Lydia Likes It

Old Ladies Against Underwater Garbage

Perhaps because I am one (an old lady), I squealed with delight when I read in the Reasons to be Cheerful newsletter and the Christian Science Monitor newspaper about Old Ladies Against Underwater Garbage (OLAUG), an absolutely real group based on Cape Cod in Massachusetts. Since 2017, the group -- which accepts only women 65 and older as members -- has removed trash, by hand, from ponds across the Cape. A recent haul yielded wooden planks, silty beer cans, a plastic container lid, a mud-caked fishing rod, a cement block, and a 12-foot segment of aluminum flashing that required the combined efforts of several divers to hoist on the back of a kayak. They also found a blueberry-cheesecake-flavored electronic cigarette. “We didn't even know what it was!" they laughed. "We had to ask a young person.” The dives attract onlookers (and cheerleaders), and provide joy along with a community service. Fabulous!

Elevated Access

Let's face it: women's health care just ain't what it used to be a few years ago. Those of us who live in the Northeast, who have access to quality care and the resources to afford it, are luckier than we can imagine. In much of the US, women's reproductive health care is either no longer available, or so restricted that it's available only to those wealthy enough to work around the restrictions. For women in need of reproductive health care or gender-affirming services, Elevated Access, an all-volunteer corps of pilots using donated private planes, transports women at no cost to get the care they need. The services of this young nonprofit organization are available all over the country. They accept referrals from case workers, direct-support organizations, and health care providers to evaluate the need and try to locate a pilot to handle the flight. Pilots, thank you for your service.

Pick-up line

The city of Newton sits adjacent to Boston; it's a vibrant suburb, home to several colleges and universities and shopping malls and many restaurants and ample green space. Some time in 2025, Ted and I plan to move to a brand new senior independent living community in Newton, and it's occurred to us that we don't know much about the city at all. Most of our activity -- cultural, medical, volunteering, and our previous work life -- has been centered in Boston. Imagine my delight to learn that Newton has a city-sponsored on-demand ride service called New Mo: Newton in Motion. NewMo, which operates Monday-Friday, costs just $2 per ride, anywhere in Newton, and works just like Uber or Lyft. (If you are age 60 or older, the NewMo Senior Service offers some additional benefits, like door-to-door and Saturday morning service and the ability to prebook for medical appointments.) Affordable, sustainable, easy to use on your phone: I can't wait to try it.

Lunch doodles

Am I the last to discover Mo Willems and his wonderful books for children? Three years after the start of the pandemic, the New York Times published a short piece about by the artist and the videos he made to help himself through it. So, three years after the start of the pandemic, why I am writing about this now? Because I sat down and binge watched them all with a big smile on my face (and ordered a few new drawing journals). Because Mo Willems, author of Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus and eight other Pigeon books, treats kids like thoughtful human beings. And because I also believe that science has gotten us to this point, but art is in it with us for the long term. I'm letting the artist speak for himself here, because he is so much more eloquent than I am. Enjoy his videos; if this one makes you smile, there's a whole series to watch. Now, go get your Sharpies and doodle along!

BY MO WILLEMS, from the New York Times April 9, 2023: I think like many people in early March 2020, I couldn’t or wouldn’t comprehend the magnitude of an actual pandemic, so I didn’t. I’d been traveling to Los Angeles, then I flew to D.C. for a big show where lots of kids would come and doodle while a jazz band improvised. But when I landed, I saw what was on the airport TV screens. That’s when it hit me: We can’t do this. So I canceled the show and flew home.

I’d long been saying that I write about things that confuse me or scare me because if I’m confused or scared enough, I assume that it must be a universal emotion. On that plane, I knew I was afraid. So I thought, maybe other people were afraid, too. That gave me an idea. That was on Thursday, March 12. On Friday I called the Kennedy Center, where I was artist in residence, and pitched the idea of shooting a midday doodling session from my home studio. On Saturday, I wrote a few beat sheets, and my wife, Cher, and son, Trix, set up what we needed. On Sunday, we shot the first Lunch Doodle with a cellphone on a tripod on a table — that was it. No lights. No microphone. We did it in one shot with no edits, then sent the video to the team at the Kennedy Center, who formatted it and announced on social media the video would drop on Monday at noon.

As the week progressed, a pal got in touch to say, “You know what, let me send you a microphone.” My mother-in-law reached out to say, “Let me send you a comb.” The shows got tighter. It was, to be honest, stressful and isolating at the beginning. But within a couple of days, we started getting letters and drawings sent by kids. That felt good.

The whole project gave our family agency, which is what we desperately needed in those early days. Thanks to the kids, our sense of being untethered in a stormy sea gave way to a sense of being connected to a community, which grew into a realization: Science was going to get us out of this pandemic. But art was going to get us through it.

Hablas Español?

Do you hablas Español? Do you hablas French, or Russian, or Mandarin, or Greek, or Haitian Creole, or any second language (assuming English is your first)? In my New Jersey public school system, languages weren't a priority, and we didn't have the option of electing to study a language until high school. Having not achieved any fluency in Hebrew school when I was younger, I realized that language aptitude was not part of my makeup, so I convinced myself (and my parents) that taking Latin in high school would stand me in good stead academically, and give me a leg up in case I ever time-traveled to ancient Rome. Oh, how I regret that decision. Being good at crossword puzzles is one thing, but being able to travel and converse easily in Mexico or Costa Rica or Venezuela or Puerto Rico is much more appealing. ¡Debería haber estudiado Español! Now I can, with the aid of technology. Babbel, Pimsleur and Rosetta Stone are three sites to check out. Different styles, different prices, all with great reviews. It's never too late to learn. ¡Empecemos!