Remembering Vader, Meeting an Aquaintance

November 26, 2013

It was a dark and stormy night…well, at least a dark and really cold one. So dark that I had a difficult time finding the driveway to the home I was supposed to visit. I was on my way, my pug Waffles, in tow to conduct an interview for an upcoming article in Upper Valley Life Magazine on “pet love” -- the interesting services we will pursue for our pets. This interview was with a woman who does animal reiki and while she had provided me with her address, this time my GPS failed me. When I finally found the building, I was equally perplexed on how to get inside and nervous as I have never brought one of my pets to an interview before. Waffles had accompanied me to one of our writers’ workshops with Jon Katz and was on her best behavior then so when the interviewee suggested I bring her along and allow her to try some reiki on her I agreed.

Waffles and I roamed the perimeter of the fence, but I was unable to figure out how to open it so we eventually climbed a long snow-covered slope to the woman’s front door. No one uses the front door here in New England – never. She opened the front door and said, “I can’t believe you braved the front door!” I looked at her and immediately realized that I knew her. She had mentioned that she had once worked at the Upper Valley Humane Society, the place where I frequently took my former pug Mira for obedience classes. Vader would accompany us and everyone liked him so much they would allow him to walk around inside the class. He was old by then, 9 or 10, chubby, but not so old that he didn’t enjoy taking part in the class. I think he liked to show off to Mira that he already knew sit, and stay and come. But he also had a calming effect on some of the other dogs and he became a favorite with all the teachers and volunteers. I think we took the class four times earning four different certificates just because Mira and Vader enjoyed themselves so much and people enjoyed them. It turns out that the woman I had come to interview was one of the assistants in the class, a woman with as calming an influence as Vader. I could easily understand how she could be successful doing energy work.

No sooner had I declared “I think I know you,” then she said, “Maybe. Our you Vader’s mom?”

“Yes,” I replied and while I started to tell her he had passed, she was already saying, “Oh my gosh, I was just telling someone about him today.”

Vader and Mira had taken the last class at least four years ago. He has been dead for at least a year, but this woman not only remembered him but also had been talking about him that very day. She volunteers at a local library and one of the children there told her he had a black pug. She said she knew a black pug and told him about Vader. “Vader was quite a presence!” she said to me.

He must have made an impression for her to remember him so many years later. We conducted the interview, met one of her Lhasa apsos, had a reiki session and reminisced about Mira and Vader. To learn about the Reiki, you’ll have to read the article when it comes out (I’ll be sure to post it), but suffice it to say Waffles and I left calm and happy even though she managed to have a huge accident on the woman’s floor. She claimed not to mind and I believed her. She was a true dog person, I knew.

“Let’s keep in touch,” I said on the way out. “We dog people are our own tribe.”

“Yes,” she said. “I love being part of a pack.”

So do I especially one that shares my memories, sorrow and joy.

Exploration

November 4, 2013

A head cold was settling in as I explored the streets of Troy, NY, near The Arts Center on River Street. It was my first time in the city, having visited to attend a memoir class with memoirist Marion Roach, author of The Memoir Project, a book that I use in the memoir class that I teach at my small community college.

Though my head was growing fuzzy, I took the time to meander and browse the streets and funky boutiques. I stared as the sun started to descend over the Hudson River, wandered past an actual record store and a shop that sold cheap, plastic dangling earrings circa 1980s. I bought three pairs. In some ways I felt like I had gone back in time to the days I would visit the boy I loved in Cambridge, Mass. and wander through bookstores and comic shops with him and my brother, biding the time until we’d attend a concert outside of town. I might have been in a cold-induced daze, but a part of me also felt invigorated by the workshop, my environment and the freedom to wander.

When I was young I had few dreams of traveling anywhere especially alone – now it is one of my favorite things to do. As I browse bookstores, drink tea in hide-a-way cafes, scour sidewalks for the perfect shot, I feel like I am discovering a little bit of myself – a part kept under, stunted from blooming by circumstance. It has taken me longer to travel beyond borders than it should have. But now I investigate freely. Here, in photos, is some of what I saw.

Coffee with a Canine

November 1, 2013

There's a wonderful little blog I recently discovered called Coffee with a Canine. And, guess what? Alfie, Waffles and I are featured there today. We grabbed a cup by a beautiful lake on our way back from the Chestertown Pug Parade. The blog is great! It basically asks dogs and their owners to go enjoy a cup of joe and then be interviewed about the occasion and other aspects of their lives. Lots of fun reading and photos there. Go check us out and leave a comment!

Trick or Treating in a Small Town

October 31, 2013

Truth be told I have never Trick or Treated anywhere else, but there are sometimes when life in a small town seems smaller than others. Sometimes this is good, sometimes it is bad. Tonight it was wonderful.

The town put on its best face to make a cold rainy Halloween a party for its children. Downtown stores opened their doors to masked kiddies. We saw soldiers and cops, the man in the yellow hat, the bride of Frankenstein, a flashlight, and more. We gathered in the Town Hall for crafts and games – where neighbors had made enchanted donuts with vampire teeth and spider cupcakes. Kids played pin the heart on the skeleton, bingo and guess the number of candy corns, while parents chatted, snapped pictures and tried to stay warm. A tractor pulled a wagon full of hay bales offering damp tricksters a hayride to the Haunted Bandstand.

I’m sure it is fun to comb a city’s streets, but I doubt it is ever as heartwarming. Best yet, my whole world fit in that downtown and we were there sharing it together: all three brothers’ families and their kids convened in the Town Hall and back at the house for pizza. I bumped into my best friend when I was 9 years old -- the one who used to come to my house every Monday night when we were young to watch Little House on the Prairie – and her son, who was dressed as Almanzo Wilder. The brother of the boy I loved was handing out candy in a downtown shop and I received a text or two from my nephew the next town over. I missed spending the night with them, but the rain kept me closer to home. Although the pugs stayed at home because of the freezing drizzle, they greeted me, happily settling down once the kids and I were back in the house. We were warm, we were happy, we were together in the big brick house where my parents raised us right in the center of town. And, though the place might be small, this feeling of contentment was big.

Ahoy, Matey!

October 31, 2013

We thought about donning the pink wigs again. We tried on our princess gowns. We finally settled on pirates! The evening was too wet for the puggies to get their toes wet, so they stayed inside their pens and greeted visitors at the door in the pirate garb. Meanwhile, I hit the town with the nieces and nephews, fighting off the wet with umbrellas and raincoats. We trick or treated at the downtown stores then headed to the Town Hall for crafts and games, before taking a hayride to the bandstand and back again. We finished the evening with pizza from our local pizza parlor, Cockadoodle Pizza.

Writing Prompt: What Comes Naturally

October 29, 2013

Writing Prompt: Write about what comes naturally...

The world went from warm to cold in a single day. I was scheduled to go bicycling with my sister-in-law last Friday, when she informed me that my niece and she had the sniffles. Afraid to catch something, I canceled the outing with them, but couldn’t quite give up the idea of one last ride of the season. I figured that cold temperatures were on the horizon, but I didn’t realize that my one last hurrah truly would be autumn’s swan song here in Vermont.

As I drove to Stowe for my solo voyage, I knew it was cooling off, but the sun was bright and I figured that the biking would keep me warm. I was wrong. When I hit the trail, the leaves continued to broadcast a kaleidoscope of color, the sky remained briskly blue, the sun put up a gallant last stand, but the mountain was already dressed in snow and the air bore its teeth. I suddenly and acutely fathomed the reason for earmuffs; my vented bicycle helmet, so welcomed only a week before, now proved shallow comfort. It was cold!

And, it was beautiful; the world was transforming!

I later learned that while I was biking, my sister-in-law and niece were up the road playing in snow that had fallen at the base of the mountain. Winter had hit Vermont, while I continued to cling to the new-found joy I had discovered only weeks before on my bike.

While my love of cycling was new, I discovered something old and forgotten peddling down the road – a feeling of freedom being in my own body, a desire to play outdoors that I had not had since I was a little girl. Back then it came so naturally. I remember sitting on my backyard swing, pumping my legs, swinging for hours. I used to take my hoppity horse, a big blue ball with rubber handle and horse head that I would ride among jumping all over my parents and grandparents two acres of lawn. When snow fell I would don my puffy snowsuit, mittens and hat and make snow angels in the cold, fluffy powder, my arms and legs waving back and forth. This was before gym class, competition, rules I didn’t understand and taunts by schoolmates and teachers. It was before I understood that you could be good or bad at something and instead simply enjoyed doing everything. My ears and fingertips were frozen by the time I finished my brisk three-mile bike ride, but my memory and love of being outside playing and exercising had thawed, going from cold to warm each time I rode my new bike. My world was transforming and, it was beautiful!

One Giant Leap

October 24, 2013

On a bright Saturday over Columbus Day weekend, my college friend Clare and I planted ourselves in my driveway, spread out the directions, and attempted to mount my new bicycle rack to my car. That’s something I never expected to say, even more than a bicycle itself, a bike rack is something I never would have expected to own. I never would have thought I’d be that interested in any sport, but I am. And, now I don’t just own a bike rack, I have the bike to go with it.

Once I decided to give cycling a try things progressed pretty quickly. I went from interviewing bike shops about the type of bike I should get, to buying one! It all started when I ran into my best friend from childhood, Madelaine, and inquired about the Stowe bike path where she frequently rides. I mentioned that I might be interested in biking there one day and a few weeks later, she called my bluff. I hummed and I hawed and I found an excuse to cancel, but only by a week. She wanted to go out the next Wednesday. My sister-in-law, Gretchin, and I actually had possible plans to try out some bikes in Stowe, but up until that moment I wasn’t sure I was going to go through with it. In fact, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t. I hadn’t been on a bike in 30 years and I had no idea if I could even straddle one. I decided I needed to try that before anything else, so in the dark of night I found the key to my father’s shed, went inside and removed my brother’s trick bike from the wall. Perhaps not the best thing to start with, but it was the only bike on hand. Problem is there was no way I could ride it. Like one of Goldilocks’ bears, I found this bike too short. My knees practically touched my chin.

Another idea dawned on me. Why not go to Wal-Mart and try one of their bikes. If I could at least get on one and stay upright maybe I’d have a chance of actually riding one. I went to Wal-Mart, hopeful, but soon found most of the bikes too heavy and big to lift. Plus, they were located right in front of the customer service desk so there was no way I would be able to try one unnoticed. I tried not to worry about that, lifting the only bike I could reach down and soon realizing, like another of the three bears, that this bike was too tall. This should have been funny, but it wasn’t. I wanted to cry. I did cry. Partly because I was frustrated, mostly because I knew there was no way I was getting on a bike in front of people with the possibility of not even being able to pedal. The potential for embarrassment was too great! And, that embarrassed me even more. How much of my life had I spent being scared of doing things because I was afraid I couldn’t? To be honest, that was my reason for wanting to take up biking in the first place.

When I had visited my friend Clare earlier this year in D.C. she had gotten us coupons to bike around the city. Not only did I have to turn her down, but also I was shocked she’d even think I’d entertain the idea. Me, on a bike? But deep down I was sorry that I didn’t have a choice. We weren’t biking not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t think I could. I didn’t like that feeling, so I decided to do something about it; hence, my research into bicycles and bike paths.

That probably would have been the end of it, if it weren’t for Madelaine and Gretchin, neither of whom seemed to want to give up on my dreams. Gretchin kindly supported me, saying we’d go to the bike shop and rent the bike and if there was any problem we didn’t have to go. “But what if the bike shop guys are watching us as we try to ride off?” I asked. I don’t think she knew how much I dreaded the answer. “I’ll take care of them,” she said.

I tried to warn her, but she seemed to ignore my protests. I turned to my brother. “Gretchin, doesn’t know how I am. I don’t want her to get upset if I get upset,” I said.

“Ah, huh,” he murmured. He seemed to be humoring me.

“Seriously,” I said. “Remember that time they asked me to be a bunny for drama club? I froze and ran out. I couldn’t do it. You have to tell Gretchin I might freeze, or cry or run out!” I protested.

Mark started laughing. “What’s so funny,” I cried.

“I’m just trying to be inside your head. What could you possibly have been thinking would have been so bad about being a bunny that you had to run out?” he chuckled more.

Convinced the situation was hopeless, I continued to try to weasel my way out of going with Gretchin, but part of me wanted to so badly. So we did. On the way, we spied a rusty bike being given away for free. I wanted to stop and try it out, but a guy pulled up in back of me and placed it in his trunk.

At the bike shop, Gretchin waited until the clerks were busy and then nabbed one of the waiting rentals for me to try. She surveyed them all first, choosing a short one, but not too short, for my virgin ride. She even suggested which foot to lead with and moments later I was triumphantly circling the yard. A little wobbly, but I was on the move. We rode a simple mile, but the next week along with Madelaine we tried more and a week after that I returned to purchase an end-of-the-season rental. Madelaine even chipped in to help me get the bike rack. Last week, we toted the bikes up to Lake Champlain and completed 10 miles around the lake. Tonight, I found myself disappointed when both Madelaine and Gretchin had to cancel tomorrow’s ride. You know the expression one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind? This was more than one simple bike ride for me, it was a giant leap in confidence, in daring, in the willingness to beat back fear and potential failure. The fact that I discovered that I love it has just been icing on the cake!

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, Ain’t No Valley Low Enough, Ain’t No Bulldozer Wide enough…well, maybe…

September 26, 2013

Those could have been the lyrics flowing through my mind today as I attempted to pick my niece Ellie up at daycare. A couple of days earlier I answered my sister-in-law Gretchin’s plea for a babysitter so she could participate in a conference call at work. I felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders as I headed off to retrieve her from daycare and a secret sense of pride in learning not only had my sister-in-law called ahead to let the daycare know that I would be picking up my niece, but I discovered that I was already on the pre-approved list to do so – had been from the get-go, my sister-in-law told me. Obviously, I was a trusted and trustworthy person, and I was on a mission.

I arrived at my sister-in-law’s on time, switched cars so I would have the vehicle with the car seat, and headed off to the daycare that I had visited only once before. I was pretty sure I had a fairly decent idea of where it was located and Gretchin had given me the street address to plug in my GPS. I shouldn’t have any problem.

I followed the gentle voice of “Mother” my name for my disembodied GPS narrator, taking a left where instructed only to find myself face to face with three bulldozers, completely blocking the road. No problem, I thought, I’ll head back into town and circle around another way. Mind you, I had no idea that there was another way, but it seemed like there should be. There wasn’t. I found myself wandering the one-way roads of the village until I began to despair. I didn’t even know the name of the daycare and by now my sister-in-law was in her meeting! When I was a little girl, my mother was late getting back from an appointment and when I arrived home from school, she wasn’t there. I was little and scared, so I wandered across the street to the neighbor’s and knocked on the door.

“My mom isn’t home I told her,” as she ushered me inside. I barely took a foot over the threshold when I realized things weren’t right. I had entered a prehistoric jungle. Draped on sofas and chairs, hanging from the ceiling and crawling on the floor were gigantic lizards. I was terrified! Years later, when I was older, I learned these were iguanas and that the neighbor raised and sold them, but then as a first-grader I was convinced I had stumbled into a monster’s lair. Was Ellie in for such a life-scaring experience if I didn’t arrive in time?

I wanted to phone Gretchin and at least find out the daycare’s name, but realized she was on her conference call by this time. Then I thought of my brother, Mark, Ellie’s dad. I dialed him at work, explaining that I wasn’t sure where the daycare was and remained on the phone as he guided me to the exact bulldozer-blocked location that “Mother” had taken me only minutes before.

“I can’t get there!” I exclaimed, but the phone had disconnected and suddenly was spouting some nonsense to me in Spanish. I tried calling Mark back only to end up stuck on some strange menu on my phone. (Let’s just say I haven’t gotten use to iOS7 yet). Mark rang me back and explained that if I was to get my niece I would have to find a way through the bulldozers. I took a deep breath, rolled down my window, stuck my head out and yelled at one of the construction workers. “I need to get my niece at school!” I said.

“School’s down that way in the village,” he answered.

“No, daycare!”

Understanding dawned on his face as he motioned one of the bulldozers out of the way and revealed the Grand Canyon of holes in the road. It seemed they had removed a portion of the sidewalk and for me to get to my niece I had to slowly, ever so slowly, they warned me, drive down the abyss and climb up the other side.

If I wanted to balk I couldn’t, I was on the pre-approved list after all and I could not let Ellie fall prey to whatever the modern-day equivalent of a house full of iguanas might be, so I shut my eyes, slowly pressed on the gas and made the crossing. I survived, but as I drove forward I realized the road reached a dead end and I had yet to find the daycare.

After another call to my brother I realized I was supposed to take a right, but I didn’t see a right. I drove back meeting the bulldozers again when it became apparent that the bulldozer that had moved out of the way to let me through was now blocking the driveway to the daycare. Again, I motioned to the construction worker, who in turn signaled to the bulldozer to get out of my way.

As it did, the daycare came into view. I swear I saw a heavenly glow around it. A few minutes and a flash of my official ID later, I was given custody of my niece, who viewed the big machines -- that once again had to move out of our way to let us exit -- with glee.

“Ohh, trucks,” she said.

After a visit to the malt shop, park, several stores, the Famers’ Market, a toy store, and another park, my niece returned home more impressed by our fun-filled day than my gallant rescue attempt. My sister-in-law was equally impressed with the peaceful afternoon. None of them seemed as fazed about my tale of rescue as I was, but I knew that Gretchin had done right by putting her trust in me. I was the woman for the job. When it came to getting my niece, nothing and I mean nothing, could keep me away from her!

Husk Poetry

September 24, 2013

I began walking the boulevard near my home earlier this summer -- a three mile stretch that takes me from paved, rural suburbia to dirt roads, farmhouses, cornfield, pavement and our small downtown. Because I'm not the type of person who likes doing only one thing at a time, I took lots of photos with my iphone to pass the time. I became enamored with the large field of corn that almost stretched for a mile of the walk. Since it has stayed there unplucked I assume it is cow corn so I have had the chance to witness and write about its lifespan. While I turned these posts into poetry, I found the images equally as moving -- the way the silk changed from blush to withered brown, the growth from lean, slim bodies to plump overripened ears that burst forth from their husks. I loved to watch the husks sway in the wind and whisper to each other and sit soaking in the later heat. I watched as the ears leaned toward each other and eventually entwined. It was uniquely moving even without putting words to the actions, just watching and bearing witness to nature's own story. I have posted what I have written including links to earlier pieces on the blog already, but thought I'd gather them here again in one place.