Any fruit tree that survives a century in a pasture on a farm is a survivor, a heroic symbol of a species. God knows how many storms, cows sheep, droughts, winters, donkeys and horses this tree has survived, we have placed miles of chicken wire across the bottom to try and protect it from animals, who chew on the bark, reach up to pull the leaves and apples and trees.
The tree bounces back, every spring. A survivor and an inspiration. In the winter, it gracefully holds the morning snow on it’s branches, offering itself to any kind of art. The tree has courage, it means to live.
The other night, driving by the highway that leads to our farm, we passed house after house lit up in one way or another with candles in the windows, lights around the bushes, trees wrapped in blinking bulbs.
Our farm was dark, if we didn’t know it was there, we would have easily sailed right past it. It looked dark and bleak to us. It felt cold and disconnected.
We went to the hardware store and brought some 300-Led-bulb strings and this morning, Maria hung them up. We are not conventionally religious, we mark Christmas rather than worship it, our faith is creativity and to some extent, spirituality. We are very serious about creativity, that is our shared value, among others.
I can’t speak for Maria, but something in me wanted to say we belong, we care, we are here, we matter. I wanted people to drive by our old farmhouse and smile at the lights and color.
We love the lights, we love the way the house speaks up for itself, stands out, embraces the season, offers some color and light to the dark days and long nights of the new winter.
The great philosophers all said that the first things human beings need is food and shelter, but after that and before we can live meaningful lives, we must feel safety, belonging and mattering. We must find our community.
In part, I think I moved to the country in search of community, and Maria and I both feel we have finally found the community we have sought, here in Cambridge, a small town along the Vermont border. I doubt I will leave this town alive, it feels like home to me, the place the rolling stone rolls until it can roll no farther.
The big mountains of Vermont are just a few hundred yards away.
Before, living in a dozen different cities as a journalist, I felt the loss of community, perhaps because I fought it, perhaps because I moved so much, perhaps because it was disintegrating in the great migration to the cities, where we were all strangers, and we asked and expected governments to care for us if we were in trouble.
In those other places, the towns were all rich, they had the money to take care of people, from rabid raccoons to drifting snow to plows. We don’t have much money up here, the towns are lucky if they can plow the snow off of the roads. We have to take care of one another.
I feel safe here.
What is safety? It is living in an environment where we can experiment and stretch and change and grow.
It is said people cannot be creative, they cannot innovate without these three essential elements – safety, belonging, and mattering. We cannot move forward with our lives. These elements are essential to a productive brain and our ability to work and attach ourselves to other people. The safer we feel, the more likely we are to change and take risks.
This is the driving idea behind the fellowship of community, a feeling of connection with others, the feeling that despite our differences, we belong together. The feeling that we personally matter and are contributing to a larger good. I read the works of one famous psychologist who said we humans are continuously either reinforcing or begging for safety, belonging and mattering.
In a small town in rural America, the world that was left behind, I find community is strong and enduring. I feel safe. I feel that I belong, as different as I am from so many others. I feel I matter. I can take risks and be creative.
This has nothing to do with politics, or even lifestyle. We do not all love one another.
It is because we know one another and see one another, and perhaps, because we have been left behind, we need one another. That is why we got the lights, I think. Because we are safe. Because we belong. Because we matter.
Meet Peggy from the Mansion, she wishes to say hello and thanks for the gifts and cards she has received. As I mentioned earlier, I’m not comforting releasing any personal information on the residents, neither is the Mansion staff. It is okay to list the first names of people – those who wish to receive messages. Some of the residents are intensely private, and Red and I will, of course, respect that.
The first names I can share are Jean, Mary, Gerry, Sylvie, Diane, Alice, Jean, Madeline, Joan, Allan, Carl, John, Aileen, Christie, Helen, Constance, Alanna, Barbara, Peggie, William, Dennis, John R., Bruce, John Z.
I’d love to keep this going, but also to urge perspective. Messages and cards in a steady stream is the best way to touch the hearts and souls of the residents, especially after the holidays. Thanks so much.
Mansion Director Katie Perez took me up to her office today to show me the gifts being stored for the Mansion Christmas Tree. Thanks to you, everyone at the Mansion will have something on Christmas and Christmas Eve. I was bringing 10 boxes of cookies for people, but after seeing the gifts in Katie’s office, I’ve decided to give them to the staff instead. I’ll bring them over tomorrow and try and get a photograph of the presents in the office – you ought to see them.
At the Mansion today, Connie said she would like to say thank you and wish you all a Merry Christmas, she says it is a gift to be reminded how many good people there are. The video speaks for itself. I took several today at the Mansion, and I will post them over the holidays.
Connie has three big baskets of yarn to work with, she is cranking out mittens, and soon, scarves. She and Red are very good pals.
The Mansion staff also gave me permission to list the first names of Mansion residents, for those who want to write them or send them cards. In in the interests of helping the residents, there are some boundaries we should talk about. Most of the residents are very open to messages from outside, some wish to remain private. People thinking of visiting would do best to contact the Mansion first, to make sure the residents are well and the schedule is open.
A number of you have been asking me for birth dates and other information, I am not comfortable providing that or asking for it. I think we do need to be mindful or privacy, and the Mansion cannot release medical or personal information. Please be mindful that some of the residents are ill and wish to keep to themselves.
It is difficult to say what gifts are needed, the residents are well cared for and have what they need. Gifts are personal, and vary from individual to individual. In the winter, scarves and quilts and caftans are very welcome, the homemade bears were a big hit, but I hear more than anything about pictures, letters stories and cards.
Books and puzzles are much appreciated.
Beyond that, your involvement is most welcome and people should feel free to communicate with any of the names I am listing here. The best approach is to send messages and cards in a continuum over time, the messages and cards and letters seem to mean the most to people, although they love the pictures and cakes that have arrived. I think, from my observations, that messages, letters and cards mean the most and touch them the most deeply.
From my observation, what lifts them up the most is the idea that people care about them and know how alive they are and in need of human contact. I have vowed to myself to keep visiting, it feels like an extension of my home at the Mansion, a part of my family. The people who own and run it are good and very conscientious and loving people, the staff is amazing. I know they don’t make much money, but if you paid on the basis of big hearts, they would all be very rich.
There is a feeling in institutions of being cut off from the world and forgotten, and the messages remind them that they are not forgotten, and they love the pictures and good words and stories you are telling them.
On Christmas day, many of the residents will be off with their families, Maria and Red and I are planning to stop by in the morning. Thanks to you good people, the tree will be stuffed with presents for everyone.
Here is the list of first names of Mansion residents, they can all be written at this address: The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. Red and I have met most, if not all of these people, some do not wish to see a dog, or to see me.
The first names of residents wishing to have messages are Jean, Mary, Gerry, Sylvie, Diane, Alice, Jean, Madeline, Joan, Allan, Carl, John, Aileen, Christie, Helen, Constance, Alanna, Barbara, Peggie, William, Dennis, John R., Bruce, and John Z.
