[Above Photo: The 12 bags I sewed which I will fill with toys as starter kits for my students. ]
19 March 2023
It is, again, a lovely sunny day in Portland. I awoke this morning to note the sun projecting the shadows of tree branches onto my blinds, moving gently in the breeze. My mother’s first memory was lying in her crib and seeing the shadow cast by tree branches on the ceiling of her nursery on Walnut Street in Brookline. It was her birthday on St. Paddy’s. She would now be 120yo!! And like a fine wine, she gets better as I age.
I walked in high 40’s sunshine the other day, noting the crocus out (Don’t you love them in Runaway Bunny?) and the old brick sidewalks wavy, like the bay, from seasons of frost heaves and thaws. Even though I know that the size of garbage dumps determines the seagull population on the East Coast, those few mewling from the tops of buildings by the harbor as I walk along Commercial Street recall Portland’s nautical beginnings. I suppose the stream of massive cruise ships, up to 900+feet in length, that put into the harbor during the warmer months is a continuation of the same, but it lacks the spice and adventure of the age of sails. Portland has the only extant tower in the US, a few blocks from me on Munjoy Hill, where signal flags were used to announce the arrival of sailing cargo ships. I suppose the quicker the merchants could get to them, the greater the profit from transferring and selling their cargos.
I went with a friend to 1 Longfellow Hall last night and saw various combinations of local folk and bluegrass musicians strut their stuff. And could they!! There was some fine picking, strumming, and singing for 2 ½ hours. It was so enjoyable and impressive. I’m used to the Freight and Salvage in Berkeley—“The longest continuously-operating acoustic music venue west of the Mississippi”—and I’ve heard some remarkable music there. It is glorious to have access to a similar quality here. I wish I had the talent and persistence to have developed skills to allow me to join in. It looked like such fun for them to play and perform together. It raised my spirits, and they were already pretty high.
For it is only a week and I’ll board a direct bus for Logan Airport in Boston, then a Delta flight to Seoul, and, finally, a Korea Airlines flight to Bangkok. I’ll stay there for a couple of days to see friends and catch my breath. Then a puddle-jumper to Chiang Mai and on April 2 will begin the workshop. Most of the activities, curriculum, and PowerPoints are done, my suitcases are ready to pack, and I have my tickets. It’ll be wonderful to see my students, share some of my experience and knowledge, and learn from them. Twelve of them, all women, will squeeze into 4 bedrooms; I’ll take the 5th.
After it all I plan to travel a bit, perhaps to a small island in the Gulf of Thailand where the snorkeling is supposedly superb. Or somewhere on the edge of the Andaman Sea, a deserted beach with warmth (too easy this time of year!), sea, and undersea life. Hiking in the tropics is a challenge, although I really enjoyed the rainforest trek I did 2 years ago in Khao Sok National Park, leeches included. Now, however, I’m ready for soft warm breezes, some coral and sponges and brightly-colored fish, and digging into a good book.
Speaking of which, I’m finishing Robert Caro’s Working. It has held my interest like nothing I’ve read in years. He talks about his method and the immersive intensity with which he pursues his truths. He confesses to being in the grip of himself and having no real alternative than to be as thorough as he has been, taking 6 or 7 years of full-time labor to complete each volume. I read The Master of the Senate some years ago; now I have ordered The Power Broker about Robert Moses’ 40 year reign in NY and The Path to Power, the first of the [hopefully] 5 volumes on Johnson. The latter will be about his origins in the lonely and impoverished Hill Country of Texas, west of Austin. Caro’s agenda is to convey to the reader his deep experience into the complexity of his subject. And are Johnson and Moses complex! Wonderfully amazing and terrible people, simultaneously, both wanting to win at all costs and happy to bend the rules. What rules?! They each had remarkable accomplishments, which partially redeems them. His writing is intriguing, like an anatomy atlas, richly describing layer after layer. It grips me, cutting so close to the bone it strips off the periosteum at times!
The poor Russian conscripts, sent out as cannon fodder with little training, WW2 armament and clothing, and no ammunition to “soften up” the Ukrainians for the Russian Spring offensive [which will be very offensive]. They are dying and being wounded at a breathtaking pace, it seems. Some are video-recording protests with their faces covered, if the Times can be trusted.
Tropical Cyclone Freddy has been tearing around the Indian Ocean for 35+ days, a record. It came ashore in Madagascar and Mozambique, creating devastation. As they were mopping up, it came ashore again, crushing them, and extended into Malawi, devastating Blantyre where I lived for 2 years. Landslides, houses collapsed, cholera, roads and bridges washed away, and 325 dead—likely many more. I think about the lower areas, like Chikwawa, which must be gone, completely. It recalls Tropical Cyclone Nargis, which reared out of the Bay of Bengal in 2008 and destroyed the Ayeyarwady Delta region of Myanmar, killing an estimated 138,000 people. Did you ever hear of it? I hadn’t until I was living in Yangon. Nature may be an impartial force, but the poor always suffer more.
The suspense surrounding Trump’s various possible indictments feels like an orgasm too long delayed. They may be anticlimactic when they finally come. People still love him. He reminds me of a carnival barker or, better, Crusty the Clown on the Simpsons. He is a loutish would-be autocrat and sounds illiterate but is mildly entertaining even so. However, there is the constant drumbeat of an underlying evil, born of his narcissism, that wants to win at any cost without commensurate redeeming accomplishments. Unless stirring hatred and dissent counts.
Todays’ post will be brief, as I want to get out and about while the sun shines, even if the wind has picked up.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 