We are Now Outnumbered

 My one year older sister Jerri has died. Of unknown causes. Typical of my family deaths. And her death is not one that one would just be able to say, “Oh, I am so f= sorry for your loss.” It’s not just another Mason death. One nobody can just put in a box, read the obituary and  check off as normal.

Lorette died in her sleep at age nineteen. No known cause. Just dead at 19. This occurred while I was in my second week in college.  And then I got out of school and, many years later, way before we got used to DEATH, death came to us. Again.

And it was one after the other after the other. First it was our father, who was innocently  about to mount a horse. He was then thrown from that horse and was struck dead, days later. Of an aneurism.

At age  sixty eight.  The age I will be an a few years. 

Then  my artist niece Lucinda died. In her 30’s.

Alberta died of an infection caused by an infected tooth. Age 60.

Aced died  of a massive heart attack whilst chainsawing down a tree in a local forest. Age 60.

And now Jerri has died. Unknown reasons. One year my senior. 

I remember that my supervisor at my  city job once said that we were being hit on the chin. My family was  hit on the chin. And it was true. We had brothers in law and many friends who died during those years as well, and was out of work soooo much that it seemed ridiculous, I didn’t apologize. I just took it.

I took it. 

That’s what you do when you are a Vermonter, a member of a huge family. A tribe. It’s a tribal expectation.

And now, I am a  person who had two living parents and ten living siblings in the seventies/ now have no parents and only five living siblings. There are six of them and five of us. We are now outnumbered.

THE RED TAPE of Moral Dilemmas

 

Over the past years, since retirement, I have dreamed incessantly of days gone wrong, programs gone wrong. Where I was blamed for even the slightest issue, even the tiniest wrongs. I pleaded and begged the people in the dreams to listen. The tital wave would hit. The village was flooding. The Vikings were on the horizon but, for whatever reason, they would not listen.

One of the most vivid dreams I have had (more than once) featured an airport hanger, dark in the dead of night. I had invited 50 children to fly to a foreign country, as a part of an exchange program. When the night came, they arrived with their luggage, but without proper paperwork. My assistant dutifully provided all necessary paperwork. Parents signed it with their children interpreting the information—as these parents were refugees.

When all of a sudden, about 100 more kids showed up! We only had room for the children who had originally been accepted into the program. And the new children all wanted to go. Nobody understood why the new arrivals were not going to be allow to go! I was one of the only people in the hanger who spoke English. I was in the minority. I kept trying to explain what I knew: that we only had room for 50 kids on the plane.

The children interpreted my message to the parents. I knew not only did we need the kids we had invited to go, but that their parents needed to sign the releases to let them cross international borders with us, we are acquaintances with them, but clearly not parents. And the airplane was on the tarmac. I could smell the diesel fuel. Hear the roar of the engines! 

The parents of the kids who were signed up were suddenly upset that the kids who HAD NOT signed up couldn’t go, as well. One kid told me that the airplane was big enough for all the kids. Why couldn’t they go, too? Parents’ faces were pleading me to let them go. It was to be an educational and recreational trip. WHY COULDN’T I LET THEM ALL GO?

And my feelings in this dream ran from calm to panic to calm to compassion to empathy to sympathy to panic and on and on. I KNEW the rules. I knew the laws. I’m an American. American teachers know not to drive, let alone FLY kids anywhere without express permission from custodian parents.How could these parents not KNOW THIS?  Oh, right. They were New Americans. They had endured war and hunger and just the worst atrocities and if ANYONE was going to go? It was going to be THEIR child. Their child would benefit from the experience and they trusted that I would keep them safe.

And I would. I WOULD. 

In real life, I would have and still would lay my life on the line for a child. I would run into traffic to pull a child to safety. I’ve always known this. So, this dream, this recurring dream, I finally figured out? Was not about my coming up short with the parents. Not about parents NOT trusting me—my biggest fear. It was about RED TAPE. About my inability to do something against the rules because I feared reprisal. Not from the people who loved and adored the children. But those who feared the worst—a law suit, because the paperwork wasn’t filled out correctly.

RED TAPE. Thats what that nightmare was about.And, in some ways, ethics. Doing what is right when I could have bent to the will of the parents. And what was right, maybe wasn’t really. Or, why would I continue to have this dream? Inner conflict. Moral dilemmas. They haunt me, even in my sleep.

Ninety Eight Point Six

 So, most people, or your average person, has a body temperature of 98.6. Not I. My mother had the same body temp, so I guess I inherited a low body temperature. It’s 97 on average and only goes up if we’re burning up with a fever or falling through the ice of a pond.

Oddly, our father and I also have the same oddity of sleeping hot. I live in Vermont. I sleep at 60 degrees Fahrenheit year round WITH A FAN, and even then, my partner complains that I’m a blast furnace, that I radiate the heat of the sun. My duvet is only for show. I can only STAND having a cotton sheet or two on my body. NO FLANNEL PJS FOR ME. Shorts and sleeveless T. Or nothing at all on really hot nights when my A/C is unable to keep up with my body throwing heat out into my bedroom like the Brunson burner that I am.

How in the WORLD could I have the daily body temp of a pond frog and the nightly body temp of a Jersey cow? And warm hands year ‘round! I read palms for fun during the Halloween season (and often in the winds, under a tent near Lake Champlain) and every single person wonders why my hands are so warm!

What am I? A polar bear/rhino mix?  A caterpillar mixed with a lizard? Or am I simply half Sidney, half Dorothy? Have I actually been given the best of my dad— the ability to stay warm anywhere- and the best of my mother, an ability to stay alive even when I am literally freezing to death?

Maybe ninety eight point six is NOT a gift: it is merely a suggestion. Maybe 98.6 is the equivalent of traffic lights in Italy, Like speed limits in Boston? Just maybe…

STONE SOUP== use whatever you have to make a tasty meal

Last night my boyfriend and I were talking on the phone. He was thinking of making some soup. I'm vegetarian and he isn't but he's coming around, somewhat. It seems that he tried out some veggie  sausage that I had left in his freezer and he texted to ask where I had gotten it. We started talking about soups later and stock and whatnot.

Now months later, after having left a few soups I made while visiting, I asked him if he had ever eaten those frozen soups I left in his freezer. His answer, “What soups?” Apparently he never uses or looks in his freezer and as a self-professed MINIMALIST, says he really doesn’t “even use a fridge” so there you have it.

Soup making is so easy. You get some broth (and this can be the juices of veggies you’ve steamed or boiled, veggie bouillon you’ve 
purchased, or whatever. But starting with water is a no-no because the veg then don’t have anything to soak into them, or whatever it’s called. 

You cut up the hardest veg first and by this I mean:
Carrots
Parsnips
Beets
Corn on the cob, you have to chop off the cob
Potatoes or any other hard to chop veg.

You put those into the broth first and cook them until they are el dente (not quite soft) BUT WHILST you are cooking them, go ahead and get the softer veg chopped up.

Mushrooms
Tomatoes
Maybe some hard tofu you’ve bought and baked (or BOUGHT BAKED from your local coop salad bar, if you’re me)
Or, add veggie ground “beef” also called “vegetable protein” because that? Is what it is!

When the harder veg are at the el dente stage, throw in the softer veg.  Also throw in half of a flavor packet from a veggie ramen or whatever spices you like. Don’t overdue this as you don’t want it too salty or have so many flavors, it tastes weird.

Cook it up and test it out, but don’t burn your MOUTH! Cool it down by leaving it out for awhile, blowing on it or putting a tiny bit of water on the spoon.  

Dish it out and top it with grated cheese, or if you’re VEGAN, don’t top it with dairy. Add dollop of cream cheese, instead, that is vegan—not made with animal products.

Enjoy!

A Post POST Retirement

I HAVE CAPS ON BECAUSE FOR WHATEVER REASON MY IPAD DOESN’T SEEM TO BE ABLE TO DO LARGER PRINT.

TECHNOLOGY! ARGG!

IT IS NOW OCTOBER 9TH IN GOOD OLD LOVELY VT.

FOLIAGE IS AT ITS PEAK AND IT IS ARGUABLY THE MOST LOVELY TIME OF YEAR WITH REALLY THE BEST WEATHER (ABOUT EVERY OTHER DAY) WHEN IT IS SUNNY AND COOL. WE CALL IT SWEATER WEATHER AND WE LOVE IT HERE.

I HAVEN’T REALLY WRITTEN IN THIS BLOG IN MONTHS. SINCE WINTER, I THINK, WHEN I WAS IN THE DOLDRUMS AND COULDN’T FIND ANYTHING POSITIVE TO SAY. NOW I CAN.

I SPENT THE SUMMER (and not in this order) doing the following things:

1) camping in NH, MA and VT in friend’s backyards and in state forests
2) staying in Air B N B’s in Vt and MA
3) staying in a motel for 4 nights in Amherst, MA during a 4 day rain storm
4) staying indoors at friends’ houses/apts/condos
OH, and many nights in Burlington, VT as part of a deal-gone-wrong, but that? I won’t write about.
5) watching my niece and staying at my sister’s house on the land I grew up on
6) watching a LOT of YouTube, Netflix and just DVD’s and movies.

NOT ONCE was I really alone except on overnights camping and MAN did I ever miss having a place of my own!

FINALLY IN JULY, PUSH CAME TO SHOVE WITH FAMILY AND I FOUND A PLACE TO RENT IN MY HOMETOWN. I’M THERE NOW, BUT NOT REALLY,

It got so bad that my “man friend” offered for me to live temporarily with HIM. And that is not only a bad idea, he lives in a HOT climate and I can’t STAND the heat. At all. He has A/C, but it really was a matter of my having committed to watching my niece —plus an elderly neighborhood woman—and having to be in VT.

And that is still happening.

So, I can say one thing about this? I learned a LOT about A) being retired and B) committing to things whilst being retired that don’t pay and therefore really just cost money, if you think about it. We hall have to eat, for example. I can’t tell you how many loaves of bread, chunks of cheese, bottles of milk, sticks of butter, leftovers, etc. I have LEFT in refrigerators because as a “camper” one doesn’t really have any way of insuring food stay fresh—meaning not moldy or poisonous.

I will stop dog/house sitting, stop watching the elderly woman and START my actual RETIREMENT about a YEAR after the date of 12/12/18– Actually, I think the week after 12/12/19.

I’m a slow learner.  It only took me a year to figure out what retirement is.
And isn’t.

Life in New England— yes, we know!

Here we are in VT in the Dead of winter. There are moments of sun through clouds here and there but mostly?  Really not.

There are hopeful moments and even hours. Of hope.

There are always plans being made, soups being stewed, bread being baked. We have lived this way for EVER and we know that the groundhog can come out or not on February 2nd. Those weeks inevitably turns into sixteen weeks. We know because we KNOW. We are New Englanders living East of the Great Lakes with an Easterly breeze that passes those Great Lakes and hits us like a slap on the face. We know that three or four times a winter a Nor’easter will inevitably hit us and last 48 hours. 

We stock up. 

We hunker down.

And we wait out the storms.

We dig out from under and we go back to work.Ask any New Englander— what if the power goes out? We will laugh and say that we are all stocked up. We got it covered.

We have flashlights, candles, lanterns.We know how to melt snow. We know how to pour  stored up water into toilet tanks. Hell, we’ll pee outside if we have to, dig a hole, bury the poop.

New Englanders are tough because this climate makes us tough. We don’t suffer fools because we wouldn’t survive BEING fools..              

Life here isn’t about enjoyment or living any kind of luxury,  It’s about one simple thing and do not let anyone tell you anything different. It’s about survival. People can die here of exposure, even in 50 degree weather in June in the mountains in rain storms. Folks perish of dehydration in the summers or getting lost in the thick and luscious forests during deer or hiking season. They die of exposure skiing off trail (and alone) in winter.They ride snow machines across frozen lakes, hit thin ice and go away with the fishes.

We not only understand the weather, we expect it. We count on it. Being a New Englander doesn’t even beg the question of “ what if?”—we have that covered. We live every single day as if the next
disaster is about to happen. Not one of us doesn’t have Plans B and C burned into our consciousness.

We all know that Hell in the form of a high wind storm, a flood, a nor’easter or high crazy humidity with afternoon electrical storms are imminent! You can’t fool us. Nothing surprises us. Fifty degrees on New Years Eve? We’ve seen it. Freak snowstorm in June? We’ve been there shoveling our steps,
knowing our phones aren’t going to work for days. Knowing we have enough provisions to last us months.


I recall one summer in the late 1980s when it rained every single day for like 4 weeks! I remember because I was an outdoor educator at a nearby college and hiked, camped, rock climbed and canoed in that shit.

So why do we love Vermont so much? Why do we call it home, even if we weren’t born here and maybe only spent summers here or better yet A summer? Maybe it’s the mountains, river valleys, lakes,  upland highlands and winters.  There is nothing in the world like sitting on the dock on a quiet lake early in the morning. Nothing  more beautiful than heavy snow blanketing evergreen trees weighing down the branches.  Late summer electrical storms lighting up the sky. Walking through a pine forest and hearing a crystal clear babbling brook just off to the left. The autumn leaves are arguably the best thing you will see in New England.  We are famous for covered bridges, cheddar cheese, maple syrup, smart wool socks, turtle fur hats,  ski resorts, as many greens as there are in Ireland. Lovely mountains that remind Austrians of their homeland.

And we are famous for our politics and policies— the rights of all people, legalizing pot, same gender marriage, physician assisted suicide. We are small yet mighty. We are a brave little state, and who wouldn’t want to call such a place home? And our winters are long and harsh. And we are strong and mighty. This is one brave little state! 

Ruminating Again...Countdown to Retirement

Ok, its been like six weeks but  I'm still not actually unemployed or retired. I'm in the middle, sort of. On vacation. Still. But it is now coming to an end and on or near Valentine's Day, I will receive my last paycheck from the city and begin receiving retirement benefits a month later. I have done many things and none of them well over these weeks and I have come to some conclusions and have set some goals. Mostly I watched a LOT of Netflix, YouTube videos, got together with friends I hadn't seen in a while and left the state. Twice.

I need something to do with my time. Something that is fun, is creative and brings me joy.
I don't want to "serve others" in the way I have been professionally doing for my entire life.
I want to be closer to nature. To live in it. Simply.
I don't want unnecessary stress in my life==even thinking about it makes my blood pressure rise up.
I like being entertained; mostly I like to learn from podcasts, TED talks, YouTube videos about Rving and living a minimalist lifestyle.

There is a lot going on. Lots of it is free or comes at a low cost. Lots of events and rallies and community stuff. All I have to do is look at FB, the papers, stay in contact w/ close friends who enjoy getting out and doing stuff.

I want to get back into MOTH story telling. 
I have some great, encouraging friends.
My boyfriend is supportive, as are my friends and family.
I am hopeful that Spring comes early.
I need someone to help me start boxing back up my life and getting rid of stuff to lighten my load. It's all just STUFF.
I don't want to replace new stuff with old stuff. But I do want to get camp gear and travel safely and efficiently for awhile.


I sold my house and got rid of 80% of my stuff. 
It is time to get rid of 10% more.

I have lived on the Long Trail. I have been my own boss, my own friend and my own enemy since I left my parents' house at 17. I can live with very little stuff, I can not live without people who I care about and who care about me.

At the end of my life I want to actually have lived the life I imagined when I was 14 and reading Walden Pond essays.
So far? So good.

All I ever wanted was to live a simple life. One with just books, a bed, a chair, a table, candlelight, an outdoor fire pit. Oddly, the way to have that in my near future was to have a 3 bedroom, 2 bath house and SELL it. Strange how that went. 

Life goes on. And the beauty is all around me. New England weather is rough. Just really ever-changing and never perfect. Ok, there are those 6 or 7 days (never in a row) where we do stand outside in the breeze of a Spring of Fall day and say, "Yes, this is why we live here." Winters are long and Summer heat, bugs, moths, bats are even longer. The humidity is always at 80% or higher in July and August. Sometimes September, as well. You have to love it here to live here. For me, it's the people. The mountains. The rivers and streams. Ponds. The lakes. And if that isn't enough, I can always jump in my car and head out for awhile. 

I'm not sure why I love it here, if I am being absolutely honest but it has always seemed like home to me. Especially my childhood home, which may or may not seem obvious. I know many people who dread going "home." I also know people who are at home anywhere, due to travel or the fact that they can "bloom where they're planted." As long as they have clothes on their backs and a song in their hearts...

We will see...