I remember when

If you have read Like a Swallow, you may remember that it starts with the theme of how a Polish child may have felt spending time in the U.S. during the Cold War. Not a Polish immigrant, because I wasn't that, but a child from Poland who would soon be returning to Poland. I remember always feeling uncomfortable with the question -- where are you from. And I was glad that I attained English fluency and so after a year or two, no one would ask. I hid my identity pretty well. 

It's not that I was embarrassed in revealing my Polishness. It's just that I felt that I would be ascribed traits that weren't necessarily mine. I believed that people would simplify the narrative: I was from Poland (true), Poland was communist (well, sort of...), therefore my parents were communists (it's complicated), wanting to dominate the world (not even close). I could almost see the thoughts rapidly forming in their heads -- you're Polish? Oh..... The best I could hope for (in my mind) would be -- you're very nice and normal, for being Polish.

In about a week I'll be traveling to countries of western Europe. I cannot believe that I have before me the same angst that stayed with me when I was a Polish child in America. Only now it's the flip side of it: I will get asked (because I always get asked) -- where are you from? (In one country I'm fairly fluent in their language so they wont immediately guess, but in a second one I can just hobble along, obviously a foreigner, and in the third -- I dont speak a work of their language so I have to flip to English. American English.) I'll answer -- United States, wishing I could add qualifiers to this pronouncement right away, to dispel assumptions. Or, maybe I should just wear this button? A preemptive announcement?

(I don't like buttons that say "he's not my president" because in fact, like it or not, he is legitimately my president.)

I have friends who are spending a year in Germany right now. They've been traveling around Europe a lot. I ask them today -- how has it been for you? Do people glare at you? (I am especially curious now, as it appears our leadership is in the process of banning or severely restricting tourism or any travel from countries "we don't like.") My friend (who was once a fellow blogger, so I'm sure he wont mind the cite) wrote back -- 

So far, we have gotten no flak, wry looks, or other disparaging behavior due to Trump. Nor have we found that people initiate conversations about Trump, though (my wife) often does, and the responses are supportive. In Germany, at least,...they probably have acculturated themselves to the idea that individuals can be different from their leaders.

Yes, I have to think people are polite, but were I in their place, knowing that 45% of Americans approve of the leadership at this point, I'd wonder -- are you one of those?

Storms passed through at night, pushing away the warm air, bringing with them winds and somewhat cooler readings. I walk to the barn, still on the lookout for emergent growth. It's still not very emergent! But, there are some greening tips breaking through the ground. And if you look carefully at the grassy fields, they are showing an ever so slight green color. New grass, definitely poking through. See it?

Since it's Saturday, I get in the car to head over to Madison Sourdough for our breakfast treats. And this is when I slam on the brakes and look at our front yard. Somehow we slept right through it! Half of a maple tree, downed by the winds.

Oh my. On the upside -- it seems to have fallen in a way that caused minimal damage. No crushed cars on the road. No downed wires. And the house is standing! It did fall on part of the front flower bed, but hey, it could have been so much worse.

(onto the bakery: the lakes are all thawed and there is a slight haze... kind of pretty actually)

 

 

I come back, we eat breakfast, a cardinal outside keeps us company...

Ed then gets to work on cutting up the tree. I'm thinking it will take him a while to clear that whole trunk, but he has other ideas: remember when I off-loaded the fallen box elder on Craigslist to a wood cutter? I'll see if anyone wants a whole sugar maple. 

 

 

In the meantime, I drive back to Madison Sourdough where I left behind one of my ordered items (a baguette). It's promising to be that kind of a day!

(back home now: he is still at it -- trimming the trunk, hauling away the sawed off lumber)

 

But, we break from adversity and face the pleasure of being in a warm house with good foods and great readings. I zoom with my friend, Ed goes off to play pool with his friend.

Eventually though I get back to reading The News. And I know you, being good humans out there, have read enough and have listened enough. I know you deserve a break from the onslaught of stories that break your heart. But I'm going to give you one anyway -- from today's New Yorker. An interview done by that publication's longstanding  editor, David Remnick of Atul Gawande a brilliant physician who worked as an administrator for the Bureau of Global Health at USAID. I'm giving you the link and I do hope you read it. Because our hearts must be broken in order to pull ourselves out of the cruelty of this moment. 

Cheeper egg supper. Evening visitors:

 

 

 

Let me end this post with a picture of a wall mural which I noticed on my walk up to the entrance of Madison Sourdough. It stood out for me...

with so much love...