Day: October 17, 2016

As soon as we got back today, Red and I went over to the Mansion Assisted Care Facility to see the letters that so many of you have been sending to the residents there. Everyone there is a bit overwhelmed and surprised by them, and so grateful, the letters have been pouring in from all over the country – Colorado, Mississippi, Alabama, California, Massachusetts, New York, Maine, Florida, New Jersey -and are being read and discussed all over the Mansion.

Peggy, above, has some in her room, the bulletin board above in the hallway outside of the activity room is now dedicated to the postcards, letters and messages still coming in. I mentioned last week that if anyone wished to write the residents of the Mansion – Red and I have been doing therapy work there and some have been visiting the farm – they could do so: Residents, The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

Honestly, I didn’t know if anyone would respond. In our culture, writing a letter takes some work in our world: envelopes, stamps, pens or computers, getting to a mailbox. I know it isn’t that much work, but in the age of e-mail, it takes some thought. E-mail takes seconds, which perhaps is why it is so less meaningful.

Red and I have been visiting the Mansion and meeting the staff. They are beaming about these letters, they are  impressive, full of caring and energy. They do very hard work and, like the residents, are not recognized often for what they do and who they are. You will not see them on the news.

The letters are diverse, they contain photos and some anecdotes, there are sketches and postcards and photos as well.

I was  touched to see how much your letters matter to them, on behalf of the people who live at the Mansion. They know how much it means. I can’t fully express what it meant to me to see those letters up on the bulletin board. All I did was mention the idea at the end of one portrait caption.

The messages and cards mean a lot to the residents. Only some of the letters can go up on the board at one time. Those letters are points of light, small acts of kindness and generosity.

A staff member at the Mansion mentioned it to me over the weekend and Monday was the first chance I had to get over there. Peggy and the other residents were excited about the letters. Peggy took Red and I over to see them, and she pointed out four or five that were addressed to her and which complimented her on new new red hair coloring and blue fingernails.

Some letters are addressed to individual people I’ve been mentioning, but many are addressed to the residents in general, and  they can be shared with everyone.

“These are so wonderful,” Peggy said, “I love them” and she read me everyone that mentioned her. Peggy’s daughter is taking her out tonight to play Bingo, she said, and she was bringing some of the letters with her to show them around. She and Red are particular pals by now.

Life is challenging inside of institutions like the Mansion, small things make a difference. These are small acts of kindness and thoughtfulness in a world that sometimes seems hateful and cold, but they echo on a much larger  scale on the other end. They mean, to the people who receive them, that they can experience one of the sweet pleasures of life, that they can be noticed and cared about and seen.

We have pushed the elderly out of sight and consciousness, they are not anyone’s favorite political issue. Your letters have made them count. Given the chance, people are good.

Thank you, and I don’t wish to take advantage of anyone’s good will, but if you care to continue sending these lessons, you will brighten the world and the lives of good people by several measures. The address is Residents, c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

There are no chain or box stores in Brattleboro, the city is filled with small businesses on back streets and off of parking lots, I came across Basket’s Bookstore this morning before it was open, I loved the feeling of the sign and the door. Individuals still seem to be primary in Brattleboro, not corporations. You wouldn’t see Basket’s Bookstore in too many places.

For Maria, being an artist is not something she does for a living, or one thing she does. The key to knowing her for me is understanding that being an artist is really who whole being, her identity. In an odd way, when she is not doing her art, she does not really exist.

It has been two or three weeks since Maria could be in her studio making her art. The Open House is rewarding and exciting, but it is also draining and exhausting, we both are spent when it is over. It sucks up our energy for the better part of a month altogether, planning things,moving things around, greeting and talking with people, this year the new work of selling things online.

It hits Maria harder than me, she organizes the art show, chooses the artists, handles the money, takes her studio apart and puts ti back together. Handling the money, paying the artists, keeping track of the sales, paying the taxes, accounting for each penny is demanding, and she is also deeply involved in planning for her trip to India early next year, it is not that far off.

Yesterday, we both realized we were suffering from psychic fatigue,  we ran off to Brattleboro for a night and it was a sweet trip, we love traveling together. It was also short, just a few hours, really.  But at times she was distant, she seemed uneasy. We came back today, and Maria began to unravel, she just got disoriented and upset.

I could feel that we were disconnected, as she gets when she has lost her identity, is not sure who she is, returns to another, more painful and loveless state. It was not a conflict, I do not take it personally, it had little to do with me.

We both knew what she needed to do. We fed the animals, and she said “I  have to get into the studio, I have to make something or I will go mad. I am going mad.” I know this drill, I’ve seen it before, Maria can’t go too long without creating, it simply unhinges her. I guess I’m the same way. I love our brief vacations, but if I am not writing, I am not really alive in my mind.  A major part of me just doesn’t really exist.

I let her alone for a few hours and then went to the studio to see how she was doing. The candles were lit, she was listening to Krishna Das chanting, her sewing machine and materials had been moved back  into the studio, it was operational again, if not completely put together.

Maria was on the floor, in the back, cutting materials. “A quilt?,” I asked. “Yes,” she said, beaming, “I’m starting a quilt.”

it felt so good, so right. We connected again, I sometimes think the most beautiful part of being in love is reconnecting. Life often pulls us apart a bit, it is natural, inevitable. Maria is an artist, all day every day.

I saw Maria’s bright smile, and she got up and came over to me. We danced to Krishna Das, I felt our souls touching one another again. She was back. She had returned to herself. She had returned to me.

I came back into the house to plan dinner. She would be working late tonight.

Diane has one of those faces I want to capture, she cleans hotel rooms in the Latchis Hotel in Brattleboro, Vt. and she is hard-working, warm and efficient. The hotel was full the night before we arrived, and Diane was working hard all day long, but she never stopped smiling, wish us a happy day and lighting up the hallway with her good cheer.

I admire people like Diane they do not complain about the hard work they do, they radiate generosity and good will. She is one of those people who ought to be on the news, but is not like to every be, but she was a good story for me on our trip to the Latchis Hotel. People like Diane keep my faith in people rich and strong.

Her face speaks to life and experience. And a good heart and soul.

In Brattleboro, yesterday, I bought my first gift for my granddaughter Robin.  I sent some things early from the baby registry Emma set up for gifts, but this was the first personal gift I bought as a grandfather. It seem impossible not to send, a yellow Duck hooded towel for new born babies. I also bought two onesies with magnetic buttons which are incredibly easy to take on and off without fiddling with buttons, something I remember from changing Emma.

Small miracles, I think.

it was neat to walk into this hip baby store and have some reasons to look around, I think I will get her odd and unusual and colorful things that will stoke her imagination and make her smile and laugh. Robin lives in Brooklyn, and there are plenty of places to buy odd and funky gifts, but I see this as a creative challenge and a way of communicating with her, and I love the idea of her taking a bath and drying out in a duck towel with a hood.

As for the magnetic onesies, I got one for 3 mos, one for six months. At that age, they do not last long.