Change In Plans

Greetings from the Catskills!

We have been in the U.S. for just over one action-packed week: Nashville, New York City, New Hampshire for my Mom’s birthday.  Now we are spending some time at our riverside shack in the Beaverkill Valley.  This place, and these people, are very important to us.  The only constant in Zola’s and Tallulah’s lives has been late June and early July in the Beaverkill.

My last post was about Zola.  I nearly dislocated my shoulder patting myself on the back so vigorously because I “knew my son so well” and “had such a close relationship.”  Smugness goeth before a surprise.

A few days before we left for the U.S., in the middle of his mid-year exams, Zola announced that he was getting baptised while we were in Nashville.  This came as a complete surprise.  He offered three pretty good reasons: (1) he has been taking Bible classes at school, and based on what he has learned, he wants to be a Christian; (2) all of his Tennessee relatives have been baptised, and he wants to feel like more a part of his family; (3) he isn’t sure if there is heaven and hell, but if there is a hell, and he can avoid it by being baptised, wouldn’t it be stupid not to take that precaution?  Reason #3 seems pretty compelling.

India, Zola and I had a few longish talks, and we offered our complete support.  I am still amazed that he initiated this whole process, contacted his uncle to perform the baptism, and went through with the whole thing in front of 2,000 Sunday parishioners.  Good for him, God bless him.  We applaud the independence of thought and action.

Zola also surprised us by doing better than expected on his mid-year exams, even in Afrikaans.  He is getting the hang of the South African school system.  It still seems slightly crazy to march them around like miniature university students, and expect them to teach themselves a lot of material, and write big exams starting at age 9.  Now that he’s 11, maybe it makes more sense.  Nevertheless, this is what we signed up for.  I am glad he is finding his stride.

Our trip to the U.S. has been good.  Because a full year has passed since we were in the Beaverkill (or in New York City or in New Hampshire), India and I keep marvelling at how quickly time has passed.  Not a huge amount seems to have changed in any of these places, but this may reflect investigative laziness on my part, rather than actual constancy/stasis.  We haven’t had enough time to catch up properly with anyone -friends, parents, kids, cousins- to get past the first-order facts of what is different in their lives.  Maybe during our time at the camp and with our Catskills friends. 

This is Zola’s 9th year in the day camp here: he started when he was 3.  It has been deeply reassuring to him to jump back in with the same kids and counsellors.  It is Tallulah’s 5th year.  Her baby friends have grown into young ladies.

Last night we had about 20 people over for an impromptu cookout by our pond.  I offered a simple blessing before the meal; actually, more of an appreciation than a blessing.  A cookout by a pond, with old friends in the summer twilight is not a grand or historic event.  It is not life-changing, but maybe it is life.  The appreciation was for how many things have to “go right” in order for this occasion to take place: our health, co-operation from the weather, having a beautiful place and the community of friends, a grocery store near enough and open, ability to travel from far and near.  All everyday miracles that I hope to not take for granted.  The recent invention of giant marshmallows, about the size of a baby’s head, is just a bonus.  

It is good to be home.

When I sat down to write this post about being in the U.S., I thought it would be about divorce, disease, and death. 

Three sets of friends are separating and/or divorcing: it is painful to contemplate and painful to watch.  Another friend is battling cancer.  He seems upbeat and engaged in his rich life and wonderful family, but it is nonetheless scary and uncertain. 

Most sadly, a young friend from the Catskills was killed in a skiing accident in New Zealand two weeks a go.  She had been a camp counselor for both of our kids, and was a lovely, strong, confident, inspiring young woman.  There is no way to understand or put any kind of positive spin on her death.  At Zola’s insistence, he and I went to the funeral in New York yesterday.  It was excruciatingly sad.

Amidst all of these bad things, India and I have been trying to focus on all that is good and positive in our lives.  We have been appreciating the simple, but miraculous, joy of watching Zola immerse himself in play dates and sleepovers with his camp buddies.  Tallulah and I spent the morning catching fish and frogs in the little pond on our property.  We have organized dinners, and long runs, and bicycle rides, and rugby games.  Relishing the sweet and fragile transience of this part of our lives.  We are healthy and happy, and surrounded by people we love.

There is no positive spin on the divorce, disease, and death.  But we are appreciating this time together, and appreciating life’s rich pageant.