Lilacs

[Above photo: My tulips with a lilac bush starting to grow in the background.]

23 May 2023

Martha’s Vineyard was lovely, as was Boston, in its urban way. Lilacs are out all over—lavender, deep purple, white, and reddish-purple with a white lip—and their scent pervades Portland. We walked yesterday with the OLLI group through a wonderful woodland preserve and down to Broad Cove Beach. Horseshoe crabs, which can live 20 years and as a species are more than 300 million years old, are abundant there, nestling immobile in the sand as they lay their eggs. Before I realized this, I was nudging one with my finger, assuming it was an empty shell. How rude of me! We then drove to the Audubon Preserve and ate lunch on the picnic tables while wild turkeys sauntered by, seemingly knowing they were safely among bird-lovers.  One side of the parking lot there is a massive wall, 15 feet in height, of lilacs. Swoon. I always associate their scent with Harvard in Springtime, walking to and from classes and the lovely girls all in sleeveless dresses. It still moves me.  I recall using Ed. Pinot ‘Lilas de France’ aftershave as a young single man. I have no idea if it contained lilac essence or just a chemical facsimile. I thought it was so sophisticated.

I stayed with Polly in the North End for a couple of nights. We went to a terrific Turkish restaurant, very unpretentious, in the Alewife section of Cambridge. They make all their dishes from scratch and their baba ghanouj is at least as good as mine, if not better. Most I have tried are not smokey enough. We dined with two members of Polly’s walking group and their husbands, all of whom I liked. We also walked one day along the waterfront to the Institute of Contemporary Art, which is housed in a new building on the harbor. I liked the design better than the Whitney, although it is smaller.  Perhaps because it is smaller and seems to incorporate the water more effectively. Two exhibits were outstanding: Maria Berio, a Colombian artist, who does portraits of young women using a mix of collage and watercolor. The collage paper is made for her by an artist in Japan. The paintings were remarkably expressive. And there was an exhibit of sculpture by Simone Leigh, a Black feminist. Her peices were massive, mostly ceramic, beautifully executed, and very powerful. How she fired them I cannot imagine. Well, I can, but…

Despite dealing with some serious health issues, Jeff and Bonnie were very welcoming. Their home is on 8 acres in Chilmark. It is still quiet on the Vineyard as the summer rush hasn’t started but it is late enough that everything is green and blooming. I got Jeff walking on a lovely path for a mile on two days and he was surprised at how good he felt. Running the Boston Marathon 3x and New York twice, plus just running on pavement for 30 years has left him crippled, limping with a cane with foot drop on one side.  I recall when I was running pretty regularly I read Jim Fixx’s book. He’d seen the light in his 40’s, shed his obesity, and became a proselytizer for running.  His earlier intemperance caught up with him, however, and he dropped dead of a heart attack on a run at 52yo.  I guess the Tarahumara Indians do it from an early age, probably don’t eat a lot of meat, and are genetically and temperamentally suited for it.

I am 5 years too early to have an EV here and at least should have sprung for the bigger battery. When I cruised into a charging station in Braintree on my return from the Vineyard with 14 miles left in the battery and discovered that the charging stations I have previously used there were dead, I was less than happy. On my way south I gave a guy a free charge on my EV Go card, since he couldn’t get his app to work. Karma abounds and another fellow salved my anxiety in Braintree when he told me of a station nearby. I love the car but hate the anxiety of fearing I’ll run out of juice. If the powers that be really want people to buy electric cars—and I don’t honestly think it is a serious contribution to halting climate change—we need to have an extensive and well-functioning charging system in place before we churn out new generations of EVs. Two people I spoke with at charging stations are preparing to switch back to gas or a gas-electric hybrid, not liking the charging situation. We should be aiming at a dense mass transit solution, using lots of electric minibuses and light rail. But try to pry their vehicles from the hands of Americans—-just like guns, I fear, except more so.

I am making much more contact with people here, which I like. It has been a pretty lonely two winters. It isn’t intolerable and I haven’t been significantly depressed, just alone. I do feel envious of my Berkeley friends with intact marriages and grandchildren to love as they age, but that isn’t my lot.

My students in Myanmar are working hard to provide mental health services to the opposition fighters, at great personal risk. They’d be in prison for a long time if caught. We strategize how they can be the most effective. It is surprising how little research on mental health has been done for the US military.  During Vietnam we figured if we gave them R&R periodically it would recharge their batteries. R&R generally meant drinking, using drugs, and whoring in Bangkok or wherever. How about some actual therapy groups to help them metabolize their experiences of killing, supporting killing, and attempting to avoid being killed in a meaningless war?  My students are trying to do that, except their war is desperately meaningful.  The initial hump to traverse is forming a group with enough trust of each other and of the therapist that they feel their feelings can be contained.  When I was in Chiang Mai, I met with 8 wounded soldiers, as I previously mentioned; on my one visit to the group they asked if they could have the group every day!

Here’s an AI-generated joke. “A weasel goes into a bar. The bartender says, “Wow, I’ve never seen a weasel in here before. What can I get you?” The weasel replies, “Pop.” Pretty uncannily unnerving, if you ask me.