Academics dream of the day they get tenure, and running a close second is a sabbatical to focus only on their passion projects uninterrupted by teaching, committee work, and other time draining obligations. I was granted a semester sabbatical for Spring 2020 to complete a case study of a veterinary clinic looking the human-animal bond. I had a plan and was well prepared--IRB approval in June 2019, began interviews in September 2019, and by December 2019 all 14 interviews were transcribed and ready for analysis. Working my colleague and friend, Diane Rhodes, and former graduate student, Morgan Wheeler, we are on track with my sabbatical proposal timeline. But that's only half the story.
My sabbatical fantasy was brewing for months. In this fantasy I would pack up my car in Portland, Maine before Christmas and drive to California with my two Golden Retrievers, Pandy and Pearl. I have a 400 square foot cottage behind our family home in Oakland California where my daughter and son-in-law live in the main home, and my husband (another story) lives in a downstairs unit. In my mind I have been decorating the cottage with new rugs, hanging my paintings, and purchasing small scale furniture. I would return to working on the long oak table my mom bought in Vermont for $75, which was once used to read sheet music at the old Barre Opera House. I logged many hours painting at that table while my baby daughter napped, listening to LPs on the record player. I planned adding new shelving above the table for my art supplies and books. I found the small table and chairs online that I would sit at sipping coffee and writing on my laptop while my dogs lay at my feet. The Bay Area is not particularly warm in winter; however, I walk my two loops though the neighborhood every morning without fear of slipping on ice. Having time to walk several times a day in the hilly streets of our neighborhood or in the grove of redwood trees a five minute drive away were all part of the sabbatical fantasy.
Another big part of the fantasy is the ability to travel. My dogs blend into an existing pack of two other pups at the Oakland family compound, and my son works for United Airlines, which means I have flight benefits to see friends in Europe, Hawaii to visit my son, and seek new destinations. I used to travel regularly, and solo, for the sole purpose of focusing on painting and writing--and discovering. I want to feel that awe again, be a bit uncomfortable in the unfamiliar, and soaking life in more as an observer. My tendency to work on paper was born out of necessity as a traveling artist--I had to be able to roll it up and work in small spaces, which was often right on the street to the amusement of locals. I made many friends that way, as well as earn the reputation of a hard worker. I also took solo road trips to places of natural beauty, singing to myself, or driving in silence for hours clearing my mind or thinking deeply. This sabbatical was going to be a way of recapturing a part of myself I felt disconnected from and focus on creativity.
In my fantasy sabbatical my two dogs with cancer are healthy with no major setbacks. As I roam I get only good reports with no need to cancel or shorten trips. The past three years have presented one hit after the other beginning with my mom's death in July 2016, my surrogate dad Frank Quan in August 2016, my beloved Golden Retriever Pepsi in December of 2016, and most recently Pepsi's littermate brother Aslan in May 2019. During this time, Pandy was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in 2017 and in 2018 Pearl with anal gland cancer. Both have fared incredibly well, beating the odds and average life expectancy of their form of cancer. Pearl is still being treated with chemotherapy; however, Pandy had her last treatment three months ago due to symptoms of the drug. Since then Pandy has experienced several dips, which have upended the fantasy sabbatical plan. So instead of departing for California in December, we are still in Portland where I have an amazing team of veterinary providers who treat us like family. Possibly we will leave soon, or perhaps not.
When Pepsi died after a six week battle with hermangiosarcoma, I fell into a deep depression and experienced a profound grief, which was compounded by two more dogs diagnosed with cancer and one with a brain tumor. My day to day life became consumed with care taking, hyper vigilance and anticipatory grief. I also learned to live more fully in the present, not to sweat the small stuff, and take nothing for granted. Fewer things can take me down. The combination of these experiences led me to teach a class in veterinary social work and begin research on the human-animal bond. When people compliment me on this work I tell them to thank Pepsi, it is her legacy to me.
I live alone with my dogs and they provide me emotional connectedness and joyful companionship. My research and frequent visits to the veterinary clinic, where I spend lots of time in the waiting room observing people with their pets, has confirmed the significance of this relationship. People who love their pets bond with other people who love their pets. I have made friends with people in an online dog cancer support group and shared sorrow and support with strangers sitting near me in the veterinary clinic. It feels like those of us that are caretakers are part of a culture, like we live in a different country even if we live in different countries per se, or we live in the same actual one. We become citizens of this floating country, and after a while we don't know what it's like to live outside of it. My functioning in the world is informed by my dog's health at any particular moment. I was packed and ready to go to Copenhagen on my birthday to meet up with friends when Pandy took a turn for the worse. I deliberated for several hours, eyes darting from my suitcase to Pandy laying on her bed. In the end I stayed, and glad I did as she got worse before one of her now famous rebounds. Since then it has been more of the same.
Reality has collided with my sabbatical fantasy but is that all bad? Not really. I am painting meaningfully for the first time in over year. I started this blog. I am sketching for at least five minutes most days per an agreement with my friend Kim and we text each other our rough sketches. Diane and I FaceTime to discuss analysis of our data, which is rich and exciting. And there are many things on deck-- I was asked to submit a book proposal, I am working with four colleagues on a research project in Greenland and Denmark, which involves a preliminary networking trip in June before we take two students each in June of 2021. A new idea has cropped up with a Ghanaian colleague/friend who is a historian to do a multi modal project about the slave trade focused on three ports in Ghana, Brazil, and America. My son wants to join on as the filmmaker. My cup is overflowing and still being in Maine because of Pandy prevents none of this from moving forward.
There are wide swaths of unknown, and while my fantasy is not exactly playing out as planned, I feel like a huge wave of artistic, intellectual, and spiritual possibilities are coming--well beyond this sabbatical--but I am uncertain of what or when. Perhaps some of the above or something completely different will evolve. I am tethered to the ground with my pups and maybe that's just what I need before the wave breaks. Perhaps they aren't holding me back at all, rather they are preparing me. At 63 years old this may sound strange, to feel possible a whole new chapter and body of work forthcoming. I used to lament the loss of my younger self, the wandering young mother of two, traversing with a backpack and roll of paper feeling like a jumbled ball of excitement and conflict as she prolifically painted and wrote, far from her children, missing them while reveling in her life away. She seemed to never tire, a contrast to the weariness I often feel, yet that fatigue has made me more selective and deliberate, able to say no and care less about what others think of me. I am not obsessed with accomplishment or credit, rather in investing my energy and time in things I am passionate about, that interest me, and benefit others.
Time is both dense and fleeting. And while I can plan like the best of 'em, I hold little conviction in actual execution. And yet, I am perhaps foolishly optimistic in what lay ahead in this sabbatical and beyond. I have committed to this blog and documenting the journey, whatever it brings. Join me as I share my fantasy meets reality sabbatical. Maybe our paths will cross along the way--you never know, right?
xoxox
Paula
My Oakland cottage
My sabbatical fantasy was brewing for months. In this fantasy I would pack up my car in Portland, Maine before Christmas and drive to California with my two Golden Retrievers, Pandy and Pearl. I have a 400 square foot cottage behind our family home in Oakland California where my daughter and son-in-law live in the main home, and my husband (another story) lives in a downstairs unit. In my mind I have been decorating the cottage with new rugs, hanging my paintings, and purchasing small scale furniture. I would return to working on the long oak table my mom bought in Vermont for $75, which was once used to read sheet music at the old Barre Opera House. I logged many hours painting at that table while my baby daughter napped, listening to LPs on the record player. I planned adding new shelving above the table for my art supplies and books. I found the small table and chairs online that I would sit at sipping coffee and writing on my laptop while my dogs lay at my feet. The Bay Area is not particularly warm in winter; however, I walk my two loops though the neighborhood every morning without fear of slipping on ice. Having time to walk several times a day in the hilly streets of our neighborhood or in the grove of redwood trees a five minute drive away were all part of the sabbatical fantasy.
Walking in the Oakland neighborhood
Pearl and Pandy
Pepsi
Aslan and me at Higgins Beach, Maine
Pearl, Pepsi, and Pandy at Higgins Beach
New work, mixed media on paper 22' x 30"
New work on canvas, oil bar
There are wide swaths of unknown, and while my fantasy is not exactly playing out as planned, I feel like a huge wave of artistic, intellectual, and spiritual possibilities are coming--well beyond this sabbatical--but I am uncertain of what or when. Perhaps some of the above or something completely different will evolve. I am tethered to the ground with my pups and maybe that's just what I need before the wave breaks. Perhaps they aren't holding me back at all, rather they are preparing me. At 63 years old this may sound strange, to feel possible a whole new chapter and body of work forthcoming. I used to lament the loss of my younger self, the wandering young mother of two, traversing with a backpack and roll of paper feeling like a jumbled ball of excitement and conflict as she prolifically painted and wrote, far from her children, missing them while reveling in her life away. She seemed to never tire, a contrast to the weariness I often feel, yet that fatigue has made me more selective and deliberate, able to say no and care less about what others think of me. I am not obsessed with accomplishment or credit, rather in investing my energy and time in things I am passionate about, that interest me, and benefit others.
Large canvas, oil bar
Time is both dense and fleeting. And while I can plan like the best of 'em, I hold little conviction in actual execution. And yet, I am perhaps foolishly optimistic in what lay ahead in this sabbatical and beyond. I have committed to this blog and documenting the journey, whatever it brings. Join me as I share my fantasy meets reality sabbatical. Maybe our paths will cross along the way--you never know, right?
xoxox
Paula
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