Main events in a child’s life add up quickly and the listing order of importance usually begins with the most current event. My sister’s birth was one that seemed to rank high on the list of what’s happening now. We had gone to Massachusetts to visit my mother’s relatives while she was very pregnant. Evidently she wasn’t close enough to set off any caution lights in my mother’s or father’s list of things to worry about, but on our way back to Cavendish Vermont we had to make an emergency stop at Continue reading
At age 3, I had gone along to the store with my father to buy a couple of quarts of soda. They came in glass bottles at the time. My mother was at home waiting for the beverages. At about the same moment we arrived in the driveway one of my father’s friends pulled up to talk with him about going night hunting for raccoon. I asked if I could bring in the 2 quart bottles for my mother. I muckled on to them as best I could and started toward the front stone steps on my way toward the kitchen door. The first step was the hardest, in more ways than one.. Continue reading
I remember sitting in the tall grass of our unmown lawn, while the neighbor’s horse named Bill came near the fence and reached under the strand of wire with his huge head. I looked up to see his big lips wrap around the grass, pull it into his yellow stained teeth and chew noisily. Perhaps this was my first look at the reality of the phrase, “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.” The photograph just makes me happy to recall how things seemed carefree at the time. As a child, I didn’t realize I was poor. I was being kept warm and evidently well fed in a simple place called home. Other than my baby book, my words are the only documentation to color in the memories I carried all this way. To give them life, I am putting them down on the page and pressing them together between the covers formed by the green mountains. Continue reading
While riding in my car, I began listening to an interview on NPR, with Rob and Nick Reiner about their new movie, “Being Charlie”, a rehab story. The conversations with people who called in about their experiences with drugs and alcohol, reminded me that I had also once felt the need to experiment. Neither gave me any true feelings of satisfaction. I found that the negativity of substance abuse didn’t leave much room for comfort or reality blending. I did however, at an early age, find writing was a great relief for my Continue reading
A wake-up slap on the butt is a different story than being knocked to the ground by a large hand to the side of the head. Where, in the sequence of time, does age decide the punishment or the reward? Growing up is a process and learning the hard way isn’t always a choice to be made.
Starting off as the result of a teen pregnancy in the 1950’s, a bundle created by two people in love and unaware of their futures. Dreams and ambitions seemed simple when a dwelling and small parcel of land sporting an outhouse could be bought for $500.00 in Vermont. Anyone would worry about the baby coming home and where it will fit in, as the family structure is expanded by one. I was one of those welcomed but surprise guests that entered the world with a few Continue reading