Friday, October 2, 2015

Thoughts on a dying dog

This week began with a visit to the vet because I thought my amazing Maisey had perhaps eaten one of her toys. Our house is littered with toys—dog toys—and they are all hers. There's a bin and she carefully chooses which one she wants to play with, sorting through until she finds just the right one. When she is excited such as when I return from a day at work, she comes running, toy in mouth, stump of a tail wagging vigorously. Pure delight in living.

But by Tuesday it was revealed that it was not a toy but a highly aggressive cancer that has eaten away her pelvic area. The vet says it is a miracle that she is walking at all. My girl is a strong girl. Amazing Maisey. She has learned how to compensate, how to move through the pain of bad hips, and how to take on life fully. As she fully embraces life, she fully gives back to others. I like to say that of all my dogs, Maisey is the one who best understands people. Like the good hunting dog she is, she gives total attention to the humans around her. If it is a small baby, she will sit by the stroller and calmly guard. When my father was ill and suffering from dementia, as he sat in his chair she was often at his side within the reach of his gentle, wavering hand.

Maisey's dad was grand champion field Spaniel in Canada and the U.S. One weekend in the spring, my daughter Tegan and I drove up towards Toronto and she picked Maisey out of a bundle of puppies. Ever since Tegan has been her girl. There was many a time when as a single mom of a teenager, we'd find ourselves in the midst of some emotional event or other. The cure was always a good talk on the couch, Tegan on one end, myself on the other and Maisey would cuddle up into Tegan's lap and my other dog Louie in mine. It is impossible to disagree amidst all that nonjudgmental love.

That was kind of what I was hoping would happen to the U.S. when the Pope came to visit. His addresses to Congress and the U.N. were masterful and balanced. He clearly saw how we desperately need to put aside our extremism and find instead our common humanity. This little planet has problems too large for us to be name calling and for parties to act out of raw emotion rather than respectful reason. Our eternal fighting only shortens humanities' limited time on earth.

Maisey's time is limited now. We know that, most likely by the holidays, she'll be gone, hopefully sitting patiently by my father's side. Of course we're doing all I can within reason to keep her happy and hold back the end. Each day I am counting as one of joy, appreciating and embracing what is so very good now. That was not the case this week for those young people who were murdered at a small college in Oregon.  I can only imagine their families—with memories like mine of toys and talks—and I can only imagine the college community much like Champlain's: a place where we try to prepare our students for reasonable thinking; to prepare them to create a better world; and they teach us with their unlimited enthusiasm, wisdom, and hope. A small, closely knit and caring community.

The New York Times reports that "Oregon is one of seven states with provisions, either from state legislation or court rulings, that allow the carrying of concealed weapons on public postsecondary campuses, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures." Why as a culture are we so addicted to violence as a solution? Why do we so strongly try to limit the choice of half our species to make decisions impacting their families and yet whole heartedly support the ability of unstable young men to shoot up our youth? Why are we so divisive on these issues that we fail to see and address the larger issues of global warming, poverty, and basic human rights? Why are we so hell-bent—and I mean hell-bent—on insisting that we individually know best, so hell-bent on trying to control the choices of others without thought to how or if they impact the collective whole?

The truth is that like my dear Maisey, our time is limited. Unlike my sweet Maisey we fail to be empathic, to honestly care to—dare I say it?—to love those around us. This week I am in mourning for those unknowing college students, faculty, and their families, for my innocent, unsuspecting dog, and for the state of we the people. Of those three, only one group has the choice to change the future and perhaps sadder yet is that we don't.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

A day, a week: from profound tragedy to love.

I wish I could say that at the experienced age of 58, I have the answers, but I can't. I have only more complex questions. And maybe that is well and fine because if I did possess them there would be no point to continue. Where I find myself is with deep experiences to draw upon and confidence befitting of meeting great obstacles, yet these same obstacles only prove that there is much more to learn, to explore, to question, and to experience.

And isn't that the wonder?

Today a grand old cat died, my husband's dear friend for over 20 years and mine of 10. I find myself walling out our grief: there are so many I've lost in such a short time that the daily struggle to move into joy is akin to PT exercises one doesn't want to do.

My desires have changed. It is no longer about objects or youthful appearances or unrequited loves. Now it is about those who no longer are here. It is about a hunger for the comfort of those who came before. Now I am the one who can give the comfort, who can provide my wobbling wisdom. From that springs an even more difficult desire: to do good, to protect, to help grow, and to move forward.

This week the EMC team was part of the Laura K Winterbottom March. Laura, a young colleague of mine was brutally abducted by a stranger, raped, and murdered in the relatively peaceful small city of Burlington, Vermont. Our project BREAKAWAY will now be part of the youth education program in Chittenden County due to a partnership with H.O.P.E.Works and the support of the LKW Foundation. This is all incredibly great news—we get to bring back home a program created in Chittenden County by our team, Population Media Center, the UNFPA, over 130 Champlain College students, and numerous local and international partners and which, most importantly, has seen success in other areas of the world.

My EMC team - I am incredibly proud of their efforts.
But what I am most struck by is not our success and what we will work towards ending (which is indeed greatly improbable and therefore all the more astounding because we have had success!) but more deeply profound is the power of one small family. Despite the horrendous tragedy that struck Ned, JoAnn and Leigh, they have turned this unimaginably deep tragedy into love. An astounding act but one of immense purity. Pure and simple. Violence became love.

This week, this day, the needle has moved forward. Choices expand and the question I eternally ask is how to best make this world a more balanced, a more respectful, a more peaceful place? One team, one family paved the way.

WCAX.COM Local Vermont News, Weather and Sports-

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Show September 3-15

Image: Steve Mease
I'm showing some of my digital reflections from my attendance at IVOH and MenEngage at this upcoming show!

Champlain College Faculty Show 2015
Reception: Thursday Sept 3, 5-7pm
Champlain College Gallery - Center for Communications and Creative Media, 2nd Floor
Exhibition: Sept 3-15 open M-F 10am-5pm

Please join us this Thursday in our beautiful new Champlain College Gallery for the opening reception of our first annual survey of new, original, and innovative works from fourteen of our CCM and Core faculty members. The exhibition features work by John Banks, Tim Brookes, Geebo Church, Ann DeMarle, Jordan Douglas, Glynnis Fawkes, Ken Howell, Al Larsen, Katie Loesel, David Lustgarten, Joseph Manley, Marc Nadel, Toni-Lee Sangastiano, and Steve Wehmeyer

Wednesday, August 12, 2015


Today I sorted through about 100+ years of photos and clippings that my mom and her mom kept precious. Overwhelming and at the same time, I could feel all of my family, going so many generations back, forever alive and in my heart because I have become a keeper of their stories.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

The Great Wall, Salsa, and Life: an unending pirouette

Quiet in the hotel next door. Every green thing in China is designed—even the forests.
I'm in a hotel I don't like. I've gotten old. You check in at a bar—the first hint it's not for me. The carpet in the hall smells like it was recently cleaned to get rid of who knows what, the room is small but "well designed" yet the internet and water is costly. That's OK (kind of) but there is no fitness room or common area or restaurant - except of course the aforementioned bar.
The Great Wall - where once the emperor closed off an Empire, now the Empire is ready to embrace the World.
Yet is was chosen for me in part because it is close to a partner I greatly respect—a young woman who has shared much with me about China. This to include the impacts of a single child policy on parenting: how children are so profoundly valued that they are coddled by two generations as that one child  carries the weight of being the only heir for 6 people in a society where the "social security" is the son. What are the impacts of an entire society of adults who have been coddled their entire lives and have no knowledge of giving of themselves but only of being given too? On the other hand, the population is so dense, what are the impacts of a doubled population (or worse) and their demands on our global resources? I have no answers only questions.

Shanghai night
Ahhh China, I have fallen deeply in love with the place and the people even though my description above may seem to be contrary. The land is vast and the people are straight forward. Each time I visit I find that my perceptions were based on such a small viewpoint. It is a land of people who were once hopeless and now find their dreams coming true. A people where the seemingly impossible has become possible; a society where my generation faced starvation and fear, dying in the millions, yet their children have opportunities abundant; a giant that has awakened to the prosperity we in the U.S. are accustomed and jaded by; a population eager and able to take advantage because of their vast size, population, propensity to learn, and hunger.

Frank Lui - the visionary and extraordinary gentleman behind the summit—and Shanghai's growth.
This week I've been to the mountains of Zhangjiakou to present at the "Enterprise Growth Leader Summit". This same area is poised to be the host of the 2020 Winter Olympics. The presenters at the summit were impressive, bucking their cultural upbringing to compete on a massive scale. Their stories resonate with the lessons I've learned and only partially succeeded at.

Dinner for the foreign presenters - a formal affair, a great honor and the means to valued relationships.
The dream.
But China builds up and tears down mercilessly. The resort area of Zhangjiakou is all new and the ski runs are unlike any I've ever seen with an entire resort mountain for each skill level. The mountains themselves are vast with small villages no larger than a football field tucked within and falling into ruin. In these the grandparents live because all the youth have gone to the cities. Fallen down towns for falling apart people. Is this a possible metaphor for a future Vermont?

Mountains not to be forgotten.
A grandfather's garden
The soon to be past.
Back to my hotel in Shanghai, a hot spot for youth, I walk to dinner and the restaurant is full of young salsa dancers. They provocatively embrace and separate to dust their soles and find new partners. It is all about the dance.

It's all about the dance.
Night moves.
And within the glittering lights and high end costs, less than 500 steps away, a man, painful to look at,  deeply scarred beyond recognition without fingers or thumbs, has spent his day precisely writing on the sidewalk in difficult to know calligraphy. I kneel down and touch his shoulder. I ask if I can photograph his work. I look into his eyes and say "it is beautiful" though I can not read his words and he cannot understand mine. I offer $20 American into the stubs of his hands. It is all I can offer to show my gratitude for his painstaking artistic pursuit.
Night artistry in the sidewalk.
Without hands or fingers with a face beyond recognition, he works.

Monday, July 13, 2015


There's magic in that too. The older I get, the more I realize, we never really parted, instead we've become a part of each other.

Sunday, July 12, 2015


Perhaps it's due to growing up in a suburb named Greece with each high school named for Greek goddesses and gods - or perhaps due to my courses in antiquity - or to reading the Iliad and the Odyssey - either way I have always dreamed of traveling to Greece. And this year, the tenth anniversary of marrying the man who stole my heart and with whom every day I am grateful to have in my life, this year, we are set to travel to Greece!

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

A Covenant: Myself and You And Every Living Creature

The writing demons have been dancing in my mind, begging to be let loose, to share the meandering thoughts, the demanding need to express, to type into this editor — yet this blog has gone unfilled. Some of it may be that I've been constantly working, or that my inner self is working through puzzles: figuring out replies to darker pulls—the skeletal mother with the freshly cut bloody stump of an arm begging in India, the parentless, yet joyful children of unescapeable poverty in Africa, the overwhelming pollution of China and India, the begging gypsy children with the frightening enforcer in Macedonia, the stories of those I know reporting of unspeakable acts of violence and war both foreign and in our own cities, the former husband with the uncontrollable, unexpected, violent anger, the loss of my foundation—my best friends—my parents; resolving grief, loneliness, and exhaustion with the falling in love with the people of this world—me with so little to give in return and the inexplicable contrasting beauty of this journeying planet; intuiting perhaps a gentler path to let those drift and dissolve like clouds on a sunny day or see through them like the illusional rainbows on hot summer pavement.

Pollution New Delhi, India
Laundry South African townships
My rock, my mom - how one so comforting could have left in such pain?
But today I write, albeit briefly, for this past week has been one of astounding and unexpected celebration. It's as if God said, you can take a break, take a breath, let the work and worry fall away, put down the heavy grief, appreciate those who've made a difference and those that continue the course of good; those biological and the soul sisters and brothers, the children, cousins, nieces, nephews and those who have preceded us.

Put aside your worries and weights and simply b---r--e--a--t--h--e  in happiness.

Expand the space between your lungs, your mind, your heart.

As a former Catholic continually wrestling with the beauty and the darkness of her birth faith - and one with an unshakable faith in God and God's presence in each and every one of us (regardless of our final destination after this life) one of my mind-blowing favorite stories, dating back from my youth, is from the very start of the old Testament. It comes after the flood of Noah:
"And this', God said, 'is the sign of the covenant which I now make between myself and you and every living creature with you for all ages to come:
I now set my bow in the clouds and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I gather the clouds over the earth and the bow appears in the clouds, I shall recall the covenant between myself and you and every living creature, in a word all living things, and never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all living things."
And amazingly enough tonight, after a soul searching weekend at Image and Voices of Hope (  - more later) and a week where my daughter returned to Vermont after eight years away and finding a job in her field within three days, the same "bow" arches behind our home - a position I've never seen before. My heart truly aches with gratitude and joy for the gifts life has given to me. The world and life upon it will continue. From the clouds we can take rest—from this point we can continue the difficult and joy filled journey.
Home and my daughter

Thursday, March 26, 2015

March of Faith

March a long time ago. Mom and me. Motherhood is eternal as is being someone's child.
Ahh, March, my birth month, the season of unpredictability and change. Is there no surprise that the Ides of March (  happened in March? The planet seems to turn fully towards rebirth and yet has such a difficult time releasing what has been. In the Northeastern part of the United States, the wind gathers, blusters, and roars. The skies alternate from the beautiful blue of deep winter to the laden grey of Spring. Snow, rain, cold, warm — there is no telling what the day or night will hold.

Caesar's downfall, the Ides of March.
This winter has been especially tough with no Spring thaw in February only deep, deep cold. My father who in his later years avidly contributed to the discussion on climate change, was at first against the idea. Not against the idea that it was occurring, as he saw it as a repeating pattern on this earth, but more that we might be the cause of this occurrence. However, always the scientist Dad studied it from all angles and he predicted that climate change would not mean warmth in the Northeast but could instead mean a sudden deep freeze. All worth watching as March seems to lend itself to soothsaying and naysaying…as it did for Caesar.

From the Museum of Science in Boston looking out this month. Boston experienced a record breaking snow season this year.
Likewise this March has been deeply troubling. There has been much unpredictability and change in my professional life—some wonderful, some worrying….what once was a clear directive, has new influences, and is now uncertain much like a weather vain in a storm, twisting and turning north south west east. In some ways I think perhaps I need to be as decisive as Mary Poppins who knew that certain winds were those to come in on and those to depart because her job was now complete.

And like her, I find in those I hold dearest the same change impacting their personal lives. As I write, too many of those who are precious to me are fighting for their lives, or for those they love. And too many of those who are elderly have taken the Ides of March as their departure and transcendence to whatever is next. This is a generation whose wisdom is greatly needed. All in all the extreme cold has taken its toll and March has been the definitive point.
One of my heroes: my mother's father and me.
Tonight where does that leave me? Perhaps what March truly is is a season of waiting, of waiting for what comes next, a time of reflection and preparation. The sap runs in the trees but the leaves are still just a memory and a promise to come. Like the trees, it seems to be a month to go deep and internal: a great time to read, to sort, to contemplate, to play games. For me I've been playing Animal Crossing and doing puzzles. Puzzles as in cardboard with richly detailed imagery that confounds and points the way. Simply, finding missing pieces and patterns is a great metaphor and a tonic to troubling realities. Putting that same thoughtfulness, practiced around a table at night into my daily life can be reassuring—there is a final picture that with patience will be revealed. And then today, in my email the following words of wisdom arrived.
Trust Is Essential 
What part does risk taking play on the road to mastery? Risk taking is essential on that road. The aliveness of aliveness is trust. The religious word is faith, but that means courageous trust, trust in life, cosmic courage. But that courage implies taking risks. To live is to take risks. It’s absolutely central.
—Br. David Steindl-Rast,  Mastery—Interviews With Thirty Remarkable People by Joan Evelyn Ames
March is the month of risk. It separates us from what we had grown comfortable with, it is unpredictable and unstable. It teaches us that risk is always present. And to face risk requires courage to travel the path and faith to know that warmth and joy lie ahead. In effect March assures we develop the strengths to survive and if we choose wisely our path, to thrive. And a key to that path may be to look to the stories of those who preceded us.