Spanish Class

Of course, we're operating on Zoom now, like all other "social" engagements. On Thursday mornings at 9:30 I set up my IPad at the kitchen counter and prepare to chime in. I understand about 85% of what is spoken which I consider to be quite good, given my hearing loss. This is an advanced Spanish conversation class. We are reading a novel (El Tiempo Entre Costuras) which is also a challenge for me, but I'm getting better at it. In addition, we listen to Podcasts (in Spanish of course), complete Grammar exercises, and talk about daily events. These days it is all about the virus and its mishandling from on high. However, next week we have a different assignment: bring some good news to class! Hmmm . . . What can that be? All of us seem to be doing a fair amount of fretting and worrying about our health, our families, our future. What can I share that is uplifting? There's the joke about the two men who walked into a bank wearing masks. "Don't worry," they said. "We're robbers." I could share some of the positive things I've seen on Facebook/YouTube. A man Zooming with his two dogs, for example. Or a gorgeous offering of Bach's B Minor Mass by the Washington Opera Consort. But I think I'll share something closer to home: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. An enterprising member of our local community has organized a sandwich making brigade that is donated to Martha's Table, a soup kitchen for homeless people. So far its members have made and donated over 4,000 sandwiches and the effort shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. Now that is a positive reaction to a worrisome situation!

My Son's Mother

Just a year ago, when Bruce and I were on a European cruise, I had a call from my older son. "Mom," he said, "I've found my birth mother." Wow, that hit home. I knew, of course, that she existed, or at least that she had existed long enough to give birth to my son. But now she was real. She has a name. She lives outside of Toronto. She never had more children. I tried to absorb all this information as the ship was bobbing about in the Atlantic, but all I wanted to do was to hug my son and be hugged by him. My first reaction was to go into total defense: he's MY child! The second was to move into mother bear mode: we really don't know this person and I don't want you to be hurt! When we returned from the cruise I learned more about her. That summer my son met her. Since then they have been emailing back and forth. For his birthday in December she sent him a package of small gifts. After all, it was the first time she had been able to celebrate that day knowing where he was and that he is OK. A panoply of emotions surround this event, more than I can write today, but I'll continue. Stay tuned!