Easter

Two years ago

April 2015 was rough. I was still reeling from the devastating disappointment of the decitabine failing, when David started a clinical trial of the experimental drug CPI-0610. Yeah, so experimental they hadn’t even given it a proper name. We spent the first day of the trial in the clinic for 8 hours: 4 EKGs and 8 blood draws.

CPI-0610 was so new the manufacturer was only making it in 25 mg pills, so David had to swallow 12 large capsules each morning.

On Sunday, April 26, we all went to dinner at the Bements. David played with little Eli; he was always very gentle and relaxed around young children. Eli loved him; they developed quite a rapport.

Easter 2017

What with our trip to Italy and getting ready for Patriots’ Day (we park between 40 and 60 cars on our acre lot, I bake six large breakfast casseroles, and we host a breakfast for all comers (usually between 100 and 150 people)), I didn’t take time to think much about Easter. The Easter program at church was lovely; I sang in the choir. Sixteen-year-old Bella, a young woman who moved here from Brazil with her family a year ago, gave a sweet talk.

The Friday after Easter, I happened upon a journal entry I wrote a year ago. At the time, I was in great pain. And then a well-meaning friend greeted me on Easter Sunday: “Oh, Mary, this must be the happiest Easter for you, knowing that David will be resurrected.” No, it wasn’t; it just plain hurt. Badly.

So this year, without planning it consciously, I let Easter slip away without much fanfare. I’m not in deep anguish, but I don’t feel like celebrating. I trust that next year I’ll have healed even more. For now, I’ll accept that the past two Easters has been hard holy days.

The Enchanted April

Two years ago

In March and April, David’s health remained stable as he started a new clinical trial. Jim and I had hoped to take a Midwest road trip with him, since he couldn't fly with his low (nigh non-existent) immune system. But he couldn’t even stay away from the clinic for more than 5 days, so we flew to Chicago and spent the week with Charlotte and Matt, while, Annie flew to Boston and took a shorter road trip with David to NYC to visit R’el, Peter, Xiomara, and sweet 3-year-old Andrew.

Matt was working for Wabash College in central Indiana and planned to move there, so we looked at apartments with him, then drove to Columbus, Indiana. Jim’s first real job after his MBA was in the finance department at Cummins Engine Company. We moved there when R’el was a week old and left four years later, 7 weeks before Matt was born. In between, our Hoosier baby, Peter, was born.

It was wonderful to see our old friends, including R’els and Peter’s babysitter, Loretta. In those energetic days, I would strap Peter to my front and wheel R’el in the stroller to Loretta’s house, then walk to the Boys and Girls Club for lap swimming.

Enchanted April 2017

We’re not forgetting David, but I’m sure he’d want us to experience life and not dwell in debilitating grief. It’s hard not to feel guilty enjoying things he can’t enjoy, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense. When I die I will want my loved ones to appreciate and enjoy the life they have still to live.

Jim and I have been planning for a year to go to Italy with Jim’s brother, Jeff, and his wife, Nelly. Because Nelly’s school vacation conflicted with our Patriots’ Day plans, we flew to Florence six days before they did, then spent five days together. Then we flew home while they took a train to the Italian coast.

I felt like I’d fallen into the movie (and book) Enchanted April (based on the book, The Enchanted April, by Elizabeth von Arnim). I highly recommend both. It’s set in a medieval Italian castle, not Florence, but wisteria blooming in April connects their story and ours. Lottie and Rose dream of Italy while enduring a cold and rainy March in London; we looked forward to Italy as it snowed April 1st in New England. We all dreamed of wisteria: that flowering vine that spills over tall walls, delicate sprays of fragrant lavender blooms shaped like airy clusters of grapes.

Our time in Florence was like a honeymoon. (Maybe I’ll tell you more sometime about our real honeymoon. It was definitely shoestring.) I’ll leave the descriptions of the Duomo and Uffizzi to the myriad excellent guidebooks; everything they say is true.

Jim found our lodging on AirBNB several months ago. It was perfect: an efficiency apartment on the top floor of a building of apartments and two small hotels. Overlooking a courtyard, it was quiet and peaceful.

During the day, the front door was propped open. As we walked down the four flights of stairs (there was an elevator, but I took the stairs often to burn off some of the calories of all those gelatos and lasagnas), we became aware of a dull roar, gradually increasing until we stepped out into a bustling river of pedestrians, flowing in both directions from morning until late at night. Three blocks north was the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore (the Duomo),

 six blocks south was the Palazzo Vecchio (Old Palace), built in 1299 and still the seat of local government, with the mayor’s office and the City Council.


I’ve never really understood the love of Italy: my people are from northern Europe: Germany and England and Ireland. But Florence disarmed me. The sunshine, the food (have I mentioned gelato?), the art and architecture. At first I was disoriented, confusing north and south and uncertain of my way. But by the end I walked with confidence in the neighborhood, surrounded by over two thousand years of history.

Gelato

I have two goals while in Italy, besides the obvious ones of enjoying our vacation (I am quite capable of having a miserable time in a beautiful place) and absorbing the sights and sounds and culture of Florence and Venice. The goals are to eat gelato every day and not to gain weight. Those may seem contradictory, but so far they’ve been complementary. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed each of my meals and knowing that I have a gelato in store helps me eat sparingly. And I love the tiny spoons the shops provide; they help me savor every small bite.

One of my fond memories of visiting Florence in 2001 with our six kids (then aged 10 to 20), was eating gelato frequently. It’s easy to do: in the tourist areas there are gelaterias in all directions. I’m not a connoisseur, but I enjoy the intense flavor and creamy texture.

There’s also a wonderful visual feast at many of the gelatarias. The gelato is presented in glass cases next to the sidewalk: creamy swirled mountains of brilliant red, yellow, orange, cream: strawberry, cherry, raspberry, mango, orange, lemon, coconut, hazelnut, and caramel. I eschew the blue raspberry and cotton candy ones.

By the second day I had failed in my goal: We arrived Monday and I had cherry gelato, but Tuesday I took my eye off the ball and didn’t think about it until after 11 p.m.: they had all closed. I learned my lesson! I ate gelato twice on Saturday, since we usually don’t buy things on Sunday, our Sabbath. Monday and Tuesday I was back on track.

We’ve attended concerts nearly every night. Opera soloists, and on Saturday night, a wonderfully skilled violinist play Vivaldi’s Four Seasons with a chamber orchestra. Jim and I realized with a shock that we had never heard it played live. It makes a huge difference. For years we had a cassette recording which included a poem in Italian at the end. Turns out Vivaldi's work is based on an Italian poem. Who knew?

Monday night (concerts usually start around 9 p.m.) we heard a young orchestra play a Romance by Sibelius and Mozart’s Symfonia Concertante for violin and viola. The violinist struck us as looking very Renaissance-Italian. He was a powerful leader of the piece. The concert concluded with Mozart’s Symphony 40, which I played in the Arlington Philharmonic once.

Afterwards, on our stroll back to the apartment, we stopped in Piazza della Repubblica to listen to a singing guitarist. We’ve seen him three times now. He sings very romantic Italian songs. Last Monday a young crowd had gathered on the piazza and there was dancing. Every day last week the crowds were mostly young adults; we think it must have been university spring break. This night the crowd was small and older.

Florence, Day Three

Another guest blog post from Jim:

Dear Family,

It was about 40 hours ago I wrote you last, from Munich. I called that “Day 2”. That feels like a really long time ago!

We flew from Munich to Florence, then rode the €6 shuttle bus to the Santa Maria Novella train station in downtown Florence. We could see the Duomo from there and walked toward it, about a half mile, to meet our Airbnb host at our apartment…or so we thought. It turns out Florence has at least two house numbering systems. We stood for 40 minutes at a door distinctly marked #11 Calzaiuoli, but our host was at a different #11, about two minutes’ walk to the north. (Note to Jeff and Nelly: the correct #11 is just north of the Disney Store.)

Alessio gave us an orientation to the apartment. It’s as nice as I hoped. I conked out for a nap while Mary determinedly stayed awake. At 7:00 p.m. (1:00 p.m. Boston time) we went out. We had pizza overlooking the Arno, in a covered but open-air space that doubled as an access route to several parking spaces in an interior courtyard. A rose vendor saw me as an easy mark and yes, I did buy a long-stemmed red rose for Mary for €5. She made a move to put it between her teeth. Oh, but that’s not Italian, is it. As we ate, one of the parked cars was maneuvered out, coming within three feet of our table as it went by. I love this! Florence is a marvel of compactness, mixed uses, small cars, motorcycles and scooters, bicycles, and people enjoying themselves in public and semi-public spaces. The only Jane Jacobs element missing is wide sidewalks—many of them are just barely one person wide.

Most buildings in central Florence abut neighboring buildings. The facades facing the street are continuous from one end of the block to the next. Sometimes there are interior courtyards, but to know this you have to look from above on Google. Fronts of buildings come right to the sidewalk. Buildings are four to six stories high. All construction is masonry. Most streets are wide enough for one car and two narrow sidewalks. Except for retail locations, windows are few at street level; many buildings look like fortresses. The overall effect is canyon-like. You might think it would feel oppressive, but to me it’s more like cozy (cozy, that is, until a police car or ambulance careens by with siren blaring in what is a very effective echo chamber).

After our pizza, we walked across the river to the Chiesa (church) Santa Monaca. This is a decommissioned smallish old church now used as a performance space. We heard a virtuoso pianist, David Boldrini, and a magnificent soprano, Deborah Vincenti, perform favorite arias from operas by Verdi, Puccini, and Mozart. We recognized many of them—we have a CD of Puccini arias we’ve listened to dozens of time. We sat next to a couple from England who travel most of the time. They have in mind doing a six-month American tour on a Harley-Davidson. Our walk homeward was very leisurely.

Our last stop before home was the Piazza della Signoria, which is the open space in front of the municipal building Palazzo Vecchio (built in the early 1300s, with the tower that is the symbol of Florence). A crowd was gathered at barricades set in a big perimeter in front of the Palazzo. Cars were parked with engines running at the door of the Palazzo and policemen milled around. There was a sense of anticipation, but about what? We waited a half hour or so and then a group of about 40 distinguished looking people in evening dress, including an elegant female, emerged. The people cheered and waved, and she waved back. We asked the man next to us what it was all about, expecting some exotic Florentine ceremonial hoopla. What a shock: It was Charles the Prince of Wales and Camilla the Duchess of Cornwall! See the full story, including plenty of pictures of the moment we participated in and of their tour earlier in the day all over Florence, at http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-4375124/Prince-Charles-Camilla-sample-Italian-food.html.

The Palazzo Vecchio, town hall of Florence, overlooks the Piazza della Signoria with its copy of Michelangelo's David statue. The original David was unveiled here in 1504 and stood here until 1873 when it was moved indoors.

All that was still Day 2! We arrived home just before midnight local time. I felt very sleepy but missed my sleep window and ended up being awake until after 4:00 a.m. (10:00 p.m. Boston time).

This morning I woke up at 11:30 a.m. local time, feeling very fine physically but not motivated to do anything in particular. Mary slept until 1:30 p.m. We then spent the next five hours in bed talking and undertaking other favorite marital activities. It was very wonderful. We finally emerged in search of a meal at 8:00 p.m., a full 24 hours after our previous meal. This was reminiscent of a trip to Orlando in April 2000 when we both went a day and a half without eating or feeling any desire to eat. Just before that trip I was at my lifetime high weight. In the following 18 months, I lost 30 pounds. I’ve never gained them all back; currently I’m up 10 from that low.

Our meal was lovely. We paid €56 for it plus tip. We had a very leisurely walk back. We sought out the plaza in front of the Basilica Santo Spirito, because that is where we had a restaurant meal with you in 2001. This was the restaurant where I requested tap water to drink and got a dismayed look, and an argument, from the waiter. We saw posters for Opera St. Mark’s. This is at the “English Church” of Florence, still active as a church but, like Santa Monaca, also a performance venue, for full operas. We’ll go to one or two performances on this visit.

We arrived home at midnight. I’ve now spent a couple of hours writing to you and thinking of you. We’re having a wonderful time.

Love,

JimDad

Florence, Italy, Day One and Two

Here's the first in a series of guest blogs by my beloved husband, Jim:

Day One

The Cannon Chronicle  went to Lexington Graphics Thursday night. I saw the proof Friday. It should go into the mail tomorrow or Tuesday. This issue has some very good parts (when have I ever thought a Chronicle issue was not great?). [Mary's note: this is Jim's primo newsletter of his grandparent's (Mary and Alan Cannon) family. It has 100 subscribers and is published twice a year. Let me know if you'd like a subscription: $10/year, domestic postage.]

International air travel seems very spacious and relaxed so far, compared to the flying buses of domestic flights. We’ll see how I’m doing after flying all night. We land in Munich tomorrow and then fly to Florence. Our Airbnb is at Via Calzaiuoli 11, within a five-minute walk of the Duomo. We’ll be there the whole time. Uncle Jeff and Aunt Nelly arrive Thursday (Jeff, is that right? What time?). We arrive back at Logan at 9 p.m. on Apr 13.

I really enjoyed the call from Sam and Savannah last night.

Day Two

It’s Day 2 of the Florence trip, but we’re not in Florence yet. It’s 4:14 a.m. in Boston and 10:14 a.m. here in Munich. Our flight to Florence boards in about 30 minutes.

The A350 was very nice. The seating is 3-3-3. We had an aisle seat and a middle seat in the middle rank. The flight was quite empty, so I moved to an unoccupied row in the back, and slept for four hours. Mary stayed put and also had three seats to lie on.

The last thing we did before boarding in Boston was buy tickets to an performance of favorite numbers from Italian opera, at the Chiesa Santa Monaca on the south side of the river, about 0.7 miles from the Duomo. We’ll walk there. The walk through city streets and the opera numbers should be a good intro to Florence!

The Boston Marathon

              April 1st and 2-3 inches of heavy icy snow fell here. But in 15 days redcoats will again fire on the Lexington Battle Green.

              Later that day, our oldest daughter, R’el, will run in the Boston Marathon (yes, the Boston!) to raise funds for leukemia research through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS), in memory of our son David. It’s been over a year and a half since David died and this is our family’s way of remembering him in a productive way. Our son, Matt, ran last year and we hope to make it an annual tradition. All of us have either walked or run a marathon or a half. (I've walked in North Carolina, New Paltz, NY, Danville, PA (my birthplace!), and an unofficial 13.1 mile walk from Kendall Square in Cambridge to Lexington.)

              Even when his chances of survival were ‘infinitesimal’ (in the exact words of his doctor), David continued to join clinical trials, with their painful bone marrow biopsies, to help further cancer research.

              Take a look at R’els LLS page and the sweet video slideshow David’s younger sister, Annie, has posted:

http://pages.teamintraining.org/vtnt/boston17/rrodriguez 

              Any amount would be greatly appreciated.