I write this, having just returned from our annual family vacation at the lovely Polynesian Village (Polynesian Resort), and having witnessed the ongoing construction of the new vacation villas.
It’s ironic, that in the midst of this erupting architectural complex on our formerly, untainted shore; the inexorable desire of my grandson remains intact, as he intently builds his sand castles, apparently oblivious to the activity offshore.
For my taste, I prefer the latter form of architectural expression.
As a graduate chemical engineer, I expected the vagaries of being a woman in a traditionally male profession. Yet, on that first day as a Process Design Engineer, I could not have predicted my first problematic situation in the corporate world.
Employed by an international, consumer products organization, my desk/ drafting table was next to a ‘Chem. E.’ from Cornell, five years my senior, and the PM for a new, state-of-the-art, automated facility to manufacture dish-washing liquid. As his apprentice, I would be introduced to the fascinating world of real-time, machine language programming, taking to it like a ‘duck to water’, and eventually mastering my way through reams of code, flow diagrams, decision trees, workflow hierarchies and dosing algorithms. That was the easy part!
I must have resembled a deer in the headlights on that first day in the office, and was (admittedly) relieved when the secretaries and ‘admins’ kindly took the hand of this nerdy newbie, and walked me through the cafeteria protocols. In the ensuing weeks, I became a ‘regular’ at their table.
But trouble was brewing in ‘paradise’: I was conspicuously absent from the engineers’ lunch group, where they were playing bridge and chatting about politics or the latest ‘bug’ . Though repeatedly invited to join them, I hesitated, wary of alienating my new-found female friends, but knowing, instinctively, that I was missing out an important dimension of professional development with my colleagues.
How could I make such a switch without appearing to be snobby and ungrateful? A man would not have given it a second thought. Alas, saddled with my own traditional role expectations, my dream job was becoming a nightmare of social complexity.
I hemmed and hawed for weeks, before taking the first step in a gradual transition; explaining to the ‘girls’ that, occasionally, I was needed to collaborate on problem-solving and brainstorming during lunch. Though awkward at first, my presence at the ‘Engineer’s Table’ soon became the accepted norm; and this special group of young women continued to welcome me, whenever I chose to join them.
Although the sleepless nights and festering insecurities of that first job experience have been long forgotten, some memories remain hidden in the deep recesses of our psyche, waiting for the right moment to reappear. In that moment, we often find clarity. This incident – an otherwise, minor blip on the screen – wasn’t about whether I ate with the men or the women, but rather was a lesson in self-assurance, friendship and mutual respect.
Years later, while studying Steven Covey’s “Seven Habits of Highly Effective People“, I realized that a few of those habits were being forged within me, from my early days as a newbie engineer. I learned much during those tentative days of self-realization, thanks in part to the amazing and ingenuous people with whom I interacted.
*****
The Light and Shade Challenge
Written and submitted to the Light and Shade Challenge, which provided an intriguing photo prompt and the following quote: “Some ghosts are so quiet you would hardly know they were there.” ― Bernie Mcgill, The Butterfly Cabinet
The sunny, sheltered space, now changed, transposed
by vine-like, jumbled stems, a nest or two!
I saw my treasures still ‘neath stained green-blue
of mossy beds and tangled, twisted roots,
my point; save chirping birds from tumbling through,
I protecting, guarding, in cahoots.
My life-long appetite for birding shared (at last)
with grandsons, knighted sentries: Torch now passed.
This was written in response to the Wordle below. However, I was inspired by the exquisite joy I feel as a grandmother, when sharing the simple memories of my childhood (like a secret treasure hole in an old tree trunk) with them and see again, through their eyes,once the wonder of discovery and adventure that I once felt. I pass my loving torch to them each day, through small moments such as these.
Surrounded,
Framed in leafy green,
Foraging the foliage,
Startled, sensing she was not alone,
Warned by wafting air
of danger near,
Beware!
Hidden,
Waiting for the frame,
I spied in silent awe,
Inwardly, I laughed my nervous laughter
I, the unobserved observer,
I, poet behind my lens
Frozen.
Hesitation,
Our eyes lock,
Access granted,
She, naïveté epitome,
Trusting babe in untamed woods,
Watching as I watch,
Communion.
Saddened
I, that other eyes
behind their view glass,
May, one day, catch her blinded, unaware,
Unmoved by beauty,
Choosing, in its stead,
Destruction.
Hopeful,
though, this fawn
will older, wiser be,
Equipped with knowing guile, agility,
Today, she poses,
Just for me,
Masterpiece
After a long hiatus, I return to Studio30+ with a poem inspired by these photographs, and the Photo Friday prompt “Portrait”. I include the Studio 30+ prompt: “I laughed my nervous laughter.”
Each summer, a prep school campus of rolling, green hills, clear mountain air, and rippling streams, nestled at the foot of Mt. Everett in Sheffield Massachusetts, becomes a backdrop to artistic achievement and expression.
Although I’ve been participating since 1991, I still marvel at the unique experience that is TheBerkshire Choral Festival, as scores of avocational singers and professional choristers and musicians from several countries and continents, raise their voices in song. Many of us are strangers (save friends from seasons past), and yet we meet, we greet, we dine and we share our dormitory refrigerators and life experiences, in a total immersion experience.
Arriving on Sunday afternoon, with “…the notes learned…”, we begin the process on Monday morning: absorbing the music, understanding the intent of the composer, and fulfilling the interpretation of our pre-eminent, world-class conductor. We have no doubt at the outset, that this journey – a full week of intensive focus (rehearsing each morning and evening) – will lead us to new heights of musical expression.
As the week progresses, we put the finishing touches on sectional and ensemble challenges, just as The Stewart Center is transformed from a sports complex to an acoustic concert space. We unabashedly hum aloud, as we tackle the hilly terrain between dining hall, dorms and rehearsal spaces. When not rehearsing, we become classroom students, for courses specializing in the composer of the week, music theory and vocal technique; and we enjoy recitals performed by the staff and apprentices.
We are physically and spiritually immersed in music.
Saturday, rolls around all too soon and as curtain time draws near, we wait backstage in concert garb, nervously warming up. We are reminded why we are here; that this unique collection of individuals, has never performed together, and will never do so again, and most importantly, that through our singing, we are adding beauty to a troubled world.
Maestro takes the podium. Orchestra and Chorus are poised for the downbeat. Silence. Then, ever so quietly and solemnly, the opening strains of Brahms’ “Ein deutsches Requiem” fill the concert hall, and for the next 70 minutes, all are lost in the drama, beauty and emotion of this masterpiece.
The BCF Chorus sings with inspiration, soloists and the Springfield Symphony perform beautifully, the audience is genuinely moved and Maestro is pleased, as our voices and instruments artfully soar, becoming so much more than the mere sum of the parts.
Afterwards, basking in the glow of a profoundly beautiful performance, we raise our glasses in celebration of a job well done; finally bidding adieu to Maestro, faculty, and new-found friends (and old), promising to return next year.
Under the limitless canopy of a star-studded New England night-sky, I contemplatively embrace the silence in an attempt to forever etch this moment in my psyche, as the inevitable, anticlimactic letdown begins to permeate my spirit.
Yes, this is a special place, where individual contributors – unique colors of the spectrum – meld to become a resonant rainbow of sound. I am privileged to be a tiny sliver of light in that rainbow.
Berkshire Choral Festival
*****
This was written for the Light and Shade Challenge, Monday July 21, 2014; using the provided photo prompt and the following quote: “Sunset is still my favorite color and rainbow is second.” (Mattie Stepanek), and is a true reflection of my experience last week at the Berkshire Choral Festival (www.choralfest.org), concluding with the Saturday July 21st performance of Brahms’ “Ein deutsches Requiem”, Op.45.
PHOTO CHALLENGE: Container “From “Don’t judge a book by its cover” to “Don’t look at the jug, but at what it contains” (an old Rabbinic saying), we’re constantly taught that the contents of things are more important than the vessels, wrappers, and boxes that hold them in place. This week, let’s give outer shells their due and focus our lenses on things that contain other things.”
We stopped at a country hardware/garden center in Hillsdale, NY, while driving home after a week of music in the Berkshires; and spotted a bowl of eggs with a hand-scribbled sign that read “Eggs $.35 each, $4.00 a dozen. They had been dropped off earlier that morning by a local woman with fresh eggs to spare. We couldn’t resist the perfectly, imperfect, recently-laid eggs, and the anticipation of a fluffy scrambled eggs breakfast at home, so of course, we purchased a dozen (leaving a solitary egg in the basket). In this photograph, egg shells, perfect containers to the eggs within, are nestled softly and securely in the rustic, cardboard, egg carton!
Although I’ve been participating since 1991, I still marvel at the unique experience that is The Berkshire Choral Festival, as scores of avocational singers and professional choristers and musicians from several countries and continents, raise their voices in song. Many of us are strangers (save friends from seasons past), and yet we meet, we greet, we dine and we share our dormitory refrigerators and life experiences, in a total immersion experience.
Arriving on Sunday afternoon, with “…the notes learned…”, we begin the process on Monday morning: absorbing the music, understanding the intent of the composer, and fulfilling the interpretation of our pre-eminent, world-class conductor. We have no doubt at the outset, that this journey – a full week of intensive focus (rehearsing each morning and evening) – will lead us to new heights of musical expression.
Maestro takes the podium. Orchestra and Chorus are poised for the downbeat. Silence. Then, ever so quietly and solemnly, the opening strains of Brahms’ “Ein deutsches Requiem” fill the concert hall, and for the next 70 minutes, all are lost in the drama, beauty and emotion of this masterpiece. 
Opal Reflections 