365 Days

Eighteen months ago the possibility of working at Virginia Theological Seminary wasn't even a blip on the radar screen. Even though one of the first things I said when management eliminated my position at the Church Center was "Relocation is an option," the DC area wasn't even on the long list of possibilities. Yet here I am celebrating my first anniversary as VTS' Hospitality and Guest Residence Manager.

Is it perfect? No, of course not. I moved from a state with civil rights protections for lbgtq folks and same-sex marriage on the books. While I live in a fairly liberal area of the state, Virginia has neither. I've gone from an Episcopal diocese that's a bit left of center to one that's a bit right. Not to mention that I'm south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

On the other hand, I have a job I like, an apartment that is all that I could ask for, I'm making new friends (not to forget the friends already in the area!), I think I've found a church to join, and I'm dating. Every one who has known me for a while says I look and sound happier than I've been in a long time. All things considered, the move was a good decision.

There are still things I need and want to do. I still don't know my way around the local area as well as I'd like. Of course, I lived in Norwalk for close to 20 years and still had trouble giving directions to people asking where certain streets were. I will probably rely on my street atlas for quite a while to get places, especially in Washington. My apartment continues to feel unfinished, but I'm not sure any home becomes finished. Especially when it's a home that's lived in.

I intend to live in my home in all senses of the word.

Sing Me Autumn

The sun strikes sparks from the jeweled trees --
their firelight, framed by the window, shows me
the burnished edges of your beauty
(I am not shown the edge of my desire).
Shadows, like tidewater creeping up the shore,
lie snug at your side and in the hollows of your eyes.
Are you sleeping?
Love, autumn lies out the window,
Gaudy as a courtesan in her old age,
Patient as the sea. Is this your kind of wisdom?
I came to you with violets in my hands,
gentle purple as the questions I would ask you,
springtime-tentative. I was so young.
"Spring is too simple," you smiled as you told me,
"Sing me autumn when you fall in love."
The season of trees like roses and wind like dry white wine;
The season of time running out, of resignation.
Show yourself to me. What are you thinking?
Don't you feel this moment like a current, pulling you past reason?
I do,
but you're like a well, deep and static and shadowed.
Show yourself to me. Love me. I love you.
Sing me autumn.

My college friend Jane Thompson wrote this poem more years ago than either of us probably care to count. Although we lost touch, as college friends often do, her poem has stuck in my mind. I went looking for it tonight because I find myself in a relationship that came out of the blue. If she sees this, I hope she'll understand and forgive me for reprinting it here.

I have been the speaker, and now I find myself as the other. Or perhaps both. It is no secret that we see things from a different perspective in our later years. It also shouldn't be a secret that we are still capable of expanding our horizons and learning new things. And sometimes we need to relearn how to do things that have grown stale from lack of use.

Teach me to sing again, and I'll sing you autumn.

A Page from The Past

Yesterday I attacked the growing pile of papers on my desk and a second pile that I'd stashed away a couple of months ago while getting the place ready to host a party. I sorted everything into piles on the living room floor, so I can file it appropriately. One of those piles went into the recycling bag. Whenever I go through this process I'm always surprised at how much I don't really need to keep. And sometimes I find a surprise.

Yesterday's surprise? A sheet of notebook paper torn from one of my spiral notebooks dated October 25, 2011. The heading on the first side read "SFMM Budget" and on the second "SFMM Questions". Saint Francis something Ministries. I think the second M might have been Mutual. There in front of me sat the initial framework for one of the ideas we tried to get off the ground at Grace Episcopal Church Norwalk. Several times over the past six years we tried to find creative ways to make use of our property and building. Saint Francis Ministries became just one more project that never got off the ground a variety of reasons.

Unbegun, unfinished, and failed projects litter my past. I used to look back over them and start to feel like I was a failure. But that's not really the truth of it. Failing something doesn't make a person a failure. Our culture tends to forget that. The question to ask is what did you learn from the experience? Very little scientific or technical progress happens on the first try. In fact, sometimes great discoveries happen by mistake.

Why are we so caught up in the need to not make mistakes? Why is failure something to fear?

Saint Francis Ministries may have died on the drawing board, but who knows when some of those ideas might become an important part of another project.

It Was A Bad Idea Before...

I'm old enough to remember the world before HIV/AIDS, and I hope to see a time without it. The way to get to that future, however, is not what was, and may still be, contemplated in the Kansas State Legislature. They are working on the new version of their quarantine laws that would, among other things eliminate the exemption of those living with HIV/AIDS. I saw the first hints of this on Facebook. At first I thought it was either one of those Internet rumors or an overblown headline. So I did some digging to see if I could find something reliable and verifiable.

It's a story that dates back to the middle of the month in the Lawrence [KS] Journal-World: "Gay rights advocate has quarantine concerns over proposed changes in infectious disease law."

The dispute is over House Bill 2183, which clarifies procedures on testing a patient for communicable diseases when a health care worker has been exposed to that patient's blood or bodily fluids.

Witt said he supported efforts to protect emergency personnel, but said one of the changes in the bill would remove a current provision that exempts those with HIV or AIDS from possible quarantine.

KDHE officials said they want to remove that exemption because HIV and AIDS are infectious. 

We've seen talk of quarantine before, earlier in the epidemic, when less was known about HIV/AIDS and the death rate was much higher. Are there health concerns? Absolutely. But HIV/AIDS is not Polio. It's not transmitted through casual contact, nor is it airborne. Are there risks to health care workers? Definitely. But unless you're going to quarantine people and provide no health care whatsoever, health care workers will continue to face those same risks, quarantine or no quarantine.

While many of the headlines I've seen are overblown, it concerns me that the idea of quarantining people living with HIV/AIDS has reappeared. I can't help but feel that the people behind this move still think of HIV/AIDS as a gay issue.

Here is the page from the Kansas Legislature that tracks HB 2183.

The Great Merger

Some of you may have noticed the sudden increase in the number of posts on this blog. I didn't spend the past couple of days writing over 600 entries. They came from two other blogs I've had over the last six years. For the past few days I've been pondering merging them into this one. Having two active blogs reached a point where I wasn't posting very much on either. What should I write for one? Or the other? What kinds of post should go on which one? So I stopped posting regularly.

Each blog has served a different purpose. I started my first one, Telling Beads, in January 2007. For the most part it revolved around my observations about the Episcopal Church, the Anglican Communion, and my work at the Episcopal Church Center. After a couple of years I ended up making it an invitation only blog because of my job. It served primarily as a way for me to stay in touch with family and friends. I'm Fluting as Fast as I Can came into being shortly after I attended the National Flute Association Annual Convention in August 2009. I quickly realized that there was only so much I could write about as an amateur flutist, so it became a place for me to write general observations.

So why start a third one? It seemed like an opportune time. I moved to a new area of the country for the first time in my life. The title came to me during the packing up of my apartment in Norwalk and seemed like it would be a fun way of talking about my new life south of the Mason Dixon Line. It is, and it isn't. However, the title seems much more flexible and portable than either of the other two, so why not just have one blog? And why not have all the posts in one place?

Somewhat easier said than done. Because Telling Beads was an invite only blog, it meant going through all of its posts and deleting some of them from the merged blog. Certain things just weren't meant for public consumption.

Yesterday I wrote

Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes I look through the journals I've been keeping off and on for more than 40 years, and I find that how I saw something when I was in the midst of it is very different from how I see it now. Or remember it.

It was interesting going through the old blog posts. There was a period of time when I tried to put a positive spin on what was, and continued to be for a long time, a bad situation. Some of you who were readers of that blog will remember that period of time, and you will probably have an idea of what's missing. I think you'll agree with me that those posts are better left private.

Looking through the over 760 posts now on this blog I can see the changes in my thoughts about blogging and what to blog about. That will continue to evolve.

Over the next couple of days I'll be working on the format of the blog--bringing over the list of Blogs I Read and maybe adding some other things. That, too ,will continue to evolve.

I look forward to the future.

Farewell, Old Friend

Saturday morning I cleaned out my old car and got it ready for pick up by carsforbreastcancer.org. It's a 2001 Kia Rio, which I obviously liked because I bought a new one. It was the first new car I'd ever bought, and I owned it for more than 12 years. It's taken me to countless Renaissance Faires, Dance Camps, EfM mentor trainings, and family visits. It's helped me move five times, including the move here.

Even though it has less than 85,000 miles on it, the most recent issue that needed to be taken care of was probably more money to fix than the car is worth. And I could afford a new car. I saved enough money since coming down here to put down a significant deposit on the new one. But I didn't want to just junk it. Hence the donation.



With the new car came Virginia plates. For the first time in close to 30 years I don't have vanity plates. The original JEFFRI plates were a Christmas Gift from Brian when I still owned the Datsun F10. The most recent version of them are now on their way back to the Connecticut DMV. I thought I'd be more sentimental about giving them up, but I'm not. Maybe it's all part of moving on, moving forward.

In a few years when I look at this picture of the two cars together, I wonder what I'll remember, or what I'll read into it. Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes I look through the journals I've been keeping off and on for more than 40 years, and I find that how I saw something when I was in the midst of it is very different from how I see it now. Or remember it.

All of us carry those memories with us. They're part of us, part of who we are. That's nothing profound, but it's true.

The Yankee in Springtime?

The Weather Channel models called for 3"-7" of snow. Of course, we know that they like to have winter storms that they can name. Local forecasters figured it would be more like 1"-3". Not many people paid much attention to any of them figuring it would be another bust in the DC/Northern Virginia area. Most severe weather seems to have been going north or south of us or petered out before it reached us. So while we had some flurries and snow showers last evening, no one really paid attention to the weather reports. This morning I woke up and looked out the window to find this.

A few days into Spring, and we have the most snow since I moved down here. I even put on my snow boots for the first time. At this time last year it was considerably warmer, flowers were blooming, and the trees were further along. By the middle of April the roses had started blooming. That could happen again this year. The roses were still blooming in December.

We haven't had a lot of snow here this winter. However, I'm not entirely sure what's usual winter weather around this part of the world. It certainly wasn't much for this transplanted Yankee. Oh, we had our cold spells, but I very rarely had to bundle up. Several members of the Seminary community commented that when they saw me in a winter coat with a hat and gloves on they knew it was cold! That will probably change the longer I stay here.

In other ways it really is spring. Moving down to Alexandria and taking this job continues to be a positive experience. I find myself opening up again--to new people, to new experiences, to being a whole person. Every time I post a picture on Facebook, many of my friends comment on how great I look. The transplant is blooming.