"Letter to a Young Patriot"

I often find it difficult to engage in political discussions with folks who don't think like me.  I get so angry and intolerant!  This is not something I'm the least bit proud of; it's a flaw and I'd like to do better.  One of my comrades and best friends has grappled with this challenge admirably.  Read about it here.

The Weekend in Pictures

Pat, Lily, Harper and Hazel at the monument George Etienne Cartier. Click on it and make it big because I love this picture.


Pictures, in completely random sequence, of a great weekend in Montreal with the Fays and a stop at the Heath Orchard on our way home. Friends, family and fall...wonderful...and utterly exhausting!

Sally-ann

Sisters, Raetha, Sally and Cindy, circa 1980

Baby Henekis and Sally

Sally with Nellie at Kali and Jen's wedding in August

Yesterday Patrick and I were walking home from his running club and he said, apropos of nothing, "Auntie Sally was so sweet to me to me the other day." He then told me about an afternoon at least a month ago where he was home alone for a short time after school. Sally called and he told her he was alone and she asked him if he wanted her to come over to keep him company and he said "yes" and she did. Patrick said, "She knew I was lonely, so she came over so I wouldn't be lonely." Pat and I then talked about how that is the way our Auntie Sally is: if you need her, she'll be there faster than is legally possible. For me, that truth defines her. I love her.
She wrote the following about growing up and our family. (I must get my propensity for starting emails and phone conversations mid-thought from her.)


And we had the first stereo and more albums and more books than everyone in the community put together, and everyone laughed when they were in our house; and our mother told us stories about loving having a profession (the only woman in the community that worked), of the time she sat Cindy outside the door of the Westinghouse Office holding onto baby me so she could go talk to them without them knowing she had children (lest they took her job away) and she told us stories of the births of her children (when other kids didn’t even know where babies came from); and Daddy told us we could not judge ANYONE unless we did it with our eyes shut and had reasons about their person which caused us not to like them; and mom and dad argued about politics – he wanted her to stay home on voting day so she wouldn’t cancel his vote, but he loved her independence more than the vote; and we had big feasts in the formal dining room in Portsmouth, and in the side yard at Nana and Ganka’s; we partied with the Boardman’s and Sheridan’s and Uncle Billy with Donna when they all came to camp at the same time – all those kids to play with, all that happy adult noise! I listen to the next generations and I think, hummmm, we had the best music, books, laughter, a mom who valued independence and work, high ethical expectations, political discourse, great food parties and so much play. Sounds like our children and their children. I think we told them too much about that time that was so hard, and the mistakes our parents made, and not enough of the rest. I know I’ve made that mistake. When you have a really good young childhood any of the missteps look monumental because your parents don’t seem like parents they seem like the best gift under the Christmas tree.

Charlie, We Hardly Knew Ye

1984

1986



















This morning I sent my mom a text message asking her to write something In Memoriam for Champ, who died 19 years ago on this day. I was thinking of him, looking at the foliage which always reminds me of the day of his death. And Mom texted back, "You are reading my mind." Which made me realize that many of the descendants and other wackos are thinking about Charlie Stoddard today, so in some way, we're together. I'll never forget the day he died. I think it might be like how people remember where they were when JFK died. I was 18 years old and, as corny as it sounds, I remember October 2, 1989 as the day that I grew up. Anyway, I thought about Champ all day today. I think he means as much to me in his absence as he did when he was present. And I think that was true when he was alive, too. My elusive, charming, brilliant and restless grandfather...how we all miss him. We never got enough of him even when he was here and alive. But he's still here.

Here's Mom's words:

I want to say how it makes sense that his oldest grandchild, the one who was lucky enough to remember him best, has given us this gift of remembering (immortalizing?) him in the name of the blog and in the picture. The picture makes me smile every day when I check the blog, still sad, but sweet. I'd like to say something about each individual grandchild and how proud he would be, telling his bar mates about Zoe's writing, poetry and running, Kali's basketball and music, or Dahe's house and his strength, how sweet Kayla is and how funny Henekis is, and about the work she and Zoe do, how brave Shani is to go to NY and follow his dream, how pretty Jordan is and she has the gift of Stoddard sarcasm, how amazingly smart and accomplished Nellie is, and great grandchildren, Harper the artist and Patrick the naturally talented musician... But he would be most proud of what truly good people they all are and how much they truly, truly cherish each other. I can see him with that smile on his face, hand on his cheek and cig in his fingers...

I can see him too. And that smile and twinkle in his eye. Like Mom, I love to imagine how he'd be proud of all of us and I see him and his smile in my aunts and uncles and, especially, my cousins and my children. And what I thought about today was how our family shares humor, food, stories and fun and I remembered that day he died and the days that followed and how we shared our grief and pain. And how when Sally was so sick we shared our fear. And driving in northern New England today the colored leaves reminded me of how my family came together in their pain 19 years ago to grieve and take care of each other and thereby taught me how to be a grown up in this world.





Yes, Champ has undies on his head.









In this picture, Champ's shirt says, "Cindy's Daddy". He wore it every Old Home Day he showed up for.
















Champ at my high school graduation. The last time many of us saw him.

Last but not least, the great cat joke.

Skunks (Saved By the Sugarmaker)

This morning I saw THREE skunks on my run. And not the cute little fella from a month ago. These were big ass skunks. The first one was crossing the road ahead of me early on in my run, when it was still kind of dark. But no problem. I watched it slink off into the brambles and jogged past. On my way back, less than 1.5 miles from home, I was reveling in running under a bright orange canopy of maples on Darling Hill. I was thinking about how this could be the most beautiful spot on earth, right here, right now under these trees, and how great it felt to be running in the rain early in the morning. I was noticing how strong my legs felt and how clear and happy my brain felt. I was so caught up in my joy that I didn't notice the big, giant skunk crossing the road until it was almost too late. I stopped, waited for it to cross, and then noticed it's buddy coming out of the tall grass on the side of the road. And coming right towards me. And this guy was HUGE! Why was it coming towards me? What did it want? Instead of asking, I pivoted and ran as fast as I could in the other direction. I was too scared to even look back for a while. Finally, I stopped and noticed that the thing was no longer charging me. So I cautiously resumed my course, wondering how the f**ck I was going to get home. If I turned and went the other way, it would be about 7 miles instead of a little more than 1 mile. Which would be okay, except I promised Neil I'd be back in time to pack the kids lunches. I really didn't know what I was going to do so I just kind of stood there in the road for 5 or 10 minutes. Boy was I happy to see Dave, our local sugarmaker, coming down his driveway. I waved him down, told him about my predicament, and he slowly backed his truck up down the road while I walked along side. When we got to the spot where I thought the skunks might be, I practically jumped on the hood of his truck. I felt a little silly, but I've seen what happens to dogs when they get sprayed, and I know that it's more than just a bad smell; it's really painful. So after my sugarmaker's rescue, I went back to enjoying my run, but I stayed in the middle of the road and jumped at every little flash of white I saw. Thank god I left Rosie home today.

As Good As Any

This is Henekis.

Our mothers are sisters. My mother is older than her mother (by 2 years) and I am older than Henekis (by 9 years). Our Champ was their father. For five years now, we've worked together so I get to see her just about every day. Though I think we might have spent more "fun" time together before we worked together and I kind of miss that. Anyway, the other day at work she casually announced that she thought she might like to become a foster parent. I got so excited! Her skill with kids of all ages is exceptional. Think about it; Henekis as a foster parent...it makes so much sense I wish I'd thought of it my self! She'll be perfect!


I've been thinking about writing about Henekis for some time; since I first started this blog, actually. It's hard to know where to start with someone you know so well and love so much. Here's a picture of the two of us last October in Montreal when we went to see Stevie Wonder.




That was one of the greatest nights of our lives. I know that sounds melodramatic, and perhaps presumptuous to speak for her, but it's absolutely true. I'll never forget that spontaneous trip to Montreal. It was partly great because we were seeing Stevie, but it was also great because it was the two of us. And Henekis and I are the same in our passion for life, joie de vivre and free-spiritedness. For me that night epitomizes our "we're just being us and loving life at this beautiful moment in time with no apologies" shared ethos.

But Henekis does a better job on a daily basis embracing this ethos than me. I've been called passionate, emotional and idealistic and heard those words as insults. As I've grown older, I've learned to love those things about my self, but also, Henekis is something of a role mode for me in this respect. She is unabashed and shameless about her passion and living life big. She is wise and courageous and free. I love how she celebrates these characteristics in her self, makes the most of them and is just so HER; unique and strange and wonderful. And did I mention funny? She is one of the funniest people I know and those of you who know her will wholeheartedly agree. She has as much wit as the great Champ himself (and her mother, my Auntie Sally, who is also outrageously funny). If we did superlatives in our family (like in high school year books), I think Henekis would win "Most Fun to Be With".

(Who in the family can scan me a copy of that classic picture of Champ holding baby Henekis wearing clown make up in his arms one Old Home Day? I can see that picture in my head, but I don't have a copy. I'll insert it here if someone will send it to me.)
Our Champ gave her the nickname Honey Kiss.

Henekis is first and foremost my baby girl cousin. But she is so much more than that. She's also one of my best friends, my co-worker, comrade and sister-in-arms. I can't imagine life without her. It would really suck. We laugh and cry together, work and play together and struggle together, and we've been doing those things for almost 30 years! I've got her back and I know she's got mine. And even though she's a grown-up woman, I still see this little girl in her everyday.

Henekis, whose name means "as good as any" is very smart and insightful. More than once I have sought her advice when preparing myself for a difficult conversation. She is always thoughtful and has a higher level of emotional intelligence than most people. But probably what I admire about my cousin more than anything is her incredible and genuine kindness. I strive to be nonjudgmental, but for Henekis it seems to just come naturally. She values everyone for who they are and while she may insist that people take accountability for their behaviors, she is also forgiving and ultimately sees the best in everyone. Like the Red Grammer

song she grew up with, See Me Beautiful:

See me beautiful, look for the best in me.
That’s what I really am, and all I want to be.
It may take some time, It may be hard to find, but see me beautiful.

Clowns...or, The Kids Lose Their Minds