Author: Jana

  • send-off


    Park pose, 1990, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.
    Just finished handwriting my first letter to John in Seattle (where he’s studying SF writing this summer). But before I wrote to him, I read through many of the weekly letters that I sent him while he was in Japan on his LDS mission. He left for two years just shortly after we met. Those 20 year-old letters are so embarrassingly sappy to me now, and have moments of discomfort that make me cringe. How do you negotiate sensitive topics while halfway around the globe from each other, with a lag of weeks between correspondence (we weren’t allowed to talk on the phone, nor could we have afforded it)? There was so much unsaid, so much reading between the lines…so much wondering who we would find when we reunited…

    And even though we have many ways of keeping in touch now–it’s still gonna be one long summer apart from my love :(

    Picture above was taken the Sunday before John left for Japan, following his missionary “farewell” meeting at church. We were so silly & dramatic back then!

  • With the Yeoman Warders


    With the Yeoman Warders at the Tower of London, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Methinks that if GameBoy takes a pic with the Yeoman Warders when we’re in England next month, he might just be taller than they are :)

    (Oh, how I miss my cuddly little boy, and oh how I adore the one who now looks down at his mom!)

  • Seattle-bound

    My plans for this trip had to change at the last minute, due to my confusion over the ferry schedule back to Seattle.  So instead of an extra day to explore Vancouver Island, I gained a day to explore Seattle (how odd that it is, really, considering that in just a few days, John will be settling into making this city his new temporary home…).  One of the joys of such a spontaneous change is that I was able to quickly make contact with a Seattle blogger that I’ve followed for several years.  She and I shared a friend in Sara, but have never met.  We also share a love for gardening and the Japanese culture, as well as experience with cancer.

    The change in travel plans has meant less time as a tourist—I never did even make it to a tea shop in Victoria—but more time talking with fellow travelers at my conference.  Last night I ended up sharing dinner with a woman that I’d just met, after we learned that we had children of similar ages and temperaments (and we’d bought similar take-home gifts in the UVic bookstore).  As we walked on we realized that both of our spouses build/manage databases and we also share a passion for 19th-century women’s history.  Sharing a cab to the ferry this morning I had similarly provocative conversations with scholars from California,New York, and Illinois.

    As I write this, I’m looking out over the rolling waters of the Juan de Fuca strait and dreaming about paddling those waters someday.  My very small taste of the Pacific Northwest & Vancouver Island has me convinced that this is a place to return to again soon.  A place that I could even call home someday.  But even more than the connection that I’m finding to the cities and structures of the area, I’m feeling full of the conversations and connections that’ve emerged in the past few days.  I’m coming home full of ideas and possibilities, ready for even more such experiences at the conferences coming up in July, and for my research projects.

  • As busy as a…bunny?

    I’m working on gathering the statistical information for the maps that I’m making this week, and I just encountered the image above in a scanned googlebook from the 1870s. It actually gave me the creeps–like those goosebumps that I get on the back of my neck when there’s an odd breeze blowing through an empty room. And it sort of reminds me of the creepy nineteenth-century spiritualist images, too…

    PS: The bunny reference has to do with the overabundance of the creatures on this campus.  Being very careful of the ones with fangs, I promise!

  • Something old, something new…

    There are parts of my life in which I’m extremely old-fashioned, and others that I’m completely hi-tech.  For example, I’d choose a turn-of-the-last-century house, a vinyl album, and vintage clothing over the same items new.  But I’m an early adopter of most social technologies–first using BBSs, email, geocities, and listservs back in the early 90s, blogging for nearly a decade, and now an avid twitterer.  
    I don’t see much of a pattern in my proclivities.  But it does seem that I prefer old *things* and I prefer new *methods.*  So my car is 13 years-old and my laptop is seven and my SIGG bottle wears its battle scars proudly.  But I usually know whatever the “new big thing” is on the web, follow twitter trending topics avidly, and enjoy discussing the latest tech news.  
    The old and new are on my mind today because I’ve gotten several comments lately about the fact that this blog still lives on blogger (an artifact from the day when blogspot.com was the latest shiny tool).  I’ve actually re-built this site several times on wordpress, and yet each time I’ve started the process of migrating the content, I’ve changed my mind.  It’s likely that I’ll actually move forward with it soon, as part of my online portfolio project–but it’s hard to move on from a space that’s been ‘home’ for so long.  It feels like that comfortable pair of jeans that just keeps emerging from my closet even though it’s well past time for them to become quilting materials.
    Picture above shows the bunnies congregating at the University of Victoria

  • sailing away…

    Yesterday I sailed away from the United States and entered Canada. This is my first trip to Canada that was more than a day-long jaunt or a layover. I love the variety accents. There were French-speaking teens surrounding me on my ferry ride. The restaurants give me “evidence” rather than a credit card receipt. It is not cold here, but it did rain yesterday.

    Perhaps the best part of my travels is meeting several online friends in real life–I especially appreciate the ‘taxi’ service from @leisurelyviking and @jcmeloni.  Traveling tends to reaffirm the faith I have in the connectedness of our world, as well as the deep-down beauty of stranger-friends.

    I am here for an intensive summer workshop.  I’d kind of forgotten what it feels like to be a student and take lecture notes.  But it’s all coming back very quickly…And I love that my instructor’s recent research focuses on literary journeys through the Lake District of northern England.  I am now scheming a jaunt to that region either before or after my conference in London next month.  Such scenery.  Such history.  Such adventure!  :)

    PS: This journey marks my first out-of-the-country trip on my own.  Also, my first by-myself ferry ride.

  • transitions


    under the rose arbor, in the sunshine, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.
    This past few months have been full of unknowns for me and my family. For example, we learned that there was a strong chance that our apartment would be demolished this summer, but were given no certainty or specific timetable for that event. A few months ago I’d also received word that a job offer was imminent from Chapman University, but then time marched on with nothing concrete happening on that front. And so forth…

    Well, many of those unknowns have recently become decided. Our apartment will not be demolished but my beloved community garden (also on university property) will. I received my formal job offer this Friday. I also learned that I received funding to travel to an international conference in England later this summer, and the issues with my health insurance company were recently resolved in my favor. And I received word that I earned only one fellowship to support my studies this next year (at the Huntington Library–lucky me!).

    Whew, there’s something so very comforting about having fewer unknowns looming on the horizon. I like to think of myself as someone who sees the world in a rather rosy light, but there are times when things seem so uncertain that it’s difficult to not let that overwhelm me…and eclipse my daily joys.

    Last night I sat in the garden with two dear friends and started remembering all of the stories that are held in that soil. There are memories from when my kids were small and we saw fairies in the dew that gathered at the joints of the cornstalk leaves. There are times with sunflower houses, bean teepees, spontaneous potlucks, and BLACKBERRIES. There are bumblebees and gophers and rats and those damn peach-thieving squirrels. There are plants that just keep growing, and some that don’t make it after all. There’s mud and sweat and tears. There’s silence and birdsong. There’s the smell of lavender at dusk. And there is knowing that no matter where I go, I will always have a garden.

  • Walden, the game

    I am so in love with Henry David Thoreau and his beans, that when I heard today about a project to build an interactive video game to replicate Henry’s experience, my mind just kind of exploded.  And now I’m beginning to imagine immersive virtual reality in a whole new way.

  • changes


    peaches-in-the-making, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    My life has been full of unknowns this past few months. And then this past week, thing after thing has been falling into place–or at least reaching a point of certainty.

    For example, we learned tonite that our apartment will not be among those that will be demolished this summer. We can breathe easier knowing that a move of our household is not imminent.

    However, our Community Garden will be moved. This space that has nurtured student gardens since the 60s will never be the same in a new space.

    So now I’m wondering if this will be the last year that I will see the blossoms on my Mother’s Day tree (gifted to me when Catgirl was a toddler)? I doubt the new Garden space will allow trees, so perhaps it can be moved to a home with a backyard that has a perfect spot for it…

  • water-therapy

    This post is one of a series to support my 39th Birthday Wish. 

    After my amputation, the surgeon put a cast on the stump of my right leg to protect the wound as it healed for the first few weeks.  He replaced the cast occasionally as the swelling decreased.  The day I got the cast off for the final time, the first thing I did was head to physical therapy in the hospital’s swimming pool.  What an amazing feeling that was to float in the water after weeks of being confined to hospital beds and wheelchairs…

    I still feel more at home in water than on land.  Here’s a picture of me taking a leap into Walden Pond last fall:

    backfloat

    Having lost my leg at such a young age, there have been some times I’ve felt the loss very keenly. It’s hard to explain what it feels like to have such a significant part of oneself gone, but there’s an ache that’s similar to what I’ve experienced when a loved one dies. Last fall when I was in Denver for an academic conference, I did something rather unusual–I visited the hospital where I had my cancer treatment, and asked to view my medical files. I learned many things from going through those files, but the most profound moment was when I received the pathology images that included pictures of my leg after the amputation surgery. The images showed the extent of the tumor, via cross-section of bone and tissue.

    To work through the complicated emotions that I felt about those pictures, I went to the pool for a long swim, taking the laps slow and hard while my mind chewed on what I’d seen. As the light cast dappled patterns in the water around me I felt past and present collide: I was a little girl with two legs, I was a young teen swimming for the first time after her surgery, I was a grown woman who was still making sense of her loss. I was swimming, stretching, remembering, and moving on.

  • On Turning 39…

    This post is one of a series to support my 39th Birthday Wish. 

    Turning 39 feels awfully old.  And I know most people, especially women, feel wearied by this number–with 40 looming just around the corner.

    But here’s the thing: For a few years I doubted whether I would even make it to see my 15th birthday.  That I’m still kickin’ at 39 is nothing short of a miracle to me.

    Picture at left is of me during chemo.  I’m wearing a wig and a favorite purple sweatshirt that a friend personalized for me. 

  • The Ocean & Me



    This post is about my experiences with the ocean, and is one of a series to support my 39th Birthday Wish. 

    My maternal ancestors come from the Isle of Man, a peculiar piece of land that’s situated in the Irish Sea. My ggggrandfather and his kin were ship captains, and were certainly smugglers like most who hailed from Manx ports.  A few years ago when we visited the Isle we saw his warehouse in the main port city.  We also saw the ancestral farmlands and the parish cemetery where nearly every headstone had a familiar name.

    I didn’t see the ocean myself until I was 14 years old, having grown up in Oklahoma and Colorado.  I’d just completed a year of chemotherapy treatments and my family planned a HUGE trip to California.  My first glimpse of the ocean was from PCH, driving towards San Diego from LAX.  By that time I’d already lost my leg and was ambulating rather precariously using crutches and an ill-fitting prosthetic limb.  I don’t recall actually dipping my toes into the Pacific during that trip, though it’s possible that I did.  Much of my memory of that era is long gone–which may be a blessing given how tough a time it was for me.

    Shortly after that trip to California my family relocated from Denver to Bakersfield, which meant that we lived close enough to visit the beach a few times every year.  However, because none of my prosthetic limbs were water-proof (or even water-resistant), I had to use crutches when I wanted to be on the beach.  And the logistics of trying to “crutch” in the waves was so frustrating, I never went more than shin-deep in the ocean until about two years ago.  Isn’t that crazy?  My first swim in the ocean was at age 36!  That summer John & the kids helped me do so by fetching my crutches back and forth as I needed them to enter & exit the ocean.  And I had the opportunity to swim in both the Pacific and the Atlantic ocean that year because of our family vacation to the outer banks of North Carolina.

    me

    When I decided to take up the sport of outrigger canoeing, I met with my prosthetist and discussed the possibility of crafting a waterproof leg that I could wear in and out of the canoes.  He’d never made a leg like the one that I wanted, but was willing to see what he could come up with!  He ended up cobbling together a “pirate” pegleg with an ankle joint at the knee (the only waterproof joint he could find that could be locked into both straight and bent positions).  There’s a little knob that I turn at my knee when I transfer from walking to sitting in the boat, that locks the knee in either position.  Perhaps the most questionable part of this leg was whether it would stay on when I fell out of the boat or needed to jump into the ocean (such as in 9-man season when we change seats for the long races).  The first time I tried was on a “huli drill” where I had tip our 6-man canoe to practice the recovery process.  I was in charge of tipping the boat because I was the steersman.  I can’t tell you how scared I was about that–not even knowing if my leg would stay on once I fell into the water, much less knowing how it would work to swim in the ocean with it attached to my body!

    But what I learned from my huli drill & from the other times that I wore it in the ocean, was that leg does stay on and that it’s quite a gift to be able to walk autonomously from beach to water.  Each time that I’ve jumped out into the waves and started swimming is a miracle to me.  I don’t take it for granted even for a second!  It took me 36 years to swim in the ocean and when I did, it felt so “right.”

    I suspect that my love for the ocean runs gene-deep, coming from my island ancestors who sailed the seas. But whatever the reason, when I’m in the ocean I feel connected to the universe in a way that I’ve never felt in any other space.  With the water buoying me up, the rhythm of the waves rocking my body, the sun warming my skin, and the thrill of the unknown below…it’s there that I feel the complete perfection of my life and this world.

    C, Suz and me in the waves
    Picture of me in the Atlantic Ocean with GameBoy and my little sister.