Felt Some Fury Today, so...

Dear Editor,
I’m writing in response to the personal attack ad on Michelle Fay, paid for by the Persons family.  While I know Ms. Fay to be a visionary leader with strong, ethical communication skills and a true concern for and belief in our community, I’m not actually writing to defend her character.  I write because I am deeply offended by the Persons’ (Tim and Sarah) use of the term “recidivism” in connection with victims of domestic and sexual violence.  For those who may be unclear, recidivism means: “a tendency to relapse into a previous condition or mode of behavior; especially : relapse into criminal behavior” (Merriam-Webster). 
From 1999-2011, I worked as an advocate at Umbrella and during those years had the honor of supporting hundreds of survivors of domestic and sexual violence.  I am horrified that anyone would use a term meant for those who engage in criminal behavior in connection with those who are, in fact, victims of criminal behavior.  If a victim of sexual assault is raped more than once, has she or he recidivated?  When a woman fears losing her children, her home, her family and even her life if she separates from her abusive partner does that make her a recidivist?  This inaccurate and offensive language serves to perpetuate the victim blaming in our culture that makes it so hard for victims of domestic and sexual violence to come forward and ask friends and family for help.
Victims of domestic and sexual violence work hard to plan for their safety and Umbrella is there to support them in developing a course of action to help mitigate the many risks they and their children face.   It’s not easy.  Those risks exist when victims stay or leave, report to police or never tell a soul, contact Umbrella or reach out to family and friends.  Sometimes seemingly helpful options lead to new and different risks.  It’s always complicated and ultimately a survivor’s safety is outside of her control, as we saw earlier this week at the Silent Witness Vigil in Court House Park where fatal victims of domestic violence from our community were remembered and honored. 
So how do we measure success in our advocacy?  For me, having the opportunity to let a survivor know that the abuse is not her or his fault is success.  A survivor reporting that she or he has more options to plan for her or his safety is success.  A survivor gaining knowledge of resources for safety is success.  A survivor knowing she or he is not alone is success.  And just as importantly, having others in the community come to true understanding of who is really responsible for domestic and sexual violence (the perpetrator) so they can better support the survivors in their life is success. 
Sincerely,
Zoe Gascon
East Burke

Neil and Me

Twenty-three years ago today (approximately) I asked this boy on a date.  Since I'd already fallen in love with him during the prior weeks I was really happy when he accepted.  I think it was a Saturday and my aunt and cousins, with whom I lived, had gone to Santa's Village for the day, so Neil came over to hang out.  We watched the movie Imagine on VHS and then I played him my Van Morrison records.  He had to go to work at his dishwashing job at the Willoughvale Inn, but he went late.  I remember thinking that might be a good sign.

Think of it: if I had "applied myself" in high school and considered more options than Lyndon State College and /or if Neil hadn't failed out of SUNY Cobleskill his Freshman year and then gone on to take classes at Johnson and then transfer to Lyndon, where would we all be today?

I love him 23 years times as much as I did in those early days.  Today the Indigo Girls song that says "The closer I'm bound in love to you, the closer I am to free" rings in my head.  I'm so fortunate that I was a high school slacker and he went crazy partying that freshman year!  I'm so grateful that I had the guts to give him my number and was slick enough to play Van Morrison for him!  I feel so lucky that he keeps loving me back after all these years.

Stoddard Family Triathlon

It was a great Old Home Weekend.  My favorite part might be the family triathlon, which we started the year before last thanks to a conversation Terry and I were having about Tri-s.  I was like, "let's have one here, tomorrow!"  Thus began a great new tradition.  People can participate as singles, doing all three legs themselves, or in relay teams with one swimmer, one biker and one runner.  It goes like this: swim to the raft and back, bike around the circle twice (3 miles), run around the circle once (1.5 miles). Some people are so strong that we give them handicaps, like making Netdahe ride Gram's bike from the 1970s.  Everyone who does NOT participate stands in the road and cheers or makes rude comments. Mom took a bunch of little video clips and the whole thing just totally cracks me up.  Like here when everyone is actually listening to me as though I have some authority.  And as though it is all really important, which maybe it is but it is also really silly.

Here we are for the first leg: the swim.  Notice how fast Kali is, with Netdahe not too far behind.  And how serious we all are when we get out and run up the hill.

And Harper on her bike, faster than anyone on a bike.  Faster than anyone in the world:

The whole thing was inexplicably fun.  Here are the results:

Single Particpants

1st Place: Netdahe: 20:19

2nd Place: Kali: 21:30

3rd Place: Alan: 24:08

4th Place: Zoe: 25:09 

(since this is my blog I can point out here that I was the only woman and the only person over 40 to do the whole thing)

Relay Teams (Swim, Bike, Run)

1st Place: Henekis, Harper, Patrick: 22:30

2nd Place: David A., Jordyn, Shani: 24:45

3rd Place: Abby, Jess, Neil: 25:09

4th Place: Donna, Tommy/Faith, Deb: 32:57

I'd like to point out here that Faith (age 7.5) wanted to participate so her mom swam, Tommy rode the tandem with Faith, and Deb, who is a cyclist and not a runner, ran.  And without stopping.  They are awesome.  They did it all for the kid.  Adults in my family are always doing shit like that.  Pulling out all the stops and expending a ton of energy so a kid can have a blast.  It is definitely one of the great strengths of this family.

Bad Ass Netdahe with his trophy:

Thank you everyone for such a fun time.  I'm going to practice my swimming so next year I can dominate!

Song for a Late Morning Sunday

I just wrote this.  Sing it to the tune of "If I had a Hammer."

If I had a hammock
I'd be lying in my hammock.
But there would be horseflies
Biting me.
But I don't have a hammock
So I'm lying on my futon
And there ain't no horseflies
Biting me.

Luckiest

I feel so lucky that my parents divorced when I was four years old. I got the best of everything.  At one house, the rented, one-side-of-a-duplex with the old-man-who-snored-and-played-the-tv-loud-like-a-deaf man on the other side of my bedroom wall, we listened to David Bromberg, The McGarrigle Sisters and the Grateful Dead. At the beautiful Greentree(C), one-bedroom, sparkles-on-the-ceiling (because that's how they painted ceilings on the South Shore in the 80's), glamorous apartment with air conditioning, 20-odd miles away we listened to Billy Joel,  Styx and Air Supply.  Universally, at both my parents' homes we had Van Morrison and the Beatles.  The critical necessities were always available, musically and otherwise.

26.2 for the Seventh Time

Vermont City Marathon is the greatest!  I've run 7 marathons in 4 different locations and this is by far the best.  I can't imagine anything better.  There are tons of volunteers, it is super-well organized and the whole city comes out to cheer on the runners.  I don't quite know why, but when you are battling the darkest places of fatigue and pain, total strangers telling you that you can do it really helps.  At mile 20 a family was handing runners freeze-pops.  A guy handed me a purple grape freeze pop and I actually got welled-up.  The kindness of the gesture in that moment is hard to describe.  In the same neighborhood some people were handing out watermelons.  To paraphrase co-marathoner and amazing cousin Netdahe, "Watermelon is not cheap!  I wouldn't buy watermelon for 8,000 people!  I don't care how fuckin' bourgeois that neighborhood is.  I love those people:"  I love my cousin.

I really wasn't that psyched to run this marathon, feeling jaded and a bit burnt out.  But as Alan and I waited at the crowded start line together, goosebumps appeared on my arms and legs, and it wasn't cold.  Marathons are exciting.  Alan was so cheerful and pumped and I'm grateful for his enthusiasm.  He's faster than me, but ran with me for the first nine miles for the company and so our family could see us together.  Dahe was way out ahead of us, injured but doing it anyway and his results were really incredible by any standards, despite his need to walk a lot in the later miles (3:47!!).  My time was not my best, not my worst (4:20).  The knee acted up around mile 14 due to lots of turns in that part of the route.  But a fellow runner gave me a baggie with some ibuprofen (and an immodium, which she warned me off of and I handed to a spectator to safely dispose of) and things got better.  Running up Battery Street with the Taiko Drummers and the intense crowds of cheering spectators at mile 15 is my favorite part and the bum knee didn't change that. What a thrill!  But after that I felt discouraged and nervous about the knee until I talked myself into something different, the first clue of the day that what's going on in my head is as important as how I feel physically. More on that later.

Seeing my kids, Neil and my parents (and this year Kayla, Brook, Henekis and Losada) at various points and the Finish is more than enough to keep me going.  They look so proud.  Momma cries.  It's not easy for arthritic Dad to stand there waiting for a glimpse of me.  Patrick would rather go to the Aquarium.  They put a lot of time and energy into supporting me, including navigating throngs of people, hot sun, and hours on their feet.  I guess it's partly symbolic, but it means a lot to me that they do that.  And it helps me keep running when I want to stop, because I can't wait to see their faces and be embraced by them when it's all over.  My incredible, strong, athletic teenage daughter brags about my marathoning on facebook.  I half joke with her that I run marathons so she'll think I'm cool.  It means so much that I can do something that impresses her.

I learned from this race and its ups and downs and from talking to Netdahe about how he runs so fast (man, that kid is FAST!) that the thing that holds me back and prevents me from being faster is my mind.  I'm going to take some time off before training for another marathon, but something clicked for me and I now understand that I really could run faster if I could just train my brain harder.  Yes, it hurts and I want with all my body to stop sometimes, but the thing that prevents me from actually stopping can grow and strengthen like any of my other muscles to make me run faster, even when it hurts.  I don't mean running through the pain of an injury, but just running through the pain of fatigue and exhaustion.  This is what I need to figure out to be a faster marathoner.  And I think I can work on this by mountain biking with my super-skilled family this summer.  I want to try to keep up with them on the trails, to push myself to the limits of brain comfort and beyond.

The only other thing I must say about race day is that the chocolate milk someone handed me at the finish was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted.  Wow.  Who knew?

Oh, and PPS.  Harper and I decided our little family should do a 4-person relay next year.  What should we call our team?  Three Favreaus and a Gascon?  Whoever comes up with the most clever name wins a prize. You have almost a year.

Below are some pictures from the day, in reverse order:

After the finish with the people who love me best.  Thanks to Wayne, who also loves me best, for snapping the photo.

Gee whiz.  I love them so much

My fellow marathoners.  Alan's second marathon and Netdahe's 3rd.  A joy to have people I'm close to to talk with about running.  I'm so proud of both of these guys.

Seeing my family just before crossing the finish line.

Harper took this picture of Netdahe somewhere along the course.  He looks so strong and capable.  A great runner and an even better man/father/husband/brother, etc.

Fresh as daisies before leaving the house for the race.

And this is my time breakdown:

Checkpoint	Time of Day	Chip Time	Chip Pace	Gun Time	Gun Pace
Start	8:03:25.21AM
10K	9:01:59.34AM	00:58:35	00:09:26	00:59:56	00:09:39
10 MILE	9:38:28.72AM	01:35:04	00:09:31	01:36:25	00:09:39
Half	10:08:34.25AM	02:05:10	00:09:33	02:06:31	00:09:39
20 Mile	11:19:14.64AM	03:15:50	00:09:48	03:17:11	00:09:52
Finish	12:23:31.94PM	04:20:07	00:09:56	04:21:28	00:09:59

My Son

My wonderful son who drives me crazy with his forgetfulness and lack of impulse control but is brilliant and sweet and kind will be 13 in one month and one week.  That little pale baby we brought home without knowing how long he'd be ours.  That funny little fellow I dared to call mine before I should have and who came back to us full of smiles and brought us joy.  He will be a wonderful man someday.  In him, we're giving the world something good and important.  I love you Patrick.

"For (the sake of) Old Times"

I love New Year's Eve.  I don't know what people mean when they say it's overrated.  I think it's wonderful.  For years now we've made a tradition of always getting together with our oldest group of friends.  That's what it's all about, right?  Auld Lang Syne, after all! In these busy, hectic times, it is reassuring to have a tradition that brings us all together, no matter what.  And a time to be completely ridiculous and wear hats and wigs.  This is me:

Can you hear Benjie laughing?  Because we are having so much friggin' fun wearing hats!

The kids stayed up until midnight this year (well, all but Nina and Shea, who are still too little).  They have Noelle to thank as she lobbied hard for them last year, making it a sure thing for this year.

Look at these women!   I love them and I love KJs serious face.  She looks like her daughters here, when they just stare you down.  Nina, in particular.  That stare intimidated me a little in 7th grade, but now I love it. This was during the dance party.

 When the event is at Jen's there is always fondue with just a little too much kirsch.  It's delicious though, and Benjie makes the best, homemade bread to dip.  Bryan loves all the late night snacks.  Sometimes it is a wonder there is any food left in the house the next day.

Jen's mixing a drink for Peter.  His one drink of the year. I love her smile.

Me and Maria McGee...So grateful that Maria and Peter drove all the way from Pennsylvania once again to be with us.  Such commitment to the friendships!  Such good kinship work!

(I'm waiting with baited breath for a picture of Peter in the band leader hat.  As soon as someone sends me one, I'll post it here!)

Ah, earlier in the night there was arm wrestling and then leg wrestling.  I can't beat anyone at arm wrestling.  But I beat Harper and Maria at leg wrestling.  Here Noelle and Harper are at a standoff.

 Patrick and Nina, ringing it in!

The ubiquitous picture of a crowd around the fire.  This could be any year, really.  We write things we want to be done with on shims and throw them in the fire.

These here are some super awesome kids as midnight.  They've grown up together and we wonder how much longer they'll be celebrating NYE with us.  My theory is that they will venture out on their own for a few years in their 20s, but then they'll realize there's no party more fun than this one and come hang with us again.  Eventually they'll be in charge of building the fire and making breakfast the next day. This is my fantasy.

Bryan met his traditional obligation of throwing the dried tree on the fire at midnight and Baxter helped keep things under control.

The next morning after eggs and "just one meat!" we enjoyed head scratching...

 


and book reading.  (Look closely and you can see Noelle's husband Pete still crashed out on the futon! What a nice, easy-going fella.)

The nineteen of us gathered for less than twenty four hours, but man, did we pack in some fun.  Peter says, "If every day had even a smidgin of that much laughter, I'd be doing good."  Being with these folks, especially for this particular celebration, is the kind of easy going, good time that really feeds your soul.  I love you all so very, very much.  

 **all of these pictures were taken by Mr. Peter Ammirati.