Category Archives: memories

Fathoming the Deep

Round Barn Press blog, water, poetry, fathoming, ,

I’m not sure I believe in astrology, but I do love being near, on or in water, and I am an Aquarius (Aquarian?). So maybe there is something to it after all. In any case, I also like to photograph water, at sunrise, at sunset… and now thanks to a nifty feature on my Google Pixel phone camera called Night Sight, even at night.

Which brings me, in a roundabout sort of way, to the word of the day: “fathom.” This is a very useful word. As a measurement of water, the definition extends to a measure of understanding. (As in, “I can’t fathom how long this government furlough has gone on already.” Or, “I’m beginning to fathom just how expendable my job seems to be.”)

It is also a good word for literature. Shakespeare comes to mind. Another example is perhaps not exactly up to The Bard’s level but still interesting: when I did a search for “fathom poem” I came up with this poem on the Hello Poetry site by someone (?) called Third Legacy of Oliver, which I feel addresses the current state of negotiations in Congress, and also contains the word “fathom.” Give it a read and see what you think.

Circling back to the water, I offer my attempts at poetic photography, which hopefully describes in pictures the unfathomable deeps of our understanding – about life, about government, about anything you are currently trying to fathom. Enjoy.

Missing Some Holiday Pieces

Holidays, Round Barn Press blog, , ,

Do the winter holidays ever leave you feeling as though you’re missing a few key pieces? Maybe you didn’t have as much fun as you thought you’d have, didn’t get the gift you asked for, or missed spending time with a good friend or family member. Or, like us this year, you sent out many more cards than you received and wondered if holiday cards are “out” now and you just didn’t pick up on that trend?

Our family metaphor for “the missing pieces of the holidays” is the annual tradition of doing an elderly jigsaw puzzle that has, to date, seventeen missing pieces. This puzzle depicts The Twelve Days of Christmas, with the added twist of gaping holes. We have other holiday themed puzzles (somewhere) but somehow this is the only one that we can find when there is some quiet time in front of the fire and nothing else to do.

Daughter M.E. and visiting friend Dan work on the less than perfect puzzle.

Why don’t we just get rid of this defective time waster? Well, for one thing, the zen activity of jigsaw puzzling is made even more mysterious and wondrous by never remembering which pieces are missing. For another, it is symbolic of the way that, even if the holidays do not live up to the hype (when have they ever?), the best part of the season can be taking time away from hustle and bustle even if the end result is not one hundred per cent rewarding. Third, the hardest part (the numbers) is still enough of a challenge to keep us interested and add that sense of achievement even in the midst of regret over the fate of those seventeen missing pieces.

Like the smile of a child with missing teeth (albeit without the promise of growing new ones), the puzzle is endearing. And, even with some pieces missing, the puzzle and the holidays can be enjoyable and relaxing if we realize limitations. No one, and no holiday, is perfect. Make the most of what you have.

Honoring Holiday Heroes

Round Barn Press blog

A lot of people put an effort into making the winter holidays merry and bright. Those folks who put up all the lights; practice the songs; construct the toy train displays; bake the cookies; plan the parties. So, it is our duty to go out and enjoy the fruits of their labor.

Here are some of the ways we did our part this year, in the lead up to Christmas. See ya next year!

  • The U.S. Botanical Garden’s train display
  • Zoolights at the National Zoo has become a tradition with friends.
  • The pink flamingos of Zoolights were very jaunty.
  • Husband Steve created a light show on our front porch
  • My friend Debi and I did a Nutracker themed tea in Winminster, MD.
  • My karaoke debut at our office holiday party was a rendition of “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.”
  • Friend/colleague Khamo hamming it up at the office holiday party. Our parties are always elaborately decorated thanks to the creative genius of our colleague Claudia, and often our designer Josue.

Encountering the Ghosts of the Past

childhood; stuff; family, Hilton Head Island, memories, ,

Last week, my sister and I embarked on the task of cleaning out my mom’s condo.  Mom is now in assisted living, and has everything she needs in her one large room.  (“Needs” and “wants” might be different things… let’s say, she has everything that could possible fit there and then some.)  So, the accumulated remaining possessions that were left in the closets, under the beds, in the cabinets, on the shelves, in the drawers, on the walls, were left to be dealt with.

This is not our childhood home, but the retirement home of my mom.  Still, some of the items dating back to our childhoods made it to this location, in a couple of enormous boxes in the corners of the spare bedroom closets.  These brought back memories, mostly fond and but some not-so-fond.   From my old report cards (which recorded your height and weight back then along with your academic achievements) I was reminded what a fat little kid I was.  Our old slightly beat up Madame Alexander dolls reminded me how I once shamelessly abused my sister’s doll by cramming corn flakes into its eyes.  A tiny set of metal pots and pans reminded me that, as children, we had a functional small electric stovetop – how many times did we come close to burning down the house with that beast?

We kept a few of the items that we just couldn’t part with – my sister took, among other things, the pancake pitcher and griddle, and we vowed to make pancakes served with sausages, maple syrup and applesauce at Christmastime like our Dad used to for dinner sometimes.  I took the family photos in various media – slides, loose snapshots, arranged in albums, framed.  We brought more small knick-knacks and mementos to my mom. But many of the items will find new homes via the many boxes we donated to a charity shop, or, if they were too far gone, have been deep-sixed in the dump.  It’s just the way of things.

It was sad, and exhausting, and frustrating, but we got through it, with the help of some friends and our husbands.  Ghosts have been encountered, dispatched, and banished along with about a ton of stuff.  The memories remain.

The Eyes Have It at the Wilmer Institute

Johns Hopkins Hospital; Wilmer Eye Institute; museums, Round Barn Press blog, ,

We’ve been spending a lot of time in Baltimore at the Wilmer Eye Institute of Johns Hopkins in the past few weeks.  My hubby has a hereditary thing called “Marfan Syndrome” which among other things can affect your eyes.  (Though, as this link explains, “Marfan syndrome does not affect intelligence.”  This is good to know.)  The Institute is one of the best places in the country, maybe the world, for eye treatment.  So, although the hour-long drive is annoying, we are lucky it isn’t even further away.

The Institute HQ is located in one wing of the imposing, and impressive, historic brick Johns Hopkins Hospital building at 601 North Broadway.  One of the many waiting rooms is located at the base of an octagonal dome, the walls and alcoves of which form a small museum.  This is where I found myself earlier this week, with time on my hands as my husband was poked and prodded in a pre-op exam, so I tried to make the most of it.

A not particularly well lit bronze bust of Dr. Wilmer himself glowered down from high above in one alcove, flanked by some antiquated piece of eye exam equipment.  In the opposite alcove was the President’s Chair, which was used by a number of POTUSes for their eye exams in the past.  Historic photos of the Institute, its staff, and their scientific achievements lined the walls.  A multi-shelved display case took up part of one corner, with various items of historic eye care equipment.  (My favorite was the artificial leech, which was not explained there, but is here.)

 

Not a particularly well-curated mini-museum, with not much interpretation except for some fading, mostly handwritten labels.  But, still, good for whiling away a few minutes of the tedious waiting and worrying.  If you don’t mind Dr. Wilmer watching you.

 

 

Summing up Summer

#hiltonheadisland, beach, memories, museums, summer, travel, vacations, , , ,

Wow, here it is the end of summer already.  How did that happen?  After our Bengali visitors left, it seems the rest of the season just flew by.  And now its a soggy and humid Labor Day weekend.

So, that’s my excuse for not blogging more the end of the summer.  That, and the fact that my phone was in the shop for a week.  It is my primary camera now, for better or worse.  (And the dog ate my homework.)

There were some highlights – a bit of time on the Hilton Head beach despite most of the time helping my sister work out plans to transition our mom into assisted living.  A trip to California for Museum Camp at the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History, and visit to the daughter in San Francisco.  A couple weekends at the cabin.  The lovely wedding of a good friend.  A bounty of green beans and tomatoes from the garden.  Some time around outdoor pools.

Here’s a few highly random photos highlighting those activities.

And so, fall looms on the horizon bringing (eventually) crisp weather and that “new school year” new beginnings vibe.  A sort of reset button for “normal life” after the time out of time of summer schedules and activities.

So, as summer 2018 fades into the sunset, no more excuses.

 

Sharing Art, Culture and an Apple

#myculturemystory, culture, memories, travel, West Bengal, ,

I promise not to write blogs about our Communities Connecting Heritage cultural exchange project forever.  But, I had one last one to share here.  And, the only other thing that has been happening to me lately involves my mother and assisted living… which I’m not ready to write about yet at all.

During our three-week cultural exchange hosting five Bengali friends here in DC, we made many personal cultural connections.  On the afternoon of July 11, I took Mamoni Chitrakar, a traditional patachitra scroll painter, to the Smithsonian American Art Museum and Portrait Gallery, wanting to share their exhibitions of American folk art with her, as well as the portraits of the presidents.

Before viewing a dizzying array of art, including the works crammed into close quarters at the Luce Center to maximize our time, we fortified ourselves at the cafe in the magnificent Kogod Courtyard between the two museums.  We shared a sandwich (relatively easy to cut in half with a plastic knife) and a rock-hard Red Delicious apple.  Anyone who has ever tried to cut one of those beauties with a plastic knife knows the drill.

Our attempts at halving this large fruit specimen were at first frustrating, but then we both began to giggle.  Since our mutual knowledge of each other’s language is minimal (she is doing much better at English than I am doing at Bengali, though) we didn’t have words, we only had facial expressions and our laughter at our futile attempts, the butchery that ensued, and the juice all over the table before we were successful.  It was all that we needed.

Mamoni is back home now, but I think of her every day, and my fondest memory was her laughter and her smile.  I admire her bravery in leaving her family and coming to a strange country for three whole weeks, her eagerness to share her culture, and her willingness to try anything – even cutting an apple with a plastic knife.

I was thinking of writing a poem about the experience – still might – but for now, I leave you with this thought.  Share an experience with someone from a culture other than yours.   Whether its a chat on the train, some other chance encounter like a taxi ride, or an actual planned cultural exchange.  Don’t worry about language, just have fun with it.  Giggling is not required but helps.  You won’t regret it, though it might be a bit uncomfortable or messy.  Just do it.  Like the bodily nourishment of that shared apple, sharing culture feeds the soul.

 

 

Remains of the Days

#myculturemystory, culture, memories, West Bengal,

I’m recouping from an intense few weeks of the Smithsonian Folklife Festival and the three-week in-person visit of our Communities Connecting Heritage “Learning Together” team from the state of West Bengal, India.  So many logistics, so much running around, and so little time to process the whole double experience!

The Festival was fun for me, since I had visited one of the featured countries – Armenia – and I had gotten to meet many of the folks who became researchers and presenters.  (To get a sense of what I learned – and didn’t learn – there, check out my work blog on “Armenian Sneakers“!)  The program was a lovely space in which to let the warm and talented Armenian artisans ply their skills.  I enjoyed spending time there very much, munching on lavash (flat bread being baked in a clay oven on the premises), trying my hand at some crafts (I failed miserably at “walnut embroidery”), and experiencing the recreation of a traditional Armenian wedding, and just chatting with folks.

I didn’t have a lot of time to enjoy the Festival as a whole, though, since I led the team of responsible hosts for the CCH visit.   (Really our Coordinator and summer interns did a great deal of the heavy lifting, planning and execution as well.  It was a true team effort.)  Our aim was to introduce the group to the culture of Washington, DC and environs while allowing them to share their own amazing culture with a wide audience, and I think we succeeded for the most part.

So much planning, so many details, and then suddenly it’s all over.  The agenda runs to the final page, we get them on a plane, and they are off.  So much to think about and process.  So much good stuff to write about!  For now, a few photos and many more on our Facebook page (link above) if you’re interested.  And more reflections to come both here and on our work site in the future.

 

India in New Jersey – An Excursion in and Around Edison

Peacock Pandemic

#myculturemystory, culture, memories, peacocks, travel, West Bengal, ,

It all started with the Emotional Support Peacock.

The news of its owner trying to wrangle her bird onto a United flight broke the same day our Communities Connecting Heritage program group left for Kolkata, India.  In our giddy state of excitement about the trip, we all giggled heartily about the ridiculousness of the idea.

When we got to India, we immediately began seeing images of peacocks – everywhere, including a huge photo of one near the baggage claim of the Kolkata airport.  Were peacocks following us?  Or were we just hyper sensitive to them in the near-out-of-body-experience of having flown halfway across the world on very little sleep?  

Well, it turns out, the peacock is the National Bird of India.  It also figures prominently in Hindu mythology.   As we traveled around West Bengal, I started taking photos of all the peacock images we saw.

 

My favorite was a saucy peacock depicted in a small scroll painting which I purchased in Naya Village, serving as the conveyance of one of the Hindu gods who is carrying an arrow.  (This is probably Kartikeya or Murugan, god of war, but depending on which story you want to go with, there could be some other contenders.)   

Our colleague Ananya in Kolkata recently sent us some English translations of baul songs, which we had been asking about.  As I read through the first one, I found – you guessed it – reference to peacocks.  Here is the excerpt:

“What color is your cottage/on the shore of this bogus world?/The frame of your home is made of bones/and the roof is thatched with skin./But the pair of peacocks/on the landing-pier/hardly know that/they will end one day.”

I’m not sure exactly what that means, though I know it has something to do with the bauls believing that god lives within us.  But it is beautiful poetry, especially the peacock part.

The very next song started with this phrase – I kid you not –

“If you wish to board an airplane/you must travel light/to be safe from the danger of a crash.”

Perhaps the United Airlines personnel who banned the Emotional Support Peacock from that flight had been listening to the bauls, as should we all.