What is a rant?

It is interesting to see the language used by those who do not want to admit there is a planetary climate crises and want to deny the dangers behind what is happening globally. When those who are knowledgeable about these topics, especially women like Greta or Francesca Albanese talk others will accuse them of “ranting” . They will say the topic is “complicated” (and I talked about this in a previous blog post) and if it is a woman accuse her of “ranting”. Merriam Webster says that the definition of rant to complain loudly, angrily or unreasonably. Well neither Greta or Francesca are unreasonable. They are simply calling out the world on the injustices that are happening. They both make a great effort to not sound “angry”. Maybe they shout. But they are shouting and loud because NOBODY is listening. If your house is on fire you do not whisper “fire”.

Interestingly the word “rant” is rarely applied to men. Men will be called “terrorists” or “dangerous”, People will say they are promoting a dangerous ideology. But it is rare to hear them being accused of ranting.

An old neighbor of mine who continues to support and believe that Israel has not committed Genocid posted a rather offensive video about Abdul el Sayed, the new elected senator from Michigan. The video attempted to portray ALL Muslims as wanting Jews killed. The video basically accused this middle aged American doctor whose entire campaign is about helping ALL AMERICANS of being a terrorist. Which is a bit insane given that all Israelis believe Palestinians should be killed and are enabling the killing at this moment. Every accusation is an admission of guilt. I really LOVE what Ben Moser said about asking people “What do you want for the future???” Not what grudge do you have about the past or what do you think the world owes you. But seriously what do you want for the future–for your children and your grandchildren and what would you give up to ensure their safety and happiness going forward. I personally would give up a lot.

The Blue Wave!!!

When I woke up on Wednesday I was afraid to look at my phone. Memories of past elections left me and probably many others with trauma. But it seems the people, especially the young people have spoken and boy what a relief. There are so many issues it is hard to know what motivated people to vote blue: gas Prices, grocery Prices, health care, day-care, ICE and the images of those they have murdered, Gaza, the war in Iran, Climate, Artificial Intelligence and data centers, the crazy CDC and the failure of the FDA to protect us from tainted food. And I suppose it doesn’t matter what brought people to vote because it is all connected and especially young people know that time is running out and we need to wrench power away from the charlatan leaders in power who are only interested in their own survival and interests. But now the hard work begins. Schummer and Jeffries and their AIPAC money need to go!!! It is going to be an interesting 3 months before the newly elected are sworn in. I am both hopeful and scared.

Now back to art…I discovered a Korean paper technique called Joomchi where you felt layers of mulberry paper together using just water. I did it with my two granddaughters on Tuesday (as they did not have school) and we had a lot fun. Since then I have been experimenting with it on my own trying to “make art”. I like what I have created but Roy thinks it is a bit too crafty looking…..I am still exploring. Maybe when we go to NH in 2 weeks I will bring some paper up to do it with my other granddaughter and my daughter-in-law, who has a great artistic eye.

Speaking of artistic eyes, my son-in-law is back in his painting class every Monday. He is incredibly skilled with his brushwork but I am struggling with his current painting because I do not like the composition. He has heard me on this and has also politely disagreed and also feels he is still working on it and the compositional problems will improve. I love that we can share our work with each other and get honest feedback. I know that he will be honest with me if I show him something that is not working for him and he is comfortable with me giving him feedback on his work. I want to be wrong about the composition but I am pretty convinced that the underlying composition is going to be a problem for him no matter how much he works on this painting. I might ask him if I can share the painting in process with my art group to hear what others have to say.

What will they tell their children

I was watching a video of a Guardian reporter interviewing Israeli’s about the election. What stood out was the racist and scary comments by the young people about the Palestinians. Some were clearly also American. One girl in particular reminded me a bit of my niece, who I know has strong zionist feelings and who disagrees with me about my strong opposition to the war in Gaza and in my belief that zionism is a racist ideology.

My niece is a mother to a little boy. My Nephew, her brother, is also a father to a little boy. And I can not help thinking what they will tell these men when they are older, when the planet is burning and history has come to terms and accepted the Genocide in Gaza and the colonization of the Palestinian people, much as we now accept what the Europeans did to the Native Americans as being wrong and immoral. Will these young men ever encounter a Palestinian peer with missing limbs who speaks of the trauma of being born into a war? Will my nephew’s and niece’s boys learn in history class about the nefarious reasons for the war that had little to do with Jewish safety and more to do with money, power and oil. Or will the lie behind it all continue into the next generation. Will they share with their children how they stood by Israel or like so many of the Germans or South Africans act like they were unaware or unable to stop it.

And what about the soldiers who have participated in this. What will they tell their children? Will they be haunted by the deaths they have caused or will they continue to believe in their superiority and God-given right to commit those deaths and pass on this belief to their children. And will it matter as the world burns or will being able to kill other humans you deem as less than you be a survival tactic.

Another Anniversary-3 years on

This time of year is the third anniversary of my realization that my mother as I knew her was gone. She was admitted to a geriatric psych unit in the hospital. It is also the anniversary of October 7th. At the time I was so grateful my mother was too ill to be aware of current events as I know that day would have upset her. But moving forward there is not a doubt in my mind that my mother, despite her loyalty and commitment to Judaism would stand on the side of humanity and join in spirit with those organizations like “If Not Now”. I often wonder how she would deal with her husband and son and her son’s family who are adamant that Israel has done no wrong. For she was at her core a believer in people and despite being laughably judgmental about people who were heavy or those who did not take care of their appearances she was someone who loved others regardless of their tribe or religion or sexuality. When a second cousin of mine transitioned from male to female my mother went out of her way to invite her to have dinner with my father and my family with school age kids. And she made sure my cousin felt like it was a normal dinner with extended family. My mom would often talk about how proud she was of her Rabbi for being one of the few Rabbis to visit Aids Patients in the 80s. She had a marvelous way of connecting with people across nationalities and cultures. It sometimes drove me bonkers as I sometimes felt she paid more attention to others than she did me. I like to believe that my mother would choose humanity over tribalism and would agree with me that the racist apartheid Israeli government has committed crimes against humanity that will haunt the Jewish people for decades going forward.

I was talking with my father the other day. I actually brought up an interesting assignment our son had given his class about a statistics debate between a Jewish Professor at UPenn and an Israeli Professor of Mathematics. The debate was about the math the Upenn professor used to make a claim that data about deaths in Gaza showed a bias and this indicated the data was fabricated and the deaths were fake. The Israeli Professor wrote a rebuttal pointing out the flaws in the math used by the UPenn professor. Today the overall consensus among mathematicians and statisticians is that the math the UPenn Professor used to claim the deaths had to be fake did not hold up. Our son gave the students the articles by the two professors and asked his students to do their own analysis given what they have learned so far in his statistical modeling class. My father who admittedly is 92 and who I do not expect to have a lot of cognitive flexibility became adamant about the deaths being faked. I tried to explain to him that the assignment was not about the deaths being faked but about whether the math and statistics to prove they were fake held up. I can’t quite explain it but when I got off the phone with my father I was shaking. Shaking because to not see the horror and genocide in Gaza these days means one has to continue to believe that Israel is righteous. And after mass graves have been found and first responders and aide workers and journalists have been killed and many many children have lost limbs and been orphaned it is almost ridiculous to insist the deaths are fake. And in my opinion those who still believe this are no different than Sandra Huller’s chilling character in “Zone of Interest”

I was thinking today about how crazy it was that the summer of 2023 I read Isabella Hamas’s wonderful book “Enter Ghost” and had an awakening of sorts about the struggles in the Middle East. And then shortly after that I read Naomi Klein’s wonderful book Doppleganger where she described her own awakening about the problem with Israel and Zionism. As somebody who also grew up in an observant Jewish home her journey resonated with me. Crazy to think my husband was reading her chapter on Israel the morning of October 7th when he got phone notifications about the attack.

On the positive side next week is also Grandson Luke’s birthday. Since my wrist has healed I have been immersed in craft over art. It is like my hands were desperate to do all the things they couldn’t do last winter…such as knit and embroider and fold origami and are now making up for lost time. In my enthusiasm I decided I was going to sew and then felt a Stellated Dodecahedron for Luke. It took forever….so many edges. But when it was done I was so excited to felt it and have this wool version of my origami modulars. Well in eagerness to felt it I threw it in the washing machine and when it came out rather than being a stellated sculpture it was a round BLOB. I have to say this totally ruined my weekend. I was sooooo grumpy as a result of this. I am sure Luke, age 3, will still love it. He will probably love that I got “Creepy Carrot” and “Creepy Underpants” out of the library for him more…LOL.

Is it really "complicated"

It is hard to capture the disgust and sadness I have felt about the genocide in Gaza. The total disregard for life and nature and the planet makes me sick. And now there is new information coming out about how Hamas was willing to return all civilian hostages the next day. Oh the lies and justification for this nightmare and the way Judaism has been used to justify all of it. There has been racism and horror inflicted on the Palestinian people for decades. We were told lies about it being a necessary evil to keep the Jewish people safe. Often when peace in the Middle East was discussed at least one person would say, “It’s Complicated.” The older I get the more I believe that “complicated” is a word people use when they really don’t want to do something that might inconvenience them. It is the word people use about cars and urban development and climate change. It is the word that is used when talking about childcare or maternal health or poverty. It is the word that is used when ever somebody wants to shut down the discussion and make it seem like solutions are not possible.

I am tired of people saying it is complicated.

25 years!!!

I blinked and 25 years has passed from a day that marked the beginning of an unraveling of the stable world we knew. I know there were years that dragged on and felt like eternity as we struggled to pull our kids through. But here we are and it feels like almost no time has passed. The loss of a sense of time is partly due to this disconnected post-modern world we have created. So even though we have 5 amazing new humans in our immediate family I still can’t quite wrap my mind around how blurry time feels these days. The oldest is the same age our youngest was when 9-11 happened. I knitted her a hat for her birthday and have promised to take her to Gather Here to pick out a pattern and fabric for her to sew.

I miss my mom. That day I remember driving to get her Apples from Hutchins (an Organic Farm in Concord). She had some medical procedure that morning, which was a good thing because she was “out of it” when the news broke and did not get frantic about her brother who was a pilot for United and scheduled to fly to the West Coast right after the planes were hijacked.

The following day to avoid the news cycle I went to Lindentree Farm where others had also gathered and we sat quietly cleaning garlic for storage. I thought about that yesterday as I weeded a row of collards before doing CSA distribution at Clark Farm and listened to Altus Band (our youngest son’s band)’s album Mythos. One thing I love about being on farms is how connected I feel to the seasons and time.

The state of the planet and the world weigh heavy on me. When I think back on that day the dread and fear I had then is nothing compared to the fear I have now about AI, Climate, Genocide and Fascism. And as always when I am stressed I fold modular origami structures and knit and read fiction. Being at the farm on Wednesday is nice because it has me doing physical work rather than being hunched over folding. My heart aches for what has happened in the past 25 years. There were so many missed opportunities to turn the world into a better place.

On Wednesday a little boy rested his hand on me. He was so happy because I showed him the pouches of pollen on the legs of the foraging bees in the flowers by the barn. My husband, son, daughter-in-law and their two kids watched with amazement as two butterflies broke out of their cocoons this weekend. My eldest granddaughter lost her 6th baby tooth and drew a wonderful map of her mouth with adult and baby teeth coded. The world is still full of wonder despite all the crap. And the grandkids hugs are magical cures for my depression. I felt a warm embrace this birthday and I know time is moving forward despite how blurry it all feels.

CLIMATE...AGAIN and AGAIN

How are people not scared and irate and determined to fight against the systems that are preventing us from dealing with CLIMATE after this week? Orange skies from forest fires in Canada that are wiping out towns. Air quality that is at an unprecedented level and endangering our health. And then SOHO in NYC flooded!!!! A fire truck is driving down the streets of Manhattan with water up to it’s chassis. WTF.!!! ICE kills a father in front of wife and young child. Mass packaged lettuce is making people sick. The pointless bombings and destruction and genocide continues despite politicians throwing around the word “Ceasefire” as though it means nothing. How has the world allowed an entire generation of young children in the middle east to be traumatized, maimed, orphaned and killed? What sort of dystopic future are we creating for our grandchildren? I want to believe that somehow everyone around the world will WAKE UP and a revolution will happen and change for the better will follow. But I just don’t know.

We cycled the Prouty

The Prouty is a charity ride/event that happens every summer in the Upper Valley to support Dartmouth Medical’s Cancer research. The ride just happens to go right by our son’s house. It is hard to believe our son has lived in the Upper Valley for 5 years!!! Every year we say we want to participate in this event but the timing has never been right. This year Roy was determined to do it. He signed us up in the spring and we made a point of riding distance on the few days we could find the time to do so. And despite all my various ailments it felt great to ride 30+ miles and not feel at all tired or sore afterwards. BUT the catch is riding our route in Cambridge is mostly flat and the Prouty has many hills and some of those hills were steep, long and challenging. And we were not riding road bikes so we were at a disadvantage.

The hill I was most worried about ended up not being so bad. It was the hills at the end of the ride that really got to me. And I failed to eat enough salt and got muscle cramps at the very very end climbing a hill to get to the parking lot where our car was. A kind older lady who was doing one of the Prouty walks helped me and once I downed a bottle of Pelligrino and a bag of potato chips I was better.

The ride was gorgeous and I am obsessed with what looked like a cut flower farm on River Road. My only regret was not stopping to take photos of it. I want to try to find it again. It was like a painting. All the colors of the rainbow dotted this hillside. The river views were also gorgeous.

We definitely appreciated the free King Arthur Cookies at the end and it was super nice to go get lunch and hang out in the Adirondack Chairs at Cedar Circle Farm afterwards.

The next day our daughter-in-law and son went on a breakfast date before she dropped him off at the Dartmouth Coach as he was flying to Austria for work for the week. So we hung out with the kids at the house. The plan had been to take them to Montshire but they just wanted to play on the swing their parents had installed the previous day from a tree right outside their house. The swing is a round rainbow rope net disc swing….It can function as a spinning swing, a hammock to just lie on,a pirate ship or just a climbing rough housing toy. It is great and the two kids love it. I found I could lay down on it and get Nikko engaged with her imagination about travel to magical lands. She and Maeve are both obsessed with the Odyssey lately. When I first laid down on the swing Luke (age 2) said to me “Granma you are too big to lie on the swing. If you break it we will be mad.” LOL

Too busy for Art

Art always seems to suffer in the summer. Once while weeding, a fellow artist-farmhand pointed out that I nurture my creativity differently in the summer…focusing on the fresh vegetables, nature, cycling and family. I poured myself into our July Fourth family gathering sewing a bunting for everyone to decorate and making a massive amount of Grain Store’s Chile Con Veg -every last bit was happily consumed. The girls had a blast decorating the bunting (of course Roen had to do more than one). The adults pitched in as well. Roen, Maeve and Nikko inspired by tales of Medusa while hiking are now obsessed with greek mythology. The three spent a lot of time on the couch being read to from a very 90s children’s book of greek myths which they loved. But they also spent time getting into mischief and running around. The two five year olds now happily play together for hours.

The Orford/Fairlee fourth of July Parade was quite the scene and everyone had fun. Roy and our middle son were especially psyched about the fly-over. The weekend ended at Montshire Science Museum and my only regret was that Roen did not have more time in the museum because she could have spent hours in the exhibit about how designers use biology for inspiration. But her parents had promised her time in the outdoor water feature before they got in the car to drive home.

Now we are heading back to the Upper Valley because tomorrow we are cycling the Prouty…35 miles. I am so nervous about the hills.

The Bunting I made

The Chile

The decorated bunting

the start of the parade…..which also involved a lot of candy being tossed to the kids. Honestly it was as good as Halloween for the kids. Kids in the know even bring bags.

No need to put on bug spray as we could see the fireworks from the living room…shortly after the girls all joined us

Puzzling over air pressure

Slowing Down

In a world and time when everything seems to be speeding up and one can get whiplash reading the news I thought I would write a post about slowing down.

Yesterday I was watching my daughter’s youngest child, B. She is 16 months. We went for a walk to the library and as I always do I let her get out of the stroller so she could walk. In the past she has just been interested in practicing walking. But yesterday she started to notice the world around her as small children often do. Every rock and seed and stick was of interest. And so it took us almost 30 minutes to walk a small stretch of bike path. And I noticed how calm I felt as I focused my attention on the things she was picking up and making sure nothing went into her mouth. There was a calmness in being still, not rushing to get anywhere and just being in the moment with the birds singing in the background.

I had the same feeling on Wednesday. CSA was slow which I suspect had to do with the end of the school year. In the later afternoon I went to return scissors to the greenhouse and noticed a bunch of seedling trays that needed thinning. Earlier I thought I had taken care of all the thinning but I must have missed these. So I paused and in the late afternoon sun I thinned the baby plants. Normally when I am thinning I listen to pod-casts but because this time I worked in silence admiring the lengthening shadows and the sounds of the birds and view over the fields. I gave myself time to just be present and what a joy it was. I noticed the effect as I drove home.

My PT and OT are always reminding me to slow down when I do my exercises so I don’t just let momentum do the work but I really focus on the muscle we are trying to address. And I suppose the same can be said for the brain. We need to take time to slow down and just be present. Over the years I have done yoga and meditation classes. They are fine but they really don’t compare to just being present outdoors in nature.

On a separate note Roen got off the school bus yesterday with a giant bag of stuff she had created at school. I can only imagine what her cubby and desk looked like at school. Well I don’t need to imagine as I was also one whose desk and cubby was a disaster of paper by the end of the year. After she dumped her stuff and rushed off to play with her friend, a boy her age who lives across the street, I peeked into her backpack which was also stuffed to the brim with papers. In it I found the most marvelous bit of writing about an imagined “Arctic Fox” that was a marsupial and had two pouches (one for a baby and one for things it collected). It was venomous but does not make it’s own venom but instead tricks venomous snakes into it’s pouch and uses the snakes venom. And then there were lines about camouflage and protecting itself and it’s den from predators. It was classic Roen…over the top and super imaginative. And like myself Roen is going to have to learn to slow down at times.

Anniversary of Royal Academy Trip to London

Hard to believe it has been a year. What a magical time it was. The trip, varnishing day, the globe, returning home and having our son and family arrive, going to my niece’s wedding and having the whole family together, waking up to learn that both my pieces sold, breakfast with our son and kids and then a magical day at Storm King. All that followed by a family gathering in NH and a visit by our daughter in law’s niece so we could deliver her to Tufts pre-college program.

This year I was not even shortlisted for the Summer Exhibition, but looking at the work that did get accepted I can see why my work was not a match. Instead we are off to NYC where we will attend our son’s performance with the Iranian band he plays with. His girlfriend’s parents and his girlfriend are joining us for dinner before. We will see some theater and see art. I am particularly excited to see the Klee Exhibit at the Jewish Museum. After NYC w will go to CT to spend a day helping my in-laws go through their house and stuff and come up with a plan. My FIL is 91 and has decided he does not want to move. But my in-laws are collectors and there is a lot of stuff that has to be sorted through. This is especially important as my SIL is my age and will have to downsize when my FIL passes away. She will probably move up to Massachusetts to be near my daughter and us. But when she moves she will not have nearly the space she has now for all her video tapes and books and other collectables. It is not going to be easy to sort through and process what has emotional value. I hope being near the little ones (her grand nieces) will be wonderful for her.

Speaking of grand nieces, Mae has decided she wants to be a DJ (of course). Roen is collecting health data (the apple does not fall far from the tree) and Blythe has become very mischievous and speaks paragraphs of nonsense babble that sounds like real language. Nikko facetimed with Roy and told him there is a virus brought my a meteor that is infecting all the mermaids and she has to find a solution. And Luke is just talking and talking away. They are all pretty magical.

The trad-wife conversation

Against my better judgement I read the book “Yesteryear” about a social media obsessed trad-wife. I am not going to disect or write a long critique of the book, which I felt was not very good. BUT…it has me thinking about the chatter around “trad-wives” and stay at home moms and the man-o-sphere.

I wonder if this conversation is happening in countries with socialist policies: generous parental leave, universal health care, and state run high quality preschool/day care. When those things are in place families can be flexible and women can navigate early motherhood more easily because they do not have to choose between heart and mind.

When I was a senior in college in 1984 I went to a tea with Matina Horner, the then president of Radcliffe. It was a group of around 15-20 undergraduates. She talked about her career and family and when I asked her how she managed to balance motherhood and her career, she made a comment about only needing 5 hours of sleep a night and then told a story about coming home and waking her young daughter up and sharing hot chocolate so they could have “quality” time together. Now I spent a lot of time babysitting young children and reading about child development and something about this did not sit right with me. My first thought was “Is it fair to the daughter to wake her up just so you can spend time with her? Is that even healthy”. My second thought was “I CAN’T survive on 5 hours of sleep every night. It made me question the mantra from a TV commercial that embodied the 60’s and 70’s Gloria Steinem feminism.

Cause I'm a woman, Enjoli!
I can bring home the bacon,
Enjoli!
Fry it up in a pan,
And never let you forget you're a man!
I can work till 5 o'clock,
Come home and read you tickety-tock,
Tonight I'm gonna cook for the kids,
And if it's lovin' you want,
I can kiss you and give you the shiverin' fits.
Enjoli... the 8-hour perfume

Looking at those lyrics now I can’t believe how misogynistic they are!!!

When my daughter was born I thought I was well configured to have a child and a career. I was working at Cornell and they had a day-care that was a national model for high quality infant and preschool child care. My office and apartment were walking distance from the daycare, so I could visit to breastfeed. But our daughter refused a bottle and screamed so much at day-care they actually expelled her. I struggled to concentrate the way I needed to for my job due to new mom sleep deprivation. I was tired all the time. When my husband and I interviewed at Microsoft in the summer of 1989 I asked the HR women about day-care and flex-time knowing what I would need if I was going to succeed at work while being a mom. At lunch I asked the man I was with how he balanced having kids with work and what he did when they got sick and he said, “Oh my wife is a stay-at-home-mom” I sighed as I was really tired from traveling across country with a 15 month old that had woken up at 3am. “That’s nice” I responded and after lunch I could tell that my comment had been conveyed to HR and they clearly had demoted me in the interview process. Thankfully Roy got a job and we moved to the Seattle area.

I didn’t mind being a stay-at-home mom. In fact I really liked it. I have fond memories of walks in the woods, attending mommy and me dance classes, going to the library, hanging out at the playground and pretending to be Peter Pan, doing crafts and cooking together. I tried to imagine having a home business. But I never had the organizational ability or brain space to pull it off. Instead I poured my intellect into becoming a La Leche League Leader and building a passion for maternal child health issues. I did a work share at a women run farm CSA and developed a passion for local agriculture. I loved cooking and baking and spent a lot of time and energy making home cooked meals. I rarely felt bored Even if I was not accumulating my own money I felt I was contributing to the world. I was lucky my husband was never controlling and supported me while he worked. Today one might call me a trad-wife. But was I? I was (and my husband will confirm this) an absolutely AWFUL housekeeper. The house was constantly in disarray and I struggled to stay on top of laundry and clutter and paperwork. Sometimes I even joked that my parenting philosophy was benign neglect rather than helicopter mom.

When we moved back East I had a wonderful helper who did laundry for us and helped me with organization. I had dreams of returning to graduate school. My husband was not working at the time, we had resources and it would have been easy for me to tell him it was his turn to stay home and cook and clean. BUT at the time we had our Miicrosoft stock and to be honest with myself we were having way too much fun together going on long bike rides and sitting at cafes. And I was busy taking art classes that I LOVED. In class one day a fellow painter, who happened to be a doctor and have a PhD in public health, was talking with me. I was asking her if she thought I should apply to BU’s school of Public Health given my math background and my obsession with maternal health care. She walked over, stood behind me and looked intensely at my painting and said, “Jill I think you should just paint!”. I knew I was good. My teachers told me I was good and I also knew in my heart I always wanted to be an artist. On top of that we were also trying desperately to figure out how to help our middle child who was struggling and I was filling my days with research about how to help him. So I think a big factor in my reluctance to return to school for a degree or seek a traditional job was I was never bored. Whether I was making art, doing origami, taking a course on EDX, reading, cycling, cooking and baking I was happy to be my own boss. And honestly that is the total opposite of what a Trad-Wife is. I was not doing what I was doing for my husband or for social media. And I was fortunate my husband always believed in me as an artist and put up with me being a REALLY SERIOUSLY bad housekeeper.

I suppose my choices were risky for me as a women and for us as a couple. As they say sh—t happens. Maybe because I have always believed in my own creativity to come up with solutions I never felt like I needed to choose a path based on the “what ifs”. I still have 1/4 century left (based on my own mom’s passing) to somehow navigate and survive. Time will tell. But I am not sure my parent’s meticulous planning for their future necessarily helped them navigate the pain of aging and decline. Life is meant to be lived.

Mumblings

I feel like writing today. Not because I have anything profound to say or comment on but just because I want to be typing in hopes that my right hand will improve with practice. I have always been a fast typist but obviously the wrist break and nerve compression has impacted my typing.

Clark Farm continues to be a source of joy for me. I enjoy being out there, seeing the Hawks and plants grow. Helping tend the baby plants and then doing distribution and seeing how happy people are to pick up fresh healthy produce. The crew is wonderful as is the head farmer and CSA manager. For their open house I lead a craft where I had children draw on watercolor paper with crayons, then dampen the paper and then print over it with a red beet, creating a resist. It was very successful. So successful one of the preschool teachers did the activity the following week with her class. And of course Roen, whose family came to the Open House day, loved the activity.

Art Zoom Group has wrapped up for the year. I need to add some fresh air into it next fall. Hopefully I can coordinate another print room visit. Everyone wrote really sweet notes saying how thankful they are for the group so I will plan on forging ahead in the fall. And I need to figure out where I am going with my own art. I feel a bit stalled right now. Then again I am often stalled at this time of year.

My Niece and Nephew both had baby boys recently. There is a coldness around my interactions with my niece. Maybe that is related to the narrative from her mother about me. Or maybe it has to do with my outspoken anti-Israel views and comments I made to her about how someday she would regret the positions she was taking with regard to Gaza. I know her husband’s family is very pro-Israel. I sent a baby gift and she did thank me for it. In contrast her brother has been quite sweet. I felt bad telling my dad I could not travel with him to the Bris. But I had an important doctor appointment and Shira could not afford to loose me for a day. In the end it all worked out for the best because baby Blythe started day-care last week. Tuesday she had a runny nose. Thursday both her father and I had nasty colds.

On the subject of Israel while traveling to and from NH/VT to visit our son we listened to the new book by Molly Crabapple about “The Bund” and it is fascinating to learn that from the beginning the Jews who were Zionists in the late 19nth and early 20th century were the “MAGA” like politicians and capitalists of that era. And interestingly they were not particularly spiritually religious. All the stories told to my generation about Zionism and its origins were outright lies. Time and time again revolutionaries who try to overturn power and make the world a fairer more equitable place for all are squashed and replaced. And then stories are told to make those revolutionaries seem like they are bad and dangerous.

Healing`

Gradually very very gradually the hand is healing. I am starting to regain function in the thumb and pointer…although they are still a bit tingly. Some days it hurts more than others. But the pain is not front and center in my brain. I still cringe a bit when somebody wants to shake my hand. But at least I don’t pull back and awkwardly offer my left hand instead. I restarted our art group but it has been slow. On the positive side my art peeps suggested I draw how my “hand feels” rather than just drawing my hand and some magic happened.

Here we are in mid-April. It almost feels like March didn’t even happen. Last weekend my youngest son who is the bass player had his Scullers debut with Javon Jackson for the release of the album “Javon Jackson Plays Dylan”. Ryan Sands, the drummer for Altus and a good friend of Isaac’s since Freshman year at NEC was the drummer. I just love the chemistry between the two of them. Being good friends they are just able to read each other and it comes through in their music. I used to think of Ryan as shy and reserved and restrained. Especially compared to Isaac’s other NEC friend Dave who is the sort of person who can instantly connect with anyone. But I have to say Ryan has suddenly blossomed as an artist and for the first time I am really getting a feel for his creative energy and who he is as a person. It almost seems like he has morphed from the little boy I first met when he was a freshman into the man he is today. Two weeks before, Roy and I went to hear him play at Club Passim with a folk group from CT called, “Goodnight Moonshine Quartet” and although the folk songs were good Ryan’s drumming really added some special sauce to the music.

All week this mom has been bursting with pride over Isaac. My only sadness is that my mother would have been OVER THE MOON to hear him play with Javon at Scullers.

Other news I am working at a new Farm this summer. And what a joy it is. Yes I loved Drumlin and many of the people there but the dysfunction of the farm, the administration that seemed determined to create problems for the CSA and the struggles the farmer was having to produce a successful crop was painful. Especially since I spent years admiring the gorgeous soil and well tended fields that existed when Matt was the head farmer. The new farm is well run and organized. And they will have berries and flowers and peas. The community seems wonderful and there are animals including a really wonderful border collie. The drive to the farm is a bit longer but the farm is closer to where my daughter lives so maybe some days I will go visit her after I am done.

YIKES 2026

Shortly after I wrote the “Hello 2026” post we drove to meet up with our daughter and family at the towns ice skating rink. I was never a competition skater and never progressed to actually using my edges. But I was a solid ice skater that could do two legged twirls, skate forward and backward and do bunny hops. I was eager to skate with the grand girls. But I forgot that I had not been on Ice Skates in 20 years and 62 year old bones are (as EVERY ORTHO DOCTOR I WOULD SEE LATER THAT DAY POINTED OUT) not the same as 50 year old bones.

And so I stepped on the ice. Fell immediately and shattered my wrist. Roy got to play ambulance driver and drove me to MGH where I knew I could smoothly transition to see the hand surgeon** I saw years ago when I had my previous wrist break. And so we spent our New Year’s Day in the ED.

**The hand surgeon has been at MGH for a long time and has many fans among artists I know. He officially retired on Tuesday. I was one of his last patients.

And 6 weeks on, 2 surgeries later I am still not back due to my median nerve being angry. What a mess. No cast this time because I had to have plates as the wrist fracture was so bad. And thankfully it was my right wrist again. I am a lefty,

Meanwhile there is everything else going on in the world and my daughter’s nanny had a family crises and was out of commission and now we are expecting a blizzard. 2026 has ben a real $%#& show,

That being said last week we entertained our son’s band…what a blast to host this group of 5 talented SMART musicians. we have known 2 since they were Freshman and I just love them so much. It was fun to get to know the other two who we had never really met before.

Then my son and family came and we had the most magical weekend with all the grandkids celebrating Nikko’s birthday and baby Blythe’s birthday. I made magic wands for the girls…turns out the one bit of art I could do in my misery was use a glue gun,

Part of Roen’s birthday card to her baby sister Blythe who turned 1!!

Hello 2026

May this year bring changes that will make the world more fair, more humane, more sustainable and healthier.

I was thinking how I knew EXACTLY where I was sitting and what I was eating and who was in the room at the start of another New Year: The Jewish New Year of 1973 when the Yom Kippur war broke out. My grandfather was with us and we were all in the kitchen and I was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which is often what parents who are fasting feed kids, who do not fast, on Yom Kippur. I remember my parents and grandfather’s anxiety. I don’t really remember anyone taking the time to explain what was happening to me. It was just assumed I would pick it up from their conversations. I was 10 at the time. I think my brother, who would have been 13 was outside with friends because I don’t have a recollection of him being in the kitchen.

Around a decade later, I was sitting in that same spot in the kitchen having dinner when I found myself debating my father about the Palestinian youth who were throwing stones. I was trying to get him to see that maybe the young men were throwing stones because they were oppressed (although I suspect I did not use that word back then). I was in college and my brother had brought the women who would become his wife to meet us for the first time. We had only just met this woman but she felt emboldened to interject into the debate I was having with my father and said, “Jill does Judaism mean anything to you at all?” Hard to believe but she rendered my very chatty mother, my father and me speechless. Later we would wonder how a stranger could ask something so personal like that, especially in front of potential in-laws. My mother used to tell me that it was at that moment she knew her relationship with this woman, who my brother loved, was not going to be easy. And it wasn’t. And the same can be said of my relationship with her.

I was not a particularly political student. But something about Zionism and the Palestinians did not sit right with me. It is insane that it took me 40 years to learn about the Nabka or about the Massacres by Israeli Zionists in the mid-20th century. I was told a mythology about the creation of Israel that had nothing to do with the reality. Then again it meshes with the lies we were told about plastic, climate change, automobiles, mass produced food, pesticides and capitalism. The lies that end up serving a few while harming the masses. Some of my feeling despondent these days relates to feelings of betrayal by teachers, clergy, parents and those in authority who knew but did not feel compelled to speak out. It is the quiet acquiescence that ends up being dangerous.

And so as I enter the new year thinking about my art, feelings of abandonment as I see friends and family take positions I feel are abhorrent on issues I am passionate about, I am trying to find peace with the fact that I can not change people and grow my confidence in what I know is right. I must be like Greta and Mrs Rachel and not be afraid to speak out and stand up.

Thankful

Like many modern people, I battle the blues. Especially with all that is going on with the world. And sometimes it can take one thing to really send me spiraling to a dark place. Yesterday it was a sweater I had found at a thrift store that I absolutely loved. The color a blue with yellow trim just spoke to me and the cut was a bit boxy which works with my rather generous chest. But the sweater smelled of some awful laundry fruity chemical. I thought I could get it off but alas the smell like the pink in the “Cat in the Hat” story spread and made Roy grumpy and annoyed me. No matter how much vinegar or baking soda I used the smell would not go away and now the sweater hangs on our front railing outside. Maybe I can take it to the dry cleaner and they can get the smell out. It’s too bad as the sweater is all wool and not made in China! I am so tired of cheap wool that moths seem to love,

When I feel down or lost or lonely I remind myself of all that I have to be thankful for. Three lovely children and their lovely partners and 5 amazing incredible awesome unique grandkids. A husband who is also my best friend. Kind sweet in-laws. A wonderful supportive Uncle who has been there for me despite having a lot going on in his life. Old Friends and Art friends who inspire me, believe in me and keep me smiling. Drumlin Farm and all the wonderful friends and people from there who share my love of nature and farming and good food.

So Happy Thanksigiving. I am grateful despite being frustrated and down about a sweater that somebody covered in awful chemicals.

Jill

Ode to Roy and his titles.

Having people around you who believe in you and your art is so important. I am not sure how I would feel about creating if I did not have a spouse who believed in what I do. I also have peers and mentors and friends who are wonderful. And my kids are all supportive. I want to give a special shout out to my son-in-law who is an art school alum who has an excellent eye and knows how to give helpful critique. But at the end of the day nobody understands me or my art or the work I make better than my other half/husband/partner for 40+ years Roy. Since we both work at home it is not unusual for me to have him look at something I am working at to see if I am on to something. Sometimes he will say the work is not doing anything for him and walk away to go get his tea. And I have had to learn to not give up on a piece when he says that because often it is just that I am not clear about what it is I want to say or what I am creating. That was certainly the case with the piece below. He initially was not that excited by it but as it developed he began to see the ideas I was trying to get across. I trust his opinion and he is sometimes so much better than I am at using words to explain my art. Most titles are discussed with him and I give him credit for coming up with some of my favorite titles. Sadly the title of this piece is still eluding me and him. I want it to say so much but I also don’t want it to be cliche. It is about how we are all interconnected and the harm done to one is done to everyone. It is about the loss of so many precious Olive Groves and agricultural land…note the olive leaves on the Tallit and the Olive leaves on the Keffiyah. It is about the hooded figure that often represents death and the wrapped bodies. It is about too many things and I can’t seem to find a title for it.

TetraPak Printing with out a press

I think deep down I am an experimental print maker. I love printing and exploring with print. The Gelli Plates have been amazing for me, allowing me to layer colors and explore themes that appear in my drawings.

Now I learned about TetraPak from a fellow artist. And this week I made a point of trying to see if I could print at home at my dining room table without making a GIANT COLLOSAL MESS. Yesterday when I tried to print a simple Tetrapak etching all I got was a messy imprint of the creases in the carton. I was so frustrated and upset. I went through tons of paper towels and newsprint and paper trying to get a simple drawing to print. By the end of the day I had a large collection of what we artists joke is collage paper. Last night I read what I could find online about printing Tetrapak without a press…as with anything the web is full of tips and advice if one takes the time to sort through it…I suppose that is what CHATGPT is good for....

Today when I went to print, I laid down a towel under the TetraPak so it didn’t move. I put damp paper on top of the Tetrapak and used a piece of parchment on top of the paper to prevent the burnishing from tearing the paper. And LOW AND BEHOLD IT WORKED. Now none of the Tetrapak drawings I printed today are great works of art. I did not want to waste time on a complicated etching only to have it fail. Unlike copper plates there are only a limited number of prints one can make from any Tetrapak. But they are interesting and I am excited about the possibilities. And below you can see the charcoal drawing I have been working on that inspired the print.

2 years on....

So today is October 7th. 2 years ago we were awaiting the birth of Baby Luke. My mother had just been admitted to a geriatric psychiatric unit in Plymouth MA. I had a terrible cold and we woke up to the news of the Gaza attacks.

Since then Israel has been emboldened to commit genocide, ecocide, war crimes and apartheid against those living in the West Bank. My mother passed away after a year of dementia, Baby Luke was born and Baby Blythe was born. Is it any wonder I feel overwhelmed, tired and have this odd feeling that time is both moving too fast and not moving at all.

The fall is always a challenging time for me artistically. It is interesting to look back and realize that most of what I do in the fall is “explore”. Although I am working I need to have faith that the work I am doing will lead somewhere. Whether it just be drawing a crumbled Kefiyah on the table or time spent building a still life to draw or painting flowers. I have to give myself permission to be tired, to read, to embroider, to think and not expect a finished work worthy of framing. This is not always easy as I definitely think that many mid-career or early career artists at my level focus too much on trying to create that finished piece. The piece that will get accepted into a juried show or sell or be hung and look pretty.

And so I continue my quests to not only create work that will be “pretty” or “visually interesting” but also work that is impactful that says something that is telling the world what I am thinking about and how I am processing all that is happening.

I went into the studio on Monday to do some Geli Plate prints. I was thinking about the crumbled Kefiyah I have been meticulously trying to draw and these prints emerged. I think they speak to the fracturing of the world around the topic of Palestinian and Israel.