From Skilled Hands » One Heart

My Town Monday: Home is Where the Heart Is

fromskilledhands — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 19:03:15 +0000

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.

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Over the Backyard Fence

fromskilledhands — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 16:50:10 +0000

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:

In the past weeks I’ve been sharing with you some of my friend, Jen’s, story.

She is a single mom and has a six year old son, Jack. She has stage four colon cancer. She is funny and wise, honest and real, beautiful in every way. She is one of my real life heroes and I love her.

Jeni forever changed my heart and life in asking what I would do if I knew I only had one year to live.

And she is living this, not as idea, but a daily reality. Her honesty and courage and love have sent out ripples of change in people’s lives, as she continues to share her journey on her blog.

And now we are coming together to offer her a tangible expression of our care and love.

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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Heroes

fromskilledhands — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 15:16:03 +0000

Heroes come in all forms. With skilled hands, and kind and open hearts they live their lives in the best way they can.

Please look beyond the advertising to the real story. True heroes go about their lives changing the landscape, making a difference in the lives of all of us—–whether we know it or not.

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A Walk When the Moon Is Full

fromskilledhands — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 14:16:10 +0000

When my kids were little, we took full moon walks almost every month. Winter was especially intense: the cold clear light reflecting off the snow took our breaths away. Some months it was too bright and clear for us to venture into the woods.

There is a full moon tonight, and the promise of a lunar eclipse. The thermometer tells me that it’s 9 degrees outside. My body screams that it’s much colder than that. I started out through the woods, beginning with all 3 dogs, and ending with 2 dogs and a cat. The moon was rising; the air was clear and cold. I crunched along the trails through the woods, stopping to check on the moon’s progress.

I returned to the warmth of this old house, peeled off my layers and slipped into the slippers waiting in front of the heater. My oldest daughter called from her college dorm in New York City. She shared the events of her day. I asked her if she remembered our full moon walks. I could hear her smile as we reminisced.

The lunar eclipse was just starting. I asked my daughter if she could see the moon from her window. She described the moon at which I was looking, “We’re looking at the same moon!”

Fifteen years later, 456 miles apart, we looked at the same full moon, sharing. It truly doesn’t get much better than that.

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