Day: September 4, 2018

Ali and I are fast friends and brothers, something of a miracle for a Jew from Providence and a Muslim from the Sudan, we have joined together in the celebration of doing good, and in the selfishness of feeling good while so many feel bad.

We have been working together for well over a year helping the soccer team and refugees and immigrants without a bump or tense moment or argument.

We are almost frighteningly in sync. We do love one another.

This week we have our first fight, it lasted for about four hours, consisted of a few tense and loud phone calls, and was resolved at first light this morning.

Mostly, it was about nothing, which is true of 99 per cent of the fights I have had in my life.

A couple of weeks ago,  I raised some money from the Army Of Good so that the soccer team players going to high school could get some new clothes. As always, I insisted that I be there to photograph them, as that is something I promise the people who send me money – I always want them to see  who is getting the money they send, every refugee, every Mansion resident.

This work is built on trust and faith, I don’t wish to ever betray it.

It was a very intense week for me, I had to raise more than $6,000 for Sakler Moo’s tuition to the Albany Academy, and another $2,000 for the soccer team van’s new brakes in just a few days. I (we) also had to spend $1,700 for a new porch roof, and send off nearly $8,000 in quarterly state, local and federal taxes.

I have been saving for the taxes,and the Army of Good came through for Sakler, so I got through the week, but I can’t say my nerves were not rattled. I also agree to pay $6,000 a year for Sakler’s tuition for the next three years, so I better start saving now.

I was, to say the least, on edge. I felt alone with all of this fund-raising, I keep Ali a way from it, so he can focus on the kids and the refugees, sometimes it does feel lonely and sometimes I feel as if I am hanging out of a skyscraper window.

Suddenly, the soccer kids  decided at the last minute that they didn’t wish to be photographed, they didn’t wish to be seen as the stereotypical “poor refugee kids,” they said (very politely) that they would get the clothes some other way, they knew I felt strongly about photographs.

This was perhaps the last straw in a grinding week. I was  upset. I knew their parents didn’t have that kind of money, it bothered me that they wouldn’t get the new clothes they needed.

They know I always take photos, why are they balking this week?

Should I return the money? Make an exception?

When I thought about it, I told myself to get over it.

It wasn’t the kids fault, their concern was quite legitimate. I know what it is like to be ridiculed and stereotyped in school. They were being wise.

Ali was, as always, eager not to upset me or disappointment me. He had a big streak of Mother in him, and he always wants everyone to be happy, especially me.

Ali was baffled by my edginess, and shocked. Maybe hurt.

I could hear him crashing on the phone, he just deflated, he couldn’t figure out how to deal with it. I kept asking him sharply what was wrong, he sounded unlike himself, but he kept insisting he was fine, and this annoyed me further. He didn’t want to fight. I think this made me angrier.

So we got into one of those he-said, she-said things that was upsetting and strange for both of us. Tell me the truth, I said, if something is bothering you, or if I am bothering you, you need to tell me so we can sort it out.

I don’t want to have to guess what you are thinking, I said, always ready to slug it out.

I realized – my shrink once told me that I am an empath – that he was puzzled and frustrated by my anger, but he couldn’t say so. Our work and relationship are important to both of us, it did not feel right to feel estranged, even for a few hours.

it’s not an equal battle if one side is ready to fight and the other side doesn’t fight. It was on me to patch it up. He is such a good, sweet man. I am not as good or sweet. I know I sometimes intimidate people.

This morning, I called him up first thing and said we should meet at our office, I gave him a check for $600, somewhat less than the kids really need, but just about all that is left and  more than I usually give without showing people a photo.

My poor refugee fund is a bit battered, donations are tip-toeing in. We will be fine.

Let’s forget the photos, I said, just bring me a receipt.

My people will understand if I don’t take photos, and I understand, the kids are perfectly right. They have always co-operated with my need for photos, and if they didn’t want to this time, they had to have a good reason.

Transparency is a big thing for me, a reason  we remain active and successful. But any rigid rule is a bad one. I believe in change.

School starts Friday, so we had to move forward, let’s not waste any more time quibbling, I told Ali.

We had nothing really to fight about, we were doing great work together, there will be bumps.

The mark of a good friendship I said, is the same as the mark of a good marriage. The question is not how you can avoid all conflict, but how you can learn to resolve conflict together.

In a sense, I said, we are married in this work and in our friendship. So let’s work it out.

I was  a bit frightened.  I spent a lot of money last week, and it is upsetting to me to do that. I don’t want to make a habit out of it. It scares me, I know what it’s like to run out of money. I know this work is stressful, and much rides on it. I have to be aware of that.

I was irritated, I suppose, but mostly just fearful.

Sometimes, you just have to be bigger than yourself.

Ali cannot bear to argue, he wants to please everyone. I spent much of my life arguing, I consider it cleansing and spiritually uplifting sometimes. Ali said he was very unhappy that I seemed unhappy, and he cannot really bear conflict.

So we had a good talk. I said that arguing is part of being human. I was not a saint, and he needn’t be a saint either. Arguing, getting angry, is part of being human, part of learning to trust each other. We will come out the other end.

We all  have to learn how to do it. I thought of arguing sometimes as being like flushing a toilet, it just removes the waste and stress in a  relationship.

I told Ali that he and I could not expect to do the kind of intense work we do together, day in and day out, and never have a disagreement. Bumps are a part of life.

You are not failing me by getting upset with me, or if I have a problem,  I said, you are not my mother, you are not responsible for my happiness.

That is my job, and I am quite happy with my life, happier than I have ever  been. Don’t take that on, I said.

So we had a cup of coffee together, went back to laughing and plotting and planning. It is the kids that matter, we both agreed, we have to do right by them. And we are brothers as well as friends, I think we both learned that we can argue and the world will not end.

Our friendship, solid and true, simply reformed like some soft putty.

That is good for both of us to know.

I think I learned this lesson a long time ago, but I am a lot older than Ali, and I have many battles under my belt. I think he knows it now as well.

That, i said, it only makes our friendship richer and more secure. It think it means we care.

Audio: The moral of the story:

I have two muses on my desk and a couple on the floor, like most writers I’m superstitious, the muses have brought me to a life that I love and kept me there. I had an argument with a friend today and he said he was sorry that he made me unhappy.

Unhappy?, I replied. I love my wife, my work, my life, my farm, my dogs and donkeys. I am a very happy man. So I’m kind to muses, at night I put my new Blue Lamp – Maria bought it for me in Brattleboro, Vt. Sunday for $40 – on the muses as they stand together, one reminding me of life, the other of death. Keeps me humble.

Ali and Liam both like to lie in the sun in the same spot. When Liam get there first, Zelda comes and stares at him until he moves, which he usually does.

Maria put this hanging piece up for sale this afternoon, it seemed extraordinary to me. It costs $500 plus shipping and took four or five months to finish. She began working on this piece the morning she learned that our friend, the farmer and artist Ed Gulley, had been diagnosed with brain cancer.  Details on Maria’s website.

We are very happy to announce the publication of Mary Kellogg’s fourth volume of poetry, This Time Of Life. This is the fourth volume of poetry for Mary, a wonderful poet and our great friend. The book costs $10 and is available now on Amazon.

The poems explore nature, childhood, love and aging.

Mary always knows where she is, she never runs or hides, and her poems are honest, graceful and profoundly touching.

The book came about because of Mary’s fierce commitment to her poetry – she very much wanted to see this volume published –  and our fierce commitment to our great friend.

Maria worked so hard to bring this book to publication.

This will be Mary’s last book of poetry, she has left the farm she loved so much and where she has lived for more than 30 years and is now living in an adult home in Granville, N.Y.

She worked on her poems for as long as she could and kept them in folder she kept with her and took with her everywhere, even when she was hospitalized after a fall and sent to a rehabilitation facility, where we visited her often.

The book will also be sold at our Open House on Columbus Day Weekend here at  the farm (Saturday and Sunday 11 to 4). I will be reading several of the poems from the book. Several other poets will be reading from their works as well.

I met Mary when she wrote me and asked to visit Bedlam Farm with some of her friends. We instantly became good friends and she showed me her poems, which she had written since she was eleven and had never shown to anyone, even her very beloved husband Richard.

I was in a bad place when I met Mary, but she, like Maria, saw past my troubles and into the better parts of me. She inspired and encouraged me, as I encouraged her.

I was  honored to be the first person to see these books and committed to publishing them. it was while we were working together on Mary’s books that Maria and I became close friends. Maria thought she could never put together a book like that, but she was wrong.

She could and did.

I was very excited to read these poems, and Maria and I set out to publish them.

Mary has been a seminal figure in our lives, the was the first person I told when Maria and I began seeing one another. “Good,” she said, “she’ll keep you in line. A perfect match.”

We love and admire Mary Kellogg so much, she has meant so much to us.

She is fiercely independent, she lived by herself on a 30 acre farm and thought nothing of being without power for weeks. She would not be patronized or coddled.

She loved every bit of nature, every animal, squirrel, deer or wildflower. The natural world was an enormous part of her life and her poetry. She is a wonderful poet, wise and insightful and very much in touch with her feelings.

Mary never surrendered to getting old or complained about it, she lived the life she wanted to live and her strength and compassion and beautiful spirit are very much in evidence in her poetry.

She rejected any form of old talk or the self-pity and narcissism so evident in our culture and on social media. Her books have sold thousands of copies, and I will be very proud to read some of these poems at our Open House.

Publishing this books with Mary has been one the most satisfying achievements in both of our lives, we are so happy to do it one more time.

There is a great lesson in Mary’s life. When I asked her why she had never shown these poems to anyone, she said she was afraid she would look foolish, she just needed some encouragement.

Done. I have learned to always encourage people whose creative sparks are burning fiercely inside of them, but which are hidden from the world, mostly because there is a man around who didn’t want them to burn so brightly.

An emotional audio, hard to speak.