Sunday, December 20, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Winter Running (Blue)
Lately I have felt so much joy on my morning runs. They start in the dark and the sky gradually lightens. It is so lonesome (in a good way), just Rosie and me and whatever wildlife is watching us. I feel like the world is just coming to, waking up, starting to breathe, and Rosie and I get to both witness and be an integral part of it. It feels really special and really important.
One morning last week it began to snow just as the sky brightened. Today it was crisp and clear and I brought my camera to try to capture the essence and beauty of winter mornings. I also enjoyed yesterday's cloudy dawn, opening with a particularly spectacular and moody darkness/light.
As I was thinking about writing this post on the rhapsody of winter runs, it dawned on me that I mostly only write about joy here. If you didn't know me and read this, you'd think I was always super happy and celebrating everything all the time. That's mostly true, but it is also true that I prefer to keep my sadness private, or at least semi-private. I like to send positive vibes out into the universe (or blogosphere), not whine and complain. But if you are my mother or husband, you know that I've had some recent loss and disappointment. And like everyone, I have bad days, get pissed off, stressed out, irritated and grumpy. But I am terribly grateful for all the goodness in my life and in the world and feel compelled to share those joys. And recently I was reminded that no ONE thing is your life, so when you lose something or something changes, you can roll with it and notice all the other things still in your life. Like the blue, cold and lovely dawn.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
My Grandfather is Nice By Patrick Favreau
"David Gascon is my grandfather. He was born on November 3rd, 1942. My grandpa is fun, smart and helps keep the world healthy.
My grandpa likes to go on walks and picks up trash while he goes. This keeps the world healthy.
He has one daughter named Zoe. He also has two grandchildren; me and my sister Harper. He is a Bachler. He has arthritis. But it doesn't slow him down.
We go to his house every Thursday. We usually eat fish there. I'll tell you one thing...he is a fish lover.
My grandfather is fun and smart and I like to hang out with him. He cares for us and the world around him.
My grandfather is an important person because he picks up trash. One important fact about him is he has arthritis.
One interesting detail is that we go over to his house every Thursday for dinner.
I chose him because I know about my parents. I wanted to learn more about my grandfather."
'
Friday, November 27, 2009
Unexploded Ordnance (UXOs), Clowns and Cheetos
Vieques is a beautiful, 21x5 mile island just east of Puerto Rico. Vieques has a long history of oppression and exploitation, of which the U.S. Navy is the most recent offender. On our visit there last week, we went to an event billed as a "Photo Exhibit" of the clean up of the toxic, Superfund mess the Navy left behind. We arrived at the multi-use building in Isabel II to see the exhibit at about 6:30 PM, just before they closed up for the day. It turned out to be a lot of NAVFAC (Naval Facilities Engineering Command) propagandizing. A pleasant, older man, walked us through much of the exhibit, telling us all about the clean up process, the high wages NAVFAC is paying locals to find and destroy UXOs and warning us not to touch anything we might find on the beach that could explode and kill us. The Navy left in 2003 and NAVFAC hopes that they will be "done" with the clean up by 2021.
A week later, my head still spins with one big question: What the f*** was up with the clowns? Why were the clowns there and why were the clowns still there as the rest of the crew packed up their display boards and briefcases at the end of the day? Are the clowns supposed to make me feel better about the mess my military has made of this amazing and complicated place? You're talking about how to clean up a land you've unethically appropriated, a place where people have been wrongfully displaced and made terminally ill from depleted uranium. Is this really a place for clowns? For free Cheetos and tightly wrapped packs of cream-filled cookies? And when the NAVFAC folks are clearing out of the gym, when the Navy has, at long, painful last, finally cleared out, why are those tired clowns still sitting on a bench, just outside the multi-use building? Why haven't they at least taken off their wigs?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Reminder
As always in late fall, I've been noticing a bit of the heaviness of November. So I was reminded, by my children, at our dinner table, of the Robert Frost poem my dear, deep and thoughtful friend Nichole shared with me several years ago. Nichole is a teacher (an extraordinary one) and every year she teaches her preschoolers Robert Frost poems. I really admire that. And I am so grateful to her for teaching me "My November Guest." After we ate tonight, I looked the poem up, read it out loud to the children (Nichole, had she been here, would have recited it for them), and just couldn't get through it smoothly for the tears in my eyes and small sobs in my throat. Harper thought I was a dork and Pat sought to console me. But I was so happy reading that poem! So happy to be reminded that if not for the quiet, dark November times, the other seasons would not be so precious. Happy for Frost's gift of this metaphor. Happy to have a friend who helps me understand those kinds of truths. Happy to have kids to read poetry to. Grateful for big feelings; for sorrow and joy and everything that means we're alive and connected to each other. Yeah, I'm a dork. And I'm glad.
Please read this poem and then read it again. It's just awesome. Thanks Nichole.
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Wednesday, October 28, 2009
And You Smile Because I Smirk
And here's Kali when he was little. I took this picture and it is one of my favorites. Kali has always been outrageously gifted. I like to tell the story of this time when he was pretty little (maybe 5 or 6) and he made an entire set of miniature wind instruments out of clay. They were perfect, delicate and just lovely. This was the day I learned about the piccolo. My little cousin had constructed one perfectly, showed it to me and explained what it was. Incredible.
Monday, October 26, 2009
In Need
inquiry
--ntozake shange
my questions concern the subject poetry
is whatever runs out/ whatever digs my guts
til there's no space in myself
cryin wont help/ callin mama wont help
lovers are detours/ no way to assuage this
poem/but in the words & they are deceitful/
images beat me confuse me/ make me want all of you to share me/
&i hide under my bed/
poetry is unavoidable connection/
some people get married/ others join the Church
i carry notebooks/ so i can tell us what happened/
midnight snacks in bed with whoever/ are no compensation/ when
i'm listenin to multitudes of voices/ i consume yr every word
move/
durin the day you are initiated into the holy order
of prospective poems/ i dream in yr voice/ sometimes act
yr fantasies/ i've made them my own/
whatever is here/ is what you've given me/
if it's not enough for you/
give me some more
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Another Anniversary
Monday, September 28, 2009
The First Twenty Years
Here's what happened: In July of 1989, the summer after I graduated from my suburban Boston high school, I went to Lyndon State College, in the northeast kingdom of Vermont, for Freshman orientation. I went by myself. I remember sitting in the theater, listening to all the important things they had to tell us, and looking around, wondering, "who here might end up being my friend? Who looks like someone I would want to hang out with?" I felt discouraged. Until my eyes lit on a tall, skinny guy walking through the doors, wearing a plain blue t-shirt, Levi jeans and a pair of chuck taylors. He had long hair. And a beautiful face. I thought, "maybe THAT guy..."
We've had an awful lot of luck during these 20 years. We fell and stayed in love, got a couple of college degrees, traveled some, lived in far away places, came home, got married, gave birth to a kid, adopted a second kid, made careers for ourselves, nurtured old friendships and built new ones, loved our larger families, loved our dogs, cleaned and cooked and worked in the yard, and have felt grateful most days.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Music and Manny
After he identified the song's motif, he wandered into his room singing the song, beautifully and with perfect pitch. He's quite the kid. Here he is on the first day of fifth grade, a couple weeks ago. He was annoyed with me for making him pose for the picture.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
I Wanna Show You Something Beautiful
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Poem (there is no touch)
This Song
Saturday, August 29, 2009
The Kennedys
I'm watching Teddy's burial at Arlington Cemetery on TV and it seems so surreal. Teddy's really dead? Really?
Seasons and Changes
We haven't been to the fair for a few years, but the arrival of the fair always signifies the end of summer. The kids, my mom and Wayne and I went last night and I had the most fun at the fair that I can remember. The kids are totally into the bigger, scarier rides now, and it was so fun to be with the while they were so excited and having such a blast. Monica and Sam are visiting and they LOVED it! They are lovely house guests and we've enjoyed their visit. Monica thanked me for bringing them to the fair before we even got out of the car!
An extra treat was that we got to hang with Henekis, Alan, Erin, Carolyn, Sarah and Phoebe.
LOVE Phoebe's new haircut!
Erin and Patrick were as cute as can be on the rickety old roller coaster.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
This Is Also Who We Are: let it pass through
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I Lovermont
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Lonely?
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Still in Montreal!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Parfait
I really wanted to take a French Immersion class, but as time drew near, I wished I had just taken a vacation. I needed a vacation. Good news is, this feels like a vacation, so, yay! I get to have it both ways. Story of my (pretty dang nice) life, for the most part. By which I simply mean, I can't complain.
I'm really enjoying the rhythm of the city and the rhythm of my days here. Funny, I used to come to Montreal and regret that I couldn't stay up late and party in the streets (as I have done just once or twice with much pleasure) but this week I've loved settling in just as the streets start to hump and waking up in the morning as almost everyone else is still tucked away and all is quiet. And witnessing the gradual progression of energy and excitement throughout the day. It's a lovely rhythm and I feel like Pat and I are some kind of small harmony to the larger song; doing our own thing, but flitting in and out of the bigger picture. Quite a pleasure (and new experience) to feel so truly a part of city life.
I love routine and keeping busy and our days have accomodated these needs. I get up first, make and drink coffee, then Manny rolls out of bed and gets his cereal and we leave at 8:00 for day camp about a mile north of here, he on his scooter, me on my bike. He LOVES riding that scooter and cruises along pretty quickly. After depositing him at day camp (on Ave du Parc in the Mile End neighborhood), I head downtown with, seriously, 2 million other bike commuters! It is quick and easy to cruise down the bike lane on St. Urbain. One must be just as aware of the other bikes as the cars because there are just so many of them! I am very cautious, in part because I am not used to city riding and because of my bike accident 2 years ago. So when the light turns green, I let the masses of pedalers pass me and gently ease on down the road. I've got nothing to prove and plenty of time.
I arrive at the UQAM on St. Catherine (corner of Hotel de Ville) in time to sit in a little park and eat my yogurt before class at 9:00. Class is excellent. Perhaps a tad easy, but a relief that I'm not getting frusterated or overwhelmed. And I feel like I'm learning a lot and gaining much confidence. We speak, read and write in a completely intertwined way. There are nine students and one teacher, Guy, who is not bad to look at and very personable. And a really good, encouraging and enthusiastic teacher. Besides the U.S., other students in my class are from Canada, Korea, Italy, Mexico and Mongolia. So there is a nice diversity, too. And did I mention that Guy is pretty easy on the eyes? (Funny aside, if I had a picture of him to post, a lot of you would say he looks like Neil minus the bike racing tee-shirts!).
So I am in class until noon, at which time I have an hour for lunch. I bring a picnic and take a short walk to Place des Arts where I can sit and dine by the fountain or on the steps with about a million other lunch time revelers. Not too shabby.
The afternoon session is only 2 hours and is focused on conversation or guided tours (in French). Then I hop on my bike and head back up to Mile End et je rencontre mon fils. Then Patrick and I head home on scooter and bike, freshen up and hit the streets for a walk or groceries or what-have-you. We ate out tonight after a trip to the big salvation army store on the other side of town, but otherwise, we've eaten in and done puzzles, and just hung out. Tonight's tapas at Sala Rosa were outstanding. I especially loved the fried eggplant with cheese.
Then home for quiet time and tomorrow's lunch prep. Right now Pat is reading and I am writing and soon our day will end. I'll read my book and listen to the street sounds, which will pick up in the next few hours.
I could live here. I'm lucky to have a home here and no doubt my peace and relaxation this week owes much to that crucial fact. An adventure with all the comforts of home; parfait!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Placement Test
Since I was so quick with my testing, I rode my bike back to the apartment, went for a run, bought a falafel and now I'm in the Parc des Ameriques where there is free wireless, gorgeous sunshine and a lovely breeze.
I'm really happy to be here now that I know how to (a) get Patrick to his daycamp (he rode the scooter this morning and was so excited about the whole thing. I can't wait to see him at 4:00 and hear about his day. I'm a little nervous for him and so proud of his bravery in doing something like this), (b) get myself to the University and (c) ride a bike around the city. I was kind of afraid of doing that, but so far so good! It's easier than I thought it would be and a great way to get around quickly. There are lots of streets with bike lanes.
And I think my course is going to be really excellent. The orientation and testing this morning had a very well-organized and professional feel to it and there are lots of people to answer questions. The campus is pretty huge, but our program is only in 2 buildings, so now that I know where those are, I'm feeling confident and ready to learn!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
White Crosses and my bike.
A few years ago Zoe and I saw Jeffrey Foucault perform live. I’d never heard of him before that day. He opened with a song titled “Don’t Look for Me.” I was floored by his voice and fine guitar playing. We bought the cd after the performance and I listened to the studio version of the same song but it just did not impress as much as the live performance had. Many years back I had a Deadhead friend in college who once said, “the moment is superior to the artifact” when talking about the Dead’s music. For some reason that little quote has stuck with me. Initially it stuck because I thought it was a funny thing for one 19 year old stoner to say to another, but then as I dwelt on these seven words I came to conclude that this saying summed up my feelings about most things in life. I’ve never become attached to “stuff” (the only possession I'm really attached to is my road bike. Not so much because it's so great, but because I use all of the time, but if I were to lose I would not realistically be able to afford to replace it) and it dovetails nicely with my inability to remember just about anything. Alas, once again many years later, it would hold true for Jeffrey Foucault’s song. Purchasing the cd however was not a loss. It is a good cd, but what made me love it were the first two lines of the first song on the disc, “Cross of Flowers.” They are as follows:
There's a cross of flowers at the roadside
Where some fool bought it two years back
I will somewhat shamefully admit that I secretly and guiltily liked the irreverence of referring to the subject as a “fool” here. I can’t explain why, but I’ve always felt the same way when I saw a cross by the roadside. I hate them. I feel cold hearted admitting it, but it’s how I feel for some reason. The white roadside crosses, or descansos (in Spanish, descanso means “resting place”) are a common site on all of my main cycling routes from the house. There are three major routes that I commonly ride from home, one to the north, one to the south and one to the west. There is a white cross within 6 miles on each route. I see them up close every day as I meditatively peddle, therefore I spend a lot of time thinking about them. The cross means nothing to the person whose name emblazons it, obviously, and if I were asked if I wanted one, should I meet my demise in a car accident (or be splattered by a vehicle while on my bike on the road, I think that would qualify), I would emphatically say no, absolutely not. To me these shrines seem to be an extenuation of grief by and pity for the living. Perhaps it’s cathartic to work so diligently on these things, but I get the weird sense that the people who maintain them like doing it, I can’t imagine up-keeping one of these things for someone I had known. Similarly, after 9/11 and after the invasion (and subsequent occupation) of Iraq, stickers and flags on cars popped up everywhere. I felt the same weird way, “these people all sort of enjoy wallowing in this.” I’m not saying my interpretation is correct, it’s probably way off, but it is what it is and I’m admitting it for whatever purpose.
I decided to investigate these emotions. So like anyone who was having a slow day at the office I referred to the internet. You know, the internet, that place where, with enough research, the most common bug bite is potentially fatal, or at the very least, horrifyingly disfiguring. I thought this would be a great place to investigate. It wasn't. Here’s the first thing I stumble upon:
Mark the loss of a loved one to road accidents with a roadside memorial. Each roadside memorial is designed from UV-protected polyethylene, to make it last for years. The descanso – available with a personalized nameplate in several designs, from religious symbols, the national flag and animals – carry a and a mounting stake
Your Tribute Memorial Cross:
● Durably constructed from UV protected polyethylene
● Includes a mounting stake for easy installation
● Comes with a personalized nameplate
● Can be used for People or Pets
● Free Delivery included within 48 contiguous states
● Size: 24"H x 15"W x 2-1/2"D
Artwork and symbols are further below on the page
Ships in approximately 4 business days
Our Price: $175.00 |
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Or if you're a little more strapped, 27- 45 bucks here.
Or maybe I don’t like them because I’m an Atheist. This article says, “Consider also the point that atheists and other non-christians find them offensive, annoying and depressing.” Wow, they apparently speak for me and they really hate those crosses.
Maybe I don’t like them because they are a little artifact that is just glued there in that moment and place of despair. I feel like maybe the survivors can’t move on and are stuck in a holding pattern. It’s like they are stuck in that spot, in that moment, in that awful time and place for as long as the shrine is maintained(and some are very meticulously maintained). It seems like the point is to not move forward, it’s to stay there in that spot forever. Ah, but I think the moment is superior, remember? So I prefer the moment or moments that come before that fateful split second in that tragic spot when I think about the people that I have loved who are no longer here.
Enough stalling. I have to write why I like camp if I ever want any more jelly.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Shelter
- The former coordinator of our state coalition, who coordinated the VISTAs in 1995 and therefore trained and mentored me extensively (she also organized a baby shower for me at the end of that year!)
- The advocate with whom I job-shared when my kids were little and I could only work part-time. We grew up in the work together for many years. I love her dearly.
- The former director of my organization who was the director when I volunteered on the hotline right after Harper was born. Another important mentor.
- The victim advocate from the prosecutor's office where I worked more than 10 years ago as part of a special domestic violence unit. She taught me everything about the criminal system, the courts, the community and lots about how to fight and speak up for survivors.
- A past director of an anti-poverty organization, which oversaw that first DV program for which I worked as a VISTA. Always a smart and thoughtful activist who is now on my organization's board.
- Our shelter coordinator, a strong and capable woman who I have known for almost a decade. We have worked side by side for years and I am so proud of her as she embarks on this new project with her whole self, heart and soul.
- Our Executive Director, who I think of as the conductor of a symphony waving a baton. Or is that a magic wand? She's also one of my best friends.
- My newest colleague, co-worker and comrade from the north who impresses me daily with her dedication, intelligence and advocacy skills. At least once a week I come home and tell my family how great she is.
- Our statewide coalition representative, who serves as an expert and support person for our work locally; someone I turn to when no one else has an answer to my question. She's just brilliant.
- So many more community people who have supported our work for longer than I've been doing the work. I'm so grateful for their continued, solid, persistent presence.
- My dad. What can I or do I even need to say about the profundity of the lovely fact of his presence on this special day?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The Anti-Holiday
A clip from one of my favorite songs: Weasel Pot Pie...
At the end, Patrick got his autograph and a picture.
Happy Jazz Fest!
*My parents and I are the only people on the planet who do not love fireworks. We have our reasons. Not that they are the same reasons; no particular family trauma or anything like that. We're just weird, I guess.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
It Seems Like Forever
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Treats
Introducing: Dance Duck
Last weekend I went to Montreal with some friends and we went to a great Fringe Festival show called Dance Animal Presents: Dance Animal. Inspired, we all created our own dance animal personas. This is the bio of my friend Dance Duck. I think it (and she) is beautiful.
Close your eyes and imagine a duck in motion.
You’re probably picturing a duck walking; her awkward waddle painfully amusing. Or perhaps you’re imagining her flying – encumbered by her bulk as she lifts, dragging her webbed-feet like landing gear as she approaches the water.
But you see, ducks are designed neither for walking nor for flying. They have none of the gracefulness of their long-legged bird cousins on land, or of their sleek cousins in the air. They don’t step effortlessly through the marsh grasses like the snowy egret. They don’t soar like eagles or dip and dive like barn swallows.
And yet, the duck is not sorry that she waddles and flies heavily, because she knows that ducks are designed for floating. The essence of a duck in motion is actually stillness. The duck is moved only by the medium upon which it floats. Water.
Stillness can be defined in any medium. It is darkness to light. It is blankness to color. It is silence to noise. These are not opposites – darkness is the beginning of light and the end of light. Blankness is the beginning of color and the end of color. Silence is the beginning of noise and the end of noise. Stillness is the beginning of motion and the end of motion. The duck is still and yet a part of motion.
I’ve always been aware that I am a person of stillness. When the light is bright, I stand in the shadows. When the noise is great, I am silent. When the color is strong, I seek the solace of muted tones.
But I didn’t realize that my stillness was necessary, that I was necessary, that I was Dance Duck until Dance Tiger looked deep in my eyes – crossing the distance from her place on the stage to my seat. Yes, my seat in the shadows as far from the motion and noise and light and color on the stage as I could sit. When her gaze reached me there, I realized that indeed I was Dance Duck, destined to celebrate the stillness that is necessary to the motion and the noise.
You will see me on the stage with my Dance Animal friends, STILL – but not unmoved by the music. And you’ll understand that without my stillness, the motion is meaningless. My friends will dance and I will float. I am Dance Duck and I am necessary.
Really? I Live Here?
Click on this picture (just below) to see the wild beast!
Marathoning--A Record of My Times
- NEW HAMPSHIRE MARATHON, October 3, 2015. 4 hrs. 56 minutes, 8 seconds.
- MONTREAL "ROCK 'N' ROLL MARATHON, September 22, 2013. 4 hrs. 20 minutes, 41 seconds.
- VERMONT CITY MARATHON, May 2012. 4 hrs. 20 minutes, 8 seconds.
- MOUNT DESERT ISLAND MARATHON (Maine), October 2011, 4 hrs. 45 minutes, 14 seconds
- SUGARLOAF MARATHON (Maine), May 2010. 4 hrs. 18 minutes, 35 seconds
- MONTREAL MARATHON, September 2008. 4 hrs. 19 minutes, 33 seconds
- VERMONT CITY MARATHON, May 2008. 4 hrs. 11 minutes, 58 seconds
- VERMONT CITY MARATHON, May 2007. 4 hrs. 19 minutes, 42 seconds
- MONTREAL MARATHON, September 2006. 4hrs, 30 minutes, 2 seconds