I just realized that I began writing this blog on April 27, 2007. Oh, what a ride it has been!
In the past year, I have learned not to be afraid of this new to me medium (thank you, Kelly). I have discovered so much about this lovely blue planet, and about myself.
In the past ten months, I have had many life-changing experiences. On Fathers’ Day, my Dad had a massive stroke. Throughout a very powerful and intense few weeks, we supported him in completing his work in this life and transitioning to the next. My oldest daughter left for college in New York City; nine weeks after she left, her horse’s intestines ruptured and she had to make the decision to have him put down. At the end of November, my dear friend and neighbor lost her life to cancer (but not the battle—-she grew so much, and so did I). Since then, three good friends have lost a parent, and one had a serious surgery.
The Little Blue Santa came into our lives and graced us with his gentle being. His sweet nature and connection to history continues to be a blessing.
I have learned a lot about perspective, and about valuing what I have been given. i have learned what is truly important to me. (I have to say though, that a little less experiential learning would be fine with me; I’d gladly write a paper.)
I have met so many lovely people through this venture, where we sit and tappity tap our thoughts to share. Words have power, and the combined power of all our words and actions are catalysts for change.
Over at One Word, One Rung, One Day,Travis Erwin has graciously invited bloggers to share their towns on Mondays. I’ve learned a lot about a lot of places by visiting those who have posted. My daughter, a college student in NYC, taught me about home this weekend.
I boarded the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited at 7AM last Thursday. It was the first time in 20 years that I have done something totally by and for myself.
Train travel is just that—travel. On the 12 hour trip, I saw the backyards and junkyards of America, junked cars and buses and mountains of tires. I saw lakes, rivers and the foothills of the Adirondacks; cities and towns, farmland, and an incredible variety of styles of houses and barns. Trees were leafing out, and spring flowers were abundant, from marsh marigolds to trillium to skunk cabbages.
Public art abounded, brought to us by talented graffiti artists. These emerging artists adorned sides of buildings, water towers, and rail cars with their means of self-expression.
I had never realized just how much train traffic there is in this country—from passenger trains to freight trains to scenic excursion railroads. It was a little disconcerting to be the train in the middle, with trains on either side hurtling down the tracks in the opposite direction. This is when I closed my eyes.
I sat by myself most of the trip, musing, looking out the windows, chatting with other passengers, and letting myself relax, lulled to sleep by the sound of the train. I had decided to leave my computer at home, and left my iPod in my bag, next to my book.
I learned how to walk from car to car, first for coffee that was even too weak for me; later for lunch in the dining car. The dining car was full, so I joined two delightful young women at their table. We were joined by a 4th woman named Sue. Canadian college students on vacation, Kate and Leah were wonderful companions. We shared a bottle of wine, toasting my adventure and theirs.
As the train chugged along the track, I dozed and mused, drinking in the scenery. The changing topography was fascinating as we passed through different regions. As we traveled along the Hudson River, I noticed a rocky island that seemed to be topped by a castle-like structure. I made out the word Arsenal on the front of the building. This Gothic structure is the Bannerman Castle. The Canadian students emerged from their car and we talked some more, this time over soft drinks and my $2.00 bottle of water. Note to self: don’t leave food and water bottles on the kitchen counter next time!
Text messages and phone calls began arriving from #1 daughter as we approached NYC. The train was nearing Penn Station, over 12 hours after I had boarded. Wishing my traveling companions a great vacation, I left the train and climbed up the stairs to the baggage claim. My phone rang. “Look straight ahead,” said the voice on the other end.
Carrying an empty suitcase (so I could fill it up and bring things home), and a duffel bag, we hotfooted it to the hotel. My daughter immediately flopped on the bed, stretching across the entire king-sized mattress. We talked and then walked to find something to eat. I fell asleep in the chair, then stumbled to bed.
Friday morning, my daughter asked me what I wanted to do. I responded that I wanted to be with my daughter rather than to find things to do. So we walked—first to her residence to drop off some stuff, then off to Cafe Grumpy for an incredible cup of cafe au lait—fixed until this very fussy coffee drinker was grinning because it was so good.
My daughter showed me her other home, from the park bench in Tompkins Square Park to the Union Square Greenmarket. We shared an incredibly beautiful day, exploring my daughter’s new world. We came across the 6th and B Garden, an oasis or green quiet in the middle of the city; we ate lunch at the Atlas Cafe, a tiny amazingly good restaurant. We wandered in and out of resale shops and fashionista hangouts, trying on things for fun, relishing each other’s company.
Then dinner with my daughter and a friend of hers. We chose Le Grainne Cafe, a French restaurant nearby. Delicious crepes, salad and a bottle of good wine served in a leisurely fashion made for a satisfying evening. No dinner would be compete without dessert. We decided to go to Billy’s Bakery, where we chose a small but mighty chocolate cheesecake to share. It was indeed as good as it looked.
Since the train arrives in Cleveland, Ohio at 3:00am, I decided to fly home. On Saturday morning, we walked to a block or 2 so we could hail a taxi to take me to the airport. “Is this where we hug and cry?” I asked. It was. The ride to the airport was a bit harrowing and ended with the driver taking me to the pick up for arriving passengers rather than the drop off for departing ones. Rather than risking any more delays, I hauled my now full suitcase and duffel up a very long flight of stairs.
Some folks have left their hearts in San Francisco. I left part of mine with a wonderful, talented, kind and adventurous young woman in the heart of New York City. There is no place like home.
Patti, over at the Patti-o recently asked what her readers have learned. She kind of got me thinking about what we learn and how. I have learned how to do lots of things, from writing this blog to embedding a map in a post. I have learned how to be rather than what to do. I have learned, as I posted on Patti’s blog, that when I feel stressed, I can realize that there are 2 sides to every coin, and that stressed spelled backwards is___________ .
So, join Patti in an umbrelly drink and ask yourself what you have learned lately?
**On another note—I’ll be away from Thursday through Saturday: taking the train to NYC to visit with #1 daughter. See ya’ll next week.
The Village of Peninsula, population 602, is nestled in the hills where the Cuyahoga River bends sharply. Years ago, before the Valley Railway came through town, the old river made a meander that formed a peninsula. When the train was planned, 2 bridges would have needed to be engineered and built in order to cross the crooked river called the Cuyahoga. Instead of doing that, the engineers decided to cut through the neck of Peninsula’s peninsula, changing the course of the Cuyahoga.
View Larger Map If you look slightly NE of the arrow, you can still see where the River used to flow.
Back in the day, Peninsula had 14 bars and 5 hotels, to house, feed and quench the thirsts of the many transient and permanent workers and visitors who came though the Village. There were 2 sandstone quarries, 2 dry docks, 4 boatyards, 3 blacksmith shops, a harness shop, 3 dry goods and grocery stores, a cheese factory, 3 churches, and a town hall that doubled as a theater.
Today the Village is home to shops, studios and galleries, as well as places to eat and to stay.
The proprietor of the Downtown Emporium has been a strong presence in my town for a long time. She knows a lot about the comings and goings in this Village, from its history to its past and current politics. With has an eye for collectibles, from the objects in her store to the stories that go with them, she will tell you about the item, where it came from and how it came to be. The Emporuim sits on the corner of Main Street, across from the Village Hall and the Methodist Church. It’s porch is a wonderful place to sit and watch as people wander through our town.
Thanks to Travis Ervin who has invited folks to join him in sharing their towns each Monday.
So we’ve paid the taxes, and relished the first days of Spring. The grass IS greener—on both sides of the hill. Pansies raise their smiling faces at the sun, and daffodils sway in the breeze. Asparagus and strawberries, and the sky that is that infinite shade of azure affirm Spring is here.
If today is your day, as it is mine, click here or here
I had the best of intentions this week—really, I did. I was going to share all kinds of things about my town: why the Village of Peninsula is called Peninsula; and what happened to the Ohio and Erie Canal in 1913; and about how the beautiful Cuyahoga Valley National Park came to be. I was going to write about Ronda, and about some of the other artists who share my town.
But: LIFE HAPPENED, including emergency dental visits and a root canal for #2 daughter.
Stay tuned…..
It has arrived!! I knew that it was Spring before the calendar told me it was so; I knew it when the quality of the light changed; when the birds first sang their songs early in the morning; when the goldfinches began frequenting the thistle feeder, the breeding males sporting their brilliant yellow coats. I knew it was spring when I had to fill the feeders every other day; when the snowdrops and crocuses showed their colors; when the hens started laying again. I knew it was
spring when little muddy doggy footprints were a daily occurrence and when the smell of wet, muddy dogs permeated the house. All these things I knew.
I sit at the big kitchen window, birds crowding the feeders. The cardinals have found the new feeder, filled with safflower seeds, a pileated woodpecker sits on the suet, alternating between eating and calling. Nuthatches, chickadees, tufted titmice, Carolina wrens, woodpeckers and others move from place to place.
The sunshine, a welcome addition, tells me that it really IS time to wash the windows. Inside AND out. I will take care of it—soon. The weather report informs me that rain and storms are on the way, followed by a bit of snow by the weekend. The best thing about snow in April is that, unlike the 22 inches we had in March, it won’t last.
What tells you it is Spring in your neck of the woods?
I’m pleased to join Travis Erwin again in his My Town Monday venture. This is a great opportunity to look at things and places in a new way, and to find out what makes everyone’s town special.
The Village of Peninsula, population 602, has a rich and interesting history. Located in the Cuyahoga Valley, a 22-mile river valley nestled between Cleveland and Akron, Peninsula was carved out of the wilderness. It sat on the edge of a forest that was so dense that the native people called it the Black Forest. The land was rich, wildlife plentiful, and the crooked river they called the Cuyahoga was full of fish and other aquatic life.
The first settler in what is now known as Peninsula was New Englander Alonzo Dee. He settled in the Village in 1818. Later, in 1824, Hermon Bronson arrived, and in 1837, he requested that the village be surveyed. It was then officially known as Peninsula. Why Peninsula? There was a large bend in the Cuyahoga River that enclosed nearly 20 acres of land forming a peninsula.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll introduce you to some of the people and places that make my town special. The Village of Peninsula, built by the hands and hearts of generations; gently resisting change since 1837.
It seems to me that blogging is another incarnation of the backyard fence: we chat, share thoughts, ideas and stories, even have a cup of coffee or tea.
The high tech has become the high touch—interesting stuff. This international community supports and challenges ideas, encouraging the writer to expand his or her thinking. Pats on the back are freely given in a world that is generally less willing to do so. We recognize and encourage creativity, and share what we’ve discovered. We may not borrow a cup of sugar, but we certainly help those in need. Isabel Hoskins, has asked us to come together as a community to help. Bella writes:
The power in this is that, as Bella says, “We are not a non-profit. We are just a group of women coming together to support one of our own. We are rallying behind Jen because the reality is it could be one of us and we strongly believe that this is what community does.” Bella and others are planning an auction on eBay to raise money for Jeni’s needs that are not covered by insurance and to set up a trust fund for her 6 year old son. To find out more, please visit Bella’s post. We have donated a Little Blue Santa to the auction.
Jeni asks a challenging question: What would you do if you had only one year to live? Important question, one on which I am working. I’ll post my thoughts as they become more clear. I pose the question to you: What would you do if you had 12 months left to live on this planet?
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