Local woman finds plumbing far from a draining experience

“Energy and persistence conquer all things.” Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790)

Published The Advocate Weekly February 24, 2005

Becket – The sink’s backed up. The pipe just burst. The dog is treading water in the dining room.

Any of those unfortunate events prompts a frantic call to a plumber – typically a grizzled guy in heavy work boots and a dusty cap, whose tool belt doesn’t quite hold up his pants. If, instead, beauty, brains and a wellspring of cheerful personality knocks on the door, armed with her own well-fitted tool belt, cap and work boots, the average plumbing disaster victim might be surprised.

Julie Gardner represents part of the 1-to-2 percent of female plumbers out of the roughly 420,000 plumbers in the United States. She lives in Lanesboro and works for Cesco Plumbing in Becket, owned and operated by Christopher Swindlehurst, master plumber.

Gardner, interviewed last week after a full day’s work that included reading blueprints, wielding a jackhammer, drilling holes, swinging a hammer, consulting with an electrician and a contractor, and fitting pipe while managing a residential bathroom-remodeling job, is not just a typical plumber. She, too, is a master plumber – a level of licensing in the plumbing industry that many men may never achieve or even aspire to.

In 1994, at age 23, Gardner registered as an apprentice plumber, which required working alongside a journeyman or master plumber for at least three years – “where you start greener than green,” Gardner said.

After that time, an apprentice plumber may apply for a journeyman plumber’s license, which requires 6000 working hours and 300 classroom hours. An additional 2000 working and 100 classroom hours fulfills the requirements for a master plumber’s license.

Plumbing is not a glamorous job, nor a particularly clean one. It is, however, “always a challenge” said Gardner. Having grown up as the baby in a family of four sisters and a brother and never having attempted anything without plunging into it (so to speak) wholeheartedly, she acknowledged loving a challenge.

While attending C.H. McCann Technical School in North Adams and Taconic High School in Pittsfield, Gardner held jobs at the former Waverly Fabrics in Adams, Domino’s Pizza and the former Sprague Commonwealth Capacitor in North Adams. She graduated from McCann in 1991, completing a course then known as retailing/business careers, and finished her plumbing theory course at Taconic in 1994. She said she got good grades at McCann but developed an urge to work outside an office setting and was trying to decide what she wanted to be “when she grew up.”

When Dominos offered her management training, she politely declined and looked for a job requiring more thinking and offering “fewer night hours, better advancement opportunities and time for a social life.”

Thanks to “timing, luck and affirmative action programs,” Gardner took a job with her brother-in-law, David Ziarnik, a head mechanic at Adams Plumbing Co., as an apprentice plumber. Her first responsibility on the job she held for six years was a “firewatcher” on a project at Martin Marietta in Pittsfield installing factory chiller units. The welder’s job was to weld pipe. Gardner’s job was to watch the welder and to make sure nothing caught fire. Ziarnik, understanding the boredom of this necessary part of the job and the learning process, gave Gardner the second set of tools she would need to become a plumber – the Massachusetts plumbing codebook and the “Plumbers and Pipefitters” Handbook.”

Gardner said she feels at ease working in a male-dominated field. She was labeled a tomboy growing up, she said, “Because I was always outside with my brother, Arthur, shooting the BB gun, building bicycles and playing with trucks instead of dolls.” She admitted she liked being different.

“I even played youth football and Little League on boys’ teams, which made; me a stronger player, mentally, when I had to play on the girls’ teams,” she said.

Those experiences gave her an edge, she said, not only in competitive sports, but also in the plumbing business, where mental ability is just as necessary as physical ability.

Being a woman in a male-dominated field hasn’t’ been “all puffy clouds and rainbows,” she said.

“People don’t like change, and I had to prove myself.”

When people are less than accepting of her career choice, she recalls a comment she overheard when she played football. “A parent said, ‘You shouldn’t be on the team because you’re taking the position away from a boy.’” Gardner replied, “That’s why we have tryouts.”

Her attitude today is, “Everybody has a right to earn a living, and I have a right to choose this.”

Her fiancé, Peter Morandi, who used to work in construction but is now an IT technician, is her biggest supporter. Her family has also been encouraging because, she said, “They would always know where to find a plumber when they needed one.”

Gardner said she attempts to overcome people’s initial apprehension with her self-confident, positive attitude, which she attributes to the career itself.
“When I first meet a customer, I shake their hand and ask, “hey how you doing? I’m your plumber. What do you need? What questions do you have?’ And I can see their relief.”

When asked for plumbing advice, Gardner offers two rules for the average person: 1. “If you don’t have the knowledge and don’t understand the rules, don’t attempt the job on your own.” 2. “Don’t use drain cleaners; they cause more problems than they solve.”

People sometimes take plumbing too lightly, she said.

“I don’t want to discourage people from attempting their own small plumbing jobs, but the reason Massachusetts is so strict about plumbing codes is because people can die from plumbing mistakes. Water distribution and waste disposal have to be done correctly.” [An improper water distribution system can lead to contaminated drinking water, while waste disposal problems can result in disease-causing bacteria.]

Both Swindlehurst and Gardner agreed the plumbers they know all have diverse levels of experience and personalities. However, dealing with emergencies every day in a sometimes dirty, always extremely safety-conscious business, all successful plumbers share two important traits, Gardner said.

“We are all stubborn because we can’t just walk away from a job until it’s finished,” and “We all have to be good natured. How else could we burn ourselves, crawl in the muck, deliver bad news, deal with daily disasters, see the worst of the worst and still come back to work every day?”

They also agreed that the best things about the job are “the people you meet, all the coffee you can drink and the ultimate satisfaction of solving a problem with a job well done.”

“We like the thank-you letters,” Swindlehurst added.

“But if we don’t hear back from the customer, we know we did it right, and that’s a good thing, too,” Gardner said.

She doesn’t like stereotypical labels and laughs at the irony when she described herself.

“I like my sports – playing and watching – and I don’t like to shop or dress up, but I did fix up my hair and wear a nice dress to the office Christmas party a few years ago.” She recalled the reaction of Michelle Lampro, a co-worker of eight months. “She sat across the table from me all night, wondering who I was and why I was there.”

She said she plans to stay in the business because “I’m stubborn, it’s a good living, I like nice things and vacations, and you have to earn that.”

Swindlehurst and Gardner offered the same advice to anyone considering a plunge into the plumbing business: “Do it. We need the help.”

WBEC's 'natural' takes reins at new WUPE

Published August 26, 2004: The Advocate Weekly & www.iberkshires.com

“All you need is love.” John Lennon and Paul McCartney

“I met Paul McCartney a couple of years ago at his Off the Ground tour in New York City. I touched him. I remember my mouth opening, but I don’t remember any words coming out. I was completely star struck, but I can die happy now.”

So said Joanne Billow, WUPE’s new morning radio DJ, during an interview last week. Billow, possibly best known in the Berkshires as the most popular radio personality of Pittsfield’s largest radio station, WBEC (Live 105.5) previously considered the morning show there “her baby.”

VOX Corp., already the owner of five of the nine local radio stations, was in negotiation and awaiting FCC approval to purchase two more stations in 2004. Rumors flew, and speculation was rampant as to what would happen to “small town” programming and well-known radio hosts when and if the sales became final. VOX purchased WBEC AM and FM in December 2002 and WNAW and WMNB in North Adams and WSBS in Great Barrington in May 2003. The sale of WUPE and WUHN was final in December 2003.

“We didn’t really know anything,” Billow said. “When I was called into the office earlier this year, I thought I might be getting fired. When they told me I was going to WUPE, I was happy. I love that kind of music (oldies). But I was sad to leave WBEC; that was my blood, sweat and tears for 19 years.”

She admitted being very emotional the day she left WBEC for good. Of course, she also confessed that almost any movie makes her cry, including “The Nutty Professor,” because she gets lost in the emotions and caught up in the characters. However, with her usual upbeat manner and cheerful good humor, Billow feels she is adjusting well to her new job.

“The best thing about this job is leaving at noon and having the whole day left to enjoy,” she said. “But I hate hearing that alarm go off at 3:30 every morning. “ Larry (Kratka) is a great guy – we dance and sing along with the music – we’re like family here.” Kratka is news director for the Berkshire News Network and has the same hours as Billow, 5:30 to noon.

Born and raised in Shaftsbury, Vt., Billow is the only daughter of John and Henrietta Billow – her first family. The senior Billows still live in Shaftsbury and work at their small real estate office there, and Billow likes being close enough to visit them on a regular basis.

Her childhood memories do not include hearing “get your buns out of bed,” a well-known Billow radio phrase.

“That just slipped out one morning, and it sounded good so I thought I’d keep using it,” she said.

She does recount family trips to Cape Cod and Canada as some of her happiest memories, and she still likes to travel as much as possible in her free time.

“Someday, I want to travel to Alaska, see the majestic views and the Northern Lights, possibly on my honeymoon, and preferably, married to Paul McCartney.”

Billow has remained single but said she has no regrets. “I have work I love. I do what I want, I’m independent and self sufficient, and I live close to my family,” she said.

Her family also includes a brother, younger by 18 months, a sister-in-law, Denise, whom Billow describes as “a gift to our family,” a niece, age 4 and a nephew, almost 7, whom she treats as her own children.

“Those kids are my life,” she cheerfully acknowledged. “I would die for those kids. You don’t have to have children to love them, enjoy them and be part of their lives.” [She declined to name the children for this article in respect to their parents’ wishes.] On her nephew’s 1^st birthday, her gift to him was a photo album of 52 pictures that she had taken – one for each week of his life. “I’ll never forget the look of surprise on my brother’s face,” she said. “’You were at our house every week?’ he says. ‘Duh, I said,’”

Billow, who would like to be a professional photographer in her next life, did not set out to be a radio personality. “When I was in high school, if you were female and you didn’t want to be a nurse, homemaker, teacher or secretary, they didn’t know what to do with you. They asked me what I liked. I said, ‘art.’ They said, ‘Well, you should be a nurse, then.’”

Dutifully following directions, Billow became a candy striper and then a nurses’ aide, while in high school. She even enrolled in the four-year nursing program at St. Anselm in New Hampshire. “I flunked logic,” she said, “And I soon realized that good bedside manner wasn’t going to be enough to keep me there.” Since she was young, loved to travel, was not currently enrolled in college and was not really sure what she wanted to do, Billow ended up in the restaurant business, as a waitress and bartender, “following the money.” She worked at resorts in southern Maine, northern Vermont, New York, Florida, and South Carolina but soon tired of the pace, packing and moving every few months. Listening to a favorite radio station out of New Haven, Conn., WPLR, one day, she heard an advertisement for the Connecticut School of Broadcasting.

“I thought, wouldn’t that be the greatest job in the world? So, I went down and auditioned. They loved me and I loved them. They told me I was a natural, so I decided to go for it.”

Her first job was reading the news on WJOY/WQCR, a Burlington, Vt., station, for a year. After training herself to be a DJ, she was awarded the night job on WJOY, playing 45s for four years. WBEC was her second job in radio, first on its 1420 AM station mid-days, and then replacing Rick Beltaire when he moved to WBRK. Simulcasting WBEC AM and ROCK 105 for a year, she then moved to ROCK 105 exclusively. She loves to hear people call it Rock 105 today because “it means they have been with us for a long time.”

She left her radio career briefly in 1989 to sell life insurance, but the economy took a nosedive shortly thereafter, and she went back into radio in Glens Falls and WGBY in Albany, N.Y., until 1991. “My old boss called me in ’91 and said, “We need you, Jo Jo. Come on home.’ Bob Howard owned the stations then, and he made me the program director.”

Other than getting up earlier and feeling less performance anxiety, Billow said her life as a local radio personality has not changed much at WUPE. She loves her work and the freedom the owners give her to be inventive.

Although the show is strictly formatted and largely computerized, she has creative license to fill it up with her own themes, contests, guests and songs. She continues to manage the Web page for WBEC and will soon have a Web page for WUPE, which she will maintain as well. Her responsibilities include being involved in all aspects of commercial production, writing the copy, coordinating the public service announcements, scheduling guests, producing the morning show and always trying to “push the right buttons, even if I seem like a floppy fish some mornings.”

“It helps to have everything planned, written and in place so you know what you’re doing next, but you need to remain flexible because things come up,” she said. “Very important: Always have a Plan B in case things don’t work out the way you thought they were going to.”

At times, even her words do not come out the way she thinks they will. She recounted as one of her most embarrassing moments the day she said, “St. Mary’s will be serving sloppy Jews for lunch” instead of “sloppy Joes.” It was almost as bad, she said as the day of the “Van Incident.” Trying not to laugh, she shared the story.

“It was awful. I had drive the WBEC van to Park Square for ‘picnic in the park’ that day at lunchtime. I had been there awhile and someone said to me, ’Joanne, who’s driving the van?’ Well, I am, of course. I look over and see the van across the street on the lawn of the courthouse – just hanging there on the curb. It was surreal for a moment because I couldn’t figure out how it got over there – across four lanes of highway at high noon, where drivers don’t even stop for pedestrians. I go over and get in, but it’s hung up, so I can’t drive it off the curb, and everybody in the whole courthouse is now hanging out the windows and out on the lawn laughing at me. A cop drives by and yells, ‘Hey! You in the van – hands up.’ I read in the paper the next day, ‘Billow not cited,’ which is when it first occurred to me I could have gotten a ticket for forgetting to put the van in park.”

She remains good-natured, but she does value her privacy. “When you’re in the public eye, no one lets you forget any of your boo boos,” she said.

She hesitates to give advice to people who want a job in radio because of the whirlwind pace at which it seems to be changing. Instead, she offered general advice to everyone:

“Get your degree, just be you, and follow your heart, wherever it leads – radio, brain surgery, being a mommy. Just go for it, and don’t be afraid to change your mind 10 times. The world is your oyster.”

She said she has followed her own advice and feels content with her choices and safe with her “little guardian angel with the cute buns” watching over her.

“We all want to be loved, and with this job, in this community, I feel loved. Who needs a man?” she said, with her familiar laugh. Billow said she still believes the Beatles: “Love is all you need.”

Joe White - Wireman

Published 3-30-06 The Advocate Weekley

A dinosaur guards Joe White’s front door, and 11 rats inhabit his living room. He has piloted a UFO, he rides a 6-foot tall bicycle; and he never leaves home without a pair of pliers and a roll of wire – especially if he’s going to an airport or a doctor’s office.

Clearly, Joe White is not your average Joe.

Or is he? White has lived in Berkshire County since he was born in Pittsfield 46 years ago, and he has worked at Crane & Company for the past 19 years. He owns a home, lives with his girlfriend, Karen, and supports a daughter, Natalie, whom he has raised to be a well-adjusted, productive college student.

White, who describes himself as typically atypical, has over the years, made people laugh, made them think and, on occasion, made them call the police. But he is not a comedian, a teacher or a criminal. He is part artist, part inventor and part practical joker, depending on the day and the perspective of his audience.

White, whose artwork includes life-size mechanical robots that have sold for as much as $1,200, is perhaps best known for his small signature pieces – his “wireman creations.” With 11 feet of copper, steel or bronze wire, a pair of pliers and 23 minutes of spare time, “The Wireman,” can create curiously lifelike 3-inch-tall wire sculptures that resemble human beings.

White said he got his inspiration while waiting to be laid off when the factory he had worked at was getting ready to close more than 20 years ago. With no work to do, and never able to sit quietly, he used a pair of pliers to bend, twist and connect a handful of garbage twist ties into a miniature piece of art that has since evolved into his wiremen – as well as his artistic “calling card.”

“I’m kind of a wire junkie,” he said during a recent interview. “I always have it around in case I get bored. I have pliers at home, at work, in my truck – everywhere I might have to kill time.”

Waiting, something most people find exasperating, has the opposite effect on White. Rather than causing impatience or tension, it provides him with windows of creative opportunities and a way to make a positive connection with people. He has made and given away thousands of wiremen over the years to people from all over the United States as well as Sweden, China, Japan, Ireland, England, Germany and Ukraine. Whether or not he can speak a person’s language, the gift of a wireman has opened the door to friendship.

His passion for wire has, on occasion, though, produced some tense moments. Twisting a wireman together at an airport a few years ago, on his way to Florida, a fellow passenger pointed him out to airport security as a potential terrorist threat.

“They searched me and started going through my briefcase,” he recalled. “I showed them what I was doing and said, ‘Look, man: this kills 20 minutes and I’ll have four wiremen when we land – this is how I spend my time.’ They were cool about it and realized I wasn’t a terrorist.”

He especially likes to leave his wiremen holding his tip at restaurants (if the service has been particularly good), and he will often give them to the parents of children who are particularly well behaved in public.

“If I see kids keeping themselves occupied while mom or dad is busy, I think they should be rewarded for that,” he said.

His childlike enthusiasm still intact, tempered by wry cynicism, White, wiry and loose limbed and somewhat resembling his wiremen creations, recalled his own childhood, noting that while money might have been in short supply, encouragement from his parents and stepfather was always plentiful.

His mother, Jeannette Lampro, a surgical technician who died in 2000, taught him about the natural world and helped him learn to sew when he was 8. His father, Russel White, a 36-year employee of Crane and Company, who died in 1999, taught him the value of hard work and gave him his own space in the backyard to experiment.

“It was my burn zone,” White said. “No matter what I did in my zone, it was OK, and that took the pressure off – I didn’t have to sneak or hide.”

His father did get a little upset, however, when White’s attempt to make a still for moonshine literally blew up, rattling all the windows in the neighborhood.

“I wanted to know how it worked, and no one would tell me,” White said. “My dad just said, ‘Joe, you can’t be blowing up the backyard.’”

He said his stepfather, Ken Lampro, taught him how to think.

“My stepfather never gave me an answer – he always made me figure it out. He said, ‘I could just give you all the answers, but then you’d be a dumbass. The things you learn and the mistakes you make will help you in figuring other stuff out, and eventually, whenever you have a situation, you’ll have a solution down, somewhere.’”

White’s older brother, Kenny, was another story.

“Basically, everything I did was because he told me I couldn’t do it,” White said. “If I wanted a boat, I’d build a boat. If I wanted a five-man bike, I’d build one. Whatever I wanted – if I could figure out how it worked – I could have it.”

He said his younger brother, Ed, was his most willing accomplice – always the first to try out anything he made, no matter how imperfect (or dangerous) it might be.

Once he had mastered land and water vehicles, of course, and like most kids, White wanted to fly.

“We used to jump off the roof with those big picnic table umbrellas, and we found that if you ripped the stitching out of the top and let air flow through, it didn’t rock so bad on the way down.”

All of his experiments with flight were not so successful. As an adult, White built a hang glider and flew it from the high school track at Taconic to the parking lot, where he left it, along with his longing to fly.

“I understood the concept, but I used the wrong kind of cable, so when I yanked the controls, I actually got play in it and nothing happened – I was either diving or stalling, and it kept taking me up higher, and I kept thinking, ‘ I just want to go down like a paper airplane.’”

“Flight,” he admitted, “scares me, but I think maybe I’m going to do it again when I’m 50.”

His next experiment after the hang glider also involved flight, but, lessening the danger to himself, he made his own UFO and flew it while standing on Earth. With black helium balloons and battery-powered flashing lights attached to fishing line, he floated his UFO out into the night sky and reeled it back in. He said even a slight breeze would make it bounce around, simulating the erratic flight of a typical UFO.

Laughing, he said, he listened to his neighbors exclaim, “Look, there it is; here it comes again!” When someone called the police to report the sighting, White said, “The Dalton cops knew who I was and where I lived and to look the other way.”

Admitting to an irrepressible prankster side, White recalled another time the police were called. His daughter, Natalie, helped him create a plaster of Paris model of his head. He covered it in a latex rubber face and set it atop a mannequin, placing it into a kayak (which he also made) that he anchored in the Housatonic River in Dalton. It looked so lifelike that people were not only speaking to it but also believing that it spoke to them. When it wouldn’t answer or move, they became concerned and called the police, who (by now familiar with his work) contacted White.

When he placed the same mannequin and kayak in a pond off the Aushuwillticook bike trail in Cheshire, though, it spoke to people in a different way. Biking on the trail one day with his daughter, White stopped to check on it and was engaged in conversation by a woman jogging by. The jogger, who didn’t realize she was speaking to the creator, asked him what he thought of it. White, interest in the woman’s opinions, told her he thought it was just a guy in a kayak. She explained to him that it wasn’t just a guy in a kayak but water sculpture – and argued its artistic merits to him. With a straight face, he continued to disagree and never did introduce himself.

His favorite art critic, though, was a 3-year-old neighbor, Steven.

“He would come over and check out my work and tell me, ‘I like this one’ or ‘This one is happy’ or, once he asked me, ‘Joe why is your art so dark?’ I could ask him what he thought, and he would never hold back his opinion or worry that I’d get upset. That was the coolest thing.”

Not everyone understands or appreciates White’s artwork.

“Some people call what I do vigilante art, but there’s no right, and no wrong,” he said. “Your art is freedom. You can do it, and if somebody doesn’t like it, they can’t say it’s wrong. You put stuff out just to make people laugh or think. It expands people’s minds. I’ve been told I shouldn’t do that – that it’s not my job. But whose job is it?”

Some of White’s artwork, including his mechanical dinosaur, may be viewed in front of his home on Onota Street in Pittsfield. White himself is easily recognizable by the height of his bicycle, the rat riding on his shoulder or the number of soap bubbles streaming from the exhaust pipe of his pick up truck. He may be contacted at wiremanmaker@aol.com.

Declaration of Writing

When in the throes of writer’s block, it may become necessary for the writer to wade through tears, frustration and despair, and throw away the pages that currently connect them to their reason for living. Take a deep breath (or a large chunk of chocolate), accept the responsibility, and have the courage to let the words go and begin again with nothing but another brilliant idea and a blank sheet of paper.

When a mental writer’s cramp attacks, a writer must learn to set his red pencil down and walk away with dignity intact and temper in check, with the knowledge that tomorrow will be a different day, not everyone is meant to be the next J.K. Rowling, and chocolate might not make you a better writer, but it will make you a happier one. Keeping that in mind, along with a decent respect for the opinions of readers, editors and publishers, requires that writers should declare the causes which compel them to continue putting their words down on paper, in the everlasting hopes that someone someday, somewhere, will read them with at least a modicum of enjoyment, and perhaps, respect.

A writer’s truths are not always self evident or obvious, and all writers are not created equal. Whether they earn millions of loyal fans and dollars, and wallow in perpetual peace and pleasure or just enough to be blissfully happy and fulfilled at the thought of not only keeping baloney in the meat compartment, and toilet paper on the roll, but being paid to give in to their passionate urges on a daily basis, all writers are endowed by their Creator with specific undeniable desires, among them, checks that clear at first deposit, freedom from absentmindedly answering the door in our pajamas at 4 in the afternoon, and the pursuit of publication. To secure these desires, (Publishers are instituted among writers, deriving their powers from the consent of the readers) – that whenever any writer becomes overwhelmed by the process of publication – these writers must alter negative thinking and abolish insecurities, while overcoming the itch to self-flagellate at every rejection, as we scratch out our existence as writers.

Whenever we become self destructive, it will become our responsibility to Institute a policy whereby we are not allowed to visit the refrigerator until we have written at least one page, we shall not ever chat on the phone, file our fingernails, or play solitaire on the computer while we are writing, sneaking peeks at the latest stack of best sellers we picked up at the library, when we were pretending to visit it on the guise of a need to do some research. While laying a foundation of sound and realistic principles and organizing our office space or junk drawer only as a last resort and never to avoid writing. It is not a means to an end but saying what we mean where and when we mean to and to stop being mean to other writers when they are published more often or for more money than we are.

When our mind is as blank as our computer screen, and we need something to drop into it as soon as possible or prior to our next deadline, whichever comes first, we will keep writing through the muck until we find a slice of if not brilliance, at the very least, competence. If the situation becomes desperate, we may go for a walk, listen to music, visit a good friend, read an issue of Writer’s Digest or savor a sliver of really creamy chocolate. We may not sort whites from colors, check out bargains on Ebay, email forwards or watch daytime television.

And if we can write it better, shorter, funnier, or more poignantly, we will keep rewriting it until we do.

Gould Farm: 92 Years of Growing Minds & Matter

“By serving each other we become truly free.” – Carved in stone at the entrance to the Harvest Barn at Gould Farm.

Published September 1, 2005; The Advocate & www.advocateweekly.com

MONTEREY – Of the more than two million farms in operation in the United States today, Gould Farm may be the only one that intentionally cultivates happier, healthier, more productive people along with its produce.

In additional to its fruits and vegetables, Gould Farm harvests hope for the people who come to the farm for help in managing mental illness.

The farm was established in 1912, when William and Agnes Gould bought the property for $4,500. Little of the land seemed to be good for farming, and the house was all but uninhabitable, with a leaking roof, broken windows and no plumbing, telephone, lighting or heating system. But the Goulds, a devoutly religious couple, had faith in their ability to make it work.

Their goal was not only to create, and work, a productive farm, but also to help people with mental illnesses and social challenges become productive members of society by rehabilitating themselves. The Goulds would do this by welcoming those individuals onto their farm and into their home as part of their family. Like any family in the early 1900s, every member would be responsible for the work necessary for simple survival. The secret, the Goulds believed, to revealing and nurturing every individual’s value was first, to trust that it was there, and second to give it the freedom to grow, with physically demanding farm work and, when the work was done, a healthy dose of fun.

Over the next 92 years, their farm grew to 650 acres, and its “family” now consists of 100 or more people living, working and thriving.

The Goulds never had children of their own. The farm’s inhabitants became part of the Gould family, not by lineage, but by living the Goulds’ original dream. The members of the community include paid staff, many of whom have been there for more than 10 years, volunteers, who commit to 12 to 23 months of service in exchange for room, board, health benefits and a small monthly stipend, and guests, who stay from six months to three years and for whom work is part of their therapy.

Follow-up studies, and interviews with former guests indicate a high level of success. A number of similar programs have been established around the country, with guidance from the staff at Gould Farm.

Twenty-three-year-old Ben Kreider, from a small town outside Reading, Pa., has been a volunteer at Gould Farm since November 2004. A graduate of the Indiana University of Pennsylvania, with a degree in psychology, he has committed to one year of service in exchange for something that, to Kreider, defies simple description.

“My friends don’t understand what I’m doing, and I can’t explain it to them,” he said. “You have to experience it to understand it.”

Understanding may be one of the keys that unlock the secrets to Gould Farm’s success. A heartfelt compassion for others is another, and a capacity for physical labor doesn’t hurt either. There are seven work teams on the farm: Forestry and Grounds, Roadside, Harvest Barn, Kitchen, Maintenance, Farm, and Garden. Each of the teams includes staff, volunteers and guests. The members may vary each day, depending on the needs of the guests and the needs of the farm.

“Along with traditional therapy, the focus of the treatment is work, and teaching skills that will help the guests transition back into mainstream society,” Rita Kasky, Gould Farm’s development director, said. “But it isn’t ‘make-work;’ it’s real work to help run the farm, and [at the same time] it builds socialization skills and self esteem.”

The work also provides the majority of food for the people who live at Gould Farm, as well as additional income from its roadside farm stand and the breakfast and lunch service at the roadside store and café.

Mark Murray, who has recently been promoted from volunteer to staff, agreed.

“Physical activities and being out in nature are good for the mind and spirit,” he said. “I think one of the things people struggle with when they have a mental illness is staying active. Here, having hobbies and thinking about something outside of themselves replace passive activities like sleeping a lot or watching too much TV.”

There isn’t much time for passivity on a farm. A typical day for everyone starts at 7:30 a.m. with breakfast in the cavernous dining hall. A morning meeting follows at 8:05 with discussions of the weather, the day’s news, activities and assignments, a brief spiritual reading or poem and a song. The teams then meet individually and get to work at their assigned tasks.

These tasks include caring for the livestock, tending the vegetable and flower gardens, tapping trees for maple syrup, pressing apples for cider, chopping wood, mending equipment and preparing three meals a day for the community’s members. Lunch is from noon to 1, followed by another short meeting. Afternoon work is followed by 4 o’clock teatime (the apple mint tea comes from the farm’s own “tea house,” where it is crumbled and ironed into bags), and free time is from 4:30 to 6, when the cowbell rings everyone to dinner. Being late to dinner is frowned upon but is not usually a problem, since Chef Flavio is just as celebrated for his abilities in the Gould Farm kitchen as he was in his former position at a well-known New York City restaurant.

The farm never lacks for entertaining activities. There are trips to the community center in Great Barrington, theater and concert outings, hikes on the farm’s many trails and bonfires followed by swimming in the farm’s pond (even in the winter, although Kreider said it’s harder to get people to swim in the pond when they have to chip a hole in the ice first). Then it’s group games in the dining hall.

One of the Gould’s original guests, Roma, who has lived at the farm since she was 16, leads a game called Pick.

“She uses Scrabble pieces to make words, and when you’ve used all the letters, you have to make up a story from the words – that’s a fun activity – she’s sharp,” Kreider said of Roma, whom he guessed is 93.

Kreider, who works mainly on the maintenance crew and fills in wherever and whenever needed, said he loves the farming life but will most miss the people of Gould Farm when his one-year stay comes to an end.

“I’ve gotten a better understanding of the challenges people face – not just the guests but the staff and volunteers too – and how hard some things are for people to master,” he said. “Before, I didn’t have much of an understanding of mental illness – some have social issues, and it hurts them to be around people. Our conversations have given me insight: You have to try to talk, even when you don’t feel like it, as a ‘hello’ to deeper issues.”

Gould Farm gained non-profit 501C3 status in 1925 and has an external board of directors. The farm’s executive director of four years, Cate Tower, lives on the property and the original farmhouse serves as administrative staff offices. Although the farm has evolved and changed over the past 92 years, with improved farming methods, more stringent laws and better drugs for schizophrenia and depression, many things have remained the same. Every day brings something to be fed, fixed or funded, and the level of trust and genuine concern for others in the community has not diminished.

“You have guests being taught how to use power tools and doing everything everyone else would do,” Kreider said. “There’s a very high level of trust that things are going to happen correctly or that someone is going to do the right thing in a situation instead of assuming that they’re going to do the wrong things first.”

According to Kasky, there is never a lack of volunteer applications from all over the world. The farm receives referrals from AmeriCorp and Brethren Volunteer Services as well as word of mouth and the Internet.

“A lot of the volunteers come, decide to stay for awhile and apply for staff positions as they become available,” she said.

It isn’t always perfection in paradise, of course. Kasky herself lives away from the farm because she prefers the separation it provides.

“It can be like living in a fishbowl,” she said. “[But] it’s a terrific place to raise kids because they get to experience a variety of people all the time, and the stigma of mental illness is never there. It’s just a problem some people have. We are a very normal community. There are boundaries and rules, just as there are with any community.”

Although the farm operates on a fee-for-service basis, families whose financial resources are limited are not turned away if they are clinically suited for the program. Financial aid is available to families when appropriate.

Both Will Gould, who died in 1925 fighting a fire on the farm, and Agnes Gould, who died in 1958, left not only a farming community but also an ongoing legacy of hope. Their dream remains intact, and the Gould “family” keeps the spirit of the farm and its founders alive every day by living with and “serving each other.”

More information about Gould Farm may be found at www.gouldfarm.org, by writing to Gould Farm, P.O. Box 157, Monterey, MA 01245-0157, or by calling (413) 528-1804.

Lawyer Mom Counts Blessings in Twos So Far

Published in Family Beat by The Advocate Weekly Online, 2006-05-11

"All who would win joy must share it; happiness was born a twin." - Lord Byron (1788-1824)

PITTSFIELD - Alycia SaccoDuquette has two daughters - twins who will turn 2 at the end of this year. She also has two degrees - a master's in business and one in law - as well as two full-time jobs. In about two weeks, though, SaccoDuquette is due to break her pattern of twos in giving birth to her third child.

On a recent early spring day, SaccoDuquette was home from her job as an attorney for Berkshire Life and starting her second job as a mom. Dinner was over, and the sun was shining on a typical scene in the backyard. She rested on a lawn chair as her husband, Christopher Duquette, chased their girls, Jamie and Randi, around the lawn to the tune of squeals and giggles. Randi rolled a ball while Jamie busied herself experimenting with the car keys - accidentally starting the car and setting off the alarm when she discovered the buttons on the remote.

An average day for this working mother of twins starts with the sound of an alarm, too. SaccoDuquette said she tries to wake up before the children to get started on her day - and sometimes that even works. When it doesn't, her husband is there to, as she described it, "tag team" with her, helping with breakfast and dressing the girls while getting ready for his own workday. They are usually out the door by 7:30, and she delivers the girls to daycare.

"Sometimes they're very happy to be there, and sometimes they'd like me to stay," she said. "There another little girl, 8 or 9, who's there before school in the morning, and they love her; so if she's there, it's a much easier transition for me. And then I go to work and try to get a lot of work done in a shorter period of time."

On days that she has to pick up the children, she must leave work at 4:45, even if her work isn't finished, because daycare closes at 5.

There is always a fair amount of guilt involved in being a working mother, but SaccoDuquette said she has begun to come to terms with her feelings: She believes she is more organized and efficient now because her time is more structured, and there is less of it in which to accomplish her goals and duties in both realms. She said she feels equal amounts of guilt both at work and at home, especially because she will be taking a 12-week maternity leave soon.

But, she said, "I think I may be one of those women who is a better mom because I'm working. I truly love them and they light up my life, but if I was with them all the time, I don't know if I would make use of the time as well as I do now. When I'm with them, I'm with them - and thoroughly enjoy it."

She said she and her husband rarely hire babysitters to go out at night because they like to be home to put their children to bed.

At the end of her pregnancy, she is more tired these days, she admitted, and is almost always asleep by 9:30 at night after putting the girls to bed, putting her feet up for 15 minutes, doing some laundry, getting things ready for the next morning and finishing up any work she has brought home.

There are only so many hours in a day, of course, and compromises must be made. Her husband shares the household chores and, she said, "I've treated myself to a housecleaner every other week for the downstairs to take some of the pressure off. Sometimes on weekends, I get some of the upstairs clean, and I say 'sometimes and some of it' because that's how it's been working lately."

She is lucky enough to have an extraordinary amount of support from her family, including her mother, mother-in-law and her Aunt Clara (Sacco).

"My Aunt Clara has been coming over in the afternoon to help get the kids fed and let me do some laundry and that kind of thing - she's been great."

SaccoDuquette appears quite calm and serenely happy, although she knows her life is going to get more hectic soon. But she doesn't believe three children under the age of 2 will be any harder to care for than two.

"My philosophy is, the first few years, I'm going to be tired all the time and it's going to just be chaos, but after that they'll be so close in age that they'll have each other as playmates so it will be easier," she said. "That's my theory anyway."

Her theories are based more on experience than wishful thinking. Growing up as the youngest in a family of 10 children, her favorite childhood memories are the summers when all nine of her siblings were living at home and working together in the family business. She became an aunt for the first time at the age of 8 and said she has always known she wanted children.

Her mother, Katherine Sacco, and her father, retired Judge Rudolph Sacco, owners of Bucksteep Manor (formerly a summer camp) in Washington, still live there and spend as much time as possible with all of their children and grandchildren.

Katherine Sacco said, "My children were my life, and God sure knew what he was doing when he sent me Alycia."

Sacco, who will soon have 18 grandchildren, said she believes it's much harder to raise an only child than it is to raise 10 children.

"If you only have one," she said, "you have to work harder to make sure they take responsibility and care about others, because there is no one else there to show them."

Based on her own experiences with motherhood, SaccoDuquette agreed. Speaking of her own daughters, she said, "When one cries, the other is always very attentive. When we do timeouts, one will be crying and the other will go over and try to soothe her. I like the bond they have."

The girls are fraternal twins, and aside from their closeness, SaccoDuquette noted the differences, not only in looks but in personality.

"If you ask Jamie for a kiss, she'll give you one, whereas Randi is a little more stingy with her kisses. I like that they're different I like that because they're each their own person."

SaccoDuquette, too, has also always tried to be her own person. She did not enter the field of law until her mid 20s and obtained a master's in business at the same time she got her law degree, finishing her education when she was 28. Having her children in her mid 30s, she said she feels her life experiences helped her to be a better mother.

"Having a brother die when I was 14 and a sister who died in a plane crash in Alaska when I was 22 taught me that life throws you curveballs and made me realize you should live in the moment and cherish every moment that you have," she said.

She confided, though, that the reality of motherhood surprised her.

"The love that you feel - there is nothing like it. When they showed me those two little girls, my heart was just overwhelmed. They were beautiful, even though they weren't beautiful - at least not right away. Even now, I sometimes look at them and can't believe they're mine."

Now that she's a mother herself, Sacco-Duquette said, she is more in awe of the job that her own mother did. There are three lawyers, a doctor, a nurse and three business people among her and her siblings.

"I respect and love her even more now that I'm a mom," she said. "I just don't know how she did it, especially now, being pregnant, with little kids. I remember her being there for us no matter what - even with 10 kids - and I don't know how she did that. I've never really asked her, but she said she was always tired till just recently and she's 75 now."

On Mother's Day, there may be dust bunnies under the bed, dishes in the sink and toys scattered on the floor. But neatness doesn't count in the eyes of a child. One more reading of "Good Night Moon," one more toss of the ball, one more dance around the kitchen - that's what counts. And the best Mother's Day gift any mom has ever received doesn't come in a box, but in the arms of a hug from a happy child.

At the heart of High Lawn's herd

Published July, 01 2004 www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate “Patience is the companion of wisdom. — Saint Augustine” LEE — What can people learn from cows? “Patience,” says Lawrence (Mike) Whitman of High Lawn Farm. “Cows wait for their feed. They wait to go out. They wait to come in. They wait to be milked. They chew their cuds and they wait. They’re patient.” So too is this energetic, pleasant dairy farmer, who has lived and worked at High Lawn almost continuously since he was 9 years old. His father, Lawrence Whitman, Sr., went to work for the Wilde family in 1961. Three members of the Wilde family still own High Lawn Farm – William Wilde, Alice Field and Mary Carswell. Mike Whitman is their herd manager, in charge of the breeding, genetics, production, care of the cows, tours of the facility and the crops. Whitman earned a bachelor’s degree in animal science from the University of Massachusetts in 1977 and said during an interview last week that he can’t imagine working or living anywhere else than High Lawn, although, he added, if someone offered him a million dollars to give it all up, “I’d have to think about it.” “There’s no fame or fortune in dairy farming,” he said. “The day normally starts before 4 a.m. It’s hard to find employees and it’s hard to keep them. It’s hard work, and it’s dirty work and it’s not for everyone.” That hard work has its up side, too, he hastened to add. He strolls to work every day, his house being only a few hundred feet from the barns and fields. He’s home for every meal. He has time to spend with his family. His wife, Rosemarie, names the cows and keeps the endless paperwork in order. His sons, Tom, 19, a Berkshire Community College student majoring in business and Rich, 23, a senior and English major at UMass, still help with work in the barns when they’re home. “It was a great place for kids to grow up and I’ve been lucky,” he said. And then there are the cows. “It’s something different every day,” Whitman said. “Cows will always surprise you. Always. Just the other day, I had a cow that wasn’t quite ready to give birth — or so I thought. So, I didn’t bother to put her in the birthing pen. And the next morning, her newborn calf was curled up in the stall next to her mother. Surprise!” According to Whitman, cows are creatures of habit and very social animals and have a “definite pecking order.” Cows that are moved into a new group have to figure out a way to fit in and get along. It isn’t the biggest cow that’s in charge but the bossiest cow, Whiman said, noting that cows are also contrary. “She’ll lean against you. If you push back, she’ll just push you harder. But if you try to pull her closer, she’ll step away,” he said. Whitman said he doesn’t have a favorite cow and declines to choose, as if they are his children. For one reason, he’s afraid of hurting their feelings. “All of them are my favorite cows. I’m a cow person. I love cows,” he said. He does admit to liking Cow Nnumber 269, whose full name is Pointer Sky Cartier — a fittingly regal name for the cow that recently earned a Hall of Fame certificate, which hangs by the front door of the farm’s office. Pointer gave birth to a daughter a few weeks ago. Her name is Gem. “She’s got the same gentle disposition as her mother,” Whitman said proudly. “But 269 isn’t perfect. She’ll push you all around the barn, literally and figuratively, if you let her. She knows that she’s a special cow.” Whitman acknowledged that he talks to the cows. “And they listen,” he said. “Some of them answer. They speak their own language. They can sense you’re talking to them.” For example, he said, “A heifer is a cow that hasn’t had a calf yet. She’s never been milked. After she has her first calf, you have to milk her, and that’s a totally strange sensation to her. Her feet go up and down and she starts dancing and she starts kicking. So you talk, and you whistle and tell her what a good girl she is, and most times she will calm down — which is really good because I really don’t like getting kicked.” He lowered his voice when telling one of the rumored secrets of cows. “It’s said that if you go to the barn at midnight on Christmas Eve, you’ll hear them talk to each other. …But I’ve spent many Christmas Eves in the barn at midnight and so far they’ve been quiet.” Another myth laid to rest: “Cows don’t lay down if it’s going to rain; they wait by the gate to come back in the barn. If they lay down, that means they’re content.” The cows on High Lawn Farm are content in the barn or in the pastures and roam free only by accident. “We don’t want that to happen,” Whitman said. “We have 40 acres of pastureland where we send our pregnant heifers. For the last 60 days of their nine month pregnancies, they’re on vacation. They go and eat grass and generally have a good time — especially when they get out and run on Route 7, which is something we don’t like but they don’t seem to mind. They never wander very far though. They know where home is.” Whitman believes it’s better for the cows and calves to stop milking for the last two months of gestation because that’s when a calf will put on 50 percent of its body size. Calves are bigger and stronger if they receive all of the nutrients instead of sharing them with milk production. After the calves are born, their mothers will remain out of the production line for another eight milkings to make sure they’re back to normal and feeling good. Whitman is also a big believer in exercise for cows. He said some farms keep the cows confined at all times but he feels the cows are happier and produce more and better milk if they’re outside, exposed to fresh air and sunshine on a regular basis. High Lawn Farm is self contained. The farm grows its own feed, breeds, cares for and milks its own cows and pasteurizes, homogenizes and packages its own products. They include butter and milk (regular, light and heavy cream, low fat, skim, whole), cheese, and, the all-time favorite, chocolate milk. High Lawn’s door-to-door deliveries include local businesses, schools, co-ops and private residences from Sheffield to Williamstown, and the farm keeps expanding. It sells wholesale to stores and restaurants from Lee to Boston. The farm is regulated and inspected by the federal government and the state Department of Food and Agriculture. Its current butter-fat level is at 4.6 percent and its protein level at 3.6 percent, one of the highest in the industry. “If there’s ever a problem with our product, the customer knows just where to go,” Whitman said. “They come to the source – to us – and we’ll take care of it.” According to Whitman, “The best part of dairy farming is working with the animals, breeding them, watching them grow up. It’s also the worst part because the reality is, it’s a business. We have 190 stalls in the barn, 100 heifer calves born every year, and we sell a fair number of them. Cows that don’t make the grade have to be culled and have to go to auction and that’s the hardest part.” One of his favorite parts of the job isn’t really part of his job at all, he said. His faces lit up when he described his tour-giving experiences. “Unfortunately, milk isn’t a big deal anymore. There’s too much competition — though no beverage on the market comes close to milk in nutritional value. We have generations of people growing up with no concept of where food comes from, whether it’s dairy or something else.” He said he feels it’s important to the country’s future to change that. There’s no charge for the High Lawn tours — or for its coloring books, created by Whitman and illustrator Elizabeth Cogswell. Children have come back years after their tours, with their own kids, drawn by their memories of High Lawn Farm. Educating them about farm life is a satisfying accomplishment for Whitman. “They remember the chocolate milk, too,” he laughed. Increased environmental awareness, in Whitman’s opinion, will be the driving force behind all agricultural industries for the next 50 years. “Each day, cows eat 80 to 100 pounds of food and drink 25 to 30 gallons of water,” he said. “They make a lot of milk — and they make a lot of mess. As suburbia closes in on farmland, it’s more difficult to take the manure out to the fields and spread it because your neighbors are having a cookout and they don’t really appreciate that {aroma}. We’re always trying to adjust and improve our methods for waste management and disposal.” Manure isn’t the only problem odor. The fermenting process when preparing the feed for the cows can be quite pungent. “If you do it right, it doesn’t smell too bad, but if you do it wrong, everybody in the area knows that you did it wrong today,” Whitman said. New England is one of the hardest, most expensive areas of the country to dairy farm, according to Whitman, but a half-gallon of milk from High Lawn costs just $2.75, delivered. That’s about a dollar more than the price of a half-gallon of Hood in local stores but about 25 cents less than Organic Valley milk at Price Chopper. The math is impressive: Four stomachs per cow times 400 cows plus 100 pounds of food per day per cow on a 1,300-acre farm, with 18 employees and 900 delivery customers — and it all fits into the heart of just one herd manager. So, stressed, irritated or just thirsty? Don’t have a cow. Try visiting High Lawn Farm and pet one instead. And don’t forget the chocolate milk.

Counselor specializes in ‘inner bonding’

Published November 18, 2004 www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate

WASHINGTON — Spiritual counselor and inner bonding facilitator Nancy Swisher believes there are five things people should have in their lives.

"A spiritual connection to ask for guidance and learn from life, a wonderful dog because dogs are angels, a good friend — someone who loves you and understands you, satisfying work and some way to give service to other people."

Swisher, a former college English professor, has a master’s degrees in English writing and in literature. She is writing a creative non-fiction memoir, which is "80 percent finished" and makes her feel about "five years pregnant."

She also lectures and teaches writing seminars in conjunction as a healing tool. Certified in many therapies, including massage, shiatsu and breathing techniques, her current business is mainly spiritual counseling as a certified “inner bonding facilitator,” which she began in 1995.

She did not become interested in holistic healing therapies until the early 1980s, when a friend suggested she move to Kripalu to study some of the then-unconventional therapeutic techniques. The more she learned, the more she realized emotional and mental health interconnected with physical health.

"If you’re lying to your spouse every day, that’s going to manifest into physical symptoms of stress and depression," she said.

Swisher works with people "before they need the anti-depressants."

She explained, "Inner bonding is a psycho-spiritual process created by Dr. Margaret Paul, author of ‘Do I Have to Give Up Me to be Loved by God?’ I work a lot with the inner child. Though an overused term, it is really just the essence you were born with — pure light and joy that knows exactly what they want to do in life."

She is quick to point out that spiritual healing does not necessarily mean a standard form of religion.

"People are sometimes put off by the term ‘God.’ Many of my clients went through some form of abuse when they were children, and when we’re little, we think, ‘if there was really a God, He would stop them. He would keep that from happening.’"

As adults, she said, people may understand on an intellectual level that God could not intervene, but it does not automatically eliminate anger at a supreme being.

Swisher believes that "God" or "spiritual power" is the energy of love and compassion.

“This energy is all around us all the time, but we have to choose to receive it. We create our feelings, which are direct results of our thoughts,” she said. "Feelings are a backlog of our thoughts. Most people don’t catch the thoughts because they’re fast and slippery, like fish, but once we learn how to make those thoughts conscious, we have a lot more freedom to feel good."


She explained, "We choose to be in a place of love or of fear. If we are in our protection place, that’s where all our addictions come in — food, alcohol, worry, yoga — anything can be an addiction if you’re using it to disconnect from what you’re feeling. If we’re feeling really alone, sad, or anxious, which everybody does, there’s a way to use inner bonding to explore that and see how you’re creating that yourself and open to bringing love into that child inside, so to speak. People are fearful because of their survival instinct — what if their guidance tells them to quit their job? It is hard, but your spiritual guidance is not going to tell you to do something that isn’t in your highest good."

She combines her training with her writing seminars to encourage listening, feeling and discovery.

She asks her students, "What do you have to say? What is your truth? What excites you? What are the thoughts you’ve had that nobody else has ever had? That’s what I like people to write."

Her own book, which has a working title of “Umbilicus,” is also about connections, memories and spiritual healing.

"I think that is what we really all want with ourselves and other people — dogs aren’t enough," she said, turning to her black Lab and shepard mix and adding, "Don’t take it personally."

Horton, Swisher’s “angel companion,” rested at her feet throughout her interview and didn’t appear to mind.

One of Swisher’s best human friends lives in Green Bay, Wis. They conduct seminars together as a way to stay connected. She and a friend in Florida, who is also writing a memoir, stay in touch with and through their writing, keeping each other “on track.”

However, the most important thing in her life, she said, is her inner bonding work, and she has combined her knowledge with a career to provide a unique and useful service to others.

"I think the most important thing is to be honest with what I know to be my purpose,” she said. “Your sole purpose — and everyone has one — is what you’re here on the planet to do. I think if you choose healing, the universe supports you. You won’t be homeless. Everyone has their own path. I can’t say what anyone else should do. I don’t have a magic wand to make people open. If I did, I’d travel around the world and use it."

She added, "Don’t avoid your fear. If you’re avoiding your fear, you’re also avoiding your joy because all feelings are in the same box. I believe in feeling it all — the good, the bad and the ugly."

Swisher suggests people should eliminate judgment and resentment from their lives.

"That’s not easy," she said, "I would judge myself and other people, and judgment is almost the exact opposite of love. You can’t do both at the same time."

Swisher still judges herself at times, as a worrier and a procrastinator. Pointing to Horton, she said, "Horton never worries. He’s my role model."

Horton stretched and yawned. His inner child appeared to be perfectly balanced and content. He is one of many teachers in Swisher’s life. Her first teacher was her aunt.

"Aunt Margaret was labeled ‘retarded,’ but Aunt Margaret loved me,” she said. “She would ooh and ahh over me whenever I went to visit her — the way I am with Horton. How do I know how to love? Aunt Margaret taught me. And her spirit teaches me every day."