Revolution Backtrack

Hmm. I have been planning to write about my abhorrence to violence and my selfish wish that in places like Syria and Uganda, where I have loved ones, revolution might be muted. My thinking was that I believe change is necessary in both places (for similar and different reasons). However, I realize that when revolution hits close to home, it’s harder to be clear cut on the outcomes if they involve putting these loved ones in possible harm’s way. And then bin Laden was killed and I was happy.


Before this big news, I received a phone call from Samson, my 16 African “son.” He was home on leave from boarding school and as we went through the usual litany of questions about school results (not great) and miscellaneous requests (basketball, denied.) I found myself bringing up the recent and still on-going riots in Uganda and getting quite practical about it. It was not a conversation about who was right and who was wrong. Instead I very sternly and clearly stated that Samson should stay out of Gulu and Kampala town centers and that if he did find trouble starting to brew he must promise me he would run away quickly. I explained that recent events often target young men and teenage boys, whose testosterone-infused curiosity makes it hard to walk away. “Please Samson, promise me you will run away.” “I promise Jess.” “Really?” “Yes, Jess I will run away.”

Similarly I watched my dear friend Hala well up with tears as she thought about her twin two year olds she just left in Damascus to visit New York. News from Syria is not good. At one stage she looked at me and asked “What do you think is going to happen Jess? “ And my reply was “Well, I thought you were going to tell me the answer to that.” As I looked at the pleading in her eyes, I realized that I had to provide her with an answer. Not based on my nuanced understanding of geopolitics and Syria, but based on a friendship that required comfort.

I do not want either one of these dear people and the places where they live to experience revolution. Change would be ok, but only if anarchy and violence do not ensue. Why does everyone want change so quickly, I started to ask myself? Surely a step by step approach, which includes rather than excludes current regimes, is the better approach. I find it troubling that my sympathies shifted away from clear and passionate support for necessary change now that it is personal.

With bin Laden’s death I got my answer to what I would do if I met Hitler. I am happy both are dead. I’m elated in fact that this terrible man has met his maker and that it was a US bullet that did it. I joined in with the USA chants. I thought for once, liberal guilt be gone! Who cares what this looks like outside of the US?

I understand the hypocritical implications of this.

I also understand better than ever that it’s harder to be absolute about something when it effects you personally. New York is my home. Damascus is Hala’s home. Gulu is Samson’s home.

Shoulda Coulda Woulda

As I ascended the famous Dupont Circle metro escalator this morning for my first day on the job I was, among other things, reminded that I was not in New York or Gulu for that matter. In what I think is typical DC fashion, there was a man performing “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” which echoed throughout the long climb to the surface. This seems fitting for the first day of the rest of my life.

The emails are starting to come in and meetings and road trips are already being planned. I’ve got a lot to think about and perhaps should make this entry quite short. However, I pause to acknowledge the inevitable moment of regretting how I spent the last three months of what I shall now refer to as “leave without any idea of when or if it might end.”

Should I have written the great American novel? (note: I say novel now instead of memoir after the Mortenson ruckus.) Could I have driven across country for the first time or at the very least gone to the Caribbean for a week? Would I have spent my time differently if I had known there would be a job at the end of the tunnel?

Well, I guess we’ll never know. What I do know is now it’s time to shift gears. I feel a bit like I’m playing work today instead of doing it. I know the work is coming, but for now I look outside my window, which overlooks Dupont sidewalk cafes filled with goat’s cheese salads and pinot grigios and I smile, because I’m not in Gulu. I’m right where I said I’d be…yeegads!

Tornadoes, Barbecue and Grandma

On Friday Hayden and I went on our first US road trip together. We went to North Carolina to visit his grandmother. As coincidence would have it, my uncle lives not far from her so we went to see him too.

We arrived way too late on Friday afternoon because mapquest delivered us to the wrong side of Chapel Hill. When we finally reached the retirement community Hayden’s grandma didn’t seem the least bit flustered by our delay. In fact she looked terrific and it was nice to finally meet her. Over the course of the weekend we were riveted by her stories. How a young woman travels on her own from Iowa to South America in the first half of the twentieth century is beyond me. Her stories of taking 7 day airplane rides or month long voyages by sea to get there unnerved me. If I had to travel that way I’m pretty sure I never would have made it out of New York. Her tales of raising kids and maintaining an American lifestyle amidst the chaos of revolution in Chile, Argentina, Brazil and elsewhere were incredible. This tiny lady told these stories matter-of-factly, without any acknowledgment of her unbelievable bravery. A true pioneer.

On Saturday, we intended to head to my uncle’s house for dinner in Raleigh but were unsure because we had heard of possible tornadoes in the area around the time we were leaving. We were just northwest of Raleigh when we noticed the clouds quite dark ahead of us. It was really weird. The sun was shining behind us and we had our windshield wipers on because the storm was just in front. It suddenly started to rain heavily and I could see many cars pulled over on the side of the road. I started to panic, because I then looked beyond the highway shoulder and saw a strip mall that had been completely leveled. Having dabbled in many life-skill areas, I realized that I had absolutely no idea what one does when driving and happens along a tornado. The last few minutes of the journey were tense. The storm, now reported to have had over 60 tornadoes, was right in front of us.

When we arrived at my uncle’s place, we did a quick tour of his new home, a quick check of the weather and then piled into his car to go to a famous barbecue joint in downtown Raleigh called “The Pit.” Getting there wasn’t easy. We attempted two or three routes that were blocked by downed trees and power lines. Raleigh was hit pretty badly but strangely The Pit was open and packed to the hilt. What I learned about North Carolina is that people are serious about their barbecue. And now I know why. We had the most incredible spare ribs of my life. The meat fell off the bone and was spiced to perfection. It was delicious and as Hayden pointed out very very naughty. My uncle, who’s been there several times, just kept saying “this is outstanding.” We left with doggy bags that seemed to be the same size as the meal that was brought to us.

As a snotty New Yorker, I was apprehensive about North Carolina. I was pleasantly surprised that despite the accent (confession: I don’t think I could ever get over that accent) the friendly people are surrounded by some of the best universities in the world and they love their food. Sounds good to me.

http://www.thepit-raleigh.com/

zzzzzz

I’m really tired. So tired that I looked at the pile of unfolded laundry last night on my bed and instead of folding it, I moved it to the chair so that I could go to bed. I was so tired last night that I stared at the Yankees game for four hours without blinking, too tired to shout at their lost. The lure of the boob tube seemed more intoxicating in my tired state then even my bed did.

At first I thought it was from my fun weekend with Kate. We saw a lot of sites, shopped, ate and drank a lot too. It was tiring, but the kind of tired I’m feeling is more like the feeling of being drugged. Like back when seasonal allergy medicine used to turn you into zombie.

So why might I be unable to move this morning? I think it’s because I got a job. I’m excited about the job, but the hustle to get it was absolutely exhausting. The coffees, lunches, not interviews, interviews are over. Thank goodness. The plotting and scheming and shoe-horning my resume is over. Thank goodness.

I have two weeks before I start and for the first time in three months I feel like I have time to RELAX. I’m still in my PJs at 10am. I may go back to bed even. I dunno. What I do know is that my web browser is open to my email only, not 7 tabs of job descriptions or possible organizations to solicit my wares to. So despite this great news, I am inert this morning. Or maybe I’m just beginning to unwind.


Food notes
Since I missed Friday Food last Friday due to job negotiations, let me at least say that I came up with several great dishes last week. The winner was teriyaki salmon.

Teriyaki Salmon: It wasn’t the ingredients, which were fairly standard: salmon, soy, vinegar, ginger, garlic. But again I learned a new technique. I marinated the salmon for an hour that put it in a pan. I took the left over marinade and as instructed by the internets, boiled it down in a pan until it thickened, poured it on top of the salmon and then roasted it for 10 minutes. Delicious!!

Buffalo Tufu Portabellos: It's all in the name. I created a quick buffalo sauce consisting of about 2 tbsps of chili paste and a teaspoon of butter. I stirred in the tofu. Once coated, I poured it into a hollowed out portabello mushroom and topped with cheddar cheese. I baked it until the mushroom was cooked and voila!

Wine Log
In an effort to drink and not horde wine, I have created a wine log at the bottom of this blog. Since most of the wine I have are one off bottles from very special places, it's hard to drink them. Each has a memory and each probably cost more than it should but was carefully selected based on taste and exclusivity due to how few I could carry with me back from California, Italy, France or South Africa. I will also use this for other that maybe just deserve a special mention for future reference.

Grandmom

My great grandmother died in 1997 and I think about her a lot. She was a powerful force; a huge family presence. Long before Tyler Perry’s portrayal of the black family with the strong sassy grandmother, Grandmom Wedders played this role for my family. She was equal parts fun and fearsome. I learned about bumping and grinding from grandmom, who tore it up in Harlem during the renaissance and then tore it up in my kitchen much to my mortification decades and decades later. My brother, who was a holy terror as a child, helped grandmom teach us about the switch. To this day I laugh and cower when a black comedian makes a joke about being forced first to find a switch and then have it administered on them. What a punishment! She was my mom’s grandmother, but everyone called her grandmom; my dad, my dad’s friends, my friends. I’m pretty sure even the mailman called her grandmom. From my child’s eyes it was hard to imagine her in any other role. She was quintessential.

I think about her, because she had a saying for absolutely everything. To try and capture it in one blog is overwhelming and would certainly not do her justice. I feel like my family should have been better about capturing her stories and sayings. I realize as I get ready to post this that I don’t even have one electronic picture of my grandmother. I’m going to dig for a hard copy and scan it in eventually.

This morning, as my neck bristled at a bubbly newscaster’s cheerful exclamation of a boost in jobs for March, there’s one saying that grandmom had that I have used for a plethora of life occasions. It is repeating over and over again in my head this morning as I scan job postings, trying to squeeze my experience into them like a chubby lady tries to squeeze into a pair of pumps.

“Child, it’s like the monkey said to the elephant, if it don’t fit, don’t force it.”

I now look at every job listing in DC. From Director to internships. From dreadful government jobs to the dreaded fund raising jobs I scan and pray that I can find something for which to send in my resume. I’ve applied for land jobs and GBV jobs; development jobs and humanitarian jobs; human rights jobs and advocacy jobs; Africa jobs and Middle East jobs. Twice today I received job postings from eager and generous friends that were for jobs not even located in DC.

So far, since January, I have re-written my resume 37 times. Each time, my understanding of what I actually did gives way a little bit more to what I think a job might want me to do. Because I’ve had a lot of experience, I can squeeze into a lot of these job descriptions. But I know I must be pushing it, because each time I press send, I say a little hail Mary (despite not being Catholic) and add a “hey you never know” NY lotto philosophy (despite knowing the lottery odds are not with me.)

This morning when I woke up I boldly declared that I would apply for 10 jobs today. I’m feeling like I need to carpet bomb the job market, smoke those jobs out of their holes. Eeesh. Thankfully, although she is no longer here, grandmom’s sayings are forever ensconced in me. Like an internal alarm, “if it don’t fit don’t force it” started repeating in my head, giving me pause. What if I’ve watered down my precious experience to little dribs and drabs of nothing really at all? What if when I’ve been interviewing, my experience doesn’t sound nearly as great as my friends and family keep telling me, but sounds instead like I’m posing as something I’m not? Bullshitting and hedging my bets must be a part of the job search, but have I gone too far?

If grandmom was here, she’d think I was nuts. Her support and love for us was uncompromising and there was no nuancing this. She’d heap a load of praise on me and have me feeling like I was the most special person in the world. Perhaps that’s the only pep talk I need.

Monday Musings: Reboot

I’m launching my blog reboot today. I’m not really changing the content as much as I am trying to make it better organized. I think if I have some predictability I will write something that I might just get up the nerve to share with others.

From now on, I will try to write three times a week (this may be tough if I ever get employed again.) On Monday’s I want to keep it open enough to write about whatever strikes my fancy. So “Monday Musings” will include general observations not unlike what I’m already doing. On Wednesdays I will launch “Wednesday’s Political Hump.” This will be an opportunity for me to shout my opinions about politics. With all that’s going on in the Middle East and all that’s going on in Africa that’s not making headlines, not to mention poor Japan and our own dear country, I’d like to write regularly on politics. On Fridays I will continue with "Friday Food." I love to write about food and think that I can keep up with the other foodie bloggers out there.

So my first Monday musing is about trying to schedule a doctor’s appointment. Oh health insurance, you are a pain in everyone’s ass. I spent three hours this morning trying to do two things: select a primary care physician and schedule a doctor’s appointment. The first hour was used to figure out how to navigate CareFirst’s website, which while it contains pictures of lots of smiling faces to ease your worries, is not very intuitive. Selecting a username and password was bulky and perturbing. I had to type in personal information that I don’t really think is a good idea to enter online anywhere, like my mother’s maiden name. I’ll hope CareFirst doesn’t have hackers. Once I did that I was ready to select a primary care physician. To spare all of the nitty gritty, in the end and after multiple pop-up windows to nowhere I chose a doctor right around the corner. I’ll hope she knows what she’s doing.

Next was scheduling an appointment. I called the doctor’s office and was told the office was closed from 12pm to 1pm. Really? So I decided to check other doctors. One answering service told me the wait time was 30 minutes but kindly offered to call me back when I made it to the top of the queue. No thanks. So I walked the dog, came back, sat on hold for about 10 minutes and then made an appointment. For JULY 5th. Really? Three months? Sigh. Of course I’m not even sure I need the appointment, but made it anyway. Maybe some ailment will come up by then.

I know these complaints are not new. In fact my mother spends most of her days dealing with doctor’s appointments and untangling insurance claims. But for me it was a stark reminder of how difficult things can be in this country. I’m a well-educated person and I really struggled. What about everyone else? Why is this so difficult? And don’t even get me started on the luxury of having insurance. I feel lucky that by the grace of God (and because ACDI VOCA is located in DC and not Maryland) I was able to squeeze onto Hayden’s insurance. Isn’t that sad?