Day: August 21, 2017

When I was in the fourth grade, my math teacher, his name was Mr. Hauser, called my mother to come into a conference. It was always my mother who went to these conferences, my father was not interested in my schoolwork although he was always bitterly disappointed in me as a student. He felt I had potential, he said, the parental kiss of death.

According to my mother, Mr. Hauser broke down and cried when he informed her that I was going to have to be held back yet another time because I seemed unable to grasp or  learn math or long division or the multiplication tables. He said he had tried everything, but had given up hope, and he wanted her to know that. That was not the only conference she attended that year or in many other years. Today I would have been tested and drugged right away and sent to a special class.

My mother said she patted him on the hand and told him she understood I was a willful and independent child, but she said I was not like the other children, and she had come to terms with it, and she suggested that he try to do the same thing.  She said she felt sorry for the poor man.

I don’t really remember what happened next, but I still can’t do long division or multiplication. I feel badly for him too.

The second time someone told me I was not like the other children was when our class went on our first Whale Watch off the coast of Newport, R.I. Everyone was absolutely thrilled at the sight of our first sperm whale, that is, everyone but me.I thought it was pretty boring to sail for hours to see this giant mattress spouting water and floating on the surface.

I just didn’t get why people were so excited about it, the whale didn’t do much but swim and spew some water. And he was hardly graceful or exotic. When my teacher asked me what was wrong, why wasn’t I jumping up and down like the other kids, I just told her there was something wrong with me, I wasn’t like the other children, I didn’t much care for the whale watch.

I love nature and live in nature, and am married to a pagan who would live naked in the woods if she could, and who cries over sick plants and trapped spiders. But I don’t like Whale Watches much and cannot imagine camping on the hard ground.

She knows I am not like the other children, or like the other adults either, but she has chosen to love me anyway, poor thing.

I was reminded of this today when I went to the Mansion to watch the eclipse with the residents there. To prepare, I even read Annie Dillard’s classic essay, published in 1982, titled “Total Eclipse,” it has thrilled millions of readers, including me.  In this legendary work of non-fiction, Dillard wrote “seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him.”

So now, a chance for me to get excited about a total eclipse, even though I could only see a partial one in my upstate New York town. I could watch the
“totalitiy” of the eclipse on TV or on the Internet, it was being streamed all over the place.

The staff of the Mansion was doing heroic work  trying to get the residents excited about the eclipse, the TV had been turned on hours earlier, each resident personally invited and encouraged to attend.

It was not going well when Red and I arrived. People looked grim and detached, many were not watching at all. A  number of the residents expressed much more joy and excitement about seeing the dog than watching the eclipse – total in some parts of the country – on the big screen.

Mostly, the residents were stone-faced. One staffer came in to open up the curtains and point to the sky with great enthusiams: “look, look,” she shouted, “you can see the light dimming a bit. Can you believe it. ” One of the residents who had been petting  Red turned to the woman sitting next to her and said in a loud whisper, “has she been tested?”

I wanted to give the staffer a decoration for trying so hard.

I think I shared the feeling of the residents that this much ballyhooed and hyped fussing over the eclipse somehow eluded me, I was not excited, nor was I over come with wonder as were so many people on TV. The programs reminded me of the forced joviality I used to watch on New Year’s  Eve from Times Square, this kind of studied and manufactured merriment that left me scratching my head wondering what was wrong with me.

The Mansion staff is nothing short of heroic when it comes to activities – there is always something going on – but the eclipse just seemed to go right over the head of the residents. I asked one of them if she was bored, and she shrugged and said she didn’t wish to be ungrateful – she loved the staff for the way they loved her – but she wasn’t sure what this had to do with her or her life.

Besides, she said, the sun was moving very slowly, they had been sitting in front of the TV for an  hour, and nothing much had happened other than a baseball game in South Carolina had gone dark for a few minutes. “Is that important?,” she asked me.

Well, I said, it is to a lot of people, it either hits you or it doesn’t. A woman I know well posted a message on her Facebook Page saying the eclipse was almost certainly responsible for the violence in Charlottesville last weekend. It would never have happened without the eclipse, which is known, she said, to greatly affect human behavior. Hmmm, I thought, perhaps i didn’t belong there.

I think the Mansion is a reality check in some ways for me.

It is so hard to put myself inside the heads of these people, as often as I see them, they live in a different world than me.

Why should they care about the total eclipse that had transfixed so many millions of people? What did it have to do with them and their lives?

The experience of aging is primal, life reduces one to a kind of evolving narcissism, especially when people are removed from the world and everything they have ever known and loved.  And when something hurts every day and their bodies are stuffed with medicines that cloud their heads.

I remember when I taught my story-telling class, this same group was excited and eager to participate, their eyes were gleaming, their hands were raised, no one asked why their stories were important. Their stories were their testimony, they had everything to do with them.

“I’m tired,” one resident said, “whether the sun comes out or not, I need to go to my room and lie down before dinner.” And she got up and using her walker, limped out of the room. Peggie called me over to her, gave me a great big hug and whispered that tomorrow was her birthday. How wonderful, I said, what would you like for a present? She smiled, “I like stuffed animals,” she said.

That was  a lesson for me, one I have seen and felt before. It was up to me to go where they are, not to ask them to go where I am.  They taught me that in hospice, but it is hard to remember. You go where they are, the  teachers said over and over again. Not where you are.

And what can we offer them, really, but our world, given that we have removed them from theirs?

It is possible to do that, and that, I think, is the challenge of this kind of work. I didn’t push anyone to get excited about the eclipse, and neither did the staff.

Beyond that, here I was once again in my life, feeling very different from the other children outside of this room, but very similar to the ones inside of it. There is surely a connection there, a bunch of lost children, some child-like and living apart from the world. There are more lessons in that, but I will have to think about them.

Red and I left the Mansion as the eclipse ended, we went straight to the Battenkill Book store where I bought Peggie a stuffed panda and a hand puppet in the shape of a dog. I’ll bring it to her tomorrow. It will matter.

Dr. Suzanne Fariello got the full Gus treatment today, he forgives all the poking and jabbing he undergoes in there. He loves to lick noses.

Gus now has all of his shots and is perfectly fit to go out into the world, even though, as you know, he has been out in the world quite a bit. His next visit will be in November, when he is neutered.

Gus is beginning to get amorous with stuffed toys and chair legs, so I’m ready for neutering as soon as the vet says it’s okay.

I asked Dr.  Fariello to insert a micro-chip into Gus, since he loves to greet everyone he sees and jump into every car with an open door, I thought it a good idea get a chip inserted. The chip costs $46 and is the size of a grain of rice, it’s inserted into the soft area on the dog’s back near the neck.

If Gus should get lost or run off (no signs of that) the chip will tell a vet or  rescue group or good samaritan where he lives and who to contact to get him home. Red and Fate are also micro-chipped.

As you know, I’m not into all of the fear mongering and warnings that flood through social media about dogs being lost or stolen, but it seems like common sense to me to take this practical and inexpensive precaution.

I know a number of dogs who got away from home or their owners and were returned because of these chips. It takes a second to put them in the dog.

Almost everybody we meet says they’d love to steal Gus and take him home, and I know they are all kidding, but I think some of the worst suffering I’ve seen in the animal world is visited upon people whose dogs disappear for one reason or another and are not seen again. That is a hard road to travel. Dogs can run off, smell a mate (if they are not neutered), follow a smell, get  frightened in a strange place.

That has never happened to me, nor do I expect it to happen but this painless and simple precaution seems right to me. So Gus has all of his shots, and has a chip as well. Back to therapy training and out into the world. He has been socialized within an inch of his life and is as ready for life as we can get him.

The white sheep stand out in the shadowy pole barn, the photos always look old and that is fitting with sheep, who have been standing still around humans for thousands of years. Rosemary and Zelda have great character.

We are approaching the end of summer, back to school, our October Open House, the season of change, the transition between summer and winter. I thought it’s a good time to consider what is next for the Army Of Good, and perhaps to give  all of us a chance to take a deep breath.

We have done so much this year, from filling the refugee warehouse with supplies in January and February helping Devota pay off her loan in August, and about a thousand things in between. I want to thank you again, we have again and again achieved our goal of doing good rather than arguing, and in so short a time.

Every time I asked for help, you responded,and scores of  refugee children and adults and as many elderly residents of the Mansion have benefited greatly from this work, which has just begun, at least for me, and hopefully, for you. I think the Army of Good is for real, and here to stay.

I feel morally obligated to give this amazing new kind of Army a bit of a short breather,  a chance to give our bank accounts a rest, and for me to gather information, distribute our dwindling reserves wisely, and prepare for what comes next. I can hardly believe what we have accomplished, how many lives we have touched. I feel gratitude and humility.

I hope to continue filling the holes in the Mansion residents lives and support the refugee children and their parents as they navigate their new lives in America. I’m not going to halt that work, even for a minute. But I am not ever comfortable asking people for money, and I think it’s good to take some time off from that.

In September, I am joining the celebrations for Assisted Care Week, we are sponsoring a “pizza party” at the Mansion on September 11, for the residents and staff, and a boat ride on Lake George on September 14th, and the publication of “Tales Of the Mansion,” a collection of short stories written by the residents.

Ali  and Brother Francis at RISSE are going on vacation, and the school will take some time off before  the Fall after school program kicks in. We are sponsoring a retreat at Pompanuck for the RISSE kids in September, and we have ordered their new soccer uniforms. I’m going to propose a boat ride to Ali when he gets back from the Sudan,  where he is attending his sister’s wedding.

I am scheduled to meet with a half dozen refugees and their families to hear their stories and write about them and see if they need help. I’m planning a trip to the Statue Of Liberty for the students of RISSE.

The past six months have been among the most rewarding of my life, and I hope the next six months will be even better. I do admit to being near exhaustion sometimes, I have felt this more acutely in the past few weeks.

I’ve been racing all over this read to meet people and take their photos, plus working to finishing my next book (“Gus And The Small And Big Lessons Of Bedlam Farm), due out sometime next year,  sorting out and depositing money. There is so much good work to do with the refugee and immigrant families, and the Mansion residents.

But I don’t wish to take advantage of you good people, you deserve a rest and so do your bank accounts. Mine does.

It’s been an intense and challenging time.

I don’t want to be asking for money every time I write. I will continue raising money for Devota’s loan payments and will work to thoughtfully dispense the $2,000 or so remaining in the refugee/Mansion bank account I set up to separate this money from mine. My blog writing will continue as usual.

I have to take a breather myself or the top of my head will blow off, and I need to finish my books with some thought and care and still help run the farm and maintain my blog and take my pictures. Red and I will still be doing our therapy visits, and Assisted Care Week will be a hoot.

In mid-October, after our Open House, Maria and I are heading to New Mexico for a little over a week, we have found a beautiful bed and breakfast south of Santa Fe, and will use that as a base to relax and  explore New Mexico, take some photos. I will be blogging from there, at least a photo a day.

It would be wonderful if you could send some decorations or pennants or favors or photos to help celebrate Assisted Care Week on September 11. We don’t need any money, we have enough for the pizza. (The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816), Everyone at the Mansion so loves the things you have been sending on holidays. The Mansion residents would, of course, love to keep reading your letters and seeing your photos and cards.

If you have any spare change lying around and wish to help replenish this fund for the fall – we spent a lot of money on air conditioners and boat rides paying off refugee loans – you can sent it to my post office box – P.O.  Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., or paypal, [email protected].

I will of course be blogging about the Mansion residents, etc., throughout. I just thought this wonderful Army deserved a bit of a break.

Joseph Campbell wrote that the function of ritual is to give form to the human life, not in a superficial way, but in depth. The Monday morning video is a ritual now, an expression of self, the sharing of a life experience, another kind of quilt or hanging piece.

Ritual is essential to human wisdom and connection, if you want to understand what it means to live in a society without ritual, just look at the news every morning, watch Fox News, CNN or read the New York Times.

A ritual, says Campbell, is the enactment of a myth, by participating in the ritual, you are participating in the myth, and by participating in a ritual, you are experiencing your wisdom, your consciousness is being reminded of the wisdom of your own life.

Maria is a visual artist, and while she writes easily and beautifully, she is most comfortable creating in the visual realm, she often uses ritual to connect to her subconscious, her work reveals her inner wisdom, the wisdom of the psyche. Maria thinks in images, not words, and the video has become a powerful ritual for her.

About six months ago, she began recording Monday morning videos, another way to express her creativity in the visual  realm and share it with her readers, with whom she is often close. On Mondays, she wakes up thinking about her video, and once she has filmed it, she sits on the porch considering it – she will often reject a Monday video and go out and shoot another one, but she never forgets to do one.

That, too, is the nature of ritual, the ancients understood the importance of ritual, the prophets said we would be barren and soulless without ritual, and I think their warnings have come to pass. Our lives here are full of ritual, from morning to dusk. Videos, photographs, art works, reading, walking in the woods.

Ritual matters, it is important. Without it, we are empty and we turn to hate and argument.

This photograph captured for me the feeling of ritual, and it’s depth, the Monday morning video.