Fifty Years Onwards

I've thought over the past weeks and days how I best want to write about and mark today's 50th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s March on Washington. As the day has approached and as I think about the anniversary now, I've struggled to find the words. It's a celebration and a marking of success, perhaps, but one that continues to evolve. It's beautiful and terrible and an anniversary of a day, a year and a decade that created the world we live in today. I listened to President Obama's speech earlier, and his politics and presidency aside, I was touched by his word choices, descriptions and remembrance of fifty years ago today.

The following excerpts from his speech were especially meaningful:

"We rightly and best remember Dr. King's soaring oratory that day, how he gave mighty voice to the quiet hopes of millions, how he offered a salvation path for oppressed and oppressors alike. His words belong to the ages, possessing a power and prophecy unmatched in our time."

"When millions of Americans of every race and every region, every faith and every station can join together in a spirit of brotherhood, then those mountains will be made low, and those rough places will be made plain, and those crooked places, they straighten out towards grace, and we will vindicate the faith of those who sacrificed so much and live up to the true meaning of our creed as one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

I wish I could write about some personal comparison or experience I've had in the fifty years since 1963. But I can't. Then, I heard these lines spoken by the President:

"There's a reason why so many who marched that day and in the days to come were young, for the young are unconstrained by habits of fear, unconstrained by the conventions of what is. They dared to dream different and to imagine something better. And I am convinced that same imagination, the same hunger of purpose serves in this generation."

While flying to California last week, I brought along Time Magazine's August 26/September 2 double issue. The majority of the publication explores the March on Washington and King's speech. Each of the lengthy articles was fascinating, but the following paragraph resonated the most with me:

'The most obvious observation about life since August 1963 is also the most accurate: we have traveled far, but not far enough. Revisiting King's speech, the religiously infused culture from which it sprang and the political moment in which he delivered it suggests that he, for one, wouldn't be surprised by the ambivalent state of affairs in the America of 2013. Like our more familiar founders (Washington, Adams, Hamilton, Jefferson), he was a practical idealist, a man who could articulate an ideal but knew that human progress, while sometimes intoxicatingly rapid, tends to be a provisional enterprise. The march, he said that day in Washington, was not an end; it was a beginning. We live in a world King helped create. We do not yet live in the world he helped all of us dream of." --Jon Meachem, TIME

Lastly, this BBC video combines wonderful images and audio of August 28, 1963 with present-day global peace activists. 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-23853578 

San Francisco and the Beginning of the Final Year

Hello from Vermont.

I moved into my senior year residence earlier today and begin classes tomorrow.

It was a busy weekend of moving, packing and cleaning, but also some of the most beautiful weather of the summer. I was so happy to be living at Saint Michael's College over the summer after being away for a year, and today's adjustment to campus has gone so well. The realization of this being my final year of college is barely believable. I've been back in the U.S over three months now, and it was a summer of time spent between Vermont and New Hampshire, interning, driving, enjoying the outdoors, and throughout, readjustment. Sometime in early to mid-July I reached a point of complete happiness and fluency in living in the U.S. again. This comfort has continued throughout the summer. Yesterday though, I experienced the most vivid and unexpected memories of St. Andrews. Of arriving there last September, moving in, adjusting, shopping, enrolling, attending classes, and more vividly than ever before, I remembered conversations, evenings and dinners with friends, exploration and experience. All came in the most unexpected way and each made me remember the experience and think about it. Again today, driving northwards, I thought of the last couple of years. The wonderful experience I had at Saint Michael's for two years, the decision to leave for a year, the risks I took and the life I lived in St Andrews. All of it led up to today's return and beginning. It makes me incredibly happy.

                                                     San Francisco, California below.

The Utah/Nevada desert from above. Breathtaking, dramatic, beautiful.

The ceiling of the UC Berkeley library.

Santa Cruz.

The first organic strawberry farm in California.

The Pacific!

San Francisco.

With my brother's driving skills, we conquered this hill.

The Bay Bridge connecting Oakland and Berkeley to San Francisco.

Matt and I.

Marin County.

Afghan Poetry

Hello Again.

I'm currently visiting my brother on the west coast and blogging from his computer.
I read the article below during my flight yesterday and found it compelling.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/19/world/asia/an-afghan-poet-shapes-metal-and-hard-words.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

Afghanistan has interested me in recent years in its history, religion, trade, laws, current status as a (nearly) failed state, and rich background in poetry.

A few of my favorite lines from the article:

“This is my life, what you see here: banging iron, cutting it short, making it long,” he said. “I still don’t call myself a poet.” 

'There is something else, which even the plain-spoken Mr. Turab seemed reluctant to confess: He is nearly illiterate. Though he can, with difficulty, read printed copy, he can neither write nor read the handwriting of others, he said. He constructs his poetry in his head, relying on memory to retain it and others to record it.'

'The dirt road outside his shop runs all the way to Pakistan, and its traffic is an economic lifeline. Vendors line the highway, selling everything from snow to keep the blistering heat at bay to seasonal fruit. Periodically a convoy of American vehicles passes, breaking the spell of an otherwise Afghan scene.'

“Sometimes I’m amazed that things aren’t falling apart,” he said, clasping his hands together as he reflected on years of war and foreign presence here. “But then I realize there is a social law here that holds the country together, even if there is no governmental law.”

'Though he has been critical of the American occupation, he does note the progress that has come with it: roads, electricity and schools. It is other parts of the Western legacy in Afghanistan that he worries about.'

“Democracy will hurt and eliminate our tribal laws,” he said. “The medicine prescribed by democracy was not suitable for this society’s sickness.”

Manhattan

Greetings!
Once again, this blog has changed. I wanted to focus on several topics I've written previously on this past year and I chose to create separate pages where these posts will be sorted and visible. All posts will be posted here on the homepage as well. As for the name change, I'm not entirely sure. 'Golden Edges' have been two words in my head throughout the summer. I've explored them in poetic terms and thought about what they might mean and why they continue to appear in my head most days. No answers have been found yet, but I find them to be beautiful and perhaps the meaning lies in a positive/'the glass is half full' meaning.

Writing from Scotland peaked my interest in blogging and those posts will remain under the 'Scotland' tab. I felt the need to change the name upon return to the United States, and while much of the writing of this blog is based in Northern New England, much of my posts, ideas and thoughts pertain to areas outside of the region.

This past weekend, I visited Manhattan, it was an incredibly fun weekend and a great destination.

I visited a couple of friends and stayed in one of their apartments in Chinatown. Despite the love I hold for the greenery and stillness of this region, I loved the city. I loved walking outside each morning to people, noise, culture, color and excitement. My bus ride to the city was about five-hours and as the arrival neared, it felt slightly like when I arrived in London last December. The same slight-nervousness of approaching an enormous city set in (although the arrival in London held a few more firsts than New York). As we neared, the congestion of people and traffic increased. We drove through Harlem before arriving across from Grand Central Station. And the weekend began.

It was filled with plenty of walking, time spent in Central Park, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Vietnamese, Korean and Indian food, views of the city, subway rides, the most delicious bagel I've ever tasted, live music, dancing, and plenty of new people to meet.

Vietnamese food

In the Financial District, One World Trade Center; recently finished to replace both World Trade Center towers. A startlingly beautiful, yet terribly sad space.

St. Patrick's Cathedral

Scottish poet Robert Burns in Central Park!

The NYU Bookshop

Middlebury, Vermont

Hello again.

Everything in the past week has been so busy. Preparations for the academic year, ending an internship (although I will return part-time throughout the school year), and fulfilling a few end-of-summer travels have kept life exciting. Despite the great chaos, I was so pleased last week to make it to Middlebury, Vermont to visit my friend Marissa. Marissa and I met at St. Andrews last September and were close throughout the year. She was my closest American friend and we both love that we were considered related as 'academic cousins'. Together in Scotland, we talked and bonded over everything, and the beauty of the rural evening walks I took between my residence and her flat I think will always stay with me.

This was us last October. 

 ...and again in February, with my friend, Katie. 

I've been interning this summer in the capital city of Vermont, Montpelier, located in the central part of the state. Middlebury, a beautiful college town is located on the western side of the state, not far from the New York state line. I planned to drive from Montpelier to Middlebury and had two options for the journey there. I could drive north on the interstate to Burlington, the largest city in Vermont and where I attend school, and then drive south from there. That trip was 74 or 75 miles and an hour 25 minutes. On a map, it looks a bit like an upside down 'V'. My second option would be to drive for 50 miles at 1 hour 26 minutes. I was attracted to the 50 miles but also realized that to reach Middlebury, I would need to drive through a mountain range, the Green Mountain National Forest.

I departed work promptly at 4:30 and headed north on the interstate before beginning the trek through the small towns. Once off the highway, farm after farm passed by, and when I stopped to buy a bottle of water at one point, I felt very conscious that I didn't fit in too well in the tiny town. Shortly after, my GPS signaled for an abrupt downhill. I slowed down quickly (although perhaps not quickly enough) as the road was far more rural than I expected and the short hill was a steep downhill. Immediately, my GPS directed that I drive for 20 miles on the road. And it began. I had incorrectly imagined that driving through a mountain range would involve weaving around mountains in a comfortable and beautiful valley. Rather, I drove over the mountains. The road winded and climbed upwards immediately and large signs signaled that the road was closed to trucks in the winter. I drove higher and higher and thought of my gas mileage going farther on the flat, 74 mile route. But it was too late to change, and the views were beautiful. I pulled over at this overlook and joined other tourists in marveling at and photographing the view.

From here, the road was downhill. Once I neared the end of the range, the small towns returned and I resumed to flat roads.

The arrival in Middlebury was exciting. The town is calm, quaint and small and the weather that evening was beautiful.

I met Marissa at a restaurant along the river (appropriately named The Middlebury River) and we had such a nice evening. We talked about everything and it was great to connect again after a few months apart. We had so much fun and the laughter was constant. Later, she introduced me to her Mom before I began the (flat) journey northward to Burlington.

Twenty-One and Dragonboating

Greetings.

This past weekend repeatedly proved to me how much I love Burlington, Vermont. The weather was beautiful. The events, energy, excitement and people of this small city were truly wonderful. I’ve spent very few summer weekends involved in Burlington and it is a wonderful place.

I turned twenty-one on Saturday and think I may have experienced one of my best birthdays. I worked for Blue Cross in the morning, distributing hundreds of blue balloons in the center of Burlington with a couple of co-workers. A theatrical festival was going on and it was really a nice event.

 

Later that afternoon, Carol, one of my closest friends from New Hampshire arrived in Burlington and we began our search for a margarita (and some chips, salsa and guacamole, naturally).

 

The search was successful and delicious. We headed back to Saint Michael’s a little while later for an unofficial campus tour and a quick change before heading back downtown for dinner. We met up with my friends Amanda, Kirsten and Lizzie once back in Burlington and as any Saturday night in August can be, downtown was incredibly busy, but also so fun and filled with people. The night was beautiful. We entered a few different places that had long waits and then settled on a new restaurant, Mr. Crepe. The savory crepes were delicious. We ate outside and paired sangria with our meal. The red sangria I had was definitely my favorite drink of the day.

Amanda, myself and Lizzie

Amanda and myself

A theatrical street performance unfolded in front of us and it was so relaxing and nice to be with everyone. Afterwards, we picked up frozen yogurt and headed to a pub where we shared a pitcher of beer  before heading back to Saint Michael’s where Amanda was so kind and surprised me with a cake! It was so touching and fun.

 

Sunday was an early morning, and while it was slightly challenging getting out of bed, I knew the day’s event, dragonboating with Blue Cross on Lake Champlain would be exciting. I found parking downtown and arrived at the Burlington waterfront a little before 8:30 for the Lake Champlain Dragonheart Vermont Dragonboat Festival! I had joined the Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Vermont dragonboating team about a month ago and along with 17 others, was placed on the beginner team. 18 other employees (dragonboating veterans) were placed on the advanced team. Together, we practiced one Saturday morning last month and were all excited for yesterdays’ festival. Dragonheart Vermont is an organization aiming to raise money for breast cancer research. The festival itself involved 68 boats of 18-22 paddlers, 8 or 10 of which were made up solely of breast cancer survivors. Dragonboating is a sport that can best be descriped as rowing or, as I thought recently, ‘Viking ships’ (without the sail). Each team had set up a tent along the waterfront, and it became an enormous festival of racers, spectators, food vendors, and supporters along the waterfront.

 

Once I found our two Blue Cross tents  and co-workers, we began preparing for our first race of the day scheduled for 9:56 a.m. The festival (which kicked off with the first races at 9 a.m.) was especially exciting as Blue Cross was the chief sponsor of the event. Several representatives of the organization were there, including a group of my co-workers who distributed water to the thousands there from a GIANT water tank truck. The advanced team had a first race that began later than ours, but together, the group of 40 of us warmed up with jumping jacks and stretches. We gained our race bracelets and tied glitter ribbons to our elbows, fastened our life jackets and once we received our formal instructions from Dragonheart Vermont, we lined up as a team to begin Zumba (with the advanced team cheering us on) before grabbing our wooden paddles and jumping into the boats. I was in the last row with a female co-worker with two other women in front of us. The four of us had so much fun throughout the day. Two of the women had missed the practice and had never dragonboated before. We got along so well, danced together, cheered together and had a blast throughout the festival. Once in the boats and away from the docks, the first emotion is how tight the boats are. Together we rowed out to the starting line, and it all happened so fast. Dragonboating is about rhythm solely and when we count together as a boat, that rhythm is achieved and the boat flies through the lake. Our first race began and from the beginning, the counting wasn’t there and the opposing team gained on us quickly, winning the 90-second race. We enjoyed our time out, but felt a bit confused and bummed once it ended. It was hard to believe we were finished. Until! It was announced we would race again! Our second race was scheduled soon after, but we had time to head back to our tent, grab water, a snack, cheer on the other Blue Cross team during their race (which they won!), and buckle the life jackets once again.

Once back in the boat, we were assigned a new coach from Quebec who was great in guiding us, leading us in counting and taking us on a practice race. And then, it was time. The coach stands at the very back of the boat (right behind where I my seat partner and I sat). Once in our boat, we rowed back to the starting line and lined up next to the opposing boat among nearby sail boats and views of the Adirondacks, and it was time. “Go!” was shouted through the megaphone and we began. With our heads up and ‘in the boat’, we counted loudly and stroked on each ‘One!’ ‘Two!’ ‘Three!’ ‘Four!’ and ‘Five!’ only to begin the sequence again. And we sailed! We flew! Our other Blue Cross team on shore cheered us on and we won the race! I think this victory may have been the most incredible moment of the day. We were so, so happy. Once out of the boat, there were so many high-fives, cheers, screams and smiles for each of us. We took off our life jackets and returned our paddles knowing that we would race again. We cheered again and again and were told we would have an hour between races.  I wandered the large ‘Athlete’s Village’ with co-workers, visited working co-workers at the GIANT water tank truck before the two Blue Cross teams congregated again.

Two of my co-workers in communications who I work with daily, Kate and Ally. :)

 

As the main sponsor of the event, it was important that we be present to congratulate and high five the dozens of breast cancer survivors who emerged from their races. The groups of survivors threw pink carnations into the water after racing and employees of Blue Cross formed an arch of paddles that each breast cancer survivor walked under once they emerged from the boat. The arch was quite emotional and beautiful for all involved. Afterwards, and shortly before our third race, I was so pleased to find Carol and Amanda had showed up! We found a space on the waterfront near my co-workers and watched the races together.

Amanda, Carol and myself

 

As we cheered on our other Blue Cross team which was just lining up their boat at the starting line, we were startled and shocked to see the boat they were about to race be hit with a wave (it had begun to rain) and capsize!  Each paddler wears a life jacket, but it still was a scary moment; the boats can tip easily and to see eighteen people floating in the lake certainly set us all into thinking about how that could happen to any boat.

Saint Michael’s also had a team and the three of us were able to cheer on the team and Kirsten who was a part of it. Soon after, we gathered again, warmed up through Zumba, buckled our life jackets, grabbed our paddles and were so excited to be granted the same victorious coach and found our seats in the boat. Carol and Amanda cheered us on from land and we lined up to the starting line again. I think most of us felt we had been lucky with our second race, could we really win again? We all shouted team cheers and words of encouragement to one another to boost team spirit right before ‘Go!’ sounded again. Immediately we began counting. As is common in any part of the boat (but perhaps especially in the back) my seat partner and I were drenched with water. With the other nine rows of paddlers in front of us, the water hit our legs, torsos and faces, and the best protection I had for the day were my sunglasses. Each race is hard work, plenty of upper-body strength and bending and digging the paddle into the water with the rhythm is necessary, and we worked together as hard as we could. Once again, we sailed ahead were victorious! We cheered again and again and congratulated the other team. Carol and Amanda cheered from shore along with the other Blue Cross team who congratulated us with high fives and team cheers once we reached the docks. We had a short break before racing again and gathered more water, snacks and team plans. Carol and Amanda departed and soon after, our team began zumba once again. As the race teams narrowed, I noticed that Saint Michael’s had been racing successfully and winning each race. As the fourth race neared and my college warmed up with us for zumba, I became increasingly nervous that we would race them, but thankfully, this never happened! They were in a much higher division, I later learned. :) And then, we boarded the boats for race four. Once again, we all wanted to win, but for myself, I had accepted that we had done well so far and might not win again. Simply being out on the water and racing is the most exciting and fun part of the day, and we loved winning because it granted us the promise that we could race again. We lined up for the race and began. Immediately, we fell behind. We couldn’t keep up and stayed in rhythm but couldn’t meet the other team’s strength. We were proud and cheerful, but not quite ready to end our paddling and team spirit. Once back on shore, the advanced Blue Cross team swarmed us and informed us that they were supposed to race the team we had just lost to, the team was in a higher division! Delighted, we cheered and our advanced team headed out while the winning team turned around and boarded their boat once again. We were scheduled for a fifth race with a team in our division. Plenty of spectators remained throughout the afternoon (it was now 3 p.m.) and we cheered on our advanced team. Once again though, the opposing team won. Our team was officially gone and we remained.

We completed our final zumba warm-up and boarded the boats once again, now competing for the silver or gold medal in our division. Our favorite coach joined us again and we began. It may have been our waning or lack of strength, (by race five, we were fading fast!), but the other team won easily. We gathered back onto land to soon be awarded the silver medal in our division! I helped my co-workers take down the Blue Cross tents and we all packed our bags.  After over a hundred races throughout the day on Lake Champlain, the water surface appeared calm as the afternoon wore on. We gathered with the other teams at the awards tent and each received a silver medal. The forty of us said our farewells and headed off. The evening brought a communications department gathering and a bit more birthday celebration. It was a wonderful (and very full) weekend.  Ohh and today at work, as one might expect, when team members spotted each other, the cheers just began again... :)

(Credit: Karen Pike Photography) Both Blue Cross Dragon boat teams. I'm not visible in this, but was seated at the right of the boat on the right.