A Great American Family

(UBC and NaBloPoMo Day 4)

In the United States today we celebrate Independence Day, the day that the Declaration of Independence from England was signed in 1776 by a group of farsighted and courageous men who have come to be called our Founding Fathers.

My own particular favorite among them has long been John Adams, a feisty, opinionated, cantankerous, and brilliant lawyer from Massachusetts (our next-door neighbor) who was the sparkplug of the Revolution and a thorn in the side of many of his compatriots. My interest in Adams began when I saw 1776, the Broadway musical, in which Adams is the lead role. William Daniels fit the part perfectly both on stage and in the film, which I own and try to watch at least every other Fourth.

I’ve read several biographies of Adams (by far the best, in my opinion, is the two-volume work called simply John Adams by Page Smith); I’ve read a book of letters exchanged between John and his wife Abigail over their lives; I own DVDs of both the John Adams miniseries starring Paul Giamatti and the older PBS series, The Adams Chronicles.

 

My admiration extends to the entire Adams family, especially Abigail and their son, John Quincy Adams (our sixth president for readers outside the U.S.), also a brilliant man and a president far ahead of his time, in my opinion. John Quincy was undoubtedly the most vociferous opponent of slavery up until that time; his defense of the Africans in the Amistad trial was portrayed in the film Amistad, starring Anthony Hopkins as John Quincy. (Another of their descendants, Henry Adams, was a famous writer and historian.)

Neither of the Presidents Adams was popular in his time—they were far too honest and unyielding to be popular. Nor has history done them much better. Washington and Jefferson are seen as the biggest heroes of independence. John Adams has never even been honored on a piece of American currency (until the recent Presidential gold dollar series). Yet without him the birth of our young country would have been a much more fragile and questionable enterprise. And without John Quincy, so might the eventual end of slavery.

 

 

Presurgical Thoughts

Day 3 of UBC and NaBloPoMo challenges 

Most of my Facebook friends know that I will be having surgery on my right wrist on July 11.

The official diagnosis is de Quervain’s syndrome, defined in Wikipedia as “a tenosynovitis of the sheath or tunnel that surrounds two tendons that control movement of the thumb.” (Tenosynovitis is an inflammation of the tendon sheath.)

More than a year ago, in late winter, I began to feel pain in my hand and wrist. I had been crocheting a lot at that time and, of course, working on the computer every day. I bought an elastic-bandage-type wrist brace and began to wear it.

Around April I was still having the pain. I had an appointment with my doctor, and he  gave me a cortisone shot. Within a day or two I felt much better and resumed crocheting.

I was fine for the summer, but shortly into the fall I began to start feeling twinges of pain again. I eventually got another cortisone shot, but my doctor warned me that if it happened again he’d have to refer me to an orthopedic surgeon.

It happened again, around springtime this year. I began to get frustrated. After the second cortisone shot last year I was able to finish an afghan for my sister-in-law for Christmas and became active in my church prayer-shawl group again. I had finished two shawls and was at work on another when it hit again this time.

As the old saying goes, “the third time is the charm.” Or, in this case, the final blow.

I saw the orthopedic surgeon, who gave me a (mostly incomprehensible to me) explanation of the anatomy of the wrist tendons.

 

He gave me a choice: another cortisone shot, “conservative” therapy (mostly wearing a huge Victorian-boot-type thing around my wrist), or surgery. But, he said, since I’d had two cortisone shots and neither of them cured it, he didn’t expect that another one would, either. Wanting to resolve this once and for all, I opted for the surgery.

I told him I’d have to finish up my work projects first; as a freelancer, I have no one to delegate my work to. I’d need till about the end of June. In the meantime he gave me a pain-relieving cream and the aforementioned Victorian-boot brace. “Wear it while you’re using the hand,” he said. Well, there was no way I could work or do anything with that manacle on my hand, so I continued with my elastic brace.

 

So now I’m waiting. Surgery date is set, my work is cleared up, I’m free for another week. I had an EKG with my primary-care doctor. I have my presurgery instructions. Two days before surgery, start taking Vitamin C. On the morning of, nothing to eat or drink; just two Celebrex with a sip of water. He gave me samples of these.

Although I’ll be glad to have this problem resolved, I’m thinking about what the aftermath will be like. I’ll have to wear a cast or brace for ten days. Will I be able to use the hand at all? Will I be able to eat, wash, brush my teeth? No instructions yet about any of those things. How big will the brace be? After the ten days I’ll begin rehab. When will I be able to resume my work?

I know one thing: I won’t be able to do any housework. But I know with a little “reminder,” my dear husband will do it willingly and well!

 

 

July, July

 

Ah, July, July—if only you didn’t go by so fast!

 I am a summer lover, and July is my favorite month of the year—possibly because, here in New England, it’s the most prototypical and consistent summer month. June is often cool and rainy, as it was this year, and in late August we can start feeling some of the chill air of upcoming fall. But July—July is summer in all its greatest glory.

 

July is canopies and carpets of green. Even in the city we are blessed with abundant trees, parkland, and beautiful gardens all around the neighborhood.

 

 

July is long days and warm nights and walking our dog much farther than we do in the winter.

 

July in the United States is the Fourth, Independence Day—the only real summer holiday—with its cookouts and concerts and fireworks.

It’s Pawtucket Red Sox games, walking to the stadium a few miles away, relaxing with a book between innings, eating hot dogs or chicken salad wraps balanced unsteadily on our laps, cheering for great plays.

 It’s getting your hair cut short and feeling so much freer.

July is al fresco dining at local restaurants that we can bring our dog to, sometimes a healthy walk away, sitting at outdoor tables watching people go by, saying friendly hellos and exchanging a few words.

 

It’s being able to open all the windows in the house. We are not air conditioning people; we bring up our large fans from the basement and position them for the best cross-breeze and enjoy the feeling of the natural air blowing around us and the sunlight, sounds, and smells of summer coming in.

July is special in our small city. It’s WaterFire in downtown Providence: fires in braziers running up and down the center of the two rivers that converge in a round pool within an open amphitheater near our mall and our train and bus stations. It’s concerts in local parks—classical, folk, pop, jazz—just about every kind of music, and open-air theater.

 

 

July is warmth coming up from the pavement, heat shimmering in the air.

 It’s sitting on our deck to eat or read in the open air. It’s opening up the new French doors in our back room while we watch the Red Sox and the MLB All-Star game.

It’s getting caught in sudden rainstorms while out running or walking, laughing as we scurry from tree to doorway for shelter, trying to make it home as fast as possible. It’s watching thunderstorms from a screened porch.

It’s knowing that we still have another month of summer ahead of us.

July is the center of the year. It’s far enough away from winter on both ends to make us forget (for a while) the miseries of cold and ice. It creates a paradise of warmth and sunshine and beautiful growing things. It’s almost feeling time stop even as we know it can’t last.

 

July is sweet.

 

My Gratitude/Happiness List: Week of June 29–July 5

 This month I am participating in NaBloPoMo and the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

I’ll be blogging (or trying to) every day this month, and hopefully having enough posts done in advance so that my hand surgery won’t be an impediment.

My first post is a linkup with Laurel Regan’s Alphabet Salad to share some of the things I’m grateful for and that make me happy at this moment in time.

 ♥ Summer!

♥ Getting to meet a Facebook friend from England on her trip to the U.S. and sharing a lovely lunch in Newport.

♥ Having finished all the work I had in advance of my wrist surgery and having almost two weeks free to myself.

♥ Finally having a date for my wrist surgery and looking forward to resolving this problem and being pain free.

♥ My Georgia in-laws—Tim’s dad, sister and brother-in-law, and our four nieces—wonderful people whose family I’m so glad to be part of.

♥ Being able to walk to the stadium of our local Triple-A baseball affiliate, the Pawtucket Red Sox, and enjoy games for a very reasonable price.

♥ Dinner and lunch dates with friends.

♥ Learning that there will again be a free summer concert series along the walking path on Blackstone Boulevard, just blocks from our house.

♥ Classic novels that feature love stories with happy endings—like the one I just finished, Villette by Charlotte Bronte.

♥ The return of WaterFire to Providence.

♥ Being able to walk to downtown Providence, as well as so many other places in our city.

♥ Special arts events like the Womanimation festival featuring short films by women.

♥ A weekend of getting out for long walks and a run.

♥ Always, date nights with my husband!                                  

 

 

 

 

Photo Friday: Green

This is my entry today for Photo Friday on the theme “green.” A miniature birdhouse.

 

The Strange Knowledge of Strangers

 

Sometimes conversations with strangers can be intriguing—even a little mystical.

Tim and I took Honey to a neighborhood restaurant for dinner the other night, the kind that has tables on the sidewalk.

 

 

 

 

A few minutes after we got there, an older couple sat at the table right behind us. As often happens, they noticed Honey and asked a few questions about her. Then the woman asked, “Did she come from a foreign country?”

The question took me aback. I wasn’t sure what she meant, but people often ask about her breed, as she is a little unusual looking. I said “No, but she’s half Chinese Shar-pei.”

“She has such soulful eyes,” the woman said. I happen to think she does, too, so the comment made me happy.

A little later the woman asked us, “Does either of you speak a foreign language?”

Tim and I looked at each other. Did she think there was something foreign about us, as well as about Honey? No, we said.

“Do you know what gamache means?”

Neither of us did. Tim tried asking “Siri” on his cell phone and came up with “come mosh.” The woman and her husband fell to talking in low voices for a while.

Then Honey drew her attention again. “She has medieval eyes.”

 

Medieval eyes? I liked the idea, but this was beginning to get strange.

Just as we were finishing our meal the woman turned to us again. “I have to ask you this: Do you two drink coffee?”

We don’t; we’re tea drinkers. No, we said.

She turned toward her husband. “See, I told you.”

We were both having cold drinks. The waitress hadn’t asked us if we wanted coffee. “How did you know?” I asked.

She nodded toward Honey. “She told me.”

Now I was feeling creepy. Was she making a joke? Did she really believe our dog had told her? I couldn’t tell from her face. But either way the fact remained that she knew we weren’t coffee drinkers. How?

The incident took me back to a weekend last fall. We were in New York, where I had registered for an editing seminar. We were having dinner the night before the workshop in a restaurant in a different part of the city. A group of people at an adjacent table were laughing and talking; one man in particular had been calling friendly remarks over to us. Eventually he came to our table and sat down. He looked at me and said, apropos of nothing, “Are you a book editor?”

                                                                       
I was floored. “How did you know that?”

He shrugged. “I’m a little psychic.”

Was he? And was the woman we met the other night? Is my dog perhaps a wise ancient spirit? I have a slightly mystical bent, and in some ways I’d like to think these things can happen. As Hamlet said, “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy.”

Maybe psychic experiences are embedded in our everyday lives and we just never notice them.

Have you ever had a psychic experience?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gratitude/Happiness List: June 2

I’m once again linking up with Laurel Regan’s Alphabet Salad to present my Gratitude and Happiness List for this week.

 

☼ Although it’s not a “happy” thing to have surgery coming up, I’ll be grateful to (hopefully) finally get rid of the wrist pain I’ve had for more than a year.

 

☼ After being worried about our dog Honey’s health last week (her sluggishness made us fear a possible flareup of her old Lyme disease) and making an emergency vet appointment Saturday, her energy suddenly returned, putting my mind greatly at ease.

 

☼ Being able to give Honey a bath outside and cut off a lot of the hair that grew over the winter—she looks like half the dog she used to be!

 

☼ A great and fun group of friends and acquaintances from church, especially one couple who host a great semi-annual “oldies” party at their home.

 

☼ A number of al fresco restaurants in our area where we can take Honey and enjoy a meal in the open air.

 

☼ With warm weather finally here, being able to open the French doors to the deck that we had installed last fall.

 

☼ Having fun plans for the coming week:  a dinner with girlfriends, a lunch with friends from my old job, and an “appreciation” dinner at church for the volunteers.

 

☼ Plans made and plane tickets bought for our trip to Georgia over Father’s Day weekend to visit my father-in-law and sister-in-law and her family.

 

☼ The Red Sox, after a ten-game losing streak, now having won seven in a row, with great contributions from the Pawtucket players we’ve seen at their stadium here—and hope that they might finally recover some of the magic they had last year.

 

☼ The ASPCA and all the other rescue groups who care for abandoned animals and help them find new homes. God bless them all.