Several years ago, while Maria and I were still living on the original Bedlam Farm, I got a touching message from a woman on behalf of her mother, a long-time reader of my books and blog and a great admirer of Rose, my border collie who died two years ago but who was still alive then. The daughter asked me what she called a “great favor”, would I please permit a visit from her mother, who was in her 80’s, was ill and had difficulty walking. Her mother might have to be visiting in a wheelchair, she said, she suffered from a degenerative muscle disease. Cynthia McGrory was from Washington County, loved it and might not make it back. “It would mean so much to her,” she wrote, “I don’t know how many more opportunities she will have.”
At the time, I did not allow visitors to the farm, but the story touched me, I agreed to the visit. Miss Cynthia McGrory (not her real name) I drove to Bedlam Farm from the deep South, a journey of nearly 2,000 miles. When she came, her daughter helped her out of the van and rolled her chair out next to the Studio Barn. “This is like heaven,” she said to me when she saw Rose coming towards her. I was humbled, touched that anyone would drive so far just to meet me and Rose.
Rose came up closer to greet Cynthia, and the usually standoffish dog took to her, coming up to the wheelchair, sensing some vulnerability, allowing herself to be petted, her tail wagging. Rose was not a dog who liked much human attention, she didn’t care to be touched or coddled, she didn’t need to be adorable.
I took a lot of photos with her and Cynthia. Rose always had the right instincts about work, she always seemed to know what I wanted, what I needed. She took to Cynthia, sniffing her, allowing herself to be petted. Miss McGrory was thrilled, she beamed and laughed and called out in joy. I took Rose out herding in the big pasture, and Rose put on quite a show, our visit was grateful, delighted, it was a beautiful thing to see this connection, these two strong women. Rose and I worked with the sheep down in the pasture, Cynthia rolled her chair to the edge of the grass, she looked down beaming while Rose and I went through our paces, moving the sheep from one end of the pasture to another.
We took Cynthia across to the big barn, showed her the barns and the house. Sometimes we had to push her up the hill, sometimes she rolled herself up with great effort. She had great pride, great determination. After a couple of hours, Cynthia left, we all hugged, her daughter was so grateful, she rode home with photos, books, potholders. I felt very good about it, I was glad to have met this independent and loving person, it was a gift to me as well as her. She wrote back that a photo of her and Rose was above the bed in her bedroom, she looked at it every night before going to sleep.
Cynthia stayed in touch with me, sending e-mails, messages, even a few letters. She read the blog every day, posted on Facebook, commented on my photographs. Sometimes she asked me the names of books I had referenced, I was happy to answer her, even when the e-mail crush grew so large.
Last night, I posted a review of a book about the founder of Fox News, the book offered a penetrating, tough look at Fox’s founder, Roger Ailes – portrayed as an enraged genius – and raised a number of questions about the journalistic integrity of the influential and controversial organization. Fox repeatedly claims to be a news organization that is “fair and balanced,” but, says the book, “The Loudest Voice In The Room” by Gabriel Sherman, is not. In the interest of ethics, I made it clear that I did not care for Fox News or cable news in general, I thought both had degraded the very idea of journalism as I had practiced it as so many wonderful places.
I have written on the Internet long enough to know the review would be controversial – this is not a political blog, and Fox News has many more devoted followers than I do. Some people were outraged that I would review the book – “how dare you write about politics on your blog?” asked one woman on Facebook. Another was furious: “this was more than a book review and you know it?” I wondered what it was – a conspiracy? A secret plot? She did, in fact, accuse me of being part of the socialistic journalistic conspiracy.
Earlier this week, I had written several columns about the campaign to ban the Central Park horses, and I got a number of angry messages about those pieces also – several people canceled their subscriptions to the blog. It happens all of the time, there are always people who think subscriptions buy opinions and others who simply cannot tolerate different ideas.
Last night, around 10 p.m., I got a message saying another subscription had been cancelled, I rarely see those notices or look at them. But one caught my eye, I saw the name on top of it, it said “Cynthia McGrory has cancelled her subscription.” I was surprised, I thought it must be a mistake This was my friend Miss McGrory, my gracious follower and devoted admirer of Rose and my work, who e-mails me, sends me Facebook messages, photos. Who reads my blog every morning and tells me it sustains her. I always looked for her messages and answered them, I thought it was important to her. It was hard for me to imagine what was quite obvious, she read the book review and immediately cancelled her monthly subscription to the blog. There was no message, not last night, not this morning.
So Miss Cynthia McGrory has cancelled her subscription. There are always new subscriptions and old ones being canceled. People are sometimes shocked to read different kinds of ideas, ideas that live outside of the “left” and the “right,” they are no longer used to it, they only read ideas they agree with. I have often been delusional or mistaken, but to my knowledge I have never lied on the blog about what I am doing or feeling, never hidden my opinions, you can’t fake much when you write every day.
I don’t like politics, they generally do not interest me, I do not watch cable news, but I do live in the world and I can’t always hide from it. When I published the book review, I was immediately labeled a “liberal,” just as I was quickly labeled a “conservative” and worse when I questioned the banning of the Central Park Horses. Once we can put a label somebody, then we can disregard what they are saying, they don’t live in our bubble, they are the enemy. Every one of the people who were angered by my review said they would never dream of reading the book.
I am sorry Miss McGrory cancelled her subscription in that way, it is not the loss of $3 a month that bothers me, I deliberately made it easy to cancel subscriptions, I don’t want anyone on my blog who does not want to be there.
I have to be honest, I loved the idea of this quite lovely elderly woman, following my life in her wheelchair, taking so much pleasure from my blog, being sustained by my writing and my photos. Isn’t that the point?
I wish she had written me, I would have told her this:
“Thank you, Cynthia, for coming to visit me, I saw how much you loved Rose, and you broke through her tough veneer, I think she loved you back, that was a very special day. I am sorry you canceled your subscription to the blog late at night, you must have been angry with me, I think we both know what the source of that anger.
I want you to know that I believe very strongly in being honest, even when it means making people uncomfortable sometimes. I also believe very much in my country, America, there are too many people in my family who know too well what it means to live in a place where one cannot disagree with the powerful. You have the right to read whatever blog you like, I thank you for reading mine, I wish you nothing but well, and I hope you find a blog that makes you more comfortable and sustains you. I remember you as being honest and direct, I will return the favor. I believed we had a connection, a friendship, a moment in time that connected us. I can hardly fathom cutting such a tie, without even a word of explanation because of an idea you didn’t agree with, that is beyond my own understanding of friendship and human connection. I might be wrong, but I thought our friendship was genuine, I believe it mattered to you, I know it mattered to me.
I will never forget the look on your face when Rose put her head in your lap. She got you, as she often did and that moment was real, if my instincts are worth anything. So this is my way of saying goodbye, I think we both deserve that. I gather you are angry with me, I wanted you to know I am not angry with you, I admire you and think of you often. I’m afraid I will keep on writing what I think and I hope you find what you need, my wish for you is that peace and compassion follows you everywhere. A woman wrote me this morning to say that I was a hero for writing about the Central Park Horses and Fox News in the same week. “You are very brave,” she told me. Cynthia, I wrote her back saying I wanted to cry when I read that, because I wondered what had happened to the country my grandmother fled to for her life, in order for me to live in freedom and safety. I am glad she did not live to see a time when expressing some ideas could cost someone a friendship and be considered an act of heroism. Be well.”
