Spring forward

Although I'm most definitely not a fan of the day in March when we lose an hour thanks to Daylight Savings Time, I have to say that I didn't mind the extra hour of light this evening to give Lizzy a longer walk. Today was wonderfully spring-like, with temperatures in the high 60s so that I was able to turn off the heat in the house and actually open the sliding glass door to the deck and leave the screen door in place for an hour or so to aerate the house a little.

I also got the chance to sit on the deck for a while, doing some light reading while watching the furry children enjoy themselves in the balmy weather. I've always loved this transition between winter (well, this has been the winter-that-wasn't) and spring because it feels like a resurrection, and I'm very much intro practicing resurrection (a term my dear friend Dr. S taught me a long, long time ago).

Earlier this week, the full moon made a spectacle of herself in the twilit sky, a luna de toros, as the old Spanish song goes about a young bull that falls in love with the moon.

There was also a lot of rain recently, before the days warmed up (this week is promised to be all in the high 60s and even 70s!) so that Lizzy got to wear her brand new doggy rain coat, though not happily. Indeed, she refused to move until I folded the hood back so that her ears were out and flopping, as she likes it, even in the pouring rain.

Chiquita, meanwhile, has taken to trolling the kitchen floor (where she looks like a miniature) for any food debris she might get the benefit of.

All in all, all is well here in our old new house in our new old neighborhood. There is no movement on the house near my small college on the hill but this coming weekend it'll be two months since we placed it for sale so it's not yet time to despair. As you can imagine, my husband and I are both very eager to be done with that financial responsibility and to get on with our lives, so to speak. But patience is a virtue that is much needed at this time so I'll try my best to exercise this most elusive of skills for me

Indeed, only nine days away from official spring, I can only but be immensely grateful for everything just as it is.

Sleeping dogs

We got back home on the 25th and things quickly returned to normal in our household, as this photo of me pretending to sleep while Chiquita and Lizzy made themselves comfortable for the same purpose, attests.

The idea of spending those weeks in Puerto Rico was one of the best I've had in a long, long time. I've found it hard to return to those levels of productivity now that I'm back home because there's always something else that can and should get done in competition with writing or thinking or reading. But I'm giving myself a few days to account for the re-entry and then I'll be full steam ahead drafting the last full chapter of the book, which needs to be created from scratch.

The good thing is that the invited talk I gave at OSU on Friday, which went wonderfully and was so well attended by students that I thought they had been "coerced" to be there (the professors said that was not the case), served for me to start drafting ideas for the final chapter on Delany's Blake, or the Huts of America. The faculty respondent's response to my paper and the students' questions all worked wonders to help me figure out clearly what the chapter needs to do. The plan is to follow that yellow-brick road to completion by the end of the month. Then it's on to the chapter on Alcott, which is about half done, and to complete an intro and a conclusion by May, when I travel again to Harvard to the Alcott exhibit at the Houghton. I'll then have a few people read the manuscript before I submit it to the press editor before the August deadline.

It's exciting to feel that the manuscript is coming together well and that I have been able to accomplish my goals during this year-long leave, while also having important down time from the crazy busy semesters at school. My purpose, when I return to the classroom in the fall, is to finally figure out how not to go crazy and I intend to carry that through. I want to prove to myself that I can do this so wish me luck!

Meanwhile, being back in Bexley has meant reconnecting with friends who live in Columbus and having the ability to get together with them regularly, something that didn't happen much when we lived near my small college on the hill. There I felt often isolated and sometimes even lonely, which is not usual for me since I very much appreciate the gift of solitude. But many of my friends at school have obligations that understandably make it hard to get together regularly or for a leisurely coffee date now and then. I'm enjoying this new ability to do that since I've come to realize how important those moments to connect are for me.

Now, if only winter would end early and spring begin in earnest, everything would be more than alright.

All good things...

On Saturday morning, we returned the little Fiat 500 that we rented Friday to attend the commemorative event for my father, returned the keys to the tiny studio at the beach that we called home for three weeks, and my mom drove us to the airport for the two flights back to our colder but much-missed (by me) home.

While I am not much of a traveler, and while I will never again spend so much time away from home (we've discovered that a week and a half is my maximum), I can still appreciate the unique sights that traveling offers, sights that would be missed if not for the experience of traveling.

The photo above, which is not very good, captures a glorious sunset as our plane approached Ohio on the descent with the canopy of cumulus clouds just right below us.

I am very happy that we spent those three weeks in Puerto Rico. Not only was the time ridiculously productive for my Whiting purposes (one book chapter written, another chapter for an edited collection revised and submitted to the editors, the talk I will give at OSU this Friday on the book project finished, conceptual and drafting work on the final chapter of the book started, and syllabuses for the fall drafted) but my husband and I really enjoyed our simplified lives, especially the long walks on the beach in the mornings. I also really appreciated the opportunity to reconnect with friends and family in ways we had never had a chance to do before.

We're also sold on the Vacation Rentals By Owner idea and don't foresee ever returning to a hotel if we have that option. Indeed, I've even looked into the possibility of renting a studio in Cambridge when I return in May for an exhibit on Louisa May Alcott. The short-term rental of a fully furnished and functional studio will be a fraction of the cost of any hotel near the library where I will do my work.

Fun was fun but fun is done and I'm so glad to be back home with my furry children, though that means I don't have as much uninterrupted time (since there's always puke or pee or poop or a combination of all to clean or be concerned about). Being home is sweet precisely because that's where the matters of the heart are both work and joy.

Celebrating JMGP

During our last full day in Puerto Rico, we drove our rented Fiat 500 to the University of Turabo for a commemorative event in remembrance of my dad's legacy as a scholar of postcolonial and cultural studies and as a professor.

The event was held at the García-Passalacqua-Acosta Reading Room at the university's library, which now holds almost 4,000 of the books my dad collected over his lifetime, most of which are underlined and commented on and have a summary of themes with page numbers written on the first page, all in his own hand.

I was one of the invited guests who said a few words about my dad's work and, while it seems like I'm singing opera in this photograph, I really enjoyed sharing my understanding of how my dad changed the scholarly landscape in Puerto Rico.

Most important, my mom was very pleased with how the event went, especially because all those present remembered something special about my dad as a teacher and life-long student himself.

There are now plans to hold a three-day seminar in the summer on postcolonial and cultural studies and they've invited me to come and give one of the sessions. This means the world to me, not only because I will be keeping my dad's important legacy alive, but also because it gives me the chance to give something back to students and teachers in my own country from which I am usually so far far away.

This was a lovely way to end the three weeks we've spent here, which have been amazingly productive.  I have been able to finish and/or begin on all the scholarly and work-related projects I had on my "to do" list and I've been able to reconnect with lots of friends and family (and even my 10th grade English teacher!), who I hadn't seen in a long long time.

¡Feliz cumpleaños, papito!

 On my dad's 75th birthday today, I was invited to a radio program to discuss his contribution to postcolonial and cultural studies, the fields I teach at my small college on the hill, and I had a blast.

I haven't been on a radio program since the days when, as a journalist here, I had to host the local Overseas Press Club's show on Sunday mornings, to which my dad was a regular visitor, especially when other guests canceled and I was left with empty air time. On those times, and I know there was at least one or two, I'd call him and he would gladly meet up with me and we'd have a great time discussing the recent news. Good memories, indeed.

After the radio program, we drove on our rented Fiat 500 (probably the car I'll replace my trusty Scion with in a year or two) to Old San Juan, where I lighted a candle in honor of my dad's birthday. I've been meaning to do that for a long time but never seemed to remember or find the right time to do so in previous trips here. But my husband and I made a point to do that today, and I was very glad we did so.

I placed the candle in front of the Virgen de la Providencia, which very appropriately for my dad's memory, has the beautiful Puerto Rican flag behind her.

I hope my dad, wherever he is, feels all the love we have for him and how he is sorely missed. ¡Feliz cumpleaños, papito!

Azulado

Today we're one week away from returning to Ohio and, though I am happy that the return is nearer than it has been, our time here has been mostly relaxed and just as I had hoped it would be. The photo above is our view on the mornings when we walk to the nearest Starbucks.

And this is the view from the window in front of which my husband suggested that I set up my laptop. The photo is dark but it gives an idea of the difference between working in a basement office (albeit a space I love back home) and what working here has been like.

Our walks down the beach have yielded a few treasures, including these lovely tiny pink shells.

And I finally got to cook a full meal in our mini-kitchen with my new mini-caldero (the aluminum pot in the front which we use to cook rice). It didn't come out perfectly but my husband was happy with his rice and black beans, Puerto Rican style.

We also like to go down to the beach, steps away from our building, and sit and read and my husband once thought about getting in the ocean but it was too rough and cold. Yes, cold. It's not cold like Ohio-cold, but it's been cold for Puerto Rico, as the meteorologists here keep pointing out.

Still, it's been perfect for us and we are both so glad we did this. So glad, indeed, that when we return in the fall for a conference of one of the major organizations in my discipline, we are planning on renting an apartment in an area near the conference hotel instead of getting a room there. Not only will I save almost $400 by not staying at the pricey hotel, but we've also both realized how much more we prefer this type of more independent (I guess I'd term it) living when we're visiting.

The Old City

On Thursday, we took the bus from Isla Verde (for all of 75 cents) to Old San Juan and walked a good amount around the historic and narrow cobblestoned streets, which always offer up fantastic snapshots.

We walked from the bottom of the city up the hill to where the ancient Iglesia San José is located. Bombarded during the invasion in 1898, the church has been under renovations for a long time and I was glad to see that they have restarted offering Mass on Saturdays. When I lived in Puerto Rico, a long time ago, I used to love to drive to the Old City and attend Mass here.

We also got fantastic views of the ancient cemetery, where my father's ashes now rest, and of El Morro, the old Spanish fort that is now federal property.

What never ceases to amaze and delight me when I'm here is that Puerto Rican celeste blue that nothing can imitate or approach.

My husband walked through the city and took some great pictures, including one of the Abraham Lincoln School, which includes a statue of that U.S. President, built in 1926. That's one of the ways U.S. colonialism has worked here, by teaching Puerto Rican children to admire American presidents rather than their own artists or poets or leaders.

We always stop at La Bombonera, the old café where they serve the best mallorcas on the island. My mom mentioned that it might close, as so many other places have over the past few years in a declining economy (the adage is that when the U.S. catches cold, Puerto Rico gets pneumonia and the U.S. has been dealing with pneumonia so imagine where Puerto Rico stands), so we figured we should make a point of eating there just in case.