Ten Years

*For Myer*

From across the ocean when I was in Italy.

It has been ten years. It has been ten years since I met this "hot skater boy from California" (as one of my best friends called him). We were both studying at Lawrence University; he had just transferred from Deep Springs, an all-male "cowboy college", and his hair was a wild pink tangle that I could see from across campus as he rode his skateboard to class. Someone told me he was a pianist in the conservatory, but I didn't get to hear him play until the summer when we both stayed on campus to work. I remember he skated to the recital hall--- walked to the stage in what seemed to me a state of total zen calm--- and set the piano on fire with the first movement of Rachmaninoff's second piano sonata. Classical music is the sexiest kind of music... and to me, this piece is the sound of falling in love. Soon I learned that piano was just one of this dude's many sweet swoon-worthy attributes, including gourmet cooking, poetry, painting, and philosophy. When I saw a copy of Douglas Hofstadter's Gödel, Escher, Bach (which Dad owned and held in high esteem) on his bookshelf, my heart thrilled.

The first picture Myer took of me, before we were together, on a walk one autumn afternoon.

 

Cowboy-philosopher punk.

Our first date was a long bike ride early in the morning on my 23rd birthday, September 16th 2004. We didn't know it was a date at the time; only in retrospect did that become clear. I rode my bike after him down an insanely steep hill --- I never would have followed anyone else in such a reckless venture, but nothing was going to separate me from this boy... a conviction that has remained strong ever since. We biked many miles, walked through fields, sat in a tree house in the woods, napped by a lake, and stopped at a tea shop where he bought me chocolate and a special tin of chai tea as a birthday gift. Our conversations were delicious. Back at McCarthy co-op, where he lived that year, I gave him a super awkward hug in thanks. I knew it was awkward, but I just could not leave without embracing him.

After Christmas I went away to study in London and Florence until spring. By this time, we had been dating for only three months; but we decided to "do long-distance" even so. Perhaps Myer didn't know how much it meant to me that he agreed to try this. I had a hard time expressing my deepest feelings back then. But in truth I would have been ruined if we'd broken up. Does that sound pathetic? My whole existence was focused on him--- how could it not be? He used to read ee cummings poetry aloud, and in his first love letter to me he quoted a Joni Mitchell song from Blue... again, how could it not be?

During my time abroad, daydreams of Myer kept me in a constant state of romantic high. We had matching journals in which we'd write letters, xerox the letters and send them to each other, and finally tape them into our respective books... so each of us has a complete copy of our hand-written exchanges. What precious tomes! The time apart was not easy--- I won't pretend that. But it sure as heck was romantic. Myer came to visit me for a week when I was in London, and there we made some pretty unforgettable memories.

A photo I took of my darling in London, which has ever since been my all-time favorite.

Proposal flowers.

After graduating from Lawrence in 2006, we spent a summer apart. It was hellish (for me). Thank goodness that was the last time. We moved to Nebraska together that autumn, where we stayed for three years, figuring out what it meant to live life as a couple and out of college. A learning experience for sure, of the best kind. In spring 2009, when I'd just been accepted into the MFA program at Boston's School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Myer asked me to marry him. We'd not been the "marrying type" up until this time, or so we thought.... therefore, the proposal was unexpectedly exquisite--- one of those days that is the best of days. A rainy cold weekday, I was at work teaching students, and someone brought me a note to come upstairs. I was so scared, because I thought I'd done something wrong and was in trouble with the administration. When I got to the entry hallway, there was Myer, dripping wet and holding a big bouquet. "Arhia," he whispered.... "wanna get married???" He also had a piano string, and that book of ee cummings poems.

Our dorky "twin primes" rings.

We got married in 2009, a week before packing up everything and driving a Penske truck across the country to Boston. Our wedding was epic, thanks to 100+ incredible friends and family who traveled all the way to Nebraska for us. We felt incomprehensibly fortunate to know such love and caring. Often we think back on that occasion and are filled with wonder at the memory. I do believe it helps, in a marriage, to know you have the genuine support of those who matter most--- your family and friends. Our wedding, and the memory of it, has served that purpose for us.

My favorite early photo of us together; Christmas in Lincoln NE, 2004.

Do you remember before you met your partner, or maybe back when you were a teenager just starting to think about romance? Imagining the "perfect" one for you, what he/she would be like? I recall indulging in such daydreams. Thank goodness we don't have the power to manifest this fantasy of a person. What a flat and boring an individual would be the result. (Btw if you want to see a good film on the subject, check out Ruby Sparks). It makes me think about how little I knew of myself, to look back on the imaginary "perfect partners" I conjured. You don't dream the difficult things; but it's the challenges that make the intimacy closer, the joy more real. Take away the left and you have no right. There cannot be one without the other--- left makes the reality of right possible. I've found this to be true about relationships. Welcome the challenges as compost for the bliss.

Myer, you are a first-rate example of a human being. We were friends before we were lovers, and I am infinitely glad. One thing I know: our conversation-well is bottomless. The first thing that drew us together was a sense that the bond of intellect and friendship between us would be iron-clad. I do believe my intuition is a finely-tuned instrument, because that bond has not weakened since the beginning. We were basically kids when we met, and though I'm aware we remain "ignorant youth" in the big scheme of things, I do know that you, Myer, are also one heck of a quality man. I can't comprehend how I stumbled into something so precious; I don't understand why I should have this and not some other. I do know that I am deeply grateful every day. Happy 5th/10th anniversary chickpea, I love you.

Hahaha teenage Myer, so dorky and cute! Sorry dude I couldn't resist ;-) xoxo

 

Rhizome

(With a recipe for turmeric sauce)

Bamboo rhizome

"In botany and dendrology, a rhizome (from Ancient Greek: rhízōma "mass of roots") is a modified subterranean stem of a plant that is usually found underground, often sending out roots and shoots from its nodes. Rhizomes are also called creeping rootstalks and rootstocks. Rhizomes develop from axillary buds and are diageotropic or grow perpendicular to the force of gravity. The rhizome also retains the ability to allow new shoots to grow upwards." --- From Wikipedia

I painted ginger.

I have always liked the word. The beginning reminds me of my sister's name, "Rhiannon." R with a silent H following just feels good on the tongue; sort of soft and velvety, but dry. Think about a root--- this part of any plant is crucial, yet usually goes unseen. I like to imagine the world of roots just below the surface, in the cool dark earth, inhabited by worms and bugs and other quiet crawling creatures. Roots in general are metaphorically powerful, and I use them often in my work. Rhizomes hold a particular fascination because, although they appear to be separate plants above ground, they come from one root underneath. Their structural connectedness has appealed to many, including a certain philosopher-duo whose ridiculously dense writings I attempted to choke down during grad school. Most of that came right back up again, unfortunately. But I think we can agree on this: rhizomes are neat. As I was researching them, I realized that many of these plants hold specific meanings or memories for me. A coincidence, yes, but one that brings a sense of satisfaction.

Turmeric sauce!

Ginger and turmeric, two edible rhizomes from the family zingiberaceae that originate in/near India, have long been my dear friends in the kitchen. I might even say they are my favorite spices, except saying that makes me think of all the other ones I couldn't live without. To me, the taste of ginger goes with everything. Both it and turmeric are extremely useful medicinally, being fabulous anti-inflammatories. Mom used to employ ginger poultices to ease the pain caused by her rheumatoid (another "RH"!) arthritis. I eat ginger in many guises: ginger tea, ginger kombucha, ginger pickles, raw ginger on salad, ginger nut sauce, ginger ice cream, ginger cocktails... I could go on. One of my favorite ways to use turmeric is in a very simple dipping sauce: mix three tablespoons turmeric powder with enough vinegar to make a gloppy consistency, and use it to dip raw or pickled vegetables (I love pickled beets with this). A little bitter, a lot sour, quite pungent, and oh so brightly colored! The list of health benefits attributed to these roots, especially turmeric, is extensive.

Did you know that rhubarb (RH!) is a rhizome? We always had it growing in front of the house back home in Wisconsin. It grew like a mutant, so fast and so tall that we could never use all of it. Rhiannon and I sometimes plucked the largest leaves to serve as umbrellas in the rain. It was that big! We enjoyed munching it plain, but occasionally Mom let us dip it in rice syrup for a special treat. Grandma always grew it, too, and made the best strawberry-rhubarb jam you ever tasted in your life.

Home... summertime. See the rhubarb growing in front?

Ferns and hops are rhizomes, too. If you look carefully, you can see the hops vines in the photo above; on the far right, climbing the poles. That also grew great guns. I don't know what it was in the soil--- things grew at home like they didn't anywhere else. If we had an upset stomach, Dad told us to drink hops tea. We didn't like it at the time! But it helps with nausea. I really wish I had some of those hops flowers now, because I want to try making hops kombucha. Ferns grew in the forest all over our 20-acre property. The fiddlehead variety were delicious to eat in early spring. I remember having them sauteed in goose fat. YUM.

From the "Flower Fairies" books.

Lilies of the valley and irises are rhizomatous. These flowers always make me think of Mom; she grew them in our front garden. Lilies of the valley were an especial favorite of hers. I remember Dad once bought her a bar of soap with this scent, and she saved it for a long time--- letting us sniff it, but not wash our hands with it. There was a beautiful drawing of flowers on the box. Do you know Cicely Mary Barker's Flower Fairy books? They were beloved in our house. I still can recall a few of those poems. Lily-of-the-Valley flower fairy was Mom, of course.

Two more I want to mention before I bring this to an end are "quack" grass and poplar trees. Quack grass is a true nuisance when you are trying to grow vegetables or tend a flower garden; it spreads like nobody's business! You weed one day, and the next--- there it is again. I think you might be able to observe its growth without the aid of time-lapse photography, it's that aggressive. When we used to help Mom weed the garden as kids, she taught us how to really get the quack grass out: you have to pull carefully so that the stiff ropey rhizomes don't just break off... you have to get down to the bottom of it and follow its trailing creepers all the way. Sometimes we were lazy weeders. "Did you make sure to pull the whole thing out?" Mom asked. "Yeah," we lied, knowing we'd just removed the visible portion. Poor Mom! But here's something wonderful about quack: rabbits love it. It was my job to feed the rabbits, and I liked to pick big juicy handfuls of quack for them during the summer. You have to be careful; that grass can cut like fresh paper if you handle it wrong. Imagine, this beautiful grass covered in rainbow dew... and hands after gathering it, cold and stained bright green.

Populus is a genus of tree that includes such species as aspen and poplar. Utah's Pando colony is a cluster of aspens all sharing one root structure and genetic makeup, thought to be some 80,000 years old. Myer has seen it; I would love to some day as well. Poplars hold a special place in my heart. I used to be friends with a particular one back home in Wisconsin, near our place on Spruce Road. I liked to go out all by myself, climb to the top of the tree, and wrap my arms around its trunk. Then I would put my ear tight against the smooth, white skin... and listen. The sound of the wind rushing through the leaves, as channeled from the trunk straight into my head, was one of my secret joys. I pictured falling water and imagined myself flying above the earth. I was always sad when it was time to leave. I wonder... when was the very last time I climbed that tree? I'm glad I didn't know it was the last.

A grove of white poplar trees.