Memories of Flowers

Chadd's Ford, PA

From Chadd's Ford fields

It was a little after eleven when I picked up my rental car in Jersey City, and my gracious hostess Elly wasn't going to be home from work in Baltimore until 6:30, so I had time for the scenic route. In fact, my recent excursion out to the UU Congregation of Shelter Rock really highlighted the fact that I'd been cooped up in the city far too long and needed some country air.

So I hopped the PA Turnpike around Philly and dropped onto old US 1, aka the Boston Post Road, aka Lincoln Highway, aka the Baltimore Pike. Rte 1, for me, has a lot of the nostalgic overtones of Rte 66 for many Americans. This is in part because my mother went to the University of Maine in Fort Kent at the northern end of the highway, but also because some Pennsylvania and Maryland stretches of Rte 1 are as familiar to me as my own back yard. Unlike her sophisticated younger brother I-95, Rte 1 runs through instead of around most of the towns and cities along her journey, frequently slowing down for stoplights, more friendly to Amish buggies. Greener and more scenic, it was perfect for my escape from the big city.

As I approached Chadd's Ford, PA, I realized that I was entering one of those familiar historic stretches. First, I ran across Brandywine Battlefield Historic Site, wishing I had a picnic lunch to eat on the simple, expansive lawns. Then I spotted signs for Longwood Gardens. Visiting these expansive botanical gardens was a special treat growing up, reserved for Grandma and Grandpa's visits on their way between Massachusetts/ Maine and Florida. As I pulled into the parking lot, I thought, This is going to be far too expensive for my wallet! When I realized I could spend two hours photographing spring blossoms for about the price of a NYC brunch, I was committed! And it was totally worth it!

From Chadd's Ford fields

Defining "Friend"

Harleyville, Penna., USA
(near Philadelphia)

I was reminded this weekend of a conversation we had in our pre-semester Arabic class in Tubingen, Germany, years back, about the definition of the word "friend." He was speaking about how his American students misuse the German word “Freund” as if it were equivalent to “friend” in English. A friend in German, he explained, is someone you might not talk to for years at a time, even decades, and then you call him up and tell him you’re moving to a new apartment, and he drops everything to come and help you pack. It was similar to a perennial complaint I hear from European exchange students who say, “In America, everyone you meet says they’re your friend, and no one means it!”

But it turns out that I have a lot of friends in the German sense of the word. When I posted on Facebook that I had gotten these interviews, I immediately got a slew of invitations from friends to stay at their places while interviewing in their cities. In the last 3 weeks I’ve gotten together with more than a dozen people that I haven’t seen in 7 years or more. In many cases, we’d barely even been in contact over those years, but they’d been following my exploits, and were ready to welcome me right back into their lives.

Philly Teaching Fellows
I wish I could say I was impressed. I'm no expert, but this was my fourth interviewing event, and I've done a fair amount of recruiting and training of teachers, so I feel that I have a leg to stand on. I was very disappointed in the quality of the applicants in Philly. And they only interview 50% of applicants, while the other programs all say they interview 75% of their applicants. what does that say about the quality of applicants to Philly? Sad for the kids of the Philly schools.

Gwen's Wee Bairn

York, Penna., USA

Tomorrow I'm leaving my cousin Gwen's in Pennsylvania. By the time I'm back in America, she'll be in a new house in Massachusetts, and I'll officially have no family in Pennsylvania anymore. It's a strange thing to contemplate. I grew up there, even if I never felt like I belonged there. I still have friends there: Philip, Phredd and Nicole B. for a start. I have a million memories there. But I no longer have family there.

Meanwhile, though, I am looking forward to visiting my first-cousin-once-removed Seamus again soon. Isn't he adorable?

From America In January

A New Me

York, Penna., USA

I've really gone and done it now....

I chopped off almost all my hair today. Gwen took me to her hairdresser, and as Seamus pointed out, we made a big mess! A massive pile of chopped off hair drifted to the floor around me as we went for the shortest haircut I've ever had.

From America In January

Thanksgiving and Politics

Mshairfeh, Jerash, Jordan

Happy Thanksgiving! It happens this year that Eid al-Adha falls the day after Thanksgiving, so I've got a 5-day weekend, Thursday to Monday, just as if I'd never left Pennsylvania!

I'm spending my long weekend with my Jordanian family, dar Nasri, in Mshairfeh, and they have something particular to be thankful for this week. "Did you hear what the king did?" exclaimed Wijdan this evening. I waited for her to be more specific. "He dissolved the Parliament!" I had heard. It's his constitutional right. In the two years I was in Peace Corps, he dismissed the Prime Minister and his cabinet at least three times, though he hasn't interfered much with the government for several years; international aid donors frown on that sort of thing.... Wijdan and her husband, on the other hand, are quite pleased. Nasri explained:

From Thanksgiving Weekend in Mshairfeh

The Parliament is terribly corrupt, he says. All the money they get to help the people and lower prices and unemployment goes instead into the pockets of MPs and their families. They buy themselves nice Mercedes, send their sons to expensive schools and universities, give jobs to their cronies, and the situation never changes for the rest of Jordan. Look at my wife! Ranked first among English teachers in Jerash, and yet she can't get a job! But the king, God bless him, says Nasri, he cares about the people of Jordan. He's looking out for the little guy in his kingdom, and he kicked all those corrupt MPs out of office and called for new elections.

There's no guarantee, of course, that the same MPs won't get their positions back, elected by their extended families and tribes, not for their political platforms or tribes, or for promises of reform, but because they're family. Organizations like NDI are making some progress at teaching Jordanians to run on and vote for issues. Young journalists and activist bloggers tend to understand its importance. Still, those in power are reluctant to let it go, and it portends to be some time before Jordan's democracy looks like, say, Turkey's.

selamatku!

York, Pennsylvania, USA

Swine flu is messing with my plans!

I was supposed to go to Washington, DC, today to see my old college buddy Candice, but she's laid up with swine flu at the Naval Hospital. I'll be going down to DC tomorrow to meet up with some Peace Corps buddies, but sans Naureen, who is also laid up with swine flu.

Selamatku! as they say in Arabic. Get well soon!

My Godson

or,
They Grow Up Too Fast!

West York
Pennsylvania
USA

First there was just Fred, one of dozens of Jennifers of her era, who longed to be unique among the Girl Scouts at Rainbow Connection. Then there was Fred, Melvin and Side-Kick, life of the Lock-In at the old Junior High (at least as I remember them). Then there was Fred, Ned and Ed, which soon became Phredd, Gnedd, Eadd, Ted and Edna, singing silly songs down the Appalachian Trail. Now there's Phredd, Nathan and Aunt Gnedd.

Now we're scattered to the winds, and reunions are few and far between. Nathan is my oldest, best friend Phredd's son, and at 5 years old, he's seen me all of 4 times, including today! I didn't even meet him till the day when he was over a year old and I became his godmother. I make it out to see him once most years, but rarely when his mother needs the support the most.
It was, therefore, a high priority for me to see him on this trip. And to see Phredd, of course. It was, as usual, complicated. Phredd is laid up with severe asthma, living at her father's again, and her car's transmission was being repaired, but eventually we managed to make it work. And she was right when she said I wouldn't even recognize Nathan!

From Back to Penna.

He's the size of an 8-year-old, talks your ear off, runs circles around his poor Aunt Gnedd, and is the spitting image of his Aunt Yum-Yum (and his mother, apparently, but all I remember about her from elementary school is that we couldn't stand each other)! However, with great verbal acuity has come much better control over his emotions, though his problems are still obviously many, and it was great to see how much better things were going than the last time I saw them.

From Back to Penna.

Look Up!

York, Pennsylvania, USA

I was reminded today of the beautiful work of Gregg Doll as we walked around York's Central Market. It wasn't as busy as usual, and my photos are nothing like Gregg's professional job, but I had fun playing with my camera.

From Back to Penna.

I was also reminded of Mrs. Trevaskis and the best advice I've ever heard about appreciating York, Penn. "When you're in York," said Mrs. T, "you have to remember to look up." There's some beautiful architecture in York, but very little of it is at street level!

From Back to Penna.

I was also reminded of my 10th grade chemistry lab partner, Jim Stephenson, and his mother, who painted one of the many lovely murals around York. We didn't see her, but this one tells of the Constitutional Convention that met here after the British conquered Philadelphia during the American Revolution:

From Back to Penna.

The Great Peach Debate

Bridgton, Maine, USA

"She brought how many pounds of peaches?"

How many is too many? My cousin's husband Christian is well known to love Pennsylvania peaches. I know, Georgia is supposed to be the Peach State, but Pennsylvania peaches are so much better than New England and German peaches that he fell in love. When my family still lived in southern York County, Pennsylvania, he and my cousin Gwen would time their visits for peach season. When we came up to Maine in August, he would always request peaches, and Mum would bring them in her special peach box, labeled Pat's Peach Box in thick black Sharpie, and originally obtained housing a shipment of genuine Florida oranges. When my parents moved to Maine, Christian was devastated. No more Pennsylvania peaches! So when Christian got a job in York, Pennsylvania, there was nothing for it but to send Pat's Peach Box back to Pennsylvania with Christian and Gwen.

So when Auntie Viv flew down to Maryland to pick up Mom's car that my sister had borrowed, and went to visit her daughter and grandson in York, they of course went peach picking! And, as Gwen put it, they just kept picking ... and picking ... and picking ... and picking ... until they had 138 pounds of peaches! And since Auntie Viv had only her small amount of luggage to bring back to Maine, she filled up the rest of the car with peaches.

And of course, when Auntie Viv called to say she had a hundred pounds of peaches, my mother said, "Well, you can't possibly eat them all before they go bad. They'll have to be canned!" And a couple days later, there was Auntie Viv on the phone again: "I'm coming on Thursday to can peaches!" Suffice it to say, it was a great drama, but in the end we canned maybe a quarter of Auntie Viv's peaches today. Here's Christian hard at work:

From Maine 2009

As for me? I babysat!