My Heroine...
While I generally don't believe in hero worship, there is one person who deserves that title, and lucky me, she is generally just a phone call away.
Dear readers, let me begin by apologizing for my apparent lack of eloquence yesterday (I was having a really rough night), resorting to crass vulgarity in my knee-jerk reactions to what is going on in my very own *snarf* country. Let me direct you then, to a much more elegant display of argument, from another non-politician, grad student, AIDS outreach worker, and my personal hero, Jenny. She is a person who not only can talk the talk, but also walk the walk... back to work after a week working at camp dreamweaver, and, most undoubtedly changing the world, for the better.
Before I get all teary-eyed, or bore you to death, let me enumerate a couple of reasons why I make such bold statements... There are multiple, but I will limit myself to 2 salient points. One personal and one political.
In June of 1999, when I was pregnant with I. and travelling around Mexico with K., unsure of the viability of my decisions, the wisdom therein, or my ability to carry them out, the strain of uncertainty and miscommunication had K. and I. in a bit of a tiff somewhere at the museum of the Monte Albán historical site in Oaxaca. (This should not reflect poorly on either of us, when you love your friends dearly -and time has demonstrated our lasting friendship- it is normal to have the occasional disagreement). We decided to spend a few hours each on our own, walking around, calming down, thinking alone. I was promptly approached by a youngish 30-something photographer who offered an objective ear, and a bit of companionship despite my immediately dispelling any hopes he had had about a pick-up. We walked around, shot photos, and talked about music. About 15 minutes before the convened time for K. and my reconciliation and subsequent descent from the mountain to the city, he and I decided to exit from the main gate, and get some water at the museum. As I approached the entry, I said, "Hey that girl looks so much like my, oh my god! Jenny!" Yes, there she was, with another friend Valerie. Mystically crossing paths (bashert?) at the exact moment, she was there to make me feel like I was safe, and that I was whole and that whatever project (a baby) I was undertaking, I was going to do an incredible job (words that I needed to hear). We spent several more days together, all four, in Oaxaca and narrowly missed death because of a bad waitress, a cigarette break, a plate glass window that rippled like the limpid surface of a pond broken by a skipping stone and an earthquake (but that is a story for another day).
And I believe in January of 2000 (correct me if I am mistaken - a great possibility) when there were massive mudslides in Caracas, and Jenny was planning a family reunion-type trip with her mother, she not only ditched major plans of leisure and repose to go with as much donated clothing and goods as she possibly could, she then volunteered for a week with the red-cross in the midst of the Caracas relief effort, despite not knowing anyone, and really having every reason to shy away from disaster.
Yes, Jenny is an amazing person (even if she has professional ADD and is going to finish her PhD only to go get an MA in public health and leave linguistics in the dust:) and I feel proud to call her a friend.
And while I am on the subject, thank you to all of you, friends (virtual and other) for holding out your hand to hold mine despite my darkness. It is always a comfort to know that there are alternatives.
Dear readers, let me begin by apologizing for my apparent lack of eloquence yesterday (I was having a really rough night), resorting to crass vulgarity in my knee-jerk reactions to what is going on in my very own *snarf* country. Let me direct you then, to a much more elegant display of argument, from another non-politician, grad student, AIDS outreach worker, and my personal hero, Jenny. She is a person who not only can talk the talk, but also walk the walk... back to work after a week working at camp dreamweaver, and, most undoubtedly changing the world, for the better.
Before I get all teary-eyed, or bore you to death, let me enumerate a couple of reasons why I make such bold statements... There are multiple, but I will limit myself to 2 salient points. One personal and one political.
In June of 1999, when I was pregnant with I. and travelling around Mexico with K., unsure of the viability of my decisions, the wisdom therein, or my ability to carry them out, the strain of uncertainty and miscommunication had K. and I. in a bit of a tiff somewhere at the museum of the Monte Albán historical site in Oaxaca. (This should not reflect poorly on either of us, when you love your friends dearly -and time has demonstrated our lasting friendship- it is normal to have the occasional disagreement). We decided to spend a few hours each on our own, walking around, calming down, thinking alone. I was promptly approached by a youngish 30-something photographer who offered an objective ear, and a bit of companionship despite my immediately dispelling any hopes he had had about a pick-up. We walked around, shot photos, and talked about music. About 15 minutes before the convened time for K. and my reconciliation and subsequent descent from the mountain to the city, he and I decided to exit from the main gate, and get some water at the museum. As I approached the entry, I said, "Hey that girl looks so much like my, oh my god! Jenny!" Yes, there she was, with another friend Valerie. Mystically crossing paths (bashert?) at the exact moment, she was there to make me feel like I was safe, and that I was whole and that whatever project (a baby) I was undertaking, I was going to do an incredible job (words that I needed to hear). We spent several more days together, all four, in Oaxaca and narrowly missed death because of a bad waitress, a cigarette break, a plate glass window that rippled like the limpid surface of a pond broken by a skipping stone and an earthquake (but that is a story for another day).
And I believe in January of 2000 (correct me if I am mistaken - a great possibility) when there were massive mudslides in Caracas, and Jenny was planning a family reunion-type trip with her mother, she not only ditched major plans of leisure and repose to go with as much donated clothing and goods as she possibly could, she then volunteered for a week with the red-cross in the midst of the Caracas relief effort, despite not knowing anyone, and really having every reason to shy away from disaster.
Yes, Jenny is an amazing person (even if she has professional ADD and is going to finish her PhD only to go get an MA in public health and leave linguistics in the dust:) and I feel proud to call her a friend.
And while I am on the subject, thank you to all of you, friends (virtual and other) for holding out your hand to hold mine despite my darkness. It is always a comfort to know that there are alternatives.
posted by ilana at 2:03 p.m.
3 Comments:
Ilana, now you've made ME all teary-eyed. I feel like I fall short so often, and then a wonderful friend like you goes and pumps me up. We have so many happy memories together, don't we? And I'd like to point out, that I was absolutely right in Oaxaca. You've got the chops to pull off any challenge, as exemplified by your wonderful turn at motherhood. I love you, sweetie.
What are cheerleaders for after all;) love you too, and you are right, we definitely complement one another in our skill set.
Jenny suena como una gran persona. Saludos!
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