Here it is already February 2009 and we can now say “President Barack Obama.” Thank God.
And that’s probably a good place to start this New Year letter to you-all. Paul and I worked with the Democratic Party and with the local Obama office to get Barack Obama elected--and it was especially important in this state of North Carolina which was a swing state. The fact that he won here was incredibly gratifying—all our work paid off! We are thrilled to watch each day of his presidency unfold and, what’s more, to take part in it.
The year had its ups and downs. Mostly ups.
I taught another semester of “Introduction to Judaism” at Meredith College, a small women’s college 30 minutes from here. I had 5 students, one of whom was a “returning” student—the college att
racts older women to undergrad work and these women make up 25% of the student population. They are an absolute delight to teach—so enthusiastic and committed, and coming with all their life experiences.
At the same time however, I was discovering that many physical and emotional problems were directly related to menopause and eventually, in April was referred to a wonderful osteopathic physician (no, that is not bones) and his wife the MD gynecologist, both of whom happily integrate natural and herbal medicine with the more conventional medical practices. My mood sw
ings and emotional misery (which were much like those I suffered as an adolescent) are now a thing of the past, as are the physical accompaniments. Who knew that constantly bumping into doorways was a product of menopause?
In February we started expanding the vegie garden. This was the fourth year we had planted, and each year we had doubled the size, moving each time onto ground that had been scratched up and fertilized by our wonderful flock of chooks (chickens to you non-Australians). This time we decided to cut down some of the trees that were shading the area, or that were crowding others, and used them to build raised beds. What a beautiful thing! We filled them with lovely rich compost, aged chook manure, and dirt, planted them with all sorts of goodies, and then watched our garden grow.
At the risk of boring you, I will tell you what we grew: kale, chard, collards, spinach, lettuce, radishes, carrots, zucchini, pumpkins (winter squash) (both acorn and butternut), spuds, tomatoes, cucumber, okra, peas, beans, melons, green peppers, chiles, asparagus, basil, cilantro, parsley, rosemary, oregano, chives. Oh, and fruit: figs (from an 18 foot high tree), plums, blueberries, pears, and we’ve now put in strawberries, raspberries, apples and rhubarb. Not only are we proud of our garden, but it has a very practical value—we bought not one single vegie from the stores or the farmers markets all summer long, and I learned to can (pickles, chutneys, jams) and the freezer is full of all the rest of the overflow.
During the season we spent many hours outside every day, with the vegies, fruit trees, hatching chicks and all the other thousand and one things one has to do keep up 5 acres. And we are happy as clams. (Well Paul is as happy as a kosher analog to clams!) Paul and I both love our “farmlet” and while I lean to organizing the vegies, he lovingly tends the new apples and pomegranates, the roses, camelias, gardenias, azaleas and whole bunches of other things. Oh yes, and did I say he put in an extensive irrigation system last spring too—so that now we have water faucets wherever we could ever possibly want water.
A bit of a hiccup in our summer was that I went for a routine colonoscopy at the beginning of August and the next morning was carted off to the hospital in an ambulance with what they first thought was an infection that they never did discover the name for. Four days in the hospital (the first two very scary and on morphine), and then 2 months with a wonky digestive system and very low energy. It doesn’t make me too excited about the next “routine” colonoscopy—maybe they will have perfected a “virtual” one by then?
Chooks and guinea fowl—how satisfying. We first acquired guineas nearly 4 years ago. To eat the myriads of ticks on the property. They have reduced the tick population to almost zero. Wonderful. But even had they not, we would still love them. They have quirky characters and the babies delight us no end. Read some of the stories on my chook blog (http://thechookblog.blogspot.com/).
We got our first chooks about 3 years ago and love them too—especially the eggs that they faithfully deliver daily. Chooks, being domesticated, lay eggs all year—guineas, Spring to Fall. For the last 2 summers, we have let a few of the hens sit on eggs—and the chicks have augmented the flock. Almost too much. Of the 19 chicks we hatched last summer, 16 turned out to be roosters! Ro-roh. Way too much testosterone. So we learned to slaughter them. We do so with as much compassion and prayer as we can, cradling them all the way to the knife and even holding them in death. There is something quite miraculous about eating our own chooks. Apart from the fact that they taste way better than even the “organic” ones we get from the store, there is a sense of connection with the earth and a gratitude for what has been provided for us.
Paul’s daughter, Nataw, still lives with us while she studies Early Childhood Development at Alamance Community College. After a bit of a rocky start (well, and why not? First her biological mother had died and then her adoptive mother, and she did not want another one), we now love each other dearly and she is so very easy to live with.
Paul’s son Shem lives a couple of hours away in Richmond, Virginia, working in an upscale health food store and sharing an apartment with a couple of friends. He comes down often and Paul and I stop by to visit on trips up north.
And Paul’s oldest, Ian, lived with us for several months after a traumatic break-up with his girlfriend of 5 years. Even with the emotional upheaval, though, he managed to graduate from UNC with a BA in Political Science and Entrepreneurship—at the age of 41! Quite an achievement! He’s now building up his business in web design (www.mishagos.com —you should go there!) and playing in a band with 2 young women, and living only 20 minutes away.
My brother, Peter Geoffrey, still lives close by—and we meet for coffee every Wednesday morning. We had both been so busy that we had been seeing each other less and less—and I figured that, after all those years of living on different continents, it was just not on. Thus the weekly chats which we both look forward to. (He has countless blogs and links—google him to see what he’s currently up to.)
Our sister, Maggi, who lives in England, suffered the devastating loss of her husband, John, after a kidney/pancreas transplant 16 months ago. She has been over to stay with us for a month or so over Christmas/Hannukah for the last 2 years now and we love having her with us. We hope eventually she will be able to arrange work so that she can spend more time over here—maybe half a year in England, half a year here.
Our other 3 siblings—Chris, Jon, and Susie—and their wives and offspring are scattered around this country and all doing well. Several of us gathered together this year in Dallas to celebrate the marriage of our niece, Aisha, to Armando. What a lovely time. I met up with my other two (half) sisters, Kat and Annabel, in England a year ago, and am so happy to have re-established contact with them.
Dad and Anne still live near Brighton on the south coast of England. They enjoy travelling and spending time with friends. Dad and his brother recently finished years of work researching the Gilson family tree, and sent discs to each one of us—to be continued! I hear that Dad and Anne take a weekly walk (or is it two?) along 7 miles of waterfront. He turns 85 this year and is going strong.
Paul—what can I say? This husband of mine is beyond compare. After nearly 3 years of marriage we are more in love than ever. Paul is finally practicing again as a chiropractor, having jumped through countless hoops to regain his licence—which he had let lapse after Saura died. We have turned over a lovely room at the front of the house to be his office, and he will be seeing patients part time. He’s very happy to be practicing again (his web address is www.YouHealIt.com).
I also have been working with a few older people, tutoring them on their own computers. I am proud to say that my oldest student is 92 years old and that she is tickled pink to be surfing the net and reading her emails.
My dear aunt, Dolores Hruby, died in March after a 16 year battle with breast cancer. The last year was pretty grim for her. She and my 90 year old uncle needed a lot of support, so their 3 children (my cousins) and I would each fly in to Grand Rapids for a week or 2 at a time. Although it was hard to see her suffering so, I will be forever grateful that I was free to serve her that way, and to be with her in her last year.
I have finally found a church that I can call home. It’s an Episcopal church, The Advocate (check out the website—it’s pretty fantastic--http://www.ouradvocate.org/), and I’m becoming more and more involved in things. I’ve worked with crews on houses for Habitat for Humanity, spent time at the homeless men’s shelter in Chapel Hill, and was asked to serve on a committee to help a member of the congregation explore her call to ordained ministry. I love the services, where Paul sometimes joins me, and the vicar, Lisa, is an absolute gem. Paul and I also go to Synagogue often.
Talking of synagogue, I now bake challah, taught to me by a wonderful Jewish woman, every Friday for the Sabbath. And that got me started—I started making gluten free breads, cakes and cookies for Paul; and now bake that stuff for several friends too, as well as all the bread needs for the family. What a joy!
Now we are at the beginning of 2009. We anticipate another bountiful harvest, more chicks, greater wisdom, and compassion for all those who struggle to make sense of life. May we be open to the needs of our friends and neighbors and families, and those in our communities who don’t have as much as we do.
I miss Tasmania dreadfully—and all the friends who gathered round me during my 20 years of living in Australia. And yet, I have never regretted being on this side of the world, where I can share in the life events (good and bad) of my family.
Sometimes I feel badly that I have not been in touch with you all as much as you are with me. Please forgive my silences and know that I think of you and pray for you, even when I am not writing to you!
