Last evening was disturbing as one of our students was seriously injured. Getting accurate information was hairy and nerve wracking. Thankfully, after two hospital transfers, he was released for three days of bed rest for his fractured face. He does not want to return home despite losing teeth. Nineteen year olds do get to make their own medical decisions. Thank God the AIFS staff here knew how to navigate the medical system and get him excellent evaluation and medical care—dental care is apparently a different story. The few hours of waiting for prognosis reminded me how fragile life is. I did not envy his parents in OC.
Despite winter silks, cashmere sweater and scarf, wool slacks and a heavy wool overcoat, it was teeth chattering cold today. Not sure why as the thermometer was not that much lower—40/ high 30’s. So after taking care of basics, I returned home and set about working to revise both my London classes to better reflect the conditions on the ground. I want each class in the field each week rather than every other week. There is no shortage of relevant outings, but trying to weave a coherent narrative about identity in the one class and inequality in the other class, took some serious think time.
Lots of people here tell their stories of losing jobs in the last two years—that is similar to home. What strikes me is that they still have medical care. Had an interesting conversation yesterday about public services here and there—the man I was talking with visits a step son in the OC once a year so he has familiarity with the surface of life in CA. He had a lot of questions about our tax policies and how services/benefits are funded. It was very interesting. Apparently, GB eliminated the mortgage interest deduction years ago and credit is much more difficult to obtain. I do know that non residents cannot open a bank account in the UK. Even as a citizen of Ireland I cannot get a bank account here.
The controversy over here this week on all the news is how much salary was paid to the head of the Royal Bank of Scotland—a public entity. So the whole issue of unfair taxation as well as wealth inequality is consuming much of the conversation here as well as there.
This is a time of psychic change for me, for sure. Having been through periods of shifting identity and values before, I recognize the signs. It is impossible to predict what comes out at the other side, but it is certain that change is underway.
It reminds me that I had no idea when I returned to get a doctorate in 2000 that I would land an academic job—I had no attachment to the results of that endeavor. The possibility of a full-time job without having to move was too remote to contemplate.
In retrospect, it was a risky investment of time, money and energy with no foreseeable payoff—and lots of painful, hard work--not to mention the added 289,000 miles driven on the Volvo. Yet, this whole episode of teaching in London is the direct result of following my passion.
I do wish I had known how many multiracial families I would encounter here. I would have sought IRB approval to do interviews; as it turns out, there are a stunning presence of white/Black and Asian/Black couples with children I see in the public spaces. Quick check of census data here indicates that 50% of the Black Caribbean-origin British subjects marry whites here. Less clear what the numbers are for African immigrants, but I will be investigating. It certainly speaks to a different racial paradigm. And it is a surprising one given the imperial, colonizer culture.
I have to let go of all my expectations that my garden will carry on in my absence. I purposely did not plant winter vegetables, but I am realizing that nobody will be mindful to ice my little peony plant or to feed the can of worms which produces the worm tea and castings that are steroids for the yard. There are too many little things to be aware of that non-gardeners that cannot be taught. Nora, from out graduate program, did offer to come move the can of worms to her yard where her husband Sean composts. I am dithering about whether it is worth their bother and whether I want to start the vermi-culture from scratch when I return.
I continue to struggle with life’s little inconveniences: how to wash dishes and pans in a sink smaller than a bathroom lavatory; how to remember to heat the water before a shower; how to set the alarm clock; how to make calls on the weird mobile with strange sequences of numbers. Here is the fuse box that has become as important to me as keeping the car fuel level above empty is in California:
No comments:
Post a Comment