Yesterday I returned from a week long change of scenery. I can gage the passage of time and season by the changes that happened in my garden while I was away. The iris, at peak when I left, are heavy with the gooey spent flowers and are now showing last blooms. The sweet william had just put out buds a week ago and now the rose follows suit. The lavender had only a hint of the now fragrance and color in it’s stalks. The peony also just the exciting possibility of pink is now full skirted and dancing brightly in the breeze. Mother Nature hard at work. All of these changes I noted yesterday in a fog of fatigue and late afternoon light.
Most exciting was the changes to my puzzle house. The calendar pages are down a few more and there was room to load in more stock to share with passersby. This little house gave me great joy to work so hard for 3 months to build it. And now I see that others are enjoying it as well.
I spent the middle of my day yesterday driving along Route 2 aka the Mohawk Trail. It is my habit to drive with the windows opened and the music playing. This day’s play list was one of protest and “No Kings” randomly chosen by Pandora with lots of Dylan and interestingly, Springsteen. I was heartened to see a number of overpasses (2) populated by flag waving, “No Kings” sign holding protesters. And in a small New England town intersection were sign holding seniors concerned about their social security that they worked so hard to earn and the future of the country they fought past wars to secure. I gave my horn a good work out in solidarity. These people were not counted in the millions that congregated in our large cities covered by main stream media (poorly IMO) but they count never the less. And they WILL count in the voting booths at mid terms. We all will.
My youngest and her life partner/spouse/husband/friend and father to her two babies have for the past three years generously shared with me a week on the northern coast of Massachusetts. The house is a good sized cape cod shingled classic right on the beach in Newbury, Plum Island. Plum Island, literally an island, is predominately a national seashore preserve with a number of pricy “vacation” homes fit in as tightly as possible.
This year upon a visit to the local museum I learned that Newburyport was once the last stop before Canada for slave carrying clipper ships. There was tremendous wealth as shown by many large (for the time) well preserved homes and historical markers in Newbury and Newburyport.
Packing up to leave from vacation is far easier than packing up to go on vacation. Dirty denims get bagged together with sandy sneakers, last night’s bath towel and yesterday’s tee. Road snacks abound as open chip bags and a few remaining cookies jumble together with the remaining banana (only slightly brown) and an apple (only slightly bruised). Water bottles are filled and cold caffeine is on the ready.
The final walk through is followed by an assessment of just how untidy, dirty, or lived in the house is left for the cleaner(s) who come(s) in to ready for the next guests. This year I saw things “differently.” I don’t know if it was hearing of the Irish “staff” in the homes of those wealthy clipper ship captains at the Mariner Museum or the witnessing of the wealthy at play all around me present day or perhaps my daughter’s MIL still wiping cleaned off counters to “leave them clean,” but I was thinking of those that comprise the “service” that would come in and clean behind me.
Do I leave a space so clean that they barely have a job to do and therefore not work so hard, or not get paid? Or do I leave a space that they have to spend some time cleaning so as to get paid more? Are they getting paid enough either way? Do I leave a tip?
These are part of the “invisible” work force that make it easy to live as a person of privilege. The hospitality works and farm workers. The builders, painters, and maintenance people. The people that make the world run.
I am grateful to my daughter and SIL for providing me the opportunity to be at the beach. However, I don’t know if I want to return there. I know that the color of my skin has afforded me privileges. I hope I have not taken that lightly.
I worked hard all my life. But maybe not nearly as hard as others still do. And where will we be if all of these hard workers are made to go elsewhere?
As I reread that last bit I realize that it reads as all the worry about the current administrations impact on me and my life. Selfish to say the least. But what of the impact on the people living in this threatening time? What of the babies that will lose parents? Children ripped from loving arms and locked in basements?
This is far more than “unfortunate” and “appalling.” Three cheers for the Pope for pushing back against this hellish evil that is our current administration. May they and anyone that supports them suffer painful uncommunicable diseases and financial disasters, and also maybe a permanent expiration date on their ED meds.
swansroost 