Public Service, and Health Care
One of the things about being in health care, is that sometimes we are too close to the center, and cannot see the forest for the trees. Another problem is when we get defensive about our own part of it. What I want to focus on is that there was a general public WILLINGNESS to get to universal national healthcare. It got subverted by the insurance industry. But the WILL to do real national healthcare is probably actually coming forward more, now that we have some evidence of what it can do, even in this imperfect system where the pharmaceutical industry is outside of the running of the thing, and the insurers take a lot of money out of the system to give to stock-holders on Wall Street.
If we are serious about healthcare we should be able to marshal the whole country, including all the parts of healthcare, to the goal of "the common good". We had another good indicator when the Mental Health bill passed, with bipartisan support. People with mentally ill relatives really worked to help get that bill through congress. We need vastly improved services for the mentally ill, and the truth is that it is part of healthcare, and should not be run mainly by the jails and the criminal justice system.
If patients, nurses, doctors, and families all come together, we should be able to pass universal healthcare. What we need is to stick together, not to have side-deals and back-room carve-outs. We also need to remind ourselves that the TAXPAYERS are footing the bill, and we owe it to ourselves as taxpayers, to have the most streamlined and most effective system, the biggest bang for the buck.
We who are on Medicare have been paying into the system with wages earned and taxes taken out of our earnings, all our working lives. Social Security likewise is something we have PAID into, out of our earnings. It is NOT an entitlement, as some of the congressional representatives have made it out to be. It is solvent, but it will be more solvent beyond 2028 if we raise the cap so that upper income earners also pay into it.
The truth about the Health Savings Accounts is that no one has that much discretionary income. An ambulance ride is over a thousand dollars, and the visit to the ER might be between 5-10k. Women have a 1/5 chance of miscarriage and hemorrhage, and need access to hospitals. Hospital stays are usually greater than 10k/day.
Pregnancy and childbirth are a big expense. In California, about 50% of childbirth is being paid for by Medi-Cal, which is Medicaid for our state.
Family Planning is an important piece of the puzzle of healthcare. No one wants to see schoolgirls pregnant. We want people to get an education. We also want parents to have skills and maturity in dealing with the difficulties of childrearing. Family planning needs to be part of healthcare, and it needs to be covered so that people with no discretionary income can get it, and not get pregnant until they are ready. There are many kinds of family planning and we need to give women access to care, so that the one that fits them best is available to them.
Screening and public health programs are really important. Our public health departments respond when an outbreak of meningitis or flu, or any epidemic occurs; like AIDS, Syphilis, Swine flu, diseases which can wipe out whole populations. They try to teach and show people many ways of preventive health and self-care and maintenance tools. This is becoming even more important as more Americans are obese, sedentary, and have diabetes and heart disease.
One of the lesser pieces of the puzzle is that doctors need to be well-paid so that they can stay ethical and devoted to the healthcare of patients. When doctors go bankrupt, or commit suicide, or the business fails, we lose valuable expertise. When doctors can't make enough money to own a house or have a family, there is something really wrong. Many of our doctors now are coming out of training with immense debt, which means they can't live the next part of their working lives in a good frame of mind, with generosity and compassion.
Just like the people who are coming out of college with massive debt, doctors will end up choosing to do something which pays enough to be allowed to have the life they want, instead of choosing to serve in underserved areas or in populations at risk. In my generation, many doctors dedicated themselves to care for AIDS patients, because we came from an idealistic framework. John F. Kennedy said "Do not ask what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." Many doctors, like me, joined the Peace Corps, or Vista, or went to an underserved community in order to "give back" and to "pay it forward".
We all need to work together, as a country, to get to real healthcare reform. We need to push through the obfuscation and resistance. We need to stick to the main ideas, and "hold hands as we cross the street".
This is the greatest nation on earth, and we can do it, but we have to work together. We have to have the vision and determination to bring it to fulfillment. When FDR passed the big reforms which allowed us to begin to have social buffers, it was watching the faces in the pool with him at his Polio rehabilitation place in Warm Springs GA which gave him the pleasure and joy of being of true service. Watch the film clips, and you will see it.
We need to have what the ACA promised; a program which would not kick you off when you got sick, would not eliminate you for pre-existing conditions, would cover you through the beginning of young adulthood and hopefully employed and covered by insurance in your employment. We need family planning without co-pays, and we need bargaining power for medications so patients can afford to take them and stay as healthy as possible. We need a FEDERAL program, not block grants to states. We need federal money to cover the costs for the program. It should be evenly distributed from sea to shining sea. Prudent financial sense means we also should get the best deal we can for ourselves as taxpayers. Oversight by federal administration has to be built-in, with accountability and transparency.
Congress should be working to get funding for this universal national healthcare. When taxpayers see accountability and transparency, and funding well-spent, although we may grumble, we will pay the taxes.
Many of us are Christians. Today in church we were singing a song, which brought in that line from Jesus, quoted in the gospel of St. Matthew; "whatever you do for the least of these, you do for Me." Our nation was built on that consciousness of the call to be servants to each other, to be friends to each other.
We must be committed to service to the common good, to the care for the poor, the elderly, the children, the vulnerable.
Our Constitution says "in order to provide for the general welfare... and to care for the common good". These are the foundational values in support of national universal healthcare. Every other developed country on earth has managed to get there, and we should get there too!
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Christmas as the Birth of a Baby
Christmas reflection: I always come back to the fact that God chooses to come as a baby-- a just-born infant with eyes opening onto the big wide world--- and it fills me with such intense awe--- that God comes without words or dogma, in human skin-- baby skin, which smells heavenly-- and in those tiny hands and feet, those big eyes, full of wonder. And such vulnerability--- no armies of angels in full battle gear! God is willing to come to us, to let us be abusive parents, in all our self-absorbed egotism; God lets us fail to see the miracles. He waits for us to get it. He lets time spin out like yards of ribbons, or like the blown dandelion seeds in the dry summer--- waiting for us to come closer to the moment when we hold the baby in our own arms, let it fall asleep on our shoulder, or nestle it against our breast.
No other religion really focuses on the human baby. No other religion really brings our attention to the quality of our parenting a baby-- the thought of Joseph taking Mary into his home, because an angel told him to. How Mary and Joseph together raise this child, in the hidden years--- and hide him from Herod and the slaughter of the innocents. Most religions start with a person in adulthood, exhorting us to connect our spirits to the Great Spirit. But Jesus is also that baby. He is coming in the most vulnerable, innocent, helpless way He can, to let us possess God, in the child.
Last night we had singing carols before Mass. A guy with a great voice sang "Mary, did you know that your baby boy..." with several verses. It makes me cry. I think that we do not know. We certainly do not know that our children are going to be piercing our hearts with sorrow and fear. We think they will bring us joy, and we hope they will bring us honor. We do not want to consider the way of the cross. We certainly cannot contain, in our becoming parents, the suffering likely to come, as our children move forward toward God in their own journeys, falling and failing as we have fallen and failed. And yet, Jesus has given us the path, shown us, in a few brush-strokes of the story, what we must endure. "Did you not know that I must be about my father's business?" Even if the child does not know it is about his father's business, even if he thinks he can do it with his own WILL, God will be the alpha and omega of his path. We are in our orbits, like atoms, on our pilgrimage toward the God who made us. I have walked the labyrinth with this so clearly in mind-- that I am being called back to the center. The still-point in time, the mystical rose, the existential moment, the Eternal NOW. And my child is also called, though he does not know it clearly, is not watching for signs, is not following the stars, is not sure of his way. And maybe that is also the point. We see the stars, we begin to watch for wise men, we begin to hear the message in a deeper way, a new way. We begin to think it is amazing and miraculous that shepherds were the ones to see the glory first. We begin to understand that you have to be cold and lonely and outside at night, to SEE the stars. And that when you are watching the stars, you begin to hear choirs of angels! And that you have to listen to your dreams, like Joseph did. It is amazing that the messages that come in the dreams are the most important guides to your life. And that the baby will be born without a safe place in the world, because God is always being born in new and amazing ways, outside the ordered world, outside the circle of power and influence; NOT born to the Rabbi; NOT born in the Temple precincts or the palace. The whole thing is amazing. The whole thing calls us to be filled with wonder and awe. I circle around it again, and am glad I was able to sing along, in the cold night, in our everyday community, filled with people struggling to be good; with those dear carols I have loved all my life--- especially the one which says "gloria in excelsis Deo!"
No other religion really focuses on the human baby. No other religion really brings our attention to the quality of our parenting a baby-- the thought of Joseph taking Mary into his home, because an angel told him to. How Mary and Joseph together raise this child, in the hidden years--- and hide him from Herod and the slaughter of the innocents. Most religions start with a person in adulthood, exhorting us to connect our spirits to the Great Spirit. But Jesus is also that baby. He is coming in the most vulnerable, innocent, helpless way He can, to let us possess God, in the child.
Last night we had singing carols before Mass. A guy with a great voice sang "Mary, did you know that your baby boy..." with several verses. It makes me cry. I think that we do not know. We certainly do not know that our children are going to be piercing our hearts with sorrow and fear. We think they will bring us joy, and we hope they will bring us honor. We do not want to consider the way of the cross. We certainly cannot contain, in our becoming parents, the suffering likely to come, as our children move forward toward God in their own journeys, falling and failing as we have fallen and failed. And yet, Jesus has given us the path, shown us, in a few brush-strokes of the story, what we must endure. "Did you not know that I must be about my father's business?" Even if the child does not know it is about his father's business, even if he thinks he can do it with his own WILL, God will be the alpha and omega of his path. We are in our orbits, like atoms, on our pilgrimage toward the God who made us. I have walked the labyrinth with this so clearly in mind-- that I am being called back to the center. The still-point in time, the mystical rose, the existential moment, the Eternal NOW. And my child is also called, though he does not know it clearly, is not watching for signs, is not following the stars, is not sure of his way. And maybe that is also the point. We see the stars, we begin to watch for wise men, we begin to hear the message in a deeper way, a new way. We begin to think it is amazing and miraculous that shepherds were the ones to see the glory first. We begin to understand that you have to be cold and lonely and outside at night, to SEE the stars. And that when you are watching the stars, you begin to hear choirs of angels! And that you have to listen to your dreams, like Joseph did. It is amazing that the messages that come in the dreams are the most important guides to your life. And that the baby will be born without a safe place in the world, because God is always being born in new and amazing ways, outside the ordered world, outside the circle of power and influence; NOT born to the Rabbi; NOT born in the Temple precincts or the palace. The whole thing is amazing. The whole thing calls us to be filled with wonder and awe. I circle around it again, and am glad I was able to sing along, in the cold night, in our everyday community, filled with people struggling to be good; with those dear carols I have loved all my life--- especially the one which says "gloria in excelsis Deo!"
Monday, December 26, 2016
History and Memory
(What historical event is alive in our memory, shaping who we are and what we do?)
THE MURDER OF OUR PRESIDENT
The murder of our president,
John FitzGerald Kennedy, in the open car in Dallas;
The shot when I was 13, praying—
Somehow praying that the world would actually repair itself
Around that hole in our society, in the fabric of government
Which we thought was going to be about the people; of the people
by the people,
Not by murderers and thugs,
Not by someone who actually IS one of the people;
Like what happened in Auschwitz, when Elie Wiesel spoke of them hanging the golden boy,
(How could they hang an innocent child? ) And not just that one child:
How could we hold in our minds the gas chambers, and all those women and children,
How could we hold in our minds the gas chambers, and all those women and children,
Rabbis and mothers and fathers; singing hymns on the cattle cars
Moving them to an actual hell-on-earth.
How do we bear it, and what can we do to heal it?
We who live now, aware as past generations may not have been,
So vividly taught in real-time photography of the beheadings in Syria,
Unreasonable, merciless,
How can they think God will ever forgive them?
Women being stoned to death,
Women raped and gang-raped,
Sheep and goats raped, and men being crucified,
And blood pouring into the rivers; human blood, not even meant as sacrifice,
But just slaughter.
Power; the arms, the bombs, the weapons, to kill
the ‘might makes right’ belief of the tribes.
The president was killed, is dead;
We still speculate about how and why,
And it is not Camelot.
No one has ever really felt safe since then,
Certainly not anyone that passionate about justice.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
Another Experience of Labor and Delivery
Another experience of labor and delivery
A couple of years ago, a wonderful woman physician in my town passed away. I had always felt drawn to her daughter, who is a very sweet and wonderful, intelligent scientist, who studies and helps with data to protect our redwood trees, as well as other projects having to do with ecosystems and forests. I myself have no daughters, and so when about a week ago, this dear woman called to ask if I would be willing to help her go through labor, I was thrilled.
I did not know how it would feel, to go back into the labor room, without being the doctor in the room. But being a stand-in for her mom was a role I felt I could take on with joy and good will.
We kept in touch by phone as she went through the phase of cervical ripening, and luckily, I was able to be with her as the real work of labor began, and the contractions began to be more intense. Watching her do the strong and fine work of being a laboring woman was a real joy for me, partly because I was not in charge. My duty was simply to help her through it, and to be a place-keeper for her mom. She had had two babies, and she knew how to do labor.
We had an amazing time of it. Her husband was a great support and coach, and she stood up for most of the active phase of labor. He did some great sacro-iliac massage. I have found that this standing and rocking often helps get the baby to come down more effectively than when one is lying down, with some assistance from gravity. It usually makes the contractions stronger; which is hard to bear, but she was brave in wanting to make her labor as efficient and successful as possible. And there is just this marvelous amazing strength of a woman's body with good muscle tone, in good health, doing the work of labor.
When we were getting closer to transition labor, I asked her to get onto her left side, in a tucked crunch position, which I have found helps to get the baby to "turn the corner" in the deep pelvis, although it causes some intense pain inside the left hip. We only needed 3 contractions, and then she was able to get up and stand again, swaying and rocking, and she could feel how much descent there had been in that interval. It was a little wierd for me, to not be checking, but surmising from what I knew of labor, and then needing the nurse to once-in-awhile verify the descent of the baby's head. And her doctor is a good doctor, who was willing to be available as the labor came into the home stretch, waiting for that "urge to push". The actual pushing time was probably less than 15 minutes, due to her being able to stand until the very end, and she was great at that muscular effort of pushing. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than a woman doing the work of labor, with such concentrated muscular effort, and the rhythmic flow of it. She and her husband had picked some wonderful music, much of it from my era, and it blended with the work. Her mom played the ukelele, and some of these songs were songs she used to play.
The baby came into the world in a swirl of pink skin, and a good clear cry, The fetal heartbeat had been good throughout labor, and there was a great thick umbilical cord and clear fluid, and a healthy lush placenta. Her uterus contracted superbly. There were no lacerations or tears. It was just symphonically beautiful! Her first baby had come in a long hard labor, and the second baby had needed time in the NICU for possible infection. But this baby was just a perfectly lovely labor and delivery!
For me, this was a revisiting of something I have known and loved, for a long long time. I think I have delivered at least 10,000 babies in my lifetime; and still, each one is a beautiful work of art. I love the way labor is a symphony, each one slightly different, each family a little bit of heaven, as God sends a new baby into the world. I did not feel sad or depressed to not be the doctor. It was so wonderful feeling like a grandmother there! And I did feel like I had her mom with me, being glad I was standing in, for this dear young woman.
Sometimes we have to believe that if we ourselves cannot be there for our children, someone else will carry the load for us. The human family is an amazing and resilient and blessed gift. I am really really glad I got to have this exquisite labor and delivery event, to remind me of all the joy I have had in my work.
A couple of years ago, a wonderful woman physician in my town passed away. I had always felt drawn to her daughter, who is a very sweet and wonderful, intelligent scientist, who studies and helps with data to protect our redwood trees, as well as other projects having to do with ecosystems and forests. I myself have no daughters, and so when about a week ago, this dear woman called to ask if I would be willing to help her go through labor, I was thrilled.
I did not know how it would feel, to go back into the labor room, without being the doctor in the room. But being a stand-in for her mom was a role I felt I could take on with joy and good will.
We kept in touch by phone as she went through the phase of cervical ripening, and luckily, I was able to be with her as the real work of labor began, and the contractions began to be more intense. Watching her do the strong and fine work of being a laboring woman was a real joy for me, partly because I was not in charge. My duty was simply to help her through it, and to be a place-keeper for her mom. She had had two babies, and she knew how to do labor.
We had an amazing time of it. Her husband was a great support and coach, and she stood up for most of the active phase of labor. He did some great sacro-iliac massage. I have found that this standing and rocking often helps get the baby to come down more effectively than when one is lying down, with some assistance from gravity. It usually makes the contractions stronger; which is hard to bear, but she was brave in wanting to make her labor as efficient and successful as possible. And there is just this marvelous amazing strength of a woman's body with good muscle tone, in good health, doing the work of labor.
When we were getting closer to transition labor, I asked her to get onto her left side, in a tucked crunch position, which I have found helps to get the baby to "turn the corner" in the deep pelvis, although it causes some intense pain inside the left hip. We only needed 3 contractions, and then she was able to get up and stand again, swaying and rocking, and she could feel how much descent there had been in that interval. It was a little wierd for me, to not be checking, but surmising from what I knew of labor, and then needing the nurse to once-in-awhile verify the descent of the baby's head. And her doctor is a good doctor, who was willing to be available as the labor came into the home stretch, waiting for that "urge to push". The actual pushing time was probably less than 15 minutes, due to her being able to stand until the very end, and she was great at that muscular effort of pushing. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than a woman doing the work of labor, with such concentrated muscular effort, and the rhythmic flow of it. She and her husband had picked some wonderful music, much of it from my era, and it blended with the work. Her mom played the ukelele, and some of these songs were songs she used to play.
The baby came into the world in a swirl of pink skin, and a good clear cry, The fetal heartbeat had been good throughout labor, and there was a great thick umbilical cord and clear fluid, and a healthy lush placenta. Her uterus contracted superbly. There were no lacerations or tears. It was just symphonically beautiful! Her first baby had come in a long hard labor, and the second baby had needed time in the NICU for possible infection. But this baby was just a perfectly lovely labor and delivery!
For me, this was a revisiting of something I have known and loved, for a long long time. I think I have delivered at least 10,000 babies in my lifetime; and still, each one is a beautiful work of art. I love the way labor is a symphony, each one slightly different, each family a little bit of heaven, as God sends a new baby into the world. I did not feel sad or depressed to not be the doctor. It was so wonderful feeling like a grandmother there! And I did feel like I had her mom with me, being glad I was standing in, for this dear young woman.
Sometimes we have to believe that if we ourselves cannot be there for our children, someone else will carry the load for us. The human family is an amazing and resilient and blessed gift. I am really really glad I got to have this exquisite labor and delivery event, to remind me of all the joy I have had in my work.
Another Experience of Labor and Delivery
Another experience of labor and delivery
A couple of years ago, a wonderful woman physician in my town passed away. I had always felt drawn to her daughter, who is a very sweet and wonderful, intelligent scientist, who studies and helps with data to protect our redwood trees, as well as other projects having to do with ecosystems and forests. I myself have no daughters, and so when about a week ago, this dear woman called to ask if I would be willing to help her go through labor, I was thrilled.
I did not know how it would feel, to go back into the labor room, without being the doctor in the room. But being a stand-in for her mom was a role I felt I could take on with joy and good will.
We kept in touch by phone as she went through the phase of cervical ripening, and luckily, I was able to be with her as the real work of labor began, and the contractions began to be more intense. Watching her do the strong and fine work of being a laboring woman was a real joy for me, partly because I was not in charge. My duty was simply to help her through it, and to be a place-keeper for her mom. She had had two babies, and she knew how to do labor.
We had an amazing time of it. Her husband was a great support and coach, and she stood up for most of the active phase of labor. He did some great sacro-iliac massage. I have found that this standing and rocking often helps get the baby to come down more effectively than when one is lying down, with some assistance from gravity. It usually makes the contractions stronger; which is hard to bear, but she was brave in wanting to make her labor as efficient and successful as possible. And there is just this marvelous amazing strength of a woman's body with good muscle tone, in good health, doing the work of labor.
When we were getting closer to transition labor, I asked her to get onto her left side, in a tucked crunch position, which I have found helps to get the baby to "turn the corner" in the deep pelvis, although it causes some intense pain inside the left hip. We only needed 3 contractions, and then she was able to get up and stand again, swaying and rocking, and she could feel how much descent there had been in that interval. It was a little wierd for me, to not be checking, but surmising from what I knew of labor, and then needing the nurse to once-in-awhile verify the descent of the baby's head. And her doctor is a good doctor, who was willing to be available as the labor came into the home stretch, waiting for that "urge to push". The actual pushing time was probably less than 15 minutes, due to her being able to stand until the very end, and she was great at that muscular effort of pushing. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than a woman doing the work of labor, with such concentrated muscular effort, and the rhythmic flow of it. She and her husband had picked some wonderful music, much of it from my era, and it blended with the work. Her mom played the ukelele, and some of these songs were songs she used to play.
The baby came into the world in a swirl of pink skin, and a good clear cry, The fetal heartbeat had been good throughout labor, and there was a great thick umbilical cord and clear fluid, and a healthy lush placenta. Her uterus contracted superbly. There were no lacerations or tears. It was just symphonically beautiful! Her first baby had come in a long hard labor, and the second baby had needed time in the NICU for possible infection. But this baby was just a perfectly lovely labor and delivery!
For me, this was a revisiting of something I have known and loved, for a long long time. I think I have delivered at least 10,000 babies in my lifetime; and still, each one is a beautiful work of art. I love the way labor is a symphony, each one slightly different, each family a little bit of heaven, as God sends a new baby into the world. I did not feel sad or depressed to not be the doctor. It was so wonderful feeling like a grandmother there! And I did feel like I had her mom with me, being glad I was standing in, for this dear young woman.
Sometimes we have to believe that if we ourselves cannot be there for our children, someone else will carry the load for us. The human family is an amazing and resilient and blessed gift. I am really really glad I got to have this exquisite labor and delivery event, to remind me of all the joy I have had in my work.
A couple of years ago, a wonderful woman physician in my town passed away. I had always felt drawn to her daughter, who is a very sweet and wonderful, intelligent scientist, who studies and helps with data to protect our redwood trees, as well as other projects having to do with ecosystems and forests. I myself have no daughters, and so when about a week ago, this dear woman called to ask if I would be willing to help her go through labor, I was thrilled.
I did not know how it would feel, to go back into the labor room, without being the doctor in the room. But being a stand-in for her mom was a role I felt I could take on with joy and good will.
We kept in touch by phone as she went through the phase of cervical ripening, and luckily, I was able to be with her as the real work of labor began, and the contractions began to be more intense. Watching her do the strong and fine work of being a laboring woman was a real joy for me, partly because I was not in charge. My duty was simply to help her through it, and to be a place-keeper for her mom. She had had two babies, and she knew how to do labor.
We had an amazing time of it. Her husband was a great support and coach, and she stood up for most of the active phase of labor. He did some great sacro-iliac massage. I have found that this standing and rocking often helps get the baby to come down more effectively than when one is lying down, with some assistance from gravity. It usually makes the contractions stronger; which is hard to bear, but she was brave in wanting to make her labor as efficient and successful as possible. And there is just this marvelous amazing strength of a woman's body with good muscle tone, in good health, doing the work of labor.
When we were getting closer to transition labor, I asked her to get onto her left side, in a tucked crunch position, which I have found helps to get the baby to "turn the corner" in the deep pelvis, although it causes some intense pain inside the left hip. We only needed 3 contractions, and then she was able to get up and stand again, swaying and rocking, and she could feel how much descent there had been in that interval. It was a little wierd for me, to not be checking, but surmising from what I knew of labor, and then needing the nurse to once-in-awhile verify the descent of the baby's head. And her doctor is a good doctor, who was willing to be available as the labor came into the home stretch, waiting for that "urge to push". The actual pushing time was probably less than 15 minutes, due to her being able to stand until the very end, and she was great at that muscular effort of pushing. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than a woman doing the work of labor, with such concentrated muscular effort, and the rhythmic flow of it. She and her husband had picked some wonderful music, much of it from my era, and it blended with the work. Her mom played the ukelele, and some of these songs were songs she used to play.
The baby came into the world in a swirl of pink skin, and a good clear cry, The fetal heartbeat had been good throughout labor, and there was a great thick umbilical cord and clear fluid, and a healthy lush placenta. Her uterus contracted superbly. There were no lacerations or tears. It was just symphonically beautiful! Her first baby had come in a long hard labor, and the second baby had needed time in the NICU for possible infection. But this baby was just a perfectly lovely labor and delivery!
For me, this was a revisiting of something I have known and loved, for a long long time. I think I have delivered at least 10,000 babies in my lifetime; and still, each one is a beautiful work of art. I love the way labor is a symphony, each one slightly different, each family a little bit of heaven, as God sends a new baby into the world. I did not feel sad or depressed to not be the doctor. It was so wonderful feeling like a grandmother there! And I did feel like I had her mom with me, being glad I was standing in, for this dear young woman.
Sometimes we have to believe that if we ourselves cannot be there for our children, someone else will carry the load for us. The human family is an amazing and resilient and blessed gift. I am really really glad I got to have this exquisite labor and delivery event, to remind me of all the joy I have had in my work.
"When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed"
“WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM’D”
an elegy for Abraham Lincoln
(title, metaphors and images recycled from poem by Walt Whitman, with the same name, and supplemented with words from President Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address.
Song fragments from "Green Grow the Lilacs" and from "The Battle Hymn of the Republic")
Song fragments from "Green Grow the Lilacs" and from "The Battle Hymn of the Republic")
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed
And the mournful sound of the train
Passed slowly over the corn-mantle on hills and valleys,
The towns were draped in black.
We heard the song of the grey-brown bird,
Calling to us; asking us to tend the healing of our land;
“that a government of the people, by the people and for the people should not perish
From the earth”.
The compassionate eyes in the craggy face
Look outward,
And he holds the law with both of his large hands.
We stand on the marble steps, looking upward, open-mouthed,
And hear the spare song he is singing.
“With malice toward none, with charity for all…”
The heart-shaped green leaves of the lilacs
As we drape them over this dark coffin,
Carry with them our own hearts’ hopes.
“Let us strive on to finish the work we are in,
To bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle
and for his widow and his orphan…”
The perfume of the lilacs, as intense as it is,
Fills the dusty air, and makes the train whistle more like a dirge.
“To form a just and lasting peace”…
(BOOM BOOM BOOM, SHHHHH, BOOM! Whoo-woo!)
“All men are created equal.”
The ever-returning spring brings the flood of the lilac perfume
Through the open windows of the town,
Through the farms and offices and stores,
Through the lives of the women and men, remembering
The song of the grey-brown bird…
“Among ourselves and with all nations”.
( here we sing Green Grow the lilacs)
“Green grow the lilacs all sparkling with dew,
I’m lonely my darling since parting with you;
And by our next meeting I hope to prove true
And change the green lilacs to the red, white and blue”.
In the ever-returning spring, as the green corn ripens
And raises those eager shafts toward sunlight, blanketing the valleys,
And the ever-stronger whisper and roar of the traffic on the highways
Drowns out the small birds’ songs,
Let us hear again the light spare song of that grey-brown bird;
Singing of the law,
(In your courts, oh Lord, in your temple)
(here we sing The Battle Hymn of the Republic, especially the 3rd verse…)
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored…
I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps,
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps,
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
Hist truth is marching on!
He is sounding forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat,
He is sifting out the hearts of men before the judgement seat,
Oh be swift my soul to answer him, be jubilant my feet…”
The grey-brown bird of these measured and spare cathedrals, singing
The words of our laws;
The mind of steel like a lonely star, enduring the howled abuse by less wise men,
As he spoke to the better angels of our nation,
Let us not forget. Though the song comes from the solitary thrush,
Let us continue to pray to remember;
Through all these losses and the bare ruined winter branches,
When the lilacs bloom again,
When the voice of the dove is heard in the land,
We will remember.
And with those better angels, rise to sing
With the grey-brown bird who was the best of all our songbirds.
mn2016
Friday, October 14, 2016
Home is the wanderer
I got back from the 6 week trip to Austria and Switzerland on Wednesday night. San Francisco bay looked so beautiful in the late afternoon light! I had hoped for enough time to get the feel of living in Europe: and staying with Marilyn and Jim certainly helped accomplish that goal. It was so beautiful in the autumn, the long Indian summer only yielded to a rainy day on the week before I was to return, but still the weather held many lovely days, and one was the last day in the area near Vevey--- I had read that the nicest walking stint is from Chexbres to Vevey, through the vineyards, and went up there-- it was a cloudy day, but there were moments when the sun burned through the clouds and lit up the terraced vineyards over the lake, and Lake Geneva itself. I had gotten sufficiently good at taking the train from Marilyn's house that it was a good day-trip, and I took my walking poles, just in case. The vineyard trail was cemented, and flat, and very nice to walk on. The views were breathtaking! They were just harvesting some of the grapes... it was so beautiful!
In thinking about the trip, it was like a big spiral review through my life--- first, the Vienna reunion, 45 years after being there in our Junior year, and the marvel of being there with many of the same people, sharing that sense of reunion, of time lived since, and the reverberations of what Vienna meant in our lives. I was so glad to get enough time to see the Breughels at the Kunsthistorisches museum, and to see Klimt's Beethoven frieze at the Jugendstill museum (the "golden cabbage" as the Viennese call it). I made it to the Belvedere, to see "The Kiss", and that blue and white ceramic and tile room at Schonbrunn. I saw the Lippizaners with Tunie, and the Kaisers apartments and Sisi's rooms in the Hofburg. I spent a lot of time thinking about Sisi and what her life was like, and when they say she was a modern woman, and she was selfish, and she loved to travel. I would love to have seen her place at Corfu! I think the excruciating pain of her son's suicide just completely did her in. I thought a lot about how royal people raised their children to be "courtly" and that she kept trying to escape and be her own person. And maybe she was manic-depressive. Her moods seemed very intense.
I got to see the Picasso and Seurat show at the Albertina, and watched a Chef get 4 huge salmons ready for his sushi that evening, in the cafe there. Being at the remodeled Albertina was a huge invitation to think of the changes in Vienna. When I was there before, there were long library tables and small lamps, and librarians with white gloves who would bring you a book and open it for you, and check to make sure your hands were clean before you touched the book, and not let you do anything which might injure the book, even placing it under a glass shelf so you could read without getting fingerprints on it. The biggest change in the city is having the Ubahn, which makes it so quick and easy to get around, and the cell phones-- ubiquitous, and aiding us in getting people to know where to meet, and to maximize one's time.
I had forgotten the Hebrew name of God in the rays of light above the main altar at the Karls'kirche--- did I ever know that was there? It was fabulous light, and very interesting to consider the Spanish influence on Vienna from that branch of the family...
So much of Vienna was stuff I never saw, because I was studying, and did not take time to just walk around and see the city. Being in the older area around the Griechenbeisl was not something I recognized--- and I loved that we got to see the Synagogue, with the robin's egg blue dome, thanks to the intervention of a sweet elderly man named Tommy, who was so taken with the idea that we had studied there so many years ago. The monument to the 65,000 Jews from Vienna killed in Hitler's regime was beautiful and very poignant--- like a funnel of everlasting tears, spilling into a stone basin.
I had not put together before that the Schwartzenberg platz fountain is the same since Roman times, when the Romans founded the water supply to the city. The water pressure is natural, not pumped!
And the music! It was so wonderful to get to be in the Musikverein, to see Zubin Mehta conduct the Vienna philharmonic orchestra-- Debussy's La Mer, and a Schubert piece with a lot of french horns... just wonderful! And of course the high point was being at the Staatsoper for "Salome"-- Richard Strauss' work, fabulous music, shocking, amazingly well-acted and sung; her lust for John the Baptist, and his purity of soul, and the disaster of the lust of the king; I have never heard that opera before, and the libretto by Oscar Wilde was so powerful... wow! And running like a ribbon through it, the friendships and shared experience with the other alumni, and our love of Vienna.
The boat trip down the Danube allowed us some good opportunities to visit with each other, to share some memories, and the memorable day of the monastery at the rough part of the river, which turned out to be a link in the walks toward the Camino de Santiago, also; and coming into Budapest in the early morning, watching the light hit the marble on the parliament, seeing the Fischer bastion light up... and putting together more than I had before, the intertwining histories of Sisi and Hungary, and the Hapsburg empire...
I was so glad to meet Peter in Bad Ischl, and found the Sophiens Doppelblick a real addition to the knowledge I had previously about the imperial family. And I loved seeing the Kaiservilla, and Sisi's rooms. It was also lovely to be at Mass in Bad Ischl and to see the people in dirndls and trachten, with a sense of recovered dignity and a feel of real resolution since the war.
Going to Salzburg, seeing Gundi and her mom, who is now 99, felt timeless. And Hermann's place at the Irrsee, and meeting Martin and Ana, and thinking they are on the verge of new lives, new careers, as we fade out... it was great to swim in the lake, & to watch the trees start to turn.
Then Jan and Mandy and Maren and Linda came to Fuschl am See; and I got to have this time of being a "host-mom grandma" to these sweet girls, and share the Marionetten theatre in Salzburg with them-- a lovely rendition of "The Magic Flute". We went to St. Wolfgang, and Linda got a little blue dirndl, and looked so sweet in it. Hermann had taken me up the Schafberg in the train on a perfect sunny day, and you can see 5 lakes from the top--- it was a breathtakingly beautiful day...
Fuschl was lovely, and we even got to swim in the little spa across the street, in the last day it was open for the season...
Staying in the airb&b place with grad students studying the refugee situation was really interesting; and this was the first time I went through the archbishop's residence in Salzburg, and thought about the power and decadence-- especially since we had seen the little movie at the salt mine in Hallstadt of Wolf Dietrich von Reichenau, and his use of the salt mine money to aggrandize the dom, the residenz and the fountain with Italianate splendour... along with having 15 children and being a very cruel master... and I was so glad to walk to the top of the Kapucinerberg, even though I was huffing and puffing, and my knees hurt... I did it!
Then going on the train to Feldkirch and then on the Bernina Express to Lugano, staying at that lovely Hotel San Carlo, and walking on the quay. It was hard to manage with both the backpack and suitcase, but I got through it, and got safely back to Marilyn and Jim's. It was great to be there for Jim and Enrique's birthdays, and that allowed me to have more time with Martha, speaking Spanish (what a relief, after trying so hard to recover the German!--- actually it was coming back, and I could understand most of what I heard, but still was having a hard time making sentences, having to go really slowly)--- and then getting to go with her to the beautiful chapel at Romain-motier through another day in beautiful Swiss countryside...
Every day was very full, very wonderful, interesting and educational and marvelous. I was with amazing and wonderful people, the Americans who are alumni with me, as well as the Austrians and Germans. I am indebted to Jobeth for putting up with me as a roommate through the majority of the time; it is not easy to travel, to be trying to fit so much into each day, and to have the stamina and flexibility to do it well. I know that I am impatient, and in general I have more energy than most people, which is a gift, but makes others frustrated, if they are trying to keep up with me, and get exhausted. I was really grateful to Marilyn for helping guide me through choices in Switzerland, and through the maze of train schedules, and even helping me get discount tickets and sending them to me in Austria.
There are small things which point to changes which are actually profound-- one was eating a soup in a cafe in Salzburg which was made of pumpkin, curry and chili. I cannot imagine them serving such a thing 45 years ago. And there are definite changes in protocol; relaxation of general cultural rules, such as everyone wearing jeans in public as a routine clothing item. Still, I saw an usher at the Musikverein turn away a man in a work-out sweater, because people still dress for the symphony and the opera. But they allowed women to wear nice slacks in to the opera, as long as the tops and coats were dressy. And sensible shoes were the general rule, which is good, as we all have gotten older, and walking and standing in high heels is so hard! I found out in Lugano that what we called a "grossen braunen" in coffeeshops inVienna is a double espresso. All the cafes and pastry shops still sell the most lovely pastries, but there are also shops now lining the halls at the train station, making it very convenient to do shopping on the way home from anywhere. And they still call afternoon tea or coffee "Jause". We stayed with a wonderful hausfrau at the Vienna International Center (out past the Donau canal) which is where the UN offices are. Jobeth went on a tour of the UN offices, which was a very positive experience. Vienna has gotten used to people from everywhere else, and it is amazing to be on the train with so many different kinds of people-- like New York. The old beer halls are next to very chic stores; expensive clothing boutiques line the Graben and the inner city. The strassenbahns still roll around the Ringstrasse, and there are still bargains in some shops. Museums are closed on Monday, but full on Tuesday. However, I think it is the first time I saw the black and white marble mosaic floor at the Kunsthistorisches museum, and realized how artistic the floor is! ( I think maybe there were so many people there, when I was there before, that I never saw the floor).
It will be reverberating in me for a long time-- this experience. It is hard to do it justice. It will also be interesting to see what others saw and remember as important, and the changes we all sensed. I am so grateful for the chance to do this trip!
In thinking about the trip, it was like a big spiral review through my life--- first, the Vienna reunion, 45 years after being there in our Junior year, and the marvel of being there with many of the same people, sharing that sense of reunion, of time lived since, and the reverberations of what Vienna meant in our lives. I was so glad to get enough time to see the Breughels at the Kunsthistorisches museum, and to see Klimt's Beethoven frieze at the Jugendstill museum (the "golden cabbage" as the Viennese call it). I made it to the Belvedere, to see "The Kiss", and that blue and white ceramic and tile room at Schonbrunn. I saw the Lippizaners with Tunie, and the Kaisers apartments and Sisi's rooms in the Hofburg. I spent a lot of time thinking about Sisi and what her life was like, and when they say she was a modern woman, and she was selfish, and she loved to travel. I would love to have seen her place at Corfu! I think the excruciating pain of her son's suicide just completely did her in. I thought a lot about how royal people raised their children to be "courtly" and that she kept trying to escape and be her own person. And maybe she was manic-depressive. Her moods seemed very intense.
I got to see the Picasso and Seurat show at the Albertina, and watched a Chef get 4 huge salmons ready for his sushi that evening, in the cafe there. Being at the remodeled Albertina was a huge invitation to think of the changes in Vienna. When I was there before, there were long library tables and small lamps, and librarians with white gloves who would bring you a book and open it for you, and check to make sure your hands were clean before you touched the book, and not let you do anything which might injure the book, even placing it under a glass shelf so you could read without getting fingerprints on it. The biggest change in the city is having the Ubahn, which makes it so quick and easy to get around, and the cell phones-- ubiquitous, and aiding us in getting people to know where to meet, and to maximize one's time.
I had forgotten the Hebrew name of God in the rays of light above the main altar at the Karls'kirche--- did I ever know that was there? It was fabulous light, and very interesting to consider the Spanish influence on Vienna from that branch of the family...
So much of Vienna was stuff I never saw, because I was studying, and did not take time to just walk around and see the city. Being in the older area around the Griechenbeisl was not something I recognized--- and I loved that we got to see the Synagogue, with the robin's egg blue dome, thanks to the intervention of a sweet elderly man named Tommy, who was so taken with the idea that we had studied there so many years ago. The monument to the 65,000 Jews from Vienna killed in Hitler's regime was beautiful and very poignant--- like a funnel of everlasting tears, spilling into a stone basin.
I had not put together before that the Schwartzenberg platz fountain is the same since Roman times, when the Romans founded the water supply to the city. The water pressure is natural, not pumped!
And the music! It was so wonderful to get to be in the Musikverein, to see Zubin Mehta conduct the Vienna philharmonic orchestra-- Debussy's La Mer, and a Schubert piece with a lot of french horns... just wonderful! And of course the high point was being at the Staatsoper for "Salome"-- Richard Strauss' work, fabulous music, shocking, amazingly well-acted and sung; her lust for John the Baptist, and his purity of soul, and the disaster of the lust of the king; I have never heard that opera before, and the libretto by Oscar Wilde was so powerful... wow! And running like a ribbon through it, the friendships and shared experience with the other alumni, and our love of Vienna.
The boat trip down the Danube allowed us some good opportunities to visit with each other, to share some memories, and the memorable day of the monastery at the rough part of the river, which turned out to be a link in the walks toward the Camino de Santiago, also; and coming into Budapest in the early morning, watching the light hit the marble on the parliament, seeing the Fischer bastion light up... and putting together more than I had before, the intertwining histories of Sisi and Hungary, and the Hapsburg empire...
I was so glad to meet Peter in Bad Ischl, and found the Sophiens Doppelblick a real addition to the knowledge I had previously about the imperial family. And I loved seeing the Kaiservilla, and Sisi's rooms. It was also lovely to be at Mass in Bad Ischl and to see the people in dirndls and trachten, with a sense of recovered dignity and a feel of real resolution since the war.
Going to Salzburg, seeing Gundi and her mom, who is now 99, felt timeless. And Hermann's place at the Irrsee, and meeting Martin and Ana, and thinking they are on the verge of new lives, new careers, as we fade out... it was great to swim in the lake, & to watch the trees start to turn.
Then Jan and Mandy and Maren and Linda came to Fuschl am See; and I got to have this time of being a "host-mom grandma" to these sweet girls, and share the Marionetten theatre in Salzburg with them-- a lovely rendition of "The Magic Flute". We went to St. Wolfgang, and Linda got a little blue dirndl, and looked so sweet in it. Hermann had taken me up the Schafberg in the train on a perfect sunny day, and you can see 5 lakes from the top--- it was a breathtakingly beautiful day...
Fuschl was lovely, and we even got to swim in the little spa across the street, in the last day it was open for the season...
Staying in the airb&b place with grad students studying the refugee situation was really interesting; and this was the first time I went through the archbishop's residence in Salzburg, and thought about the power and decadence-- especially since we had seen the little movie at the salt mine in Hallstadt of Wolf Dietrich von Reichenau, and his use of the salt mine money to aggrandize the dom, the residenz and the fountain with Italianate splendour... along with having 15 children and being a very cruel master... and I was so glad to walk to the top of the Kapucinerberg, even though I was huffing and puffing, and my knees hurt... I did it!
Then going on the train to Feldkirch and then on the Bernina Express to Lugano, staying at that lovely Hotel San Carlo, and walking on the quay. It was hard to manage with both the backpack and suitcase, but I got through it, and got safely back to Marilyn and Jim's. It was great to be there for Jim and Enrique's birthdays, and that allowed me to have more time with Martha, speaking Spanish (what a relief, after trying so hard to recover the German!--- actually it was coming back, and I could understand most of what I heard, but still was having a hard time making sentences, having to go really slowly)--- and then getting to go with her to the beautiful chapel at Romain-motier through another day in beautiful Swiss countryside...
Every day was very full, very wonderful, interesting and educational and marvelous. I was with amazing and wonderful people, the Americans who are alumni with me, as well as the Austrians and Germans. I am indebted to Jobeth for putting up with me as a roommate through the majority of the time; it is not easy to travel, to be trying to fit so much into each day, and to have the stamina and flexibility to do it well. I know that I am impatient, and in general I have more energy than most people, which is a gift, but makes others frustrated, if they are trying to keep up with me, and get exhausted. I was really grateful to Marilyn for helping guide me through choices in Switzerland, and through the maze of train schedules, and even helping me get discount tickets and sending them to me in Austria.
There are small things which point to changes which are actually profound-- one was eating a soup in a cafe in Salzburg which was made of pumpkin, curry and chili. I cannot imagine them serving such a thing 45 years ago. And there are definite changes in protocol; relaxation of general cultural rules, such as everyone wearing jeans in public as a routine clothing item. Still, I saw an usher at the Musikverein turn away a man in a work-out sweater, because people still dress for the symphony and the opera. But they allowed women to wear nice slacks in to the opera, as long as the tops and coats were dressy. And sensible shoes were the general rule, which is good, as we all have gotten older, and walking and standing in high heels is so hard! I found out in Lugano that what we called a "grossen braunen" in coffeeshops inVienna is a double espresso. All the cafes and pastry shops still sell the most lovely pastries, but there are also shops now lining the halls at the train station, making it very convenient to do shopping on the way home from anywhere. And they still call afternoon tea or coffee "Jause". We stayed with a wonderful hausfrau at the Vienna International Center (out past the Donau canal) which is where the UN offices are. Jobeth went on a tour of the UN offices, which was a very positive experience. Vienna has gotten used to people from everywhere else, and it is amazing to be on the train with so many different kinds of people-- like New York. The old beer halls are next to very chic stores; expensive clothing boutiques line the Graben and the inner city. The strassenbahns still roll around the Ringstrasse, and there are still bargains in some shops. Museums are closed on Monday, but full on Tuesday. However, I think it is the first time I saw the black and white marble mosaic floor at the Kunsthistorisches museum, and realized how artistic the floor is! ( I think maybe there were so many people there, when I was there before, that I never saw the floor).
It will be reverberating in me for a long time-- this experience. It is hard to do it justice. It will also be interesting to see what others saw and remember as important, and the changes we all sensed. I am so grateful for the chance to do this trip!
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