Day: February 15, 2017

Cassandra gave me a fisheye look yesterday when I came out to photograph her shoveling manure out to the manure pile. Of all the photos, she said, do you have to take me shoveling manure?

Yes, I said, it was necessary. In a way, the manure pile is a symbol of life on the farm, it is as integral a part of the farm as fences or gates or barns. Once a year, Scott Carrino comes in his old truck to haul the manure away for his gardens, we take some for ours. It is part of the cycle of life here.

I  don’t care to generalize, but I have a strong connection with people who grew up on farms. They seem to have solid and enduring values, they work hard, are close to nature, understand animals, make good and loyal friends.

There is no bullshit about them.

How strange that me, a city boy my whole life, would take to being on a farm so completely.

I often say the farm is my true mother. Somebody wrote on Facebook that one measure of a man is how he  treats his mother, and I flinched a bit at that, since I did not treat my mother well.

I fled from her, kept her away from my family. As a grandfather now, I realize how painful it must have been for her to be kept so far away from my own daughter. I just did not trust her with my daughter.

My mother was wonderfully charismatic and bright and creative, but also bitter and disappointed with her life, which she saw as being repeatedly undermined by clueless men. My father was the chief underminer, she believed. A therapist once suggested this was where my passion for encouragement came from.

My mother was not well and could be frighteningly abusive and destructive. I did not even see her for the last five or six years of her life, and I know she loved me dearly and I loved her, I could not ever figure out a way to work it out without being destroyed.

The farm is my grounding place, my home. Even with Maria gone, I am never alone here. There are living things to care for, doors and gates to be checked, water tanks to fill, and yes, manure to move. Manure is our constant companion, a never-ending presence on the farm.

Our manure goes to several places. Scott Carrino comes by in the Spring with his old truck to haul some of the manure away for his gardens. We save some for our gardens. One or two friends come bye to to pick some up. The farm has steadied, it helps me understand the cycles of life, including my own.

It is a safe place for me, my home. I suppose that is what mothers do.

Maria called me last night when she arrived in Kolkata after a grueling three-day trek across the world. She fell instantly in love with the country, I could hear it in her voice.

“It was all worth it,” she said. “I am so glad to be here.”

To a visual artist, is sounds like Kolkata is a wondrous visual feast – dogs, donkeys, throngs, colors, markets and bazaars, a teeming tide of humanity, color, feast and famine, the poor and the enterprising, the nicest people. She hit the ground running, she was off visiting a social services agency for the victims of sex trafficking, it was a brief and very happy call.

This was a turning point for both of us. Those unnerving first days, sailing off into storms, having her flight cancelled, losing 16 hours waiting in airport lounges all receded quickly, she was almost deliriously happy to be there.

She loved her hotel room, she met some of the people she will be working with, she was almost speechless with fascination and excitement.

How great a call to get, we both took a deep breath.  The dreary part was over, now the adventure begins.

She made it,  and I can stop worrying. She’s there, and I’m not the least bit worried about the days ahead, she can’t wait. Kolkata, she said, was a feast and she will, I am sure, be telling you about it herself on her blog, you can no longer stop her from writing, not that I would want to.

“One day you have to come,” she said, “I want to travel her with you. I’m game. But not this time, this is her show.

As for me, I am slipping into this fascinating and strange routine, up at 4:30 this morning, fed the cats and dogs, brought in firewood, boiled some water for tea, set the fires. Yesterday I shoveled out the mailbox and I think my shoveling is over for now.

The rest is up to Cassandra. I’m at my desk before the sun is up. Revising Chapter Four, the story of me and the Mansion at Christmas.

I miss Maria, but I also am liking the solitude, a natural gear for me, I see it as a refreshing and revealing opportunity to get to know me a little better. Tonight, the residents of the Mansion have invited me and Red to dinner, I think they are worried about me, they read the blog and know Maria is in India.

They don’t know that I cook and shop, and now I’m doing a bunch of other things too. I am happy to have dinner with them, they are loving and sweet. Red is coming also, of course.

I want to make the most of my Creative Fellowship, and Maria’s call late last night set me free. I won’t be hearing  from her much from now in, she will plunge  herself into, as she should.

India will be everything she hoped it would be, I think it already is, her head is already spinning with feeling, images and color.  India, people say, is overwhelming, the good and the bad.

How great to see amazing things you have never seen before, Maria’s world has just changed, she is undertaking something she would not have dreamed of doing just a few years ago. Her true nature is revealed.

In fact, the trip has already changed Maria. She encountered so many obstacles to going, she had to organize and do so many things to go. She had to raise money, get shots, arrange a visa, plan and schedule travel, navigate storms and cancellations and a hundred other things and she sailed through all of them, it was inspiring to see.

She overcame fear, confusion, changes in plans. And she knew it was worth it the minute she got a look at Kolkata. She is just where she needs to be. Now, the good stuff.

I felt like I have a great ticket to life and its possibilities. You can live the life you want, if you work hard enough and take the plunge.

Love, I know, is sometimes about getting together, sometimes about letting go. Now, I can let go of the worry part and just enjoy this great show. I have the best feeling about it.

Yesterday was also a wonderful day for me. The Valentine’s Day party at the Mansion was a great affirmation for the blog, and all the hard work of publishing, but mostly for the good people who read it from all over the world. You are an Army of Good, and I will not forget what you did for these people  yesterday.

Onward. Ready for Easter at the Mansion?