The Political Education of an Eleven Year Old Girl: a Snippet

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...So let me tell you why I robbed a bank.  First of all the group that I used to be a member of, was a political group.  We use to picket stores with high food prices, and we use to have group demonstrations in the public parks.  They were geared toward educating the people in the community about stuff like police brutality, or how racist the city government were toward black and spanish speaking people.  One of our goals were to educate the people and to organize them around their day to day needs, for instance, we use to go into a community, where the housing were real ragged and really run down, and we would put printed leaflets out in the community to the people telling them about city ordinances and housing laws and how they could all get together and make the landlords fix the houses, and bring them up to standards.  Some time we would get with the local workers and support them when they went on a strike for higher pay to meet the high cost of living, or for a better and safer working conditions in the industries.
Well later on a group of us began searching for a way to support the organization and our selves.  So we decided to take up robbing banks because we knew the government had to give the people their money back because bank money was federally insured by the federal government.  Another reason we did it was because or our political beliefs, which were take from the rich and give to the poor :), well thats why and how I got into robbing banks.

... :) Well I'm gonna go and do my stretch exercises, so you take care and remember that you can be anything you want to be, just work at it!"

Waltham

This was my first and third home.  My parents brought me home from the hospital to the second floor where we lived for a year or so.  Then after a stint in Hunts Corner, Maine trying to "get back, Honky Cat" we moved into one of the basement apartments, "still broke and out of work" as my dad says.  I remember living in the basement apartment.  There was a lady across the hall who was nice and we watched Rocky and Bullwinkle. Her boyfriend had a glass eye and one time he tried to unlock OUR apartment door thinking it was his. He was drunk.  I think it was in the bathroom here that my step sister (who was not yet my step-sister), Raina, was playing "store" all wrong so I pushed her.  Another time some other kids came to visit (maybe Richie and Jimmy) and they made a huge mess in my room.  That unsettled me.  I think these are both characteristics of an only child.  And I think it was in the kitchen here that I saw my mom cry because Bob Wills had died.  I knew right then that she was deep. It was from here that my parents sent me to an amazing and progressive nursery school.  The head teacher's name was Zen and her son, Finnegan, was my very first boyfriend.  Zen drove a Volkswagen Beatle.  I wrote my name in crayon on the church wall (the school was housed in a church) and blamed a friend.  A teacher named Andy wouldn't let another friend up from nap one day to use the bathroom and that boy peed on his matt.  I could tell, even at 4, that Andy felt terrible.  The teachers really loved us there.  They were all hippies.

I'm pretty sure this was the last place my parents lived together.  I remember seeing my dad cry once here, his head on his dresser.  Other than that, I didn't much notice that they split up, but my dad and I moved to Lexington and then my mom took me out to lunch every Thursday and we spent weekends together on the south shore.  To be honest, there was some tension amongst the grown-ups for a little while, but it was ok because I knew I was loved and very important.  I had a mom and dad, a step-dad, an exceptionally involved gram, some other nice grandparents and lots of kind aunts and uncles.   And Camp and soup.  I think I always felt very secure.

Moving to fancy Lexington was okay.  But I'm glad this is where we started out.  It's simple and sweet and hasn't changed.  That's a comfort.

Patrick and the Grands by Guest Blogger, My Mom!

Grammie and Papa Wayne took Patrick to see Monty Python's Spamalot at the Company Theater in Norwell.  I don't think this qualifies as a "spoiler", as the show is a decade old.  Near the end of the show, King Arthur and the very silly knights are still on their quest to find the Holy Grail.  They stumble on a clue that says "A101" and try to sound out what it can possibly mean, one idea is aioli, "a delicious garlic mayonnaise".  No, that's not it, so they get on their knees and ask God what it means.  A giant finger comes down from the "sky" and points to a seat in the front row, seat A101.  It's Patrick!  Patsy, King Arthur's assistant, the one who claps the coconut halves which sound like horse's hoofs as they pretend to ride, comes down from the stage, tells Patrick to stand up and "finds" the Holy Grail under Pat's seat!!  He brings Pat up onto the stage and King Arthur asks his name.  He then proclaims to the entire audience that Patrick Favreau is the peasant who found the Grail!  They give him a trophy and thank him profusely!  Pat was up on the stage at least 5 minutes, and handled it all beautifully.  The audience roared at how cute he was and Grammie and Papa were just thrilled.  When we later got autographs from the actors, they told us how pleased they were when they first noticed a kid was in that special front row seat, as kids usually handle it better than adults!  The lesson for us grandparents is that you can try and try to plan something memorable for your grandkids, but sometimes it's serendipity!!  It was great fun!

Remembering Peter

The memorial for our friend Peter is tonight.  Since his illness and passing I've been thinking about him a lot and feeling his absence.  Those of you who knew Pete know what a warm presence he was; what a kind, loving, funny and gentle guy.  In thinking about Pete I've been reflecting on how smart and well-read he was, but how he also was always genuinely interested in what the other person had to say.  He knew a lot about a lot of things, but he was no blowhard or anything like that.  In conversation he always made you feel like you had great expertise in whatever the subject and he was always curious to learn and understand.  And it was an authentic curiosity as opposed to something one might learn in a seminar on "how to win friends and influence people."  But I think it was one of the qualities that drew people to him (I don't know anyone with more friends!). Because he was such a good listener and he valued every person, every experience, every perspective.   He also had such a wonderful sense of humor and this often manifested with laughing exuberantly at your jokes so that you not only felt smart and competent in his presence but also incredibly witty and clever.  Again, this was not the least bit phony.  Peter just had a great funny bone and truly enjoyed humor or any attempts at humor.

I think these qualities also contributed to Peter being such an exceptional dad.  He enjoyed people but none more than children and especially (of course) his daughters.  He was fascinated by and deeply interested in them, in their perspective, their growth, their world. When Peter first told me about his cancer it was clear that his biggest fears about dying were for Carol and his daughters; that he wouldn't be able to take care of them, be there for them, make sure they were okay.  There's a huge community of people to honor his memory by loving and caring for his family (who are easy to love!), but of course, it's not the same and it can't be.

Peter never hesitated to ask for a favor and in return, you always knew you could turn to him if you needed help with something: a ride for the kid, assistance with a project, an errand.  Because he engaged with those around him so authentically, we all felt good, safe and comfortable to engage with him as our true selves.

Pete was very involved with the Children's Theater and now that the season has begun and kids have started rehearsing it stabs at my heart to run or drive by and know that Peter's not there.  He always laughed the loudest at the funny parts of those plays.  That old barn will miss him.

In honor of Peter, I'm going to try to be more like him.  I'm going to embrace curiosity and laughter and family and friends and music.  Thanks for helping to teach us all how to live, Friend.  We really miss you and hold you in our hearts and thoughts always.

photo credit: Bob McCann

Rosellen Riley Gascon, January 18, 2005-March 19, 2013

We don't really know what happened.  Rosie seemed to be moving slowly a little over a week ago so we brought her to the vet, they did some tests and learned her kidneys were failing.  I don't want to go in to all that because it's too sad.  Suffice it to say we did our best to save her, however she died this morning, peacefully in her home.  I want to think about her life and the 5,000 miles.

She was beautiful and sweet and gentle and kind.  She had these amazing brown eyes.

 She was happy and should have lived longer.

We don't really know when she was born.  We adopted her from the shelter in Orleans, VT on July 2, 2006.  Someone had left her tethered to the fence there so they didn't have any information about her. They guessed she was about a year and a half old so we assigned a birthday of January 18th, 18 being a lucky # for us.  The shelter named her Tillie.  The moment we saw her playing in the yard there, we fell in love.  It's really true.  It was love at first sight.  And we were right.

Tonight I did some math, made some estimations and figured that Rosie ran about 5,000 miles with me.  That is, I ran 5,000 miles with Rosie.  With her out-and-back and forays hither-and-yon, she surely logged many more than 5,000.  She was a wonderful running partner.  I wrote a poem about some of the joys of our trail runs, but we actually ran the road even more than the trails.  Whenever we ran by my dad's house (pretty frequently) her tail would wag and she's linger there, even if he wasn't home.  If he was home and opened the door she'd get so excited.  She really loved Grandpa Dave.

She loved the snow, loved going out in winter.

She loved the kids and they loved her.

 Harper, having been born into a family with the craziest of mutts, our first "child" Sasha, has always particularly bonded with our canine family members.

 These pictures are in Montreal.  Rosie loved the parks in Montreal.  She was a country dog but loved to visit the city.  She loved the scents, chasing squirrels, saying hello to other dogs.  I particularly loved running with her in Parc Mont Royal.  Especially in the winter.

A short video here shows how tolerant she was of our stupid human tricks.

 Camping trip!

Parc Jean Mance (Rosie's park)

Kingdom Trails, our main stomping grounds

 She loved to roll in the snow!

I'm sorry we couldn't save her.  I want her back. Rest peacefully dear Rosie.

Fairytale: Little Moments

Last night I was looking at Neil and I said, "You're handsome."  He responded, "You're pretty."  And Patrick looked up from the game he was playing and sang from a Pogues song: "You're handsome, You're pretty, Queen of New York City, When the band finished playing, They howled out for more." What a cool kid.

Quixote is Perfect

Guest blogger Kayla-Rae Stoddard Fitzpatrick, another Descendant:

     Today Quixote and I were getting ready for our big outing to the DMV in Newport, which is one of the most unpleasant places to be for me. So I'm putting her in her car seat and tucking her into her seat with a bunch of blankets to keep her warm in the cold Vermont weather. As I am doing this she is just staring at me. As I finished I stared back at her. Then I gave her a little smile because she is so cute and as I gave her a little smile she gave me a little smile back. It was a beautiful little moment for me. My little Quixote is perfect.

A Happy Life.

Such a perfect weekend.  It's Saturday and I slept late this morning (8:30!  Half the day was gone but it was ohsosweet!).  Then after leisurely coffee and some delicious local bacon and eggs I drove Patrick to his friend's house then came back and did a 6 mile run in 9 degree, sunny, sunny weather on what has to be one of the most beautiful ridges in the world with the 2 cutest, most loving dogs anywhere.  Neil made a fire in the upstairs wood stove so I came back to a cozy house.  I'm often freezing for the whole day after a winter morning run, but not today. Since Harper is racing and Pat is at his friend's house Neil and I had the crib to ourselves for a restful afternoon.  I baked a cake for my cousin's birthday party and I'm waiting for it to cool.  In a while we'll go to the party and visit with all kinds of wonderful family and friends who I miss, including Misty and baby Theo!

Tomorrow my beautiful mother and my beautiful daughter and I are going to Burlington for lunch, spa treatments and shopping at our favorite consignment shop.  Luxury.

The house is warm and smells good and looking out the windows I see my yard, the trees, the snow, the blue sky.

Through The Years

Jen and Benjie, Karen and Byran and Neil and I have been making New Year's Eve celebrations for about as long as I can remember.   Lucky for us, other good friends often join us.  There's something so special and sacred to me about saying "so long" to the old year and welcoming the new year with my oldest friends.  And now that our kids stay up until midnight and double the party size, it's more fun than ever.

Here's Jen and me on NYE 1995/96.  I was pregnant with Harper.  This was at our second story apartment on Charles Street in Lyndonville.  I loved that apartment.

Here's a group shot from a NYE in Putney.  I'm guessing this is 1998ish.

And around the same time of maybe a year of so later, on New Year's Day, here is little Harper in Putney in Jen and Benjie's hot tub.  Isn't she cute?

 Another NYE celebration. 2004/05

KJ and me ringing it in in Lunenburg that same year.

These guys were being good sports in 2005/06.  Jen bought the shorts at her local thrift store as a surprise and then put them up to making a surprise entrance at the annual NYE dance party.  It was hysterical.  I believe the song was "Body Movin" by the Beastie Boys.

New Year's Eve dinner of Cragin/Favreau/Sanderson kids in 2005/06 in Putney.

Jen grooving the dance party in 2006/07

And another fancy kid dinner, 2007/08

Noelle and me in East Burke ringing in 2009

 Tate dancing in my living room

Harper and Nina.  Seems like yesterday but they're so little!

Last year in Putney (2011/12)

And some of the crew last night in Lunenburg, just before midnight.

It's never quite the same without Michael.  He was serving in Afghanistan for much of this year so we were lucky to have him stateside for last night's party.

I don't have pictures from all the years.  We joke that it doesn't matter because it's always the same; a bunch of us around the fire, being silly, often wearing hats.  But looking back you can really see how we're all growing and changing.

It's a big treat that Maria and Peter usually make the very long trip from Pennsylvania to be with us.  They are so much fun and a critical part of the New Year's Eve Tradition.  Maria is a great cook and always brings amazing treats.  Last night she outdid herself with meatballs and sausage, cookies, homemade raisin bread for the morning and I can't even think of what all else!

This year at Midnight, Patrick made an impromptu but very well-enunciated speech.  It went something like this: "It's been a great year.  We've done some good things... and..we've done some bad things.  If we promise to change than we can change the outcome of our actions.  We can change ourselves and how we act."   There was riveting conclusion none of us can quite remember followed by a huge round of applause.  Just awesome Pat!

Happy New Year!!!