Turning an inconsequential 58

I am 58 today. 

Not the sort of number you would pick out from a choice of 1-100. A number that would probably not be in the running for a lottery or the job market. It’s all good. Once you hit the stage of invisible woman-hood it doesn’t really matter. Don’t get me wrong I am not whining. Life is good to me. I consider myself an extremely lucky individual. I am relatively healthy, travel as desired, have my art studio and we pay the bills.

I am also supported/fortified/stoked by so many friends. I never feel alone and have someone great to talk to about anything under the sun. I hope others can say that. My friends have been by bridge to stability over the years, lifting me up, propping me up, carrying me across the waters. My thanks to all of them, in their diversity and thinking and sharing.

Getting old seems sort of inconsequential in my book. I have been reading Ram Dass about aging and dying- reading it, for various reasons, mostly for thinking about. It seems that the biggest hinderance of aging and imminent death is health, not numbers. (I have never been a numbers person.)

So I guess my present to myself and to my family and friends is to shore up the foundations and start building in physical strength to prepare myself accordingly. I am not going to be manic about this however as I have many important things to tend to- what to make for dinner, what artwork I am working on, who is at the birdfeeder this week, and so on. But it is a factor of the Years To Come. 

Preoccupation with aging and dying seem to be a national past time as I am sure you have noticed. An odd sort of past time. The inevitability of both happening seems to be rather a given, don’t you think? And it is as it should be. I have read enough science fiction books about people who discover the enzyme to live forever to understand it has its drawbacks. And then there is the end of the world to consider. I ran into a woman last week while visiting a wonderful friend that believed the WAWKI [World as we know it] would be ending in 17 years with massive climate changes. Seeing as how we will not be able to change our petrochemical dependency in 17 years it provides an event for reflection of how those years will go. I decided that I will continue to attempt living greener, consuming less, travel as much as I can (no, I don’t see see travel as an oxymoron), improve as an artist and try to be a better human to my world and it’s inhabitants. I will attempt to learn new things and try new ideas. That should keep me busy for another 17 years and then we can reassess the situation.

So happy birthday to me, thank you, Friend, for having a little piece of me. It makes a difference and makes my life rich. Thank you for your notes and cards and love. I am planning to enjoy the Earth today, get outside, go to the studio, design my dinner and share an evening with my husband- sounds pretty satisfying!

On Dogs

We had two dogs. One died of cancer over a year ago. One died a couple weeks ago. We have been away a couple of weeks.

On the way home from our trip I am thinking that I won't see the reflection of my dog's eyes as we pull in the driveway. After dark she would worry, as we were not in our place. It was a great relief to her when we were all in our places.
In the morning I wake and my first thought is to take the dogs out, as I have done for 14 years. No need. I think about the morning release. When I worked I would walk the dogs around the yard before they came in for biscuits at 5:30 in the morning. I would see a million stars while the dogs inspected the night activity in the yard and think of my student Ida, who also walked her dogs at 5:30 in the morning. That was in Virginia. In Maine. I sometimes walked with them, sometimes not. They liked it better when I did. In the end, the last dog Zoe, didn't walk much but she liked to be outside. She would rather be outside than anything. She had her favorite spots, under the bush, in the shade beside the drive, on her bed in the garage.
She was a dog of many names. She came to us as Zoey. She became Zoe, Zoebeezy, Beezy, Zoebina, Beaner, ZZ,  In the winter she was Snow Zoe. For walks, a Go Zoe. She seemed to respond to them all and we certainly responded to her.
She was a quiet dog- very private. Probably the shyest dog we ever had. She watched, she participated but she did not like to be too fussed over. That was her sister's role. She gave center stage to her sister, Cassie. When Cassie died a big spark left Zoe. In that way I took some comfort when she died. I hope, if there is a God, that he unites dogs. Imagining Zoe and Cassie together is a happy thought. They could really get into major mischief. Zoe would have really appreciated that.
We would plan our day around the dogs. If you have a dog you know what I mean. What time will they be walked and where. If you go to the movies, how will it affect dinner time? If you take a trip what do you do with the dog? Planning and scheduling around this member of the household was a major operational activity. That will no longer be the case.
My dog is settled in my mind like her big body inhabited the bed. A warm body of shiny hair hoping that you will not move and make her have to shift to accommodate or worse yet, leave the bed. Zoe took over the guest room bed and even in the end would find a way to make it up the stairs to have her bed. She lay across it like the Furry Maja [for reference- see here Goya, Maja] and was imminently snuggleable. She liked a good snuggle and for the morning greeting -and snuggle- would also have a lovely smile that she would keep on her fuzzy dog face.
Towards the end walks were slow, painstakingly so. She was Slow Zoe.  So you plan for it, accommodate it, heartbreak over it, knowing that the end was on the visible horizon.
The bottom line was that she was a really good dog. She came to us with no little amount of baggage. We got two dogs as there were two of them together at the shelter and we knew they liked each other. What is unadmissable at the time is that two is twice as hard to lose. They brought great joy, much laughter and many stories. Having an empty house is living with ghosts of love.
They will be missed and are irreplaceable.

On blogs

I woke up this morning thinking of blogs and writing. It occurred to me that blogs are like high school notebooks. You save them on a shelf because you have invested so much time in that particular class. Or because you like that teacher, or because on the last day of that year the last thing you care about is going through the notebook- back to the back of the shelf- Fwap.
Months or years later, when you go through them, pieces of your life open like cured meats some sweeter, some salty, dense with flavor and somewhat smoky, or conversely, bland, flavorless and forgettable. Why not a jewelry box comparison? Most thoughts are rarely jewels. Interesting, perhaps -but not extensively the object to hold up to the world like the Hope Diamond. Bloggers write for themselves. Like a high school notebook.
I don't think it is self indulgent to blog- you read that it is- any more than writers are self indulgent. Think of how many writers that have never been published. Most I am sure, still write. Writers write because they need to. Does it make them less of a writer not to be published? Blogs are places to keep  thoughts, like high school notebooks. Maybe they will be read and maybe they are curing for future consumption.

Cuba touring

It has been a wonderful week. We are on the way back home from a couple days on the southern coast. We went to Cienfuegos, a charming seaside town that has varied architecture and a chamber concert that was very pleasant. We ended up at the foot of rainforest mountains where we transferred to old Russian trucks that carried us up to our basic but pleasant hotel.

The next day was Trinidad where I thought I would go wild with taking photographs, cowboys, carts, charming colored houses, tiled roofs and more. Spanish but Carribean too so it was a pleasant day. Jacquie and I passed a portion of the afternoon sipping dacquiris and watching a pig roasting on a spit. The guy doing turning duty when we came in later became the guitar player.

The music is everywhere, not just for tourists. I went to nightclub the other night and it was packed with Cubans having a ball. The act was a fourteen piece band whose lead performer had everyone wrapped around her finger, Music drifts from homes, bars and ties the air together in a pretty impressive way.

We walked through coffee plantations today and on a nature walk with a guy who was so egotistical he reminded me of some “patriot” from Idaho. Amusing and half of what he said was probably true. Nice to walk in the woods. Don’t think I’ll be doing that in Maine any time soon.

It’s a beautiful country even though this is dry season. We have seen beaches (no one on them) mountains and lots of farm land in between Between the “superhighway” and the towns are thatched roof houses and tidy farmyards with the family dog, chickens and flapping laundry. The people often have carts that they travel in - lots yesterday which was SUnday. There are cowboys in the coffee woods and on the plains. It’s nice to see. 

Everyone has been polite and interested that we are americans. There hasn’t been any animosity. There is  a flow of small change for tips and drinks and such. I get it though so I don’t resent it. This is a poor country. How the government provides, housing, medical care infrastructure and basic living standards is beyond me. I don’t see how it is sustainable and both fear and welcome an end to the embargo that will do so much for this country.

Internet has been superslow or non existent. So I haven’t been writing much because it just has not been possible.  I feel wiser for this trip, certainly a better perspective on Cuba. I would come back most certainly.

I have been hearing little news, not watching any television whatsoever and am currently planning whether tonight will be a jazz bar, night club act, or Hemingway’s bar. There is no end to the choices. Life is good!

Salud la bien vida!

Cuba of dreams

Well, It’s Official. I am loving Cuba.

We have been on the go go go since we came with all sorts of government sanctioned events but for the most part they have been really informative and entertaining as well. We visited a community center, senior clinic, literacy museum, children’s theater project and all the usual suspects and have had a pretty nice interaction with the Cuban people. I am aware of the propaganda, it is everywhere but it is not being crammed down our throats and in between the sights and sounds describe a fascinating country. It is not without its problems but there are some good ideas here of how to support your fellow man on a daily basis. That being said, I don’t thing these systems will work in the United States.

We have a mixed group from Alaskan bush pilots to the ambassador of Djabuti who knows of family friend, Jodie Lewinsohn. Most are very well traveled and we are all  swapping travel stories. It is a group of 16 from Alaska, California, Wisconsin and North Carolina.

The weather has been beautiful, breezes blowing from Havana Bay, bold sun. THe hotel pool is too cold but makes a nice backdrop for the 1/2 hour we have at the end of the day. 

There are the famous old cars everywhere, delightful bulbous affairs of chrome and addendum. They are taxis, private cars, mini buses and everywhere. There are Russian cars and Kias and various other makes from the 80’s and 90’s but only old American models. THe streets are wide and not particularly crowded. Driving is fast and loud, signaling pedestrians and stray dogs to scurry. The streets are surprisingly clean and today it dawned on me that the reason there is not a lot of trash is because there is not a lot of packaging -or purchasing. Bags were for sale in the market yesterday and most people have their own reusable sacks with them. 

The houses are wonderful, old colonial marble and cement affairs that symbolize other eras of prosperity. IT isn’t here now. Post revolution, post exodus the government the government gave the empty houses, of which there were many to the poor who had no homes. A nice move except that now the homes need care and repair and there is no money to pay for that. So these fabulous facades hide crumbling courtyards, stairs with no banisters and some broken windows. Makes for a romantic look if not a very practical one. I have been taking pictures. I will attach a few in here but you will have to wait till my return for the album.

 

Food has been better than expected, mostly overcooked and not particularly creative. We have Mahi mahi, roast pork, and classic dishes like ropas viejas which is a shredded beef. Yesterday’s lunch was some excellent rice and beans, roast chicken, bananas and such. Salads are hard to come by. At the market there is not a lot of variety, everything “organic” mostly because pesticides raise the cost. The wine lists are surprisingly good. Most imports seem to be from Spain and Chile at reasonable prices. I had a nice albarino last night for 25 (we shared!) 

Caught a Tropicana kind of show last night at the hotel although some people went to the Tropicana. It was pretty awesome for it’s 5$ entrance fee. Two hours long, lots of acts, some appropriately cheesy but great entertainment.

  We’re going out tonight to a salsa place and to a famous paladar that was written up in the NY TImes called La Guarida. I can’t google it but you can.

We head out tomorrow to Trinidad and I don’t know what the email thing is going to be. Vamos a ver. In the meantime I will try to start a Picasa album. I am going down to the lobby where everyone sits around attempting to get a smooth internet connection.

There is music everywhere. At every lunch there is a live band. At breakfast we have either a band or today it was a string quartet. Granted they want to sell you their CD but you don’t have to.  A Cuban couple got up and started dancing today when we were at lunch. They were quite good. I think drinks will be fun at the Casa de la Musica tonight.

It’s a complicated country. Lots of history, lots of stories, lots of secrets and a feast for the eyes and mind.

Love love love

New Year/Old Year -Bah Humbug

      Time is such an incongruous thing. Here it is the end of the year and we close a chapter and open a new one full of hope and optimism because of the change of a date. Dates were created by human civilization (is there any other?) but by doing so it seems we pin ourselves into the frame of our own devise. Animals, who live so in the present, are affected by forces much more immediate. They still put food aside for the winter but there is no-it’s Wednesday therefore I must do this. I prefer the animal’s plan although I make up my monthly calendar with obligations and set asides that everything seems to orbit around. Here it is the end of the year and I do delight in seeing the past three hundred and sixty five days fall behind me but don’t they anyway? So it is our own fault that we set up this system. The important thing is to let each day go and be right here and now. Easier said than done.....

      When you consider how much emphasis is placed on time and how it runs our lives it really is rather startling and I think, a bane of modern life. At 16, I must do thus and such, at 21, my life will be just so, when, if we just lived, without the preoccupation of time, we would probably be able to accomplish, relax and enjoy ourselves a great deal more.

      As I get older and assorted friends along with me we think oh, I am so old I can no longer do that thing. Well, it may be true or it may not. It is not because you are 57, or 62 or whatever. Your body responds to your mind suggestions a great deal. What if we just listened to our bodies instead of that persistent clock. Body says, okay you could do that if you practiced or got off your ass, or whatever the case may be but there is a battle that goes on with your mind that it should not be done, or could not be done, or some such nonsense. Who wins? Generally the one who is more complacent and that is a whole other matter.

 So on that note- Happy New Year and good riddance to the last one!

From Flurry to Flurries

It has been such a long tome since I caught up I scarcely feel like the same person. Perhaps I am not. Perhaps, from day to day we are like rivers where nothing really stays the same because of the addition of each new day of experiences.
Clearly there is much to say but I shall do it in bites. In the meantime here is some entertainment from the last junket....
A November escape