cooking, I remembered the first time I came to Puerto Rico and was served guanimes; which is a boiled corn meal dough that is wrapped in a banana leaf, by my husband's great aunt who lived with her husband in a small house in the Botanical Gardens. What a novelty. My mom was traveling with us and we broke off from the group to go for a walk "in the jungle". We were impressed! The misty heat, piercing unfamiliar sounds and green lush foliage was both relaxing and frightening.
I never before attempted to make guanimes perhaps because the food seemed so wrapped up in the past. Nonetheless, they were a success and I'm glad I let that memory feeling visit me in the kitchen.
Miss A loved them! If you want to make these "corn dumplings", you would need corn flour, a bit of salt, oil and water, and banana leaf for wrapping. (I did not follow the directions on the posted link but maybe you'd prefer to look at it? I think it's a better starting place for the recipe.)

I wish you well!

Pattee asked a question about how to make "the dumplings" so I'm re-posting my answer here:

I have a "cheat" that I tried today. Buy corn pancake mix, rather than cornmeal! If you add oil, a little baking powder and baking soda, and water to mix to the consistency of a soft dough, it is perfect. If you prefer 'hard' dumplings just omit the powder/soda. I also added a dash of salt. Do you have banana leaves? I wondered if maybe grape leaves would work if you used different spices, such as dill and garlic in the broth. If you have corn husks, you can wrap them in that and make something like a Mexican tamale. They taste best boiled in seasoned broth. If you prefer a sweet taste add a sweetener and raisins/apples maybe. Of course, that's becoming more similar to a tamale so you would highlight corn and season with cinnamon and/or nutmeg. (The soup broth ingredients would have to change if you made the dumplings sweet.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A voyage into the past with Melanie-who by the way continues to produce a record annually, is married to a talented guitarist and musician, and has three musically inclined children.