This Reminds Me

Archive for June, 2006

On the long drive home from Tyler on Sunday, we stopped to pick blueberries at Blueberry Farms, a really neat family-owned business.

I’d never much liked blueberries.  Oh, sure, they add color to cobbler and whatever, but I thought of them much like political debates - mostly woody and basically tasteless.

Rachel – fearing association with her “ghetto family” – felt it necessary to straighten her hair and apply make-up before heading to the fields in 100 degree heat.  I’m thinking migrant farm work is not in her future.

These berries purpled my tongue, filled my tummy and changed my mind.  Darn, they’re good!  The mother-in-law of the owner whispered her picking secrets to me as we trooped toward the field, swinging our baskets:  “Everybody wants big berries.  They’re not as good.  Pick the littlest ones with the deepest color.  They’re the sweetest.  And watch for the rows with the flags, they’re perfectly ripe.”

Hannah subscribed to the “perfect berry” theory – only the most colorful and flawless fruits were plucked for her basket.  What she lacked in volume, she compensated for in symetry.

Took us about an hour to fill almost all of one of the smaller buckets.  Future generations of Joads have nothing to fear from us.  With the variances in our height, we could stay on one row easily.  Some of the bushes were taller than 6’5″ Keith.  Some berries 42″ Julia had to bend over to grasp.  Julia grew tired of picking and starting visiting each of us in rotation to pour our berries into her bucket.

Julia exercised the right of berry pickers everywhere to sample the goods.  Her front teeth are soooo loose - blueberries are something she could eat without fear.

I made a gynormous cobbler with about 2/3 of the berries last night.  And not my usual a few-berries-with-mostly-sliced-applies cobbler, either, no no!  The real thing.  All blueberries with sugar, flour, cinnamon, cornstarch, butter, vanilla and brown sugar.  Baked in my favorite green Jadeite dish.  Topped with vanilla ice cream and served hot.  Julia didn’t think she wanted any until she saw all of us eating it, then she did – and promptly declared it “foosna” (tasty.)

So as you travel around this summer, think about what you might pick up.

It might be berry, berry good, you know?

We’re in Tyler, Texas right now – about 320 miles from Casa Woodworth in San Antonio. We came to attend a Buckner gathering on Lake Athens with about 275 other guests, including 13 older child “Angels” from St. Petersburg,now visiting with potential adoptive families. Two of the angels – Sasha D, age 4, and Sasha T, age 5, reside in Children’s Home #47,the former abode of our Julia. The director of the home – Ms. Tamara – is also visiting in the Dallas area, along with Ms. Ludmilia, the director of Children’s Home #2, and Natasha, our Buckner contact in St. Pete. They’re returning to St. Pete on Tuesday. Hopefully, many of the children will return to the United States in a few months as members of families.

Buckner Representative Natasha – holding Julia – held our hands all through St. Pete.  Orphanage Director Ms. Tamara (sleeveless blouse) dragged herself from her sick bed (flu) to testify on our behalf in court, and recommend the 10 days be waived.  We’ll always be grateful to her.

We were afraid Julia would freak when she saw Ms. Tamara and the two Sashas, fearing a return to Russia. So our Buckner case worker, Irina, spoke at length to Julia on the phone before we left, explaining that all six Woodworths were going, and all six of us were returning home.

So could we possibly return home by water slide?  Because, really, it’s just so much faster.

This was likely Julia’s only chance to see someone from her former life. We felt like we had to come. We’ve had a great day. The girls have ridden in boats three times, been pulled on inflatables twice, gone swimming in the Lake Athens once and constructed mud castles too numerous to count. We’re stuffed with fried catfish, french fries and hush puppies dipped in honey. Our noses are red, our feet are wrinkled and all our ears smell of rubbing alcohol. Sleep (“spot”) will come quickly tonight.

None of the girls had ever been on a boat.  And they all loved it.  Six different boats hauled kids all day long, including towing inflatables for them to ride.on.

Interestingly……Julia was not particularly enamored of the Russian speakers. She was….ummm…..polite. She allowed Ms. Tamara to hug her. She let Natasha pick her up. She answered questions asked of her. She chummed with Sasha D. and his older brother Misha a bit blowing bubbles, and for a few minutes before a boat ride. They tried to engage her in conversation on the boat – she largely ignored them. Clusters of Russian-speaking kids swirled by her – literally scores of them – she watched them dispassionately, not seemingly wanting to join them. We met our case worker Irina for the first time, and Irina tried hard to draw her out in Russian. Nyet.

We’re hoping Sasha D. and his brother older brother Misha – who live in different orphanages and hadn’t seen each other for 18 months before this trip – will be adopted by a couple in Oregon who came to visit them.  They’re really neat little boys.

One of us was with Julia all the time, and that was obviously what she wanted, as evidenced by how hard she pulled us toward whatever activity caught her eye.

We introduced her dozens of times. “And this Julia, who’s been home a month from St. Pete.” Julia would stand still, but her eyes constantly darted for the next activity and the closest sister to drag to it.  Sasha, Ms. Tamara and Ms. Natasha all called her by her pet name, “Juna,” but she didn’t react to it.

We had a similar experience with Julia last week at our neighborhood pool.  We happened up a Ukranian family with two children close to her in age, both bilingual in Russian and English.  She did not engage with them.  I practically pushed her at them – she hung back, just staring.  Lois said she acted “confused.”

When I described this (surprising) confusion to my boss, Sharon, she asked me, “Has Julia moved on?”

Hmmm.  Maybe.  Maybe she has moved on.  While it’s true that she’s still not offering her name – “Julia Woodworth” – when queried, neither was she responding today to her pet name in Russia,”Juna.”  Maybe she’s in flux right now – a head still filled with Russian, but with a heart full of Americans.

Keith’s been lusting for a new truck.  He recently commented that for what we’ve spent on this adoption, he could have had a mighty nice new truck. And then quickly added “Of course, God’s never going to ask me what truck I drove.”

So true.

And while that truck might move – it will never move on.