In It Together

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My sons are the center of my life.  They are the center of my husband’s life. 

Today, Congress began changing the future drastically for my eldest son by endangering his ability to obtain insurance when he is an adult. 

Today Congress rolled back Obamacare, and with it, protection for millions of people with pre-existing conditions (replaced with high risk pools).  My son is one of those people. He was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder (a lifetime diagnosis) that requires medications that would be unattainable for us without insurance. 

He’ll be a man soon, and, again – through no fault of his own –  he may find it more difficult to get coverage or possibly even job, since he will have to evaluate the laws in each state and not every employer will want to cover hires in his situation. It will  Even so, he’s lucky compared to the millions of Americans who will lose insurance outright. He’s still on our insurance plan, and we’ll keep him there as long as the law allows.

Jimmy Kimmel hinted at some of this the other night in his emotional monologue. He briefly touched on the fact that, prior to the ACA, a child like his would have reached his lifetime insurance cap before he left the NICU. If that child had appendicitis, or a broken bone, or cancer, that cap would have left many parents bankrupt at best or burying their child at worst — even if they had insurance.  

I have thought a lot about those other parents in the months since our son was diagnosed. When we get our meds, I silently thank our company for making it possible and then shake my head that anyone in a country as rich as ours might have to watch their child suffer or even die.  I shake it when I wonder how many people die prematurely because they don’t have access to the same healthcare we do, and I wonder how we benefit as a society from treating children and poor people like disposable objects. 

I call my representatives. I donate. And I shake my head. But today I’m done shaking my head.  I’ve thought about moving our family back to a country with stronger healthcare, but I’d still be shaking my head at the drugstore, wondering how people back home were managing without access.  

So now I’m still calling my representatives and donating, but I’m also looking for new ways to show solidarity with my son and with all the other people who are being pushed out in the cold. Because, as Jimmy Kimmel so beautifully stated, “We need to take care of each other.”  

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Moving Along

Yesterday I went over to the Round House Bakery Cafe Cambridge to collect paintings from a show I had hanging there since March. I was honored to be the last featured artist in that space, And I’m literally counting the days until they open the new one.

There were a few paintings left over from the show, and I’m posting them here to make room for work for a new show that begins in June.

All watercolor paintings are shipped matted and unframed (shipping included in price). If you are interested in purchasing, email me at rachel @ rachelbarlow.com can send you a paypal invoice.  I can also take checks.

Cold River, 9×12, -SOLD
Taking Flight, 9×12, $75
Perfect Day, 12×16, $100
Edge of Winter, 11×14, $95

Just Another Day

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Two kids playing two different sports, with one assistant coaching the other, and our morning routine has shot to H E double hockey sticks.

We have not made the bus more than once in the last three weeks, and Monday was no exception. 

Monday was a two sport day with a golf tournament two towns away and a game for the other after school, so we loaded up the car with gear and got to the bus stop to see it pulling away. It was OK, it was an opportunity to go over the schedule for the night and review the to-dos for the rest of the week–testing and more testing for college, prom fittings, and of course the all-important play date. 

The last thing on my mind was creativity. I didn’t even have time to congratulate myself on setting the alarm clock two hours earlier to make sure it happened Monday morning. I’ve been drawing and sketching every day and working on illustrations for a children’s book but have not been in the mood to stop and soak up and/or paint the landscape.

The missed bus stayed two cars ahead of us for most of the drive out of our 300 person town. As we reached a main road, all I noticed that grey morning was the line of brake lights in front of us. 

Thing1, however, was scanning the entire scene as he waited to guide the car into what Vermont calls “traffic”. As I went through the to do list, he leaned forward and glanced up at the sky. Then he looked at the mountain that rows up behind the nondescript garage across the street.

“Mom,” he said, “look at that light. do you see that little sliver of sun hitting the hill?” I nodded no I had not and still didn’t look up as we had seen that particular hill at least twice a day every day for the last 16 years. 

Thing1 does not go gaga for art as his brother and I do. He draws very well, but his passions lie elsewhere so his next words demanded me to look up.

“Now that’s a painting,” he said.

I closed my list and listened and looked at the mountain. The parting clouds had refracted that sliver of sun so that the three-day-old leaves on the trees were infused with gold. Golden mist from the rainstorm that had past 10 minutes earlier diffused the details of the scenery in front of us, and just like that I was back into landscapes.

All it took was an overly busy, completely ordinary day and the observation of a kid who is pretty smart for a math major to point out the forest and the trees.

Today on All My Guppies

5 1BundlesofJoy web It seems that when Herman the Hermit, my plecostomus, arrived, he brought a stowaway to Tankland with him.  It was a snail who promptly cleaned the sides aquarium and then took a vacation under the gravel for a couple weeks. I thought she had died in horror when she saw the state of the studio that lay beyond the glass (or disappointment that she had not landed in the aquarium of famed illustrator and snail portraitist Abrah Griggs), but it turned out she was feathering her stony nest to welcome a bunch of babies.

 

Oscar the Guppy, still annoyed with the Minions for holding a meeting of the Guppy Poets Society without him, looked at the swarm of little white smells climbing the walls of the aquarium, and little bubbles could be seen escaping from his gills as he shook his head in a silent “tsk”. The Minions, however, are always happy to see new life in the tank. Herman the Hermit made it clear he had no opinion as long as everyone leaves some algae for him to eat.

 

The babies ignored the chatter and decided to explore above the waterline, lodging in the hood light.  Their adventures shorted out the LED light. Oscar the Guppy, having found it terribly tacky, decided that perhaps the little ones should stay (It didn’t hurt that the snails seem to share his affinity for a clean tank) and was heard to say, “Good things really do come in lots of tiny packages.”