Day: February 14, 2015

The old man puzzled over the Step Machine in the gym. He could not find a cord or a power switch and, somewhat slowly, he kept climbing on and off looking for a way to turn it on. He had never been on a Step Machine before. He was confused, but stubborn, he wanted to try the machine. He had brought his dog, who lay down beside him and watched.

After a minute or two, a young man – he looked about 14 – came over tentatively. He seemed wary of approaching the old man, and the old man was familiar with this, young people were trained to avoid old people, especially men and strangers, he knew better than to approach them or speak with them, he knew they felt unsafe around them and never quite knew what to say.

Sometimes it seemed that older people were invisible, some people opened doors for them, most people seemed to look right through them, as if they were ghosts.

“Hey mister,” said the boy, “you have to get on the machine and start pedaling to get it to turn out.” The old man thanked the boy and climbed on, soon he was pedaling along. He put on his earphones and plugged them into his cellphone, he got lost in the music for the next 30 minutes, as he often did.

The boy climbed onto the stationary bicycle next to him, he asked the old man about the dog.

The boy seemed almost afraid to look at him, and for a moment, the old man saw himself as the boy must have seen him, an old man in a gym filled with young men and women lifting weights, running on the treadmill, sweating, moving from one machine to another. I am the old man in the gym, he said, there is nobody else here like me. The old man rarely thought of himself as old, but he imagined that when he was seen through the eyes of a young boy or girl, he must have looked quite old to them. And he was getting old, it was the truth.

Still, the old man was proud of  himself that day, he had worked out for an hour-and-a-half, his back and legs ached and screamed in protest. But he had made it, it was one of the longest workouts of his life.

“You new here?,” asked the boy after awhile. The old man saw the boy was thin, almost skinny, he had long bony legs and giant sneakers, a shock of brown hair flopping over his forehead. He had a ready smile, too, he seemed like a nice kid. It was thoughtful of him to show him how the machine worked, he might never have figured it out.

The old man nodded, yes, he said, he had just joined the gym. He was working out four or five times a week, he said, and then the old man startled himself by suddenly telling the boy that he had just had open heart surgery, he was working hard to get in good shape and stay there, he didn’t want to go back and do it again. He could hardly believe it, why did he tell the boy that, a stranger, and why would the boy care?

The old man hated to talk about his surgery, he never mentioned it to strangers, not much to friends. He didn’t like to talk about it, it was an experience, not his identity. He hated when people came up to him on the street and clutched his arm, and said with sorrowful eyes, “how are you?” He was fine, he was good. But he had no idea why he had blurted it out to the boy, who was silent for a long time afterwards. And he couldn’t blame them, Lord, he thought, are you getting fuzzy?

But he liked this young man, he felt a connection with him somehow, although it didn’t make sense, there could be no connection.

He had some time to think about it, there were just the two of them and the dog in the gym, the rhythmic sound of the machines, thumping and squeaking, the vents on the ceiling blowing in heat on the cold day.

“Why are you here?,” the old man asked the boy, hoping to change the subject.

“I want to be on the basketball team, but coach says my arm and leg muscles are not strong enough. If I can do Level 10 for 30 minutes, he says I can make the team in the Fall. I’m going to do it,” he said,”I come here every day.”

The old man nodded, “I know you will, I can see you are doing well.”

The boy smiled, and thanked him. “Mister,” he said suddenly, “you are doing real well too, I see you are at level 9, I just peeked, sorry. Lots of people here don’t do Level 9. I’m working up to it.” The old man smiled and he puffed himself up a bit. It was a compliment he appreciated, he had been working so hard for months to get there, it was new to him, not nature, his joints did not move the way the boy did. Nobody in the world knew how hard he had been working, how determined he was to get his mind and body and heart back, how much it had come to mean to him. He was never going to lose control of his body again, never again have his heart stopped and his chest opened up.

It was not something he ever talked about, these workouts.

But they were important to him, so much so that he had joined this gym, came almost every day, worked hard every minute he was there, seating and sore and working to build up his lungs and breath, he felt his body returning to life, his strength returning, his pride also. Every day had been hard, painful, especially at first. He was learning to love these workouts, to find his body again, to listen to music and read, it was almost a spiritual experience. He had come to love it.

The two worked quietly on their machines for a few minutes more, and then the boy said “my grandpa had a heart attack and then died from the surgery last year,” he said. I’m sorry, said the old man. “Were you close to him?” The boy nodded.

Then the boy got off the bicycle machine and moved toward the weights down the other end of the gym. First, he stopped to pet the dog and talk to him. He turned to the old man, “you are really doing good,” he said, “you ought to be proud of yourself.” He stopped to pet the dog. The compliment meant so much to him, and wondered why? This was just a kid, he didn’t even know his name.

The old man nodded again, and thanked the boy once more. “Hey,” he said to the the boy, who turned around.

“I’d love to come and see you play basketball in the Fall,” he said. “Let me know.”

“Sure thing,” said the boy, “that would be great, my name is Kit” and he waved, and then moved away.

I texted Superstorm “Pickles” this afternoon, he was bearing down on New England with record-breaking snow, cold and hurricane force winds, making life miserable for many millions of people and earning boatloads of money in his new multi-storm deal with the Weather Channel.

The marketing stats on this weekend’s storm are stellar – 70 million Americans affected, from Maine to North Carolina, several of the country’s biggest cities slammed – Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Washington millions already without power -blockbuster numbers on the Weather Channel website and its TV Channel. Everybody is freaking out, profits are soaring.

Me: Hey Pickles, congrats on your deal. I think I’ve outsmarted you, we got the new cord of seasoned firewood onto the porch, water in the bathub and under a tarp we will have heat even if the power goes out, you are no match for me, Maria and our friend Tyler, and our border collie Red, you are just a big bag of vapor on a screen.

Pickles: You have a lot of nerve, you are a pathetic spec on the spectrum, even by the standards of human beings, which are not high. I can slide right over your house and blow you and your barn and that teenaged boy right into the next county without even stretching. Tomorrow, I’m sending howling winds that will turn you into a popsicle if you spend five minutes outside with your fancy camera, old man, best not provoke me or you and your little dog will be on the news tomorrow night when they fish you out of a tree. You’ll be peeing outside into 60 mile an hour winds, love to see a photo of that.

Me: You are 90 per cent hype and 10 per cent weather. I live in proud upstate Washington County, my friend Carol Gulley the dairy farmer just messaged me and said her cows are dry and under shelter, we both think you spew a lot of bullshit, and that you suck (my words, not Carol, she is nice.) We have been living through winters long before the storms had wussy names like “Pickles,” my farmer friend Carr says he never knew winter was dangerous till his wife bought a computer and got him on the Internet. Hey, Superstorm, it’s snowing in February, big whoop, maybe you can sell a bridge in Brooklyn when your contract runs out. Tuesday morning, we will be alive and waiting for Spring, you will be a speck on the radar screen, hanging out on what’s left of the polar ice cap.

Pickles: See you tomorrow, old man, we will see who’s laughing when the wind chill is – 55 and your sheep are blowing all over the pasture and your big special dog is dancing on the ice like a ballerina in the Bolshoi to keep his toes warm I am heading for the Bahamas after I smack Boston around, I’ll be lying on the beach with my Ipad, sucking on some helium and humidity. Good luck with your little wooden sticks, tomorrow night you’ll be sucking on a wood stove trying to thaw your nose out. Are you trying to bully me?

Me: We are not afraid of any Superstorm, Pickles, we are well prepared.  We have Tyler, I have a wife who loves to stack wood and a border collie who doesn’t mind the snow. Plus some fresh oysters to sautee. Anyway, how can one old man bully a Superstorm that stretches over half the country? Just letting you know we are ready and not intimidated. Wood on the porch, pizza in the refrigerator, popcorn with pink Himalayan salt on the counter. Blow away,  you are mostly wind and gas, an equal mix of snow and hype.

Ken Norman, our farrier and friend is looking very good, so his wife Eli and their daughter Nikoleni, the Bedlam Farm Fairy Barn Princess. The Normans have been in the hearts and minds of a lot of people since Ken had both knees surgically replaced at the end of December. He is undergoing intensive physical therapy and is beginning to walk with a cane and drive his truck to doctors appointments. Ken has been in enormous pain at times, he does not speak much of it.

Last Friday, Eli fell in the school parking lot and fractured her left wrist in four or five places, she had an intensely painful few days, she is back to see the surgeons this week to see has to be done next. Eli’s fall was about the last thing the Normans needed, they live on a farm in Pawlet, Vt. and have 30 horses and donkeys, many of them rescues. Realizing he would have no income for at least three months, Ken launched a gofundme project shortly before his surgery and many good people have contributed more than $38,000 to help him run the farm and recover and take care of his family.

He had raised roughly $32,000 before Eli fell and since then the fund has  raised more than $6,000, he will need every penny of it. A number of the horses need expensive medical care, his equipment needs replacing and there are a lot of mouths to feed at Thornwood. Ken has helped more people and animals than anybody can count, and friends and neighbors have rushed to bring food, hay and help in the barns. Because of Eli’s injury, he will need even more help to get through what is turning out to be a brutal and very challenging winter.

Ken does not want to ask for any new and specific amount of money, as he has already raised more money than he originally asked for. People have given generously and freely, and I would not want to pressure anyone to give anymore, I can say he will use every dollar he gets. This kind of winter wreaks havoc on barns, tractors, vehicles and farm equipment.

Still, the help he has received is more than generous and we were happy to see both of them looking so healthy and happy.  They were both laughing about their winter, a season that would have sunk many lesser people. I can sense how much pain Ken was in, and it is good to see him more himself. Ken helped to save Simon, but that was not unusual, he goes all over the Northeast helping horses and donkeys in trouble. It was a powerful thing to see  how many people rushed to help him get through this Siberian winter with two new knees and now, a broken wrist.

Maria is interested in one of their ponies, she and Eli are connected to one another, and when the weather improves she hopes to take some riding and horse lessons from Eli, I don’t know what will happen, but I would not be shocked to see a pony here down the road.

Thanks so much to those of you who have helped Ken, it is a powerful thing to see how good people can be when given the chance. We are all connected, we are all one, and this has lifted me up greatly and made me feel strong and grateful to be in this world, which can be so difficult sometimes. There is much Grace in the Norman family, and this grace has touched the grace in so many other people. Just wanted to bring you up to date, if anyone wishes to add to Ken’s fund, or has not yet given, or who has a few dollars to spare, you can do so here. This is the first time Ken has ever asked for help in his life, and he plans to be back at work trimming hooves and saving horses in a couple of months.

Ken is going to be on the tractor in the morning hauling hay to the barn, I asked  him if he should be doing that on a stormy and frigid and windy day, and he said “no, probably not.” Ken sometimes feels like a brother to me.

This morning I went online to see what we had to to for the animals this weekend, and I saw a forecast unlike any other I have seen in my nearly two decades of being in upstate New York. The National Weather Service says that from 1. a.m. tomorrow to mid-day Monday,  there will be heavy snow, winds gusting up to 60 miles per hour, sub-zero temperatures and wind chill temperatures of up to 55 below zero. I have been frostbitten twice,  it is no fun,  I feel it in my affected fingers and toes whenever it is cold. Eastern New England will get it worse.

If the forecast is correct – I think it is – then we will have to take the cold and the wind very seriously and take extra steps to protect the animals, none of whom have ever experienced such extreme weather. Neither, for that matter, have me or Maria. For the first time, I won’t let Red work out in the snow. We will open up an old interior cow stall for the donkeys inside the barn, and we will feed the animals under the shelter of the Pole Barn.

We’ll put down old dried up hay for them to lie on if they wish, it may also help to keep their hooves warmer.

We will haul some water into the barn for them to drink so they don’t have to go outside to heated bucket, we will only go outside for a minute or two – we will stack the hay up inside the barn and throw it onto pallets rather than into the outside feeder. Tyler came by this morning, we stacked the new cord of firewood onto the porch, covered it in tarpaulins.

We’ll lock the chickens in their coop until Monday, we’ll put corn mash in the coop and warm water several times a day. The dogs will go out for a couple of minutes at a time two or three times a day until Monday at mid-day when the weather is supposed to settle. We’ve raked the snow off of the roofs, we will plan on sleeping downstairs, in those winds our bedroom will be frigid. We will expect some power outage – the blog may be down – although that is uncertain. We have food and water, we’ll fill the bathtub with extra water so we can keep the toilet going.

I do hope the power stays on, this will be no time to be hauling water buckets around the pasture, and I feel for the animals in this cold, they do not squawk and complaint, but this will be an uncomfortable time for them and for us. Also challenging and exciting. I’ll be posting words and photos for as long as I can.

We will also keep our perspective, there is something challenging and exciting about riding out a storm well. We all expect to be alive and well on the other side, life will go on. I expect to learn something, perhaps take some beautiful photos, share another chapter with Maria, celebrate what it means to be a human being living a very real life. The challenge for us is not to avoid difficulty, but to handle it well.

Maria and I exchanged some Valentine’s Day gifts early this morning, Valentine’s Day is important to us, it seems more real than some of the other holidays to us. One of the gifts I got was this very beautiful drawing my Maria of two of her heart trees, linked together. It is hanging in my study, I am very happy to have it.