The Holiday Echo January 20, 2022

We all know the feeling of the holiday whoosh, from the fourth week of November to the first week in January, that predictable tsunami of celebrations from Thanksgiving to Hanukkah, Christmas to Kwanza, and then the New Year. 

Now we are on the heels of the holiday season, digesting calories and conversations. As we take down our greenery and candles, carefully replacing decorations in their boxes for another year, I gather up all the lovely cards and notes I’ve been sent with best wishes for the season and the year upcoming. I pause to look at them each again. I think about the friend or relative who has taken the time to write to me. Many share photos of their family, printed into a holiday background from Shutterfly, Minted, or Snapfish. And while selfies may seem self-absorbed, I enjoy them so much that for the past 10 years or so, I have done the same. I love seeing shots of a growing family, or an aging one, of happy times - a graduation perhaps, a new home, an engagement, or a college acceptance. Sometimes the annual note bears news of life struggles – the loss of a parent or a pet, perhaps an illness. It is a reminder of the ups and downs we all face, sooner or later. If last year was rough, the next may be much better, and if it was a good year, a reminder to never take it for granted.

My mailbox filled with artists’ renderings of persimmons and pomegranates, or cardinals in the snow. There were pretty cards from various organizations I support – an old photo of KQED headquarters, a sunny snowman from the California State Parks, a sheep from West Marin, a snazzy hot-pink design from Docomomo. Some cards are handmade – a watercolor, a woodland photograph, a lino block print – and all the more cherished.

The season is over now and I will have to wait another year to hear from some friends. Yet it will be as though no time has gone by at all.

The Daily Reflection January 10, 2022

I spent the first year of the pandemic in a mental bunker, just trying to survive without sinking into a major depression by filling my otherwise isolated life with art projects, word puzzles, books, and hikes. It was very lonely. 

The second year, post-vaccination, was a bit perkier. I started to teach high school. The opera and the symphony, restaurants and art museums - all have come back to life. Even our choir is singing in person.

And yet, I’m not fully “there” (who is?). I have a system in place, but I fritter away vast expanses of time in the effort to simply keep calm and hold depression at bay. “Just do something to get through this,” I say to myself, anesthetizing myself with the expansiveness of cryptic crosswords or the abyss of the internet.

Now, as we approach Covid’s second anniversary, I’m thinking it is time to get back on track, to make myself accountable on a daily basis. My friend Carl once told me that when he has a goal in mind, he asks himself everyday what he might do on that very day, however small, to move the plot forward. It strikes me as a noble practice, if one can develop the discipline to do it. 

Some goals may have a defined end-point, like knitting a sweater, while others may simply be to not lose ground, like exercising to keep the body in working order. And so I have been thinking about what is important to me and what would be the ingredients of a good day.

What have I done today to move the planet forward? This is my very strong Athena Goddess poking at my heels with her spear. Have I done something today that supports the greater good, like teaching, or writing about science, or making a financial contribution?

What have I done today to bask in nature? There is wonder and sustenance in Mother Earth. The moon, sun, smell of grass, ocean, rain – what have I done today to appreciate our amazing planet?

What have I done today that increased my joy? Did I laugh? Did I have a nice conversation? Did I see artwork? Did I make artwork? Did I eat something delicious? Did I listen to music? Did I dance? 

What have I done today to advance my own skills? Golfing? Tennis? Artwork? Singing? Writing? The list goes on and on.

What have I done today to increase my connection? Call a friend, write a letter, meet someone for coffee. 

This is aspirational. And by tomorrow, I fear, I will have forgotten I ever made these intentions.

The Fortieth Anniversary October 15, 2021

It has now been four decades since I first set foot in San Francisco. I moved here from Cambridge with my first husband who embarked on a fellowship at UCSF. I had no job and no prospects. That quickly changed when I landed a post-doc at the fledgling company Genentech. But that is another story for another day. 

The city seemed fresh and exciting with so many hills to climb and so many cheap restaurants to try. Even Chez Panisse was affordable for a special occasion. One of my first stops was San Francisco Opera. Birgit Nielsen was singing in Die Walkure. I spent what seemed to me a fortune, $35, on an orchestra ticket. Cars stopped for pedestrians. With a little perseverance, I could find a free parking spot almost anywhere. And then there was the Bridge – ah, what an experience! 

My plan was to get in and to get out before a big earthquake, but my husband and I both had succeeded in our work and were offered faculty jobs in the Bay Area in 1985.  Even then San Francisco was known for its exorbitant housing prices, but my Genentech stock had escalated and we could roll that into a down payment. We decided to stay. 

In the 36 years since then, I’ve retraced so many steps. I’ve owned three houses and five cars. I’ve been divorced, remarried, and widowed. I’ve adopted one child and three cats. I’ve worked my way from the lowliest assistant professor to professor emeritus. I’ve received two additional degrees, sung with a dozen different musical groups, and completed most of the Bay Area Ridge Trail. I’ve lost both parents and almost lost my daughter. And I’ve seen almost every production at the Opera house in all of these years. 

I can’t ever be a native, but so much of me is woven into San Francisco, and California in general. As long as I might live in the US, this will be my home.