Uncategorized – Page 4 – Making it in Toledo

Struggling

There is nothing more I can do today that will change the election results. I’ve voted, I’ve texted, I’ve sent letters, and I’ve written checks. I’m prepared to send more checks if, as expected, there is an extended legal battle. So now I’m going to turn my attention in another direction, while feeling somehow guilty that I can’t do more.

One of the things getting us through this pandemic is our new happy-hour-at home-tradition. We’ve focused happily on three-ingredient cocktails mostly featuring gin and bourbon, but now I want to learn more about traditional low ABV apertifs, including sherry. I have added Tio Pepe Palomino Fino to our pre-dinner menu.

Another life-saver has been the garden and the many sunny days we’ve enjoyed this fall. After a summer during which it was devastated by wall repair, I’ve re-planted my front garden and am hopeful that it will again be beautiful in the spring, especially the thymes and lavenders I’ve added.

Uncertainty and powerlessness. Not a good combination.

Admiring the mints

As the end of summer approaches, I’m spending as much time in the garden as I can. Tonight I’m admiring the mints. For obvious reasons I keep most of them in pots, although often they escape:

I like mints because they are easy to grow, beautiful and useful. I put a very high priority on useful. Feeling less than useful is, for me, one of the toughest things about this pandemic time.

“It is the destiny of mint to be crushed.” ~ Waverley Root

This year I used mint to underplant my fig trees. I have high hopes of a (small) fig harvest, but I am confident that we’ll have all the mint we can use for quite a while.

Aloisa loves the mints because she knows she can safely pick and eat the leaves. John likes to grab a handful to add to tea. I like mint in salads, where they remind me of the wonderful herb-filled salads I loved in Lebanon. It’s comforting to think that even now, despite how much is going badly, my friends in Lebanon have mint.

“The yard was full of tomato plants about to ripen, and mint, mint, everything smelling of mint, and one fine old tree that I loved to sit under on those cool perfect starry California October nights unmatched anywhere in the world.” ~ Jack Kerouac

If you need some mint, let me know; I am happy to share.

“The was full of tomato plants about to ripen, and mint, mint, everything smelling of mint, and one fine old tree that I loved to sit under on those cool perfect starry California October nights unmatched anywhere in the world.” ~ Jack Kerou”The yard was full of tomato plants about to ripen, and mint, mint, everything smelling of mint, and one fine old tree that I loved to sit under on those cool perfect starry California October nights unmatched anywhere in the world.” ~ Jack Kero

goodbye, louis

Learning, this morning, that Louis Escobar has died, brought back so many memories! When I first met Louis he was an impossibly-handsome activist young doing outreach for the Aids Task Force, of which John was a member. His job was providing education (and condoms) in bars. It seems so long ago! (It WAS so long ago!)

Years later I was executive director of the Lucas County Democratic Party when Louis came to us asking for endorsement as a candidate for city council. I was sceptical. Could a gay Hispanic ex-priest really get elected? I remember Sue Wuest’s answer: she did not want to live in a city where Louis Escobar couldn’t get elected. She was right. With the party’s endorsement and with the help of Sue and countless others, he pulled it off. And now they are both gone.

For quite a while I knew Louis mainly as an elected official who was hardworking but sometimes difficult. Always a friend, usually an ally, and often a pain in the neck, but in a good way.

When my daughter got married, Louis was the officiant. His advice and affection meant a lot. After my granddaughter was born, Louis was a frequent guest at her birthday parties. He and Kelly loved to give her the most beautiful outfits!

When I became chair of the Pathway board, I asked Louis to join me there. As always, he was ready to help and eager to make sure that community, especially the Hispanic community, was included.

In the last few years, I saw Louis at the occasional party or when we crossed paths at a restaurant.

He was a good man, and I will miss him.

one reason to get up in the morning

A few days ago I found myself talking about pockets. Johanna had discovered that her swimsuit had a pocket, a rare occurrence. Aloisa immediately objected, why did only grownups have pockets in their swimsuits? So I pointed out that I, too, lacked a pocket in my swimsuit, as did Olivia. John had a pocket in his swimsuit. Jeff had a pocket in his swimsuit. So it did not seem that grownups had the advantage here.

Johanna suggested that in our neighbors’ families, again, the pattern persisted: she named the boys and the dads, saying that they had pockets while the girls and the moms did not. Loi saw the scheme: BOYS had pockets, but GIRLS did not. So we asked her why that might be.

Loi suggested that “in the olden days” SOME people thought that girls were not as good as boys. I couldn’t resist muttering “Yeah, like yesterday,” and I said to Loi, “Some people still think that.” Because she is five, my granddaughter said “I KNOW, Grandma.” (Some days, she knows everything.)

Loi has grown up with loving parents, adoring grandparents, an uncle whose visits are a treat and an aunt who stands in as fairy godmother. But somehow even she knows the truth: sometimes, some people think she is not as good as a boy.

I still have a reason to get up in the morning.

My irrational garden

Gardening is not a rational act.
Margaret Atwood

Even in these unprecedented times, some things stay the same. For me, one of those things is the joy I find in my garden. When I was a child, I watched my father spend hours almost every summer day in his largely weed-free vegetable garden. He grew a few flowers too, mainly annuals in straight rows. He worked hard in the garden and when he let me help I considered it an honor. He was proud of the cucumbers, radishes, and maybe most of all the tomatoes that he brought into our kitchen just in time for salads and mayonnaise-heavy sandwiches on soft white bread.

Over the years, my garden has evolved, adapting to sun when our former neighbor removed a big tree and now shade again as the replacements he planted have matured. Years ago we invested in good bones for the garden: bricks to enclose the slightly-raised beds, gravel to separate them, and a stone path to lead into and through it. Within that structure, I impose few rules, and they are ever-changing.

This year, quarantine kept me from my usual springtime greenhouse tour, so I’ve relied largely on plants that self-seeded from last year , were moved from other areas, or miraculously re-appeared after long absences.

More and more, the garden is for the birds, the butterflies, and the bees. Here are my favorites from early July:

self-seeded dill in front of re-located true geranium

A few years ago I planted cleome, and this year it’s back!

I bought butterfly milkweed for the monarchs, but I would keep it just because it’s pretty.

monarchs have begun to visit the swamp milkweed

Gardening is a humbling experience.
Martha Stewart

Summer escapes

I’ve spent a lot of time with Vera Stanhope over the last few weeks. I’ve admired her brilliance, been frustrated by her scruffiness, and worried about her existential wellbeing. In real life, I don’t think I would enjoy Vera, but in quarantine she’s been a very welcome distraction. Vera will certainly be added to the list of fictional detectives who have compelled me into and through a lifelong series of escapist adventures, and heaven knows escapism has been even more important lately. Fiction has always been my best escape.

“I will go to my grave in a state of abject endless fascination that we all have the capacity to become emotionally involved with a personality that doesn’t exist.”
― Berkeley Breathed

It’s been a gorgeous June, and I’ve also indulged in some garden escapes, both at home, where our pond with its new liner has attracted toad song which has resulted in copious toad spawn and will soon produce hordes of toad tadpoles :

and nearby at TBG, where I can admire the gardens (roses, the last of the peonies, the first of the lilies) without further destroying my knees.

“If you get far enough away you’ll be on your way back home. ” Tom Waits

Really, why go anywhere? I’m in my own home with people I love and, basically, everything I could want. Unless I want to get out, visit other places, see other people, and eat a good meal that someone else prepares and serves. I want all that. So far I don’t want it enough to risk getting sick.

Someday I hope to look back on this summer from a distance, and I hope it feels as unreal then as it does now.

“There are people who think that things that happen in fiction do not really happen. These people are wrong.”
― Neil Gaiman

Quarantine summer, updated

It’s been 20+ years since my kids installed our little pond right outside the screened porch. No one thought to use a level, so it’s always been a bit wonky, but I love it and so do the goldfish, frogs, toads, and various plant life that have enjoyed it. We even had a brief visit from migrating ducks one year. And of course there have been fountains, for many years a stone turtle, but more lately a bronze frog.

Our bedroom is right above the pond, and the sound is just as wonderful as the sight. Every year we wait for the frogs to arrive.

But this year it had a leak. After almost-daily refills we knew we had to step up our game. Luckily the same model liner was still available and affordable and in stock. The girls had to strap it to the trunk to bring it home from Menard’s. Today they began the process of securing the aquatic life in a bucket, emptying the pond, replacing the old liner with a new one and leveling it. It was a joint effort, and I have high hopes!

Watch this space for updates!!!

first world complaining

I thought I would cope better with quarantine. It’s been ten weeks. We have money, plenty of food, and I’m sheltering with people I love in a home I have enjoyed living in for 40 years.

But I am struggling, as I suppose most everyone is.

I’ve moved through and adapted to several sequential identities since I became an adult: student, teacher, full time stay-at-home mom, full time political activist/volunteer/staffer. The last professional cycle, my years as a research associate at the University of Toledo Urban Affairs Center, ended 7 years ago. Since then I’ve been active as a leader in a couple of non-profits, I’ve served as a mentor to a few young people. I’ve enjoyed learning and teaching in each of those roles, and those roles are how I have defined myself.

One constant in my life for at least 50 years has been making a home for both my family and frequent guests. The first part of that is ongoing, and I really miss the second part. I also miss a social life with John including restaurants, music, and civic events.

I love having my daughter and my granddaughter live with us. But I miss the occasional meal without kids or pets. I miss thoughtful and intelligent conversations with a range of people in a convivial group with good food and drinks that I’ve had the privilege to prepare.

I’m asking myself, as we all are, when those things will be possible again and what can best make up for their absence in the meantime.

Virtual conversations with friends and family are good, and the Facebook Portal my kids bought make that easier and better. Well-written and neither too-heavy nor too-frivolous novels help. Cooking helps, especially baking bread. Gardening helps. As soon as the weather co-operates, being outdoors will help a lot.

Columbines came back with no help from me.

Okay, rant over. I took a break. I planted some tomatoes and I removed several sprouted acorns from the herb beds. I can do this.

Thanks for reading.

Just a year ago

It was nearing the end of our time in Spain and the end of my several weeks in Europe. We had spent hours every day walking in Barcelona, and I needed a break from that, so we bought tickets for a bus trip to Montserrat. Despite the rain, there were spectacular view of the mountains.

The walk from the parking lot to the site included a row of vendors selling local cheeses. Each one was better than the last, so I decided to risk confiscation and add several to my suitcase. I didn’t regret that.

Yesterday Johana and I took Aloisa on a road trip – we drove for forty five minutes, all within a couple of miles of home. After weeks of isolation, Loi was ecstatic to see a slightly larger world: “bushes!! flowers!! flags!!” Her enthusiasm was fun but a bit heartbreaking.

I’ve been fortunate to travel quite a bit and I enjoy the memories. Right now it’s nice to remember the weeks I spent in Europe last year, both on my own in Romania and Hungary and, later exploring Budapest and Barcelona with John.

Trips in 2020 are certain to be much closer to home. Soon, the warmer weather should allow us to expand into the outdoors. In a few weeks, maybe we’ll get beyond the neighborhood. But I suspect that continuing efforts to grow my world will look very different from here on out.

remembering martha

My sister Martha would have been 63 today. I would have made her a beautiful cake and bought her a pretty present. But she’s been gone for almost 30 years, so I will drink some bubbly for her (not the Frexinet she favored, but what we have will do), remember the good times and be grateful that her husband, who still misses her, has built a good life for himself and that their daughter, who never knew her, has grown up to be kind, smart, and happy.

Martha was stubborn, bold, and always open to an adventure. In high school, she ran away from home with a boyfriend and for a while took up with some questionable characters before deciding that she wanted more choices in life. She came home and went to community college where she learned some valuable computer skills, and went on to earn more than I ever did. She lived with us in Toledo for a couple of years and was a much-loved aunt to my kids (imagine first sip of alcohol, first tattoo, learning to ride a bike – just imagine!). She grew up. After a few years, in my back yard, wearing our mother’s wedding dress and carrying flowers from the Toledo Farmers Market, she married our friend Steve, who was a good balance for her. They had fun together, traveled, and eventually became parents. Martha was a good mom to their daughter Gina for the almost 2 years they had together.

I miss her.