Writers 4 Rent

Writers 4 Rent: AN ARTISTIC STATE OF BEING

2010-12-23T13:05:00.000-05:00

Writers 4 Rent: AN ARTISTIC STATE OF BEING

AN ARTISTIC STATE OF BEING

2010-12-23T12:49:00.002-05:00

”Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.” Pablo Picasso

Brenda Leitow doesn’t climb mountains or go deep sea diving. She doesn’t live in a penthouse or a basement. She isn’t an elevator operator or an astronaut or a coal miner. Brenda Leitow is, however, a full time artist, with all the highs, the lows, the ups and the downs that might entail. Leitow’s talent lies in taking something as mundane as a box of pasta, an empty picture frame, or objects others discard, to create harmony, beauty and order while living a life that has, at times, felt overwhelmingly unbalanced and chaotic through no fault of her own.

Though she describes herself as a “typical, self-centered artist,” she also admits that her main goal is to bring her art to others, making it matter and mean as much to them as it does to her. Some of her art may seem mysterious, but she won’t make you guess where she took a photograph, how she arranged it, what it represents, how long it took her or even how she felt and what she was thinking at the time. She writes narratives for most of her works. When she doesn’t write a story, people will often ask, “where is the story?”

In spite of her artistic successes, she has long struggled with what it means to be an artist. “In the mid-west, in Grand Rapids, MI, being an artist is like being oh, I don't know, a hooker or something. It's just something one does not be. An artist has no work ethic. An artist has no morals. An artist is lazy. It's wrong and bad to be an artist. Dirty word. At least that's how it felt to me.” All that changed in the past year, however, when Leitow decided she just didn’t have time to worry about the opinions of others. “I am who I am and who I am is an artist and I don’t care who approves or disapproves.”

Leitow, the sixth of seven children, and the youngest daughter in her family, has never been one to seek approval in traditional ways. “I wanted to be a brain surgeon. I had dolls when I was little, but the only thing they were good for was operating on.” As a teen, she would raid her mother’s kitchen cupboards for food that looked interesting, not to snack on, but to create a piece of art. Though painfully shy, she could be fearless and stubborn when she wanted (or didn’t want) something. There is a photo of her toddler self, standing by a stump at a restaurant. Headed home from camping, her family had stopped to eat, a “rare treat” for a family of nine. Leitow had decided that she preferred to stay. The familiar parental line, “We’ll just have to leave you behind,” strikes fear into the hearts of most children. Leitow, however, just smiled and waved good-bye to her family. She still isn’t sure how they persuaded her to get in the car to go home, but she distinctly remembers screaming and crying and being dragged out of the car to go to school in third grade. She loathed school, but eventually went to college to earn two degrees – in liberal arts and biology.

Leitow’s fondest childhood memories are of simplicity – nature walks, living in a town so small it was often necessary to back up when you met another car on the roads, and camping with her family in the north woods of Michigan and. “After raking leaves all day, we’d be tired, but we were all together, not running around; just sitting quietly with our parents, sipping hot chocolate on a cold November evening. That was solace. Safe and warm.”

Those memories and subsequent love of nature, Leitow believes, provide much of the inspiration for her art. Discovering, requesting, collecting, examining, touching, arranging, rearranging (and rearranging again) her assorted pieces of nature, allows Leitow to forget herself for a time and “just be.” Though some of her pieces may look simple, it always takes her days and often weeks, to create an intricate design that an unexpected breeze might sweep away in seconds. That simplicity can be complicated is apparent in most of Leitow’s works.

The quest to make her artistic ideas a reality on an almost daily basis is also Leitow’s way of “keeping her balance.” “When I'm creating, collage, photograph, writing my little narratives that go with my photos, I can just be. Be. Not be me. Not be a daughter. Not be a photographer or artist even. I don't need air. I don't need sound. I don't need anything. I don't NEED to be. I just ‘be.’ There is no other word for it. It's mine. My word. My state. Be.”

That suspended state of being is important because it allows Leitow to step outside of her rigid daily schedule. She uses several alarm clocks and phone call reminders so that she will remember when to eat, sleep and take her medications at the same times every day, every few hours, every day, each week, month after month and year after year. She does this not only for herself, but also out of concern for the people in her life. “This illness is never so much about what it does to me as an artist, as what it does to those around me when I do not adhere to the program.”

Brenda Leitow is not bipolar. But Brenda Leitow has bipolar disorder. Her disorder may dictate her schedule, but she does not allow the disorder to dictate her life. “…I would like to help educate people about this illness and help them understand that it IS an illness, not ‘willful acts of disobedience and wanton acts of cruelty’ or however that goes. It’s not that.”

It is estimated that bipolar disorder affects more than 5 million Americans - one out of every 45 adults. Though a correlation between creativity and bipolar has not yet been scientifically established, it is often observed and noted by those in the mental health community. Vincent Van Gogh, Winston Churchill, Mark Twain, and Abraham Lincoln may have all had bipolar disorder. Leitow agreed that her manic phases often seemed to magnify creativity and boost productivity. But, she admits, when the quantity of work increased, the quality declined.

About to turn 50, Leitow said it has taken her a long time to come to terms with her illness and the limitations it places on her. She used to be a habitual reader and is still an avid book collector, but cannot concentrate long enough to read more than a page or two at a time now. She does volunteer work when she can, but her strict health regimen prevents her from working a regular full-time job. She has had to learn to overcome her attraction to what may feel like an incredible high so she can avoid the inevitable crash. Her daily mantra has evolved, keeping misery at bay; "Here's what I can do TODAY.”

Once her camera battery is charged and her meds and meals are out of the way, Leitow can focus on her photography, editing her photographs, and, at the end of the day, putting her florist’s leftovers and or her cupboards’ contents into artistic order. The designs she creates with these objects, however, are never the intended work of art, Leitow said. The photographs of the arrangements are always the intention and the end piece of work. She expects that her creations will not be perfect on the first try. It may be lopsided, or top-heavy, or the camera angle may cause it to look distorted. Her inability to create perfection quickly, however, never bothers her or keeps her from continuing the work until it is, to her, “just right.”

Life, she said, is quiet and fulfilling these days. When she isn’t working, a rare occurrence, her sense of stability can be restored by concentrating on the simple, important things – remembering to laugh at her mistakes, holding Lily (the cat who thinks she’s a dog), wrapping up in a warm afghan her sister made, watching a good movie and, of course, avoiding housework.

Her advice to other artists is simple as well, “Never quit. Listen to your breathing, not your thoughts. If you have quit, your instincts will tell you when it's time to start again. While you wait, just BE.”

Her three favorite works are:

Painting in Texture
“This was my first venture into "still life" collage. The intended final work of art is always the photograph. To me, for some reason, the things always feel like they are living and breathing. I feel especially so about this one. I guess because they evolve so much as they change and grow. I suppose they are like children in the way that we can mold and set examples for them but they always are going to be what they are going to be. Photographs, well, I have a LOT more control about that final piece.”

I Heart You
“This image comes from a macro photo of a ruffled petunia. I often find little gifts when I do that. I did not see the heart in this photo until I pulled it up on the computer to edit it. One of those really wonderful surprises I get when I take the time to look more closely at a frame. One of the reasons I spend so much time editing. That's a good 4-6 hours each day too. Boy is my house dirty!”

Moody Leaf
“This last shot is very, very different from the others. It's the first shot I published that gave a clue to the dark side of Brenda. As you can see the whole shot is very dark and does not show well at all. but what you do see, I hope, is the subtle light illuminating the edge along the leaf and the bright light emanating from the water droplet at the leafs' tip. I struggled for a long time over whether or not to publish this, but finally decided I was ready.”

You can read more about these works by visiting Leitow’s ImageKind or Fine Art gallery or clicking on the links.

"Saving" the World - One Photo at a Time

2010-08-28T06:00:00.005-04:00

Photo by Amanda Hutchins

Jean Blann Hutchins would never describe herself as an artist. As a child, Hutchins did, however, aspire to saving the world. She planned to start her ambitious campaign by running an orphanage for children and animals. As she got older, she became more realistic, studying psychology and earning a Master degree as a social worker. Ironically, while Hutchins found the lack of creativity within a government run mental health agency frustrating and far too limiting, she had considered herself “very uncreative,” until she discovered a passion for photography a few years ago.

“My mom always amazed me with being able to create beautifully with every type of art and craft. I hate arts and crafts,” Hutchins confessed in a recent interview. “Taking photos, talking to other people about how to showcase them best and playing with them in Photoshop has taught me that I am creative, which I never believed before.”

A blonde, native southern Californian, Hutchins says that she’s too introverted to be labeled a true “California Girl,” but admits her temperament perfectly matches the temperate weather, and she’d never want to live anywhere temperatures dipped below 64 degrees. Much like the weather, Hutchins was always calm and easygoing. “Most of my life I was pretty unemotional and sort of glided through without examining feelings. I think I always considered it a sort of strength to not feel or show feeling too much.”

Although Hutchins thinks that her stoicism has made her more empathetic and diplomatic, she recently felt a need to work toward changing the way she deals with her emotions. Whether it was the aperture setting of her camera’s shutter or her exposure to the on-line artistic community, or both, Hutchins has been successful reconnecting to herself through her photography. Self-examination and feeling more deeply can be uncomfortable and “not always fun,” she says. The pure act of taking photographs and playing with them, however, is nothing but fun. “It's the act of getting lost in the playing that's so cool because, as an adult, we just don't make excuses to do that enough.”

She makes no excuses for her new-found artistic passion, though and feels that there will always be so much more to learn she will never tire of it. “Besides the peace and excitement I feel in taking photos and playing with them in editing, the best part of my new ‘artistic experience’ has been the people I've met. I've been amazed, humbled and grateful for very special people I've met from all over the world who have been so encouraging and have turned into great friends!

Friendship hasn’t always come easily to a shy Hutchins, but it lasts. Her best friend, Hai-Ping Hwang-Twigg, says, “I have known Jean since we were in 1st grade where we were in the same class and I said hi to her at the drinking fountain in the classroom and she did not speak at all and turned around and walked away.” Hutchins, who acknowledges a poor memory, does not recall this event at all and says, “I don’t remember such a thing, but figure if it happened, she probably just scared the crap out of me.” They both agree they are total opposites, Jean being the “quiet, thoughtful thinker,” according to Hwang-Twigg and Hai Ping being a “total drama queen, saying anything to anyone and not giving it a second thought,” according to Hutchins. Opposites or not, they both agree that the common language of their friendship has always been the ability to laugh at themselves and one another.

Hutchins has become less shy over the years, especially since her children were born. “I learned that you have to jump in and take charge sometimes when nothing’s getting done, whether you want to or not.” Her daughter, Amanda, is now 16 and her son Kyle is 12. They not only make sure she gets things done, they, too, laugh together on a regular basis.

“Two things that are very important to me in dealing with the world and that I wish I saw other people enjoy more are humor and acceptance. If we can't laugh at life's oddities, what a dull existence!”

Life with children and a camera are anything but dull. She and her daughter still giggle regularly about a little side-trip Hutchins took during last summer’s family vacation. Hutchins was just as excited about her new DSLR camera as she was about being on vacation. “We were walking near the Spokane River, and I fell on my butt and slid a little on an embankment and my daughter found it hilarious and always says it was the best memory of the trip.” Every time she brings it up, Hutchins laughs and reminds Amanda, “but I saved the camera,” which was fortunate since it gave Hutchins her new profile picture (courtesy of Amanda Hutchins), not to mention 1100 new photos to play with from this year’s family vacation in New York City.

With so many photographs to choose from, Hutchins had a hard time selecting just three of her favorites, especially since she dislikes the number three, because, she says, “I'm a square, not a triangle; hoping to evolve into a cube some day. Wouldn't that be nice - to be three-dimensional?” Her current favorites are:

We’re All Blue: “I like how this turned out with color and depth. I tend to be drawn to flowers and do a lot of macro shots, then get tired of seeing only flowers, and try to shoot other things and end up back at flowers.”

Dragonfly Silhouette: “I love silhouettes and loved my recent afternoon chasing dragonflies in a park all by myself - just got lost in the experience.” In Japan, dragonflies are symbols of courage, strength, and happiness, and for some Native American tribes, they represent swiftness and activity. It isn’t easy to capture a photograph of a dragonfly, but perhaps Hutchins’s success can be attributed to some new-found self-awareness: “I feel like I quietly tend to move in my own direction. I really don't want to move with the crowd. Not that I'm a rebel and want to move against them, [I] just want to wander around in whatever way feels right to me at the moment.”

Close-up and Personal: “This one I like because of how it turned out through Photoshop with contrasting and sharpening and whatever else I did to it. (I really should keep track of these things somehow.)”

Because Hutchins still attributes the term, “aspiring artist” to herself, she was reluctant to give advice to others. She did, however offer this belief, “I believe in good. I have faith in the power of beauty and nature and the energy will, and passion that people put into the world.”

The power of creating should never be underestimated. Photography has “saved” Jean Hutchins in some ways. Maybe she’ll have time for the world when the memory card is full.

See more of Jean's work at:

http://www.redbubble.com/people/photojeanic

http://www.imagekind.com/MemberProfile.aspx?MID=f89b2edd-7a0a-4a6b-87cc-851483c8fc1e

http://jean-hutchins.artistwebsites.com/

2010-08-25T14:19:00.004-04:00

You’ve probably heard it before – “It’s the little things that make us happy – the little things that really matter.” Rodgers and Hammerstein liked, “'raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens.” Oprah didn’t seem to have any favorite things last year, but in 2008, she liked gratitude boxes, swap parties and hot chocolate cones. There are millions of favorite things lists, blogs, websites, stores and surveys. If you’re having trouble thinking of your own favorite things, Google “favorite things” and you’ll get 242,000,000 ideas in .14 seconds. Your favorite things might be quite different from Oprah’s, Google’s, Rodgers’ or Hammerstein’s, but I bet your favorite things – the things that make you happiest – aren’t “things” at all. If you’re perpetually searching for happiness, start with the littlest thing - make a simple “favorite things” list of your own.

These are some of my favorite things – what’re yours?

Seeing my daughter smile (the real one – not the “would you stop with the camera” smile) and hearing her laugh because it always makes me laugh even when I have no idea what’s so funny.

Seventy pounds of yellow lab grand-puppy sleeping in my lap. (It’s almost the only time I see her being good).

When three year olds ask me to color with them.

Hugs.

A rainy day, a bag of popcorn, and nothing to do but watch a good movie.

Babies – holding them when they’re happy and giving them back to their moms when they’re not.

Making someone laugh and laughing at myself.

Clean white sheets dried on the clothesline.

Email from people I know that doesn’t have “FW” in the subject line and real mail that isn’t a bill.

Watching my brother’s kids get along (probably because he and I never did).

Opening a new bar of soap.

Cold pizza for breakfast.

Hot chocolate, warm coffee and cold margaritas on hot days.

Bonfires, electric blankets, wool socks, and too big sweatshirts.

Finding money I forgot I had (and I wish it happened more often).

When my jeans start to feel too loose.

The smell of my own pillow.

When strangers smile at me for no reason (as long as they’re not too strange).

Looking through old photo albums with my grandmother (who remembers everything).

Old songs and new books.

Really listening, without needing to figure out what I’m going to say.

Dinner guests (and, no, not just because I won’t have to eat leftovers).

Organizing anything (closets, cupboards, other people’s medicine chests, parties, desk drawers, refrigerators, glove compartments, store counters, library shelves, people).

Long walks in new places.

Falling asleep on the couch every Sunday during the race (it’s the one time I never feel guilty about it).

Restful nights and good hair days.

People who listen.

Christmas cactus that bloom in October.

Honey crisp apples.

Riding (boats, bikes, planes, trains, cars).

Rocking chairs.

Taking pictures and then playing with them until they turn into something completely different and mostly unexpected.

Inventing life stories for people I don’t know.

Getting a compliment (even if I don’t believe it).

Shoes.

Christmas trees and lights that aren’t tangled.

The smell of baking bread, or cookies, or turkey, or anything that I’m not in charge of cooking.

Summer thunderstorms & winter blizzards when I don’t have to go anywhere.

Falling asleep in the sun while floating in the pool.

A book you can’t put down.

Finding clothes I love that come in every color (so I won’t have to shop as often).

Playing dominoes (even when I lose).

Finishing something I started (especially if I thought it would never get done).

Catching the biggest bullhead (but only if I don’t have to take it off the hook. That’s a catfish for some of you.)

Friends who let you bitch and friends who tell you the truth (even if you don’t want to hear it)

Front porches.

Three day weekends.

Peppermint ice cream.

Asking questions.

Writing lists.

Please share your own favorite things list. I'd love to know. See #49

Living the Dream

2010-08-09T12:02:00.004-04:00

Richard Rizzo

If you’re like most people, last night’s dreams have dissipated before your morning coffee has cooled. Richard Rizzo is not like most people. His dreams remain vivid long after the coffee pot is empty and, from six hours to four days later, have been transferred from his memory to his computer’s, visually accessible to anyone with an internet connection. From the whimsical to the mysterious to the majestic, Rizzo’s art speaks for him, which is lucky, because, also unlike most of the rest of us, Rizzo doesn’t like to talk about himself if he can avoid it.

Born in NY, raised in Connecticut, and now living in Florida, Rizzo is the youngest of four children and is fiercely loyal to and protective of his family. Trips to New York City’s art exhibits and museums with his oldest sister were not only among his first experiences with art, they were also some of his favorite childhood memories. His favorite photographer has always been Ansel Adams, but DaVinci wins in his art and design category while Alexander Calder is his favorite sculptor.

For as long as he can remember, Rizzo wanted to be an artist and feels fortunate to have worked in the field of art and design most of his life, fulfilling his childhood dream. Self-employed for the past 20+ years, he worked in some capacity within the artistic community; from assistant to commercial photographers and film developer, set designer and back drop painter, to faux finisher, which eventually led to his own mural business. He was only 17 when hired to paint his first mural and counts that as one of his proudest accomplishments.

Self-taught, with little formal training other than a few photography classes, Rizzo says, “Designing, which plays a large role in my images, was developed throughout the years by self studying cinema, photography, ad designs, interior design and just about anything else you can think of.”

He was introduced to Adobe Photo Shop long before it became popular as a photo editing program and, if forced to choose only one artistic program, would choose it first today, with Corel Paintshop Pro Photo coming in a close second. Although it wasn’t until 2003 that Rizzo began using Photo Shop in earnest, he feels his first introduction to the program was at least partially responsible for his progression from photography and painting to his affinity for creating digital two and three dimensional works of art.

When asked, he generously shares the creative process and the frustration for his work, “Just Dessert.” “The key to any realistic 3D image lies in the lighting much like photography; only with 3D there seems to be fewer choices for making it look realistic. [In Just Dessert], the fruit and tree are models, the table is a basic shape with a texture, the water is made from within the program. I used PS to for post effects and tweaking.” He is willing and eager to try any digital art program available and the “technical side of my brain,” he says, helps him master the programs.

Describing himself as “friendly, but private” he most often prefers his own world to the one that the rest of us inhabit. “I get on FaceBook because it’s a great way for me to be social without being too social,” he says, laughing. His current companions and roommates are low maintenance best friends. Scout is a two year old Beagle who likes to shred his toys before he buries them, and Kody is an Akita mix who doubles as an alarm clock, waking Rizzo promptly at 4 a.m. every morning. Rizzo calls both of them “rescue” dogs, but it’s unclear whether he’s referring to the dogs or to himself. The tranquility of the small town he lives in fits his personality perfectly, yet he travels extensively looking for the next “beautifulest” place where he can exercise his photography skills. He still shoots with film at times, using his Pentax K1000, an “expensive, yet tough workhorse,” but has a Nikon Coolpix 8800 digital that he would eventually like to upgrade.

His current favorite place for taking photographs was Glacier National Park in Montana, bordering Canada. He poetically (and rather wistfully) describes it, “The majestic mountains and wilderness that covers the area left me in awe as I traveled the road around the park, the abundance of wildlife seem to be everywhere I went, the twisting roads and tunnels carved through the rock during the early 20th century was an amazing feat of early engineering. Meadows and streams were apparent surrounding the wall of glaciers while the piercing suns god rays blessed it for all eyes to see. My time there was very short but I could have easily spent weeks there photographing the area and still not have seen it all; to me it was heaven on earth.”

Although unique in many ways, Rizzo does share the important qualities and concerns of artists and people in general. He dislikes self promotion, crowded places and people who don’t use their signals. He admits to using art as therapy and worries about “dry spells” when his imagination and mood won’t cooperate with his desire to create. And he is his own harshest critic, yet has a hard time choosing his favorite works because, as he confesses, they are all “a piece of me, somehow.” He was, after much hesitation, able to choose three of his current favorites, and explain what each meant to him. All three may be seen by clicking the title links or at Fine Art America’s website: http://www.faa.com/, searching “Richard Rizzo.”

Richard Rizzo Favorites:
“Strange Afternoon simply because it is totally different from anything I have done to date. Obscured Relations is one that I did while in an abstract mood. And for my third I would pick Driving Wheels, which shows the greased gears of a steam locomotive. I was always fascinated with trains. One of my favorite memories is my dad taking me down to the Railroad depot in my hometown and watching the trains go by for hours at a time.”

Rizzo says he has no idea where his art will take him or where he’ll end up and doesn’t like to plan too far ahead. “I’m just along for the ride,” he smiles. Oh, and if you think to ask, he would choose the red pill.

Links:
http://fineartamerica.com/featured/obscured-relations-richard-rizzo.html
http://fineartamerica.com/featured/strange-afternoon-richard-rizzo.html
http://fineartamerica.com/featured/driving-wheels-richard-rizzo.html

Scott Hovind Art

2010-07-24T08:16:00.005-04:00

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” Pablo Picasso (1881 - 1973)

If you’ve ever longed to hop a freight train, cried at the sight of an old rocking chair, or had an inexplicable urge to pet a tiger, then you’ve probably encountered the work of photographer, Scott Hovind. Taking his first picture of a truck sailing through the air when he was 18, he was fascinated by the illusion of clarity in the photograph that the truck was standing still and the whole world was speeding by. Ironically, that illusion could have been a metaphor for his life up to that point. “My family could be a Jerry Springer episode,” he jokes. Photographic amazement aside, it was more than ten years before he picked up a camera again. At eighteen, he had decided it was time to grow up. Making a living with a camera was the last thing on his mind. A typical teenage boy, he was more interested in driving trucks, joining the military and girls, not necessarily in that order. Not so typically, he was also interested in avoiding binge drinking, ending up in prison or dead and finding a place where he felt at home.

Joining the Army National Guard at 18, Hovind’s step brother, a Guardsman himself, gave him some sage advice to get through basic training: “Don’t ever let them know your name. The drill instructors will take the first few names they learn and those will be the only names they use for the whole cycle. So don’t ever stand in the front but never hide in the back either. Don’t ask a lot of stupid questions unless you absolutely can’t figure it out for yourself. Don’t be the fastest, don’t be the slowest, don’t be the strongest, don’t be the weakest, don’t raise your hand to answer questions. If nobody else knows the answer, then neither do you and, last, but not least, for God’s sake, never volunteer for anything.” Hovind followed these rules to perfection and, as a reward for his basic training success, he and his fellow soldiers were to take a three day test of their skills, followed by 20 mile hike back to the barracks, carrying a 50 lb backpack and an M-16. Hovind watched other guys drop out and get driven back to the barracks one by one, but he refused to drop out even after twisting his ankle multiple times and feeling a “pop,” determined not to give up and ride back to the barracks. He needed to prove to himself that he had the heart to finish this task. The very last task, of course, would prove more difficult. Hovind knew that he would not be allowed to graduate if he was injured, but would need to repeat the grueling eight weeks of basic training a second time. That wasn’t, he told himself, an option. To pass the final PT test, he ran two miles in 13 minutes with what he would later find out was a broken foot. He not only graduated, he marched in the ceremony and was asked by one of his drill instructors to be an usher at the ceremony. The instructor didn’t even know his name – rule number one – mission accomplished.

Once Hovind finished his basic training, he held a series of physically demanding jobs, most of which he enjoyed and which utilized the skills he’d learned, continued his service in the Guard, met friends on the weekends, met a girl, married the girl and had a son. He laughs when he recalls the big event or series of events. “I was getting ready to leave work one morning when Kristi (his wife) called saying that she was in labor. I raced home and got a speeding ticket. And it was false labor. One week later, I was leaving work and Kristi called saying she was in labor. So I raced home and got yet another speeding ticket. False labor again. Now it’s a race to see if she can give birth before I lose my driver’s license.” The birth itself was a major event that started on April Fools’ Day and ended at 12:15 on April 2. His son, Kenny, is a teenager now and learning to play the guitar. “He’ll ask me to sing with him and thinks it’s cool when I sing Metallica ballads.” Kenny was in the photograph featured in Hovind’s ImageKind gallery and he was also in one of the shots that he recently sold.

Currently, Hovind is single and “not looking,” working full time as a yard switcher and pursuing his passion for photography every other spare minute. He regularly skips sleep to work on the promotion end of his business – his least favorite and the most time consuming part of his photography business. But the only difference, he believes, between a good artist and a great artist is “attitude.” “A great artist is confident in his work and is always willing to teach, share and allow others to enjoy their art. They don’t create art seeing dollar signs or expecting to get rich.”

He believes that not only his sense of humor, but his creative streak, comes from his dad or his “Pops,” as he affectionately calls the man whose most recent creations include wooden bowls from wood he grows on his own property. He tries to visit his “Pops” at least once a year. Among their traditions are visits to Walter the giant bass who “lives in his pond and likes to eat frogs and dog food, but not fish because fish are friends,” and about 25 apple trees around the property. “We always make a round to all of them every year because they are all so different. Some are as sour as lemons. No sweetness at all. Some are all sweet. No tartness at all. Some are pears in disguise.” His pleasure in this variety, the appeal of the natural world and love of tradition is also reflected in many of his works, all of which were taken in Michigan. “A camera in my hand makes me tune everything out, and it’s just me and my camera and nature or whatever else I might be shooting at the moment. Nothing else exists. Not the people around me, not the bills at home. It’s a sense of adventure, an exploratory mood. Every shot is a scavenger hunt.”

While photography is his passion, it’s also his sanity break. “I have yet to get overwhelmed by the creative process of taking a good photograph. I’m frustrated easily by people not by photography. I get frustrated with cooking, baking, singing, and computers but never with photography or storytelling. With writing, once I get past the first sentence, the rest comes pouring out. With photography, I don’t know. I’m just at peace I guess, nothing to get frustrated with.”

He describes himself as determined and helpful and admits he has high expectations, not only of himself but of others, disliking bullies and “when people make excuses and don’t keep their promises.” He has promised himself to continue learning – about photography, American history and historical places – anything interesting and all in the pursuit of the next great shot that might “make the whole world stand still.”

Among Hovind’s favorite works, which reveal the essence of his passion for combining photography, tradition and history are: Old West, Missing Grandpa, and Day School Gems and may be seen at his Fine Art America Website

July 21 is National Get Out of the Doghouse Day

2009-06-26T13:38:00.006-04:00

Are you in the doghouse?

Did something dumb? Mean? Thoughtless?

Do you truly want to be forgiven?
Do you want to kiss and make up?
Does Fido want his house back?

Writers 4 Rent wants to help you write your apology letter.

Call us today and sleep flea-free tonight. (413) 281-0946

www.writers4rent.com

In honor of Independence Day, all apology letters will be $17.76.

June - Effective Communications Month

2009-06-10T08:26:00.001-04:00

June is also the traditional month for weddings. Maybe you're still looking for that special someone? If you are, Writers 4 Rent would like to help. We love a good love story, especially the ones with happy endings.

We believe there’s a special someone for everyone and we want to help you find yours.

Lose the ineffective writing style
Find your soul mate

Not sure who you really are? Writers 4 Rent will take the time to help you discover the real you and write (or improve) your personal introduction for the on-line forum you use to meet people.

Please visit our “Contact” page for our telephone number and email address. We’re looking forward to hearing from you!.

Don’t forget – We accept Berkshares, and, for the month of June, we’re discounting your writing project by 10% - that’s a 20% total savings!

More days to remember in June:

Pen Pal Day June 1
Writer to Your Father Day 8
Family History Day 14
Father’s Day June 21

No Fooling

2009-04-02T06:15:00.005-04:00

Writers 4 Rent April Special:

There are plenty of things to celebrate in April – Easter, Passover, Patriot’s Day, Secretaries’ Day, and Husband Appreciation Day (yes, really; it’s April 19th this year) and Writers 4 Rent would like to help you celebrate them all in honor of Get to Know Your Customer Day April 17th.

Send us an email answering a short, fun questionnaire here or at our blog and get a $20 gift certificate toward your next writing project. You can use it yourself or give it as a gift. There are no wrong answers, but we might make you think.

All answers are confidential. We promise not to blackmail you, or laugh at you (with you, yes, but never at you) and we never, ever sell any information to anyone even when they beg, threaten and/or whine.

Questionnaire:

Describe yourself with one word (okay, two)

How old are you?
How old do you feel?

What is your favorite color combination?
What is your favorite expression?

Describe the most perfect day you ever had.
Describe your favorite person.

What vegetable do you hate the most? Why?
If you could be any vegetable, which one would it be? Why?

How old were you when you stopped believing in the tooth fairy?

What is the best April Fool’s Day joke you ever played on anyone?

What is the best April Fool’s Day joke you ever had played on you?
Are you still speaking to that fool?

When is the last time you got a letter? (Yes, we mean in the mail)

Do you save your letters?

When is the last time you wrote a letter?

What type of letter do you have the most trouble writing?

Please include your name and address so that we can send your gift certificate to you. We promise not to send you any more mail, ever, unless you ask us to.
Please note: To be fair to everyone, all answers must be complete in order to qualify for your $20 gift certificate.

Our email address:
nofooling@writers4rent.com

Need a laugh?

2009-03-23T20:55:00.001-04:00

Visit:
Deflocked - Funny, not fluffy....

March Special

2009-03-19T12:59:00.001-04:00

Writers 4 Rent is Honoring National Write a Letter of Appreciation Week, March 1-7.

Because we at Writers 4 Rent believe that you can never say thank you too much, in too many ways to too many people on too many days, we are thanking our customers with a thank you letter special in the month of March. Who do you need to thank this month?

Who’s always there to listen? Who do you usually take for granted? Your best friend? Your neediest friend? Your “always there when you need her” neighbor?

Who’s done you special favors, and is always there to help, expecting nothing in return? Your spouse? One of your in-laws? A parent or grandparent? Your favorite cousin?

Who makes you look good at work? Your co-workers, your boss, your secretary?

Who makes your life run more smoothly? Your hairdresser, doctor, lawyer, special teacher, librarian babysitter, minister, mechanic or delivery person?

Who’s watching out for your interests? Who’s done something especially noteworthy or selfless? Thank your president, your state rep, your mayor or someone in the military.

Who has the most thankless job? The newspaper editor, a favorite author, the waitress who remembers the way you like your coffee, the store owner who always remembers to smile or the guys who pick up your trash every week.

Who’s gone out of their way to do something nice for you lately? Return the favor and surprise them with a heartfelt letter of thanks.

For the month of March, Writers 4 Rent will help you write your special, heartfelt thank you letter for $17, including one edit or two thank you letters for $25 and, if you’re especially grateful (or have been procrastinating forever) three thank you letters for $30.

Thank you letter (Example #2)

2009-03-16T19:02:00.006-04:00

March 15, 2006

Dear Class of 2005 –

The daily trudge to the mailbox was always just another chore to be avoided for as long as possible. So when we recently opened an envelope with a $500 Home Depot gift card, we were shocked. Truthfully, we laughed at first, thinking it was some kind of creative sales pitch.

We’ve finally recovered from our surprise, and we wanted you to know that your hard work and unexpected generosity were very much appreciated. We’ll be able to put your thoughtful gift to good use.

We lost quite a few things in the flood, but we found something so much more important – good neighbors, generous friends and a truly warped sense of humor. These things all made clean up easy and relatively painless.

We wish all of you the best of luck in your future endeavors, and if it’s true that what “goes around comes around,” you will all be blessed with success and happiness. Thanks again.

Sincerely,
Linda & Tim Galok

Thank you letter (Example #1)

2009-03-16T16:45:00.003-04:00

The Salvation Army

446 West Housatonic Street

Pittsfield, MA 01201

Dear Ms. Crawford:

Because it seems to have become the rule, rather than the exception, to expect rudeness when dealing with employees of most businesses these days, I wanted to bring to your attention what felt like an extraordinary experience with your staff recently.

When I called your store to make sure you had room to accept donations after a tag sale last weekend, the woman who answered the telephone was pleasant and helpful. When I had further questions, she was happy to answer them.

When we arrived, a young man, whose name was, I believe, Kyle, was at the door to greet us. He went out of his way to help us unload the truck, volunteered to obtain the signature on our receipt, and thanked us several times for our donation. He was not only helpful, but courteous and friendly, as well. In other words, he was an exemplary employee, and we wanted to commend you all and let you know that it was very much appreciated.

Keep up the good work!

Sincerely,

Linda & Tim Galok

Photo Glallery

2009-02-25T09:49:00.002-05:00

Please click on the link or the photo to visit the

The View From Here Image Kind Photo Gallery :

Linda Galok

2009-02-24T06:10:00.001-05:00

2009-02-17T06:07:00.000-05:00

How to Write a Love Letter

2009-02-11T15:21:00.003-05:00

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You love me
And I love you too

Was that what you came up with for Valentine’s Day last year?

Your face is red
The air has turned blue
That poem is not
The best you can do.

Valentine’s Day is almost here again. You might have planned to buy another card someone else wrote and another bunch of flowers someone else grew, and another heart shaped box of chocolates someone else made, but that’s what you do every year, and you’re yawning already. This year you want to do something a little more unique and heartfelt and thoughtful. You want try a little harder, sweat a little more and reach a little higher.

When every website ad and television commercial is screaming, “buy something expensive, sparkling, fattening,” you know that, although it’s a nice gesture, it probably won’t be memorable or personal or exceptional. You know that nothing you pick up at the mall on your lunch hour really says “I love you.” You want to take a leap, and put some real effort into your gift this year.

You want to write a love letter. (Trust me, you really do.) There is nothing that will last longer or be treasured more than the words of love you commit to paper. But you can’t write, you say. You don’t know what to say or where to start and you really can’t spell, you whine. It doesn’t matter. Follow these simple directions, and even you can write a beautiful love letter. It isn’t painless, but it is possible. (And, as an added bonus, it doesn’t have to be a gift for Valentine’s Day – this is a gift you can give any day of the year.)

First, don’t worry about style or spelling or grammar at all. You’re not “writing” yet. You’re just going to make lists. Easy. Anybody can make a list. It’s a very effective tool for jump starting your imagination. All you need is paper, pencil and a little bit of time to concentrate.

Think of the person you love. Use all of your senses and imagine this person standing in front of you. Write down every single word or phrase that comes to mind – anything goes – you can edit later. Confident, impish, waiflike, always thinking, twisted, funny (Remember, use your own words – they’ll be better and truer than mine and use details, including eye color, skin texture, unguarded reactions, etc.) Write it all down, leaving nothing out.

Next, what makes your significant other unique? Special? Loveable? Cure? Funny? Unforgettable? Her sock puppet collection? The way he really wants to know the answer when he asks you a question? That she’ll watch football with you without complaining? The way he washes your hair? The things she does for your mother? A special favor he once did for your friend? There are a million things that make this special person unlike anyone else in the world. Add every one of them to your list.

Your third list will be special memories and special moments – not just the best vacation, or your wedding day, or the day you met (include those too) but the time you got lost and ran out of gas out in the middle of nowhere or the most fun you ever had at the grocery store together. What is your favorite place to be with each other? Where is your favorite place to go? Your favorite thing to do together? List it. Include any (and as many) details that you can think of.

Finally, describe this person you can’t imagine living without: Imagine that you’re talking to someone who’s never met him/her. Why is this person your favorite person in the world? What does she look like first thing in the morning? What does he do when he’s happy? How does this person make you feel about yourself? How? Why? Write it down.

Now comes the easy part. All you have to do is put just some of this information together coherently. Choose your favorite story (or his favorite story) and write it using all the details from your lists. All these things you’ve listed should trigger your memory and your imagination and provide all you need for your love letter. Writing the story, including the details, and remembering the little things is your love letter. Perfect spelling doesn’t matter. Grammatical mistakes and punctuation errors won’t be noticeable (unless your S/O is an English professor). Just speak from the heart, and reveal your true feelings. (Remember, you’re going to have more material than you can use so you’ll have to leave some things out; but you can save them for your next letter).

We are our stories, and that’s especially true for couples; the private moments, the silly jokes that only the two of you understand, the way you finish each other’s sentences or make a suggestion just as they were thinking of it – those are the threads that hold the two of you together and remember them in writing is one of the most loving things you can ever do for someone. Remember the stories your parents and grandparents told you about your childhood? Everyone loves stories about themselves – especially when they’re told from the perspective of someone who loves them. Thing you remember (what they were wearing, the expression on their face, funny or poignant things they said) repeated back to them in writing is a love letter – it lasts forever, and it will mean more than an expensive, shiny bauble ever could.

(If you’re still having trouble writing, editing or organizing your lover letter, more help is available at http://www.writers4rent.com/ (see the February special) or by emailing writers@writers4rent.com.

Cuban emigre and artist spins the web of a lifetime

2008-12-02T09:17:00.007-05:00

Published February 16, 2006, http://www.advocateweekly.com/ & The Advocate

Hinsdale MA - When she moved to the United Sates as a teenager, Josefina Speckert didn’t have family, friends, a home or any understanding of the English language to help ground her. Today, the busy therapist, artist and mother to many is woven into the tapestry of her community.

After immigrating, alone, to Miami, FL, from Cuba at age 15, Speckert was placed in an orphanage where she lived for almost two years.

“Those were the saddest moments of my life, the loneliness and the lack of nurturing and affection. That influenced the direction of my life,” Speckert said recently.

The direction in which Speckert traveled eventually brought her to 111 Pittsfield Road in Hinsdale, where she has lived for the past 10 years with her husband of nearly 40 years, her parents, a 7-year-old foster child and an uncounted number of pets and farm animals, many of which were rescue adoptions. Mother to five daughters and two sons (natural and adopted), grandmother to eight grandchildren and foster mother to so many children she has lost count, Speckert is rarely alone and doesn’t have time to be lonely these days.

In addition to running the family farm, she works four days a week as the Director of Behavioral Health and Substance Abuse at the Hilltown Health Center, and holds a part-time job as a clinical supervisor for the visitation program at the YMCA. She and her husband, Tom Speckert, the executive director of Goodwill Industries, also run Abi’s Web, a craft studio over their barn, which they opened in 1996.

Speckert was christened “Abi” by her grandchildren years ago. The nickname is a shortening of “abuela,” the Spanish word for grandmother. And, as weavers selling their craft, “web” was the perfect description of their new business, which turns the raw wool shorn from their farm animals – angora goats, Suri alpacas, Navajo sheep and a “guard” llama named Stewart, among others – into woven and knitted crafts. The Speckerts create their art throughout the year and sell mainly at wool festivals and local county fairs between April and September. In additional to their own handmade clothes, blankets, and rugs, they also carry crafts made by local artists on consignment and a plethora of spinning and knitting supplies – everything from New Zealand possum or soybean yarn to wood “nitty notties” (to skein yarn by hand) and antique spinning wheels, which Tom Speckert restores to working condition.

At a recent interview, amidst muffled braying, baaing, honking, crowing, quacking and giggling from the barn and the yard, Speckert sat at one of her many spinning wheels and explained her love of spinning as she worked the wheel with her hands and feet.
She began spinning in 1994 when her son, Steven, was diagnosed with a terminal illness. She became his primary caretaker and was looking for ways to relieve the everyday stress of the constant responsibilities.

“A friend said ‘you should start spinning; it’s very therapeutic.’” And I said, ‘OK, what’s that?’” Steven couldn’t move and couldn’t speak, but he could watch me spin for hours,” she said. Although she is a psychotherapist with a master’s degree in counseling from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, she discovered that spinning not only calmed her, but also provided her with a creative outlet and a functional finished product. No one is ever cold at the Speckert household, thanks to the woolen products she creates from yarn spun nearly every day.

“It’s probably the most relaxing activity I can think of. If I told people how much better this is than psychotherapy, I’d be out of work,” she said with a laugh.

Speckert shares her mastery of knitting, spinning and weaving by running an open house and classes in her studio the first and third Monday of every month from 1 to 4 p.m.

“We have tea and cookies too,” she added.

A knitter since age 9, Speckert also practices the art of felting, where the raw fiber is wetted and worked together with the hands or feet until the hairs fuse to produce the felt material. There is a loom in the studio for weaving, as well, but she said that is her least favorite activity in the fiber art world.

“Tom does most of the weaving. He likes the complicated patterns best,” Speckert said.
She said she finds the weaving tedious and time consuming, requiring more planning and patience – not to mention mathematical calculations in creating a pattern – than spinning.

Speckert prefers working the fiber (unprocessed wool) instead of roving, (cleaned and processed wool). Fiber, when it has not been processed, carded or washed, is called “on the grease.”

“When you spin on the grease, you have a lot of lumps and bumps which makes for a more unique yarn,” she said.

Unique or “a little bit of a ‘60’s rebel” is also the way Speckert describes herself. She has a tattoo on each ankle and one on her forearm, each representing her birth place – the Cuban flag bordered by broken chains, a Cuban Bee Hummingbird (Mellisuga helenae) and a Cuban postage stamp from a letter her aunt mailed to her.

Her friends and family call her unconventional or weird, depending on their mood. Likewise, her husband, when given an art class assignment to draw the essence of the most important person in his life, drew a brick wall, cracked in the middle, to represent his wife.

Celebrating their 40th anniversary on April 15, the couple met while both were attending St. Louis University in Missouri. She was waiting for the bus and saw him walking down the street. She said “hi” and asked him to hold her books while she went into a nearby store to buy a soda.

“I just grabbed something out of the cooler and when I got back out there, I realized I had bought an orange soda. I have never before, or since, drunk orange soda. It was awful, but I was in a hurry to get back to this nice young man.”

Seven months later, they were married.

“It’s a very hard job to be married for so long,” she said.

Of all her jobs, however, – spinner, teacher, artist, farmer, psychotherapist, businesswoman, wife, parent, grandparent, and foster parent, she finds parenting – foster, natural or adoptive - the hardest job, but always the most rewarding.

“The hardest thing about being a foster parent is the lack of credibility you have in the system because people think you do it for money. You can’t feed a kid on what they pay per day, but even if that small amount of money was an incentive, you still have to want to do it for the child.”

The Speckerts foster children with emotional or physical challenges and, thus take only one child at a time to devote as much attention to them as possible. The children most enjoy being with the animals. Speckert feels it’s a good form of therapy. The animals too have often overcome challenges and difficulties of their own, and some have been bred specifically for children to love. Their two miniature Shetland ponies came from Personal Ponies, Inc., a national organization that breeds the ponies to place with disabled or terminally ill children. Petoot or Tootie, for short, was born with a twisted leg.

“He’s my love, and he keeps up with all the other animals in spite of his disability,” Speckert said.
Millie, a Navajo Churro sheep, was raised by hand on the Speckert farm, when her mother died giving birth. The Navajo were almost extinct in the 70’s and today number only in the 1,000’s in the U.S.

One thing Speckert is convinced will never be extinct in her life is hope. Describing a typical Thanksgiving dinner at her home, Speckert said, “We have the perfunctory turkey always – Americans have to have turkey – but raw fish, beans and rice and eel too. Our family is a blend of people from China, Malaysia, Cuba, Vietnam and Central America. Several languages are spoken at the same time, and I find that so heartwarming. It feels so wonderful that we can all gather at the same table and even talking different languages, we’re still one family.”

Speckert has gathered plenty of wool but little moss over her lifetime. Whether it’s a blended family or a woven rug, caring for others or creating a sweater, Speckert speaks the language of love, at home within herself, and with her family – four legged and two.

“Every family member is a treasure to me,” she said.

Shearing of the sheep takes place in May, and visitors to the farm and studio at Abi’s Web are always welcome, but please call (413-655-0265) or email: tomspeckert@netzero.net before dropping by.

What do kids really think of their fathers?

2008-11-24T19:28:00.001-05:00

Published www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate - June 18, 2004

First-grade students in Judy Bercury's class at Craneville School in Dalton have a message for fathers.
"When I was a kid, I used to imagine animals running under my bed. I told my dad, and he solved the problem quickly. He cut the legs off the bed."

- Lou Brock

Dads have traditionally been the "fixers." From the broken toaster to monsters in the closet, dads have always known just what to do to make everything right.

With Father's Day rapidly approaching, I thought dads might like to know just how significant a role they actually play in their children's lives and how little escapes their children's notice. In Dalton and Hinsdale, with great help from Craneville's first and second graders, Kittredge's kindergarteners and Kathy's Corner Daycare kids, along with their teachers and caregivers, Kathy Cormier, Judy Bercury, Suzanne Drury, Patricia Geller, Marge Morrison, Marcia Koperniak, Amy Abramovich, and Christine Verge, I found a few answers.

Do not let those glazed eyes and vacant expressions fool you: Kids are watching more than television and computer screens. When asked the questions, "What does your dad know best?" and "What has your dad taught you?" children had the following written answers - some original, some comical and some thought provoking (particularly regarding phonetic spelling) - and some Mom might not like to know:

What does your dad know best?

"How to do cartweels in the Fourth of July praed." - Jamie D.

"How to let off fireworks. Last summer, he let off all the fireworks." - Dylan S.

"How to whistle." - Samantha G.

"All about me." - Abby D.

"How to work best." - Angel.

"How to cownt to 100." Sydney S.

"How not to watch a lot of TV and to catch bugs like buterflys and worms. He knows how to keep me cumpny." - William O.

"How to make money at Cranes. He makes the dollars." - Brenna V.

"To cepe me shafh." (keep me safe) - Jeffrey V.

Bridget L. said she and her sisters were very proud of their father because, "Dad knows best how to open the pool on a hot hot day."

Possibly much to their mothers' surprise, it seems many dads know how to cook best, according to the children. For example, they know how to make "omlits" and "brakfist."

They also know a little bit about automobiles, such as:

"How to make a car." - William L.

"How to fix cars in one minute because he has lots of practice." - Michael S.

"How to drive a jeep and not do a sped lemet." - Joseph E.

Allie G. said her dad knows best "that wen I had to bye a rake for mother's day, my dad new where it was." (Note to Allie's dad: We know you'll love the new frying pan Allie's mom is planning to buy you this Father's Day.)

Taylor F. from Mrs. Bercury's class summed the whole question up for many, however:

"How to love me; how to take care of me and how to remember."

What is the most important thing your dad taught you?

"Stay away from the concrete." - Dalton, whose father is in the concrete business.

"Never talk to strayders and never go with strayders." -Jamie D.

"Everything I am now." - Nicholas.

"My dad taught me how to ski. He helps me up when I fall and he tells me to keep trying. Now I know how to ski." - Caitlin M.

"My dad taught me to be a good soccer player. But I still have prablms with my left foot. But I love him." - Katherine L.

"My dad has taught me how to play badmitten because I aked him to. That is whe I think he is a great Dad. And I love him very much." - Bethany H.

"My dad taught me to climb trees." Connor V.

"My dad taught me never say swear words and never move a video camra fast and never play with a scorpion."- Brandon R.

"My dad taught me how to say: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and his name is Scot."- Jocelyn L.

"To try new food like sooshy." Allie G.

"Not to pick up snakes. - Kaylena.

"How to tel the trooth and do a hand stand." - Sean K.

"My dad taught me a lot of songs like 'Country Road' and 'Imagine.' He taught me what was right and wrong. My dad gives me good advice." - Tiffany R.

"How to count money." - William.

"The chores have to get done or my mom yells." - Mike.

So, yes, dads, your kids probably do realize you haven't bought stock in the electric company, you have no desire to heat the outdoors and money doesn't grow on trees. They all no doubt appreciate that you taught them how to ride a bike, throw a ball, read a book, tie their shoes, use a fork, bait a hook, swing, share, "not to be scard of the dark" and "not to throw stuff."

And they really are listening, paying attention and, especially, watching you.

Making Hay While the Sun Shines

2008-11-17T15:19:00.003-05:00

Published September 2005 The Advocate

“Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.” Unknown

Lenox - “It all depends on the weather, and you can’t depend on the weather,” Phil Rennie said at a recent interview as he got ready to complete his haymaking for the summer.

Phil Rennie and Paul Cella, of Lenox, start their three-day competition not with a waving green flag, but with a field of waving green grass. They race, not against each other, but against a much stronger and more unpredictable adversary – the weather. Enough rain to make the field of Timothy grass grow high enough for haying is needed throughout the spring and summer. Three dry days and nights in a row are then needed to cut, dry and bale the hay to be stored in the barn for the coming winter.

In June and August almost every year for the past 15 years, Rennie and Cella have driven in circles over a 4 acre field owned by a neighbor on Holmes Road in Pittsfield. The field is one of the few undeveloped pieces of property left on that road.

Their maximum speed is less than five miles an hour. They don’t wear helmets or seatbelts, but they do make sure their boots are tied, and their sleeves are buttoned so nothing can be sucked into the machinery, causing injury.

“I’ve heard of farmers who have lost arms or legs because their shirt sleeves were too loose,” Rennie said.

Rennie and Cella don’t have wealthy sponsors or screaming fans. Their only audience is of the winged and four-legged variety - hawks, field mice and moles, and sometimes, Rennie’s 15-year-old terrier mix, Benji, who likes to play in the field.

“The moles come out because they hate the vibration of the tractors, and the hawks sit in the treetops and wait for lunch,” Rennie said.

On the first day, Cella, driving a 1948 white Oliver tractor and Rennie, driving a green 1966 Oliver tractor, both tow sickle haybines around the field. The blades of the haybine cut the grass and the circular motion pulls it through large black rollers to squeeze some of the moisture out. It then lays in the field overnight.

Tedding, the process where a tedder towed behind the tractor spreads and shakes up the grass to help it dry, usually done on the second day, wasn’t necessary this time because there had been so little rain in the month of August. Rennie said they usually get the tractors stuck in the far end of the field because it’s so swampy, but that wasn’t a problem this year.

The third day, at about 11:00 a.m., after the dew had dried, Cella towed a hay rake and windrowed the cut grass into circular rows about ten feet apart. This allows the cut grass to “catch the wind” and dry more quickly. If the grass was at least three feet high, he would have driven in a clockwise circle and pushed the rows to the outside of the field. Since the grass was only a foot high before this August cut, he drove in counterclockwise circles and pushed the grass to the inside of the field. Double “windrowing” works well to make larger piles when the grass is sparser. Larger rows mean fewer passes and less work for the baler, which will follow.

Once all the grass in the field has been piled into rows, Rennie drives his tractor, towing the baler, kicker, and hay wagon from his house on East Street in Lenox around the corner to Holmes Road and down into the field. The length from the front of the tractor to the back end of the wagon is 54 feet long. Turning the corner, Rennie is on both streets at once, while oncoming traffic in both directions on Holmes Road patiently waits.

Once Rennie reaches the field, he drives the tractor over the rows of hay, where it is sucked up into the baler, compressed into square bales and tied, by the machine, with twine. A plunger pushes each tied bale to a stainless steel square plate, called a kicker, which tosses the bales high into the air and into the back of the hay wagon. The kicker can be adjusted as the back of the wagon becomes full, to kick the bales to the front of the wagon. A counter keeps track of the number of bales kicked into the wagon.

Rennie, who has owned and run a lawn care and fertilizing business, The Lawn Doctor, for the past 17 years, does no fertilizing of the Holmes Road field, allowing Mother Nature to determine the height of the grass.

“Sometimes we bale a few weeds too, but a little roughage won’t hurt the horses. They won’t touch the goldenrod though, so you have to stay away from that,” he said, pointing out a large patch of bright yellow weeds growing at the far end of the field.

The grass, after a rainy spring, was about four feet tall for their first cut in June, which produced about four hundred 35 pound bales of hay. The second cut, at the end of August, after a summer of little rain, was only a foot high and produced only 110 bales of hay. Their “winnings” at the end of this race will be enough to feed Rennie’s three “pet” horses, Willie, Misty and Laura Lou and Cella’s horse, Gold Man when the grass stops growing in November. The hay supplements their diet of grain and occasional treats of apples and carrots.

Rennie, who bought his mother’s house, adjacent to the Holmes Road field and just over the town line in Lenox, in 1981, has lived most of his life in Lenox. Married for 34 years on October 23, 2005, to Hania Gardner of Pittsfield, he has two daughters, Kristin, a veterinarian who lives in New Hampshire and Kendra, a federal probation officer in NY. Kristin’s ten month old son, Theo, is Rennie’s first grandchild. He has owned horses all his life and first learned to cut hay with his grandfather, when he was just five years old.

“It was a lot more work back then,” he said, “In the old days, we cut it with a sickle and it would just plop on the ground. We would pitch fork it into piles and load it by hand into a wagon pulled by a horse. Then you’d pay somebody about a $1.00 an hour to jump up and down on the hay to pack it down. What used to take 15 people three days to do, can now be done in the same amount of time with just two or three people.”

“Before we had the hay wagon and the kicker, I used to buy beer for the neighborhood guys, and they’d go around the field and throw the bales onto the back of pickup trucks and help us load it into the barn. It was cheaper [for them] than joining a health club,” he said, “One guy even got mad at me for buying the kicker. He liked the workout,” Rennie said with a laugh.

The process of making haying, in addition to being ruled by the weather, can be disappointing or even dangerous. The hay cannot be cut, baled and stored in the same day because hay that is too damp will grow toxic mold, which makes it useless as livestock feed since it could kill or cripple a horse. Worse, hay packed into bales and stored too wet can spontaneously combust, which has, according to Rennie, caused most of the barn fires he’s seen.

The best feeling in the world, Rennie said, is when the hay’s all in. For him, it’s three days of peace and quiet in a sunny field where the only sounds are the drone of the tractor engine and the occasional scolding of crows. “I just like being outside,” he said.

Rennie prefers the square bales to round. He said the equipment needed to roll the hay into those big “marshmallow” shapes, is too expensive for him to justify the cost.

“The round ones are heavier and harder to handle. I think there’s more waste in the round, and I don’t think the horses like them as well. If you don’t have any help, though, round is the way to go because you can pick them up and move them with a tractor.”

Though no one applauds or sprays them with champagne when they both cross the hay making finish line at the same time, Rennie has had a corn roast the Sunday before Labor Day every year for the past 34 years. Attended by 200 people, (some of whom the Rennies don’t know, but welcome nonetheless), they buy 400 ears of corn from Whitney’s Farm in Cheshire, Massachusetts.

“It gets bigger every year. Everybody brings a dish, and we can cook 40 ears of husked corn at a time in a rack over an open fire. It takes two guys to flip the rack, and you’ve never tasted corn as good,” he said.

It wouldn’t be a real Rennie picnic, of course, without hayrides. Throughout the day, the hay serves double duty as seating for all the Rennie’s guests. From the oldest to the youngest, no one misses the chance to climb up on the hay wagon for a ride as Rennie puts his tractor to use one last time, celebrating another successful hay making season, family, friends, and the official end of summer.

Waiters dish out realities of the service industry

2008-11-06T15:44:00.003-05:00

Published: June 9, 2005; The Advocate & http://www.advocateweekly.com/

“Will you marry me?”

“How did you lose your thumb?”

“Could you send that girl a pink lemonade from me?”

“Can I have your phone number?”

“Have you seen my dentures?”

Along with tips, these are just a few of the tidbits servers at local restaurants have collected from customers over the past few years.

From the other side of the table during recent interviews, Applebee’s servers, Sharon Croshier, Joshua Crawford and Brett Jalbert, along with Zucchini’s employees Todd May and Crystal Czerno, dished up their experiences and a few embarrassing moments in the restaurant business.

The National Restaurant Association estimates that four out of every 10 adults have worked in the restaurant industry at some time during their lives, and 27 percent of adults got their first job experience in a restaurant. The restaurant industry, employing an estimated 12.2 million people, is second only to the government as an employer, according to the association’s Web site, http://www.restaurant.org/.

Crawford, Jalbert and May are full-time college students, working to pay tuition. Crawford and May are business majors and Jalbert is studying structural engineering. They all plan to keep their current jobs on a part time basis after graduating. Croshier, mother of an 11-year-old daughter and 6-year-old triplets, appreciates the flexible schedule and being able to go home in a good mood every day. Czerno, whose mother is also a food server, has worked in the restaurant industry since she started bussing tables at age 13 and hasn’t yet decided on a future career.
None of the five is pursuing a career as a singer. Their most embarrassing moments in their current jobs include singing happy birthday to customers.

“None of us can sing,” May said.

Crawford admitted to a lack of singing abilities as well, but one of his most embarrassing moments came when he took a stab at comedy.

“I went to take a plate from a customer, and he said he wasn’t quite done,” Crawford said. “Holding my hand up with my thumb tucked into my palm, I said, ‘Oh sorry, good thing I didn’t take it. I already lost one of my thumbs.’ And [the customer] said, ‘that’s funny, I lost my thumb ice fishing; how did you lose your thumb?’ He really had lost his thumb, and I felt like the biggest idiot. I excused myself to go get my foot out of my mouth and apologized profusely for the next half hour. At the end of dinner, his wife gave me a hug and said it was the most fun she’d ever had in a restaurant.”

“Josh is a bit of a goofball,” Applebee’s general manager, Billy Greer, said, “but we encourage that here because we want our customers to have fun.”

With over 900,000 eating establishments generating an estimated $476 billion of sales every year, restaurant patrons must be having fun. The National Restaurant Association estimates the average household expenditure for food away from home in 2002 was $910 per person. Food servers typically earn $2.63 per hour.

“It doesn’t sound that bad until you say it out loud,” May said.

“But at least it covers income taxes,” Croshier added.

“Some weeks their paychecks are so little they don’t bother to pick them up,” Greer said.

These minders of the tables, servers of food and sometimes finders of the false teeth that are inadvertently left behind after a meal, work for their tips. Though they never know from one day to the next how much money they will take home, they all agree that the instant feedback of a great tip for doing a good job is an incentive to do their job well – and a bad tip merely motivation to make improvements. The hard part, they said, is that they can’t predict or depend on a certain level of weekly income.

Croshier, who admits she lives for challenges, doesn’t think raising wages and eliminating tips is a good idea, however.

“It’s fun to earn a good tip,” she said. “It’s almost like gambling – waiting on tables is a high, and I love it. It’s up to me to make the money I need.”

Czerno said, “When you’re on your own, living in the real world, and it’s been a slow week, you start to stress and say to yourself, ‘I’d better get my game on quick, rent’s due next week.’”

Jalbert said, “Yesterday, I was ruthlessly, horribly sick, but you can’t get sick. I spent my last $10 yesterday, so I got sleep and took [my medicine} because I needed to work today.”

Crawford added, “Tips are everything. Keeping your chin up after you get a 5-percent tip is hard. You want to ask what you did wrong, but you can’t. You swallow it and go on, and maybe the next customer doubles your tip. I’ve seen people who watch another customer giving the server a bad time and try to make up for it with a bigger tip.”

May agreed that it’s hard to predict a size of a tip.

“You can completely misjudge whether or not they’ll leave a good tip, and for the most part, you can’t tell. I think people tip no matter what you do. Some people are brought up to tip 10 or 15 percent; some people bring in their calculators. Others will throw down a $20 for a $40 meal without giving it a second thought.”

Determining the size of a tip may not be possible, but servers do develop skills in evaluating and anticipating what people need and want, sometimes before they ask for it.

“The biggest part of being a successful server is learning to read faces and body language,” May said.

Czerno said it’s awkward when people come in fighting or having a bad day.

“You try hard to give them their space. I don’t see that he’s yelling at her and she’s crying, and they’re choking down their food. I don’t see that.” But, she added, “If there’s something wrong with the food or service and I don’t see that, please tell us.”

An only child, Crawford admits to little experience with young children. At 6 feet 2 inches tall, he has learned that bending down to eye level of the younger customers and giving them choices too, is appreciated, not only by the kids, but also by their parents.

Croshier said she waits on tables the way she would expect to be waited on. “If I’m eating messy wings, I would like extra napkins. If I’m halfway down on my drink, I would like another one before I have to shake my glass around wondering where you are, and I would never ever forget the silverware. Those little things are important, and you remember them when you do it day in and day out – or at least you should.”

Jalbert said learning to read faces has helped him develop his poker skills, but he admits that remembering to bring silverware to his tables is still a challenge. He and his co-workers laugh and excuse his shortcomings with some good natured teasing.

“He’s tall, so he hits his head on the Tiffany lamps a lot,” Greer laughed.

“They’re cast iron,” Jalbert added. “That hurts.”

Because both restaurants serve alcohol, their servers are also responsible to stop serving an inebriated customer. Applebee’s had an incident with a woman trying to hang from one of its Tiffany lamps after a few too many drinks.

Croshier said, “You can’t allow that. This is a family restaurant, and the other customers don’t want to see that.”

May said that, in his experience, people know when they have had too much and don’t usually get upset with the server when they have to stop serving alcohol.

All five agreed their co-workers and regular customers are their extended families and like any normal family, conflict and occasional clashes occur.

“I can be bossy,” Croshier admitted. “Because I’m a mom, I sometimes treat my co-workers like my kids.”

“We’re human,” Crawford said. “There are sometimes problems with a co-worker, but you don’t bring it into the dining room – you put on a happy face and do your job and we’ll talk about it when your shift is over.”

Greer added, “Everyone has off days and if it’s really bad, there’s a soundproof freezer in the back where you can go to scream and punch a box of French fries.”

Problems with co-workers pale in comparison to the stress of dealing with the public. Customers are allowed to be rude, condescending, demanding or just downright cranky, but dropping drinks on customer heads is never acceptable server behavior. Smiling and being polite no matter what is the golden rule for servers.

According to the serves and managers, customer complaints are almost never about service. Customers hate waiting more than anything, which may be a result of a society geared more and more to instant gratification.

Crawford observed, “One customer can’t see that I’m doing 32 other things right now. They only know their glass is empty, and they’re thirsty.”

Because they’re human, servers do get frustrated with customers. Among their pet peeves are customers who yell, snap their fingers, clap their hands or refuse to make eye contact and ignore them. May summed up the main feeling of every server, with a simple sentence, “I’m here to serve you, but I’m not your servant.”

The worst customer, of course, might be a fellow server. They all regularly go out to eat at different restaurants in the county. Croshier said she’s very critical when she eats at another restaurant, always measuring the service against her own high standards. Crawford said he likes to challenge servers by asking for “weird concoctions.”

Czerno, on the other hand, said “I would love to wait on me….it drives me crazy when I get bad service, but no matter what, I tip 20 to 30 percent because I know what it’s like to work for tips.”

Tired of cooking, weary of washing dishes, or perhaps in celebration of a special occasion, every American has probably graced a restaurant table at least once. Balancing drinks and serving food might seem deceptively easy while perusing a menu from a comfortable seat, but service with a smile is only a small part of the job of a server.

Marketing, memorizing, matchmaking, and mind reading are necessary skills, too.

“Just treat people the way you would want to be treated.” Croshier advised. “And don’t take things too seriously.”

For Nurse couple, love and expertise heal all wounds

2008-11-05T10:54:00.005-05:00

Published: November 24, 2005 - The Advocate Weekly & http://www.advocateweekly.com/

When asked to guess their occupations, most people assume Bill Ahern is a truck driver, a mechanic or a plumber and they often, even without invitation, ask his wife, Brenda Ahern, if she is a nurse, because she “looks like a nurse.”

They are half right. Brenda and Bill Ahern are both registered nurses.

According to the U.S. Department of Labor, less than 10 percent of the more than two million RNs in this country in 2004 were men. Though strangers are surprised by Bill Ahern’s occupation, their reactions have always been positive. His friends and family, however, sometimes use his profession to give him a hard time. While helping his brother-in-law build his house, he was given the job of pounding 3-inch spikes into the concrete foundation.“I might be a nurse,” he said recently, “but I can pound a nail. I used to build Shaker tables and do basic carpentry, but I hadn’t ever done this before, and I kept bending the spike. One of the other guys yells, “’Hey get the nurse off that job.’”

Although he does not resemble Florence Nightingale in any way, Bill Ahern has worked within the medical community for the past 17 years. He started at Hillcrest’s dietary unit at age 16. After joining the National Guard infantry at age 19, he attended Berkshire Community College part time and continued to work at Hillcrest as a radiology transport aide and darkroom technician, and an operating room orderly, where patients often mistook him for a nurse. He also worked as an anesthesia technician at Crane Center/BMC’s operating room.

When someone first suggested he become a registered nurse, he scoffed at the idea, then realized he had completed all the prerequisite courses necessary to enter the nursing program at BCC.
Recalling his grandfather’s advice to “build on what you know,” and searching for a new challenge, he entered the program. While enrolled in the RN program at BCC full time, he worked at Berkshire Medical Center’s Dialysis Unit as a Reuse Tech and trained as a hemodialysis technician. Once he qualified as a registered nurse, he joined the Dialysis unit at BMC in the Medical Arts Complex in 2001.

Brenda Ahern, on the other hand, did not enter the nursing program until after she married four years ago, but she had considered a nursing career from the time she was a child. When she and her future husband met, she was also taking part-time classes at Berkshire Community College to become a medical assistant, and worked at Lenox’s Yankee Inn and for the advertising department at the Berkshire Eagle. Upon completing her training, she worked at Lee Family Practice as a medical assistant and phlebotomist. In 2000, she joined BMC as a medical assistant at its Neighborhood Health Clinic, while completing her prerequisites for the nursing program at Berkshire Community College. When she was accepted into the RN program, she also worked part time as a unit secretary, at BMC’s Jones-2 and as a nursing assistant in telemetry.
She became a registered nurse in 2004, and said she feels she didn’t choose the profession as much as it chose her.

“I transferred my position to nursing assistant on [Berkshire Medical Center’s] 5 West while going through the nursing program, and I felt comfortable here. It’s an honor to be there with the patients and their families, but it’s tough too,” she said. “Patients have said to me, ’How do you do this? This is a thankless job.’ But when I’m cleaning someone up or helping someone out, I like to think that someone would do it for me – that’s how you get through the hard parts of the job.”

Her husband agreed. His first “hands on” experience as a nurse-in-training was what those in the nursing profession delicately refer to as a “code brown” situation (cleaning up diarrhea). It did not deter him from his goal, however, and he still takes it all in stride.

Recalling a recent experience with a patient who kept apologizing for the situation, he joked, “Well if the shoe was on the other foot, you’d do this for me wouldn’t you? And the guy looked right at me and said, ‘no!’”

Combined with compassion, the Aherns both contend a sense of humor is absolutely necessary not only to connect with their patients and give them the best care, but to maintain the ability to love the job even on the days when they can’t seem to make anyone happy. Perhaps more than most jobs, nursing can be emotionally, mentally and physically draining, but most of the time, the couple can count on each other for support. However, being in the same occupation also has its drawbacks.

“It’s a double-edge sword,” Benda Ahern said. “I feel lucky that we’re both in the same profession because I’ve had nurses say, ‘My husband just doesn’t understand what I do.’ A lot of guys might say, ‘Well, you didn’t do a roof all day,’ but Bill knows how hard it is [to be a nurse] because he does it too.”

On the other hand, there are some days where one of them will want to vent, and the other one wants to forget about it.

“Some days I come home, and she’ll want to talk about it, and I’ll say, ‘Oh yeah? You think your day was bad? Well, listen to this,’” Bill Ahern said.

His wife replied that they occasionally face days that inspire dreams about leaving the profession, buying an inn in Vermont and opening a quilt shop.

In spite of the difficulties, both nurses said they most appreciate the aspects of the job that allow them to interact on a daily basis with a wide variety of people and personalities. Both feel the most important skill in nursing, aside from technical knowledge, is to learn to adapt to every situation, leaving any inclination to make judgments about anything other than a patients’ health and comfort outside the door.

“Every room that you walk into will be a whole different situation, and you have to figure out how to switch from one person to the next,” Brenda Ahern said. “You can’t be judgmental because you can never know why people are the way they are or how they got to this place in their lives.”

When admitted to a healthcare facility, patients may make judgments of their own, of course. Placing faith in the professionals who care for them, they often give up a certain amount of control, not to mention a bit of their dignity. Neither Ahern, however, has ever encountered patient prejudice because of their gender, and both frequently receive compliments about the other’s skills from patients they have in common.

“I’ve seen my husband interact with the patients, and he immediately puts them at ease; he is very gentle, very very patient and very kind,” Brenda Ahern praised.

Based on their experiences personally and professionally, though, both acknowledged their own stereotypical assumptions and expectations, especially about themselves and each other. Bill Ahern believes male doctors relate differently to him than they do to female nurses.

“When a doctor gets upset,” he said, “and yells because something is missed or isn’t done right, I interpret that as “Hey dude, c’mon.’ It motivates me to do a better job, where Brenda would probably take it more personally.

She didn’t disagree, and offered some of her own observations about the male of the species.
“He cut his finger with my manicure scissors while we were on vacation. I told him to be careful. I told him they were really sharp. He should have had stitches, but he wouldn’t go to the hospital. He used duct tape, which he carries with him everywhere we go. He’s a big baby when he gets a cold though.”

Despite, or perhaps due to, the responsibilities of their jobs, the couple said they are more appreciative of each other, and feel free to be as open and honest as the people they care for.

“When you’re seriously ill, you say exactly what you think,” said Brenda Ahern. “It’s freeing in a way. I always tell people, if something hurts, and they need to swear, I’m not offended – whatever they have to do to make themselves feel better, it’s okay.”

The job has changed their perspectives and attitudes about life in general, as well.

“When I’m upset over something like a boat part didn’t come in, and I need to put it on the damn boat, I’ll think about a patient I’m taking care of, and my problem is like nothing,” Bill Ahern said.

His wife added, “I realize that I get to go home and forget about it for awhile and lead my life. But they’re sick and can’t get a reprieve. It makes us more grateful and take things less for granted.”
The Aherns take seriously their roles as the people who assess and report, educate, advocate, and rehabilitate, hold hands and heads, reduce pain, promote healing, clean up, calm down, and provide comfort in even the most uncomfortable of situations. And as experts in their field, they have a unique understanding of nursing’s challenges and problems.

One of the biggest issues with regard to quality care, they said, is not a shortage of people eager to enter the field of nursing, but a lack of qualified nursing teachers and nurses available to give clinical instruction.

And although they have been discouraged at times, they are both grateful to have made it through the “fear phase” of nursing, where they began to believe they had the symptoms of every illness they studied; and the “honeymoon phase” of nursing when they believed perfection was possible. And they try to take care of themselves and abstain from becoming cynical about the illnesses they see all around them.

“People educate themselves more about buying a car than [they do] about their own health,” Bill Ahern said.

Brenda Ahern agreed. “Doctors aren’t God. Don’t be afraid to say, ‘explain that further’ or ‘I want a second opinion.’ The patients’ participation in overall heath care would help immensely.”

But leave the duct taping to the professionals.

Local woman finds plumbing far from a draining experience

2008-10-31T15:19:00.004-04:00

“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

2008-10-30T20:45:00.004-04:00

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

2008-10-29T12:46:00.005-04:00

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

2008-10-28T06:09:00.006-04:00

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

2008-10-25T13:47:00.010-04:00

“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

2008-10-23T06:02:00.007-04:00

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

2008-10-19T08:53:00.008-04:00

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’

2008-10-17T13:00:00.004-04:00

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."

Canoeists share lifelong love of Housatonic

2008-10-15T07:33:00.001-04:00

Published - June 24, 2004 www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate

Bud Hassett and a couple of his very close friends. (Photo By Linda Galok)

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.

— “Pooh's Little Instruction Book,” inspired by A. A. Milne

Tim Gray and Francis (Bud) Hassett frequently have both oars in the water.

Gray has been canoeing since attending a camp as a young lad in the Adirondacks, where he won a Boy Scout merit badge for it, in spite of having to jump in the lake at 6:30 every morning to get started.

Hassett has been canoeing since he and a friend bought an old beat-up Grummond aluminum canoe, when he was just out of high school.

Gray works three or four jobs (depending on the season) and lives in Lee. Hassett is semi-retired and lives in Dalton.

Gray has a passion for the playing the hammer dulcimer, tending the plants and flowers at his family’s Golden Hill Nursery and parting PCBs from the Housatonic River. Hassett favors frog legs, fiddlehead ferns and family adventures.

While Gray races canoes sometimes, his most important win, he said, has been as the Housatonic “riverkeeper,” seeing progress being made on the river clean-up project when he takes his canoe out for a ride.

Hassett has raced canoes for years, including a couple of white-water races. He won a time or two, but he said the most important thing about canoeing is challenging his own abilities while enjoying the ride.

Gray canoes almost exclusively in the October Mountain State Forest and fish and wildlife management area of the Housatonic, but he will take his collection of canoes to give tours anywhere on the Housatonic, from New York to Massachusetts and Connecticut.

Hassett has canoed on the ocean off the coast of Alaska, the lakes of Maine and New Hampshire, the swamps of Florida, the ponds in the Berkshire hill towns and many of the rivers of the Northeast, including the St. John, the Deerfield — and, of course, the Housatonic.

Gray said staying dry can be a realistic option when one canoes. He said the most impressive canoeing moment he saw was the day John Lortie, a biologist with Woodlot Associates, reached over the side of his canoe and pulled a 36-inch snapping turtle from the river without falling out. But almost as impressive, he said, was U.S. Sen. John Kerry’s guided canoe tour about 10 years ago. Gray said Kerry was a pretty able canoeist for a politician — in other words, he moved forward rather than going in circles, as many beginner canoeists (and politicians) are prone to do.

Hassett said wet feet are to canoeing what webbed feet are to ducks, but if one doesn’t try to stand up too much and stays away from places with a lot of “blowdown (fallen tree limbs) and drops, one can stay drier than he usually does. “There are only about 10 things to understand and master to successfully paddle a canoe, but without knowing those things, you don’t make a lot of forward progress,” Gray said.

Hassett had some words of wisdom for beginning canoeists too”

“Use a kayak,” he said with a laugh, “They’re lighter to carry and easier to maneuver if you’re going to learn by yourself.”

In all seriousness, he said, the Housatonic isn’t the best place for beginners to learn, but some rules will help:

1.} Always wear a life jacket.

2.} Learning to canoe in the summer is best since the water in the Housatonic is warmer, lower and slower.

3.} When canoeing with another person, don’t both “paddle off the same side at the same time, unless the overall plan includes going for a swim.”

3.} If canoeing alone when it’s exceptionally windy, move to the front of the canoe or weight it down with rocks or gear to make better progress.

4.} Make sure you and your wife (or husband) agree on the definition of left and right when direction-giving will be on the canoe outing agenda.

Both Gray and Hassett agreed that the Housatonic River is one of the best places in the Northeast to paddle a canoe. One can see all kinds of wildlife, from beaver, black bear and deer to ducks, osprey and, if lucky, otters and perhaps even a moose.

Gray’s favorite place to canoe is Woods Pond in October. Hassett’s favorite place to canoe is the Hinsdale Flats any time of year.

Gray’s future plans include making music, writing his book about the Housatonic that’s waiting in dozens of boxes to be written, giving canoe tours to educate and entertain eager and willing residents and tourists and seeing the Housatonic completely free of PCB contamination.

Hassett’s future plans: enjoying retirement, wintering in Florida, kayaking year-round and keeping an extra pair of socks handy for those days when dry feet are not an option.

Paddling the waterways is just part of a satisfying, unhurried lifestyle for both Gray and Hassett, a way to slow things down and look around once in awhile. They might both have read about a bear named Pooh.

Teachers have many faces, share same goals

2008-10-14T17:26:00.003-04:00

Published September 15, 2004 www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate

The pinch of new shoes, the squeak of new chalk, the smell of new paper — a new school year has begun, with your new vocabulary words for the week: teach, educate, tutor, school, lecture, instruct, train, explain, demonstrate, encourage, help, inspire, listen, motivate, observe, perform, question, read, show, think, understand.

They are mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, daughters, sons, aunts, uncles, neighbors and friends. They do all those things in the course of their workday. They are the people parents depend upon 180 days of every year. They are some of our teachers.

Three teachers from Berkshire County, along with a retired teacher and one woman about to become a teacher, recently divulged the reasons they chose the teaching profession and how they feel about teaching. Their answers were as varied as their ages, perspectives and backgrounds, yet undeniably similar to the way all dedicated professionals feel about their careers in any field.

Mabel Hiltpold is a mother, grandmother and great grandmother. She lives in Lenox and she retired from 25 years of teaching in 1974. She said there were not many career choices for women in the early ’50s.

"The schools didn’t want to hire married women, so we were paid less than the single women and the men who did the same job," she said.

Hiltpold was among the first of a group of women in Pittsfield who became certified as teachers in 1954. Up until that time, they were classified as "intermittent substitutes," earning $11 per day. Becoming a permanent substitute bumped earnings to $14 a day.

Hiltpold taught fifth and sixth grade at Plunkett School.

"Dishwashers made more money than some teachers in my day," she said. However, she added, "Teaching is one of the most rewarding jobs you can have — when a student ‘gets it’ you feel like a hundred bucks."

Jacqueline McLaughlin of Dalton said she went back to teaching "1 on 24" last year after tutoring "1 on 1" for nine years. She has two children and teaches algebra and geometry to freshman and sophomores at Wahconah Regional High School.

Both of McLaughlin’s parents were teachers. Her father, James Duquette, who died two years ago, taught English for 30 years, and her mother, Mary Jane Duquette, taught math.

McLaughlin, who is the middle child of four brothers, has been a teacher since she was old enough to hold a piece of chalk.

"I was always the teacher when we played school," she said.

Teaching her brother Pat, 16 months her junior, how to write stories, add and subtract was the beginning of her career as a teacher. Education was important in her family, she said.

"It was never really a decision. I think I always knew I was going to be a teacher."

James Beauchesne, 21, also of Dalton, is pursuing her degree in education and has passed the first of three tests to be a certified as a teacher in Massachusetts.

"I chose to become a teacher because I want to make a positive impact in children’s lives, teaching them, with different techniques, to strengthen their interests and abilities," she said.

As part of her educational and certification requirements, Beauchesne has already put in classroom time, as an observer and a participant in the teaching process.

"My first teaching experience occurred in the spring of 2004 at Pittaway Elementary School in Ashland," she said. "I was a student observer of a kindergarten class for my Field 1 education requirement. I would help students with their work and I was in charge of the activity table. At this table, we used glue a lot and Sam (a student) thought it would be funny to put glue on my seat. So that was quite a sticky situation. The hardest part was trying to explain to a 5-year-old old his joke wasn't funny."

Debbie Bevan of Dalton, has been a teacher for 23 years. She has taught every grade from kindergarten through graduate school, with the exception of third and fourth grade, at the Central Berkshire Regional School District, Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts, Cambridge College, Fitchburg State College and Hampshire Educational Collaborative.

"I always wanted to be a teacher but got waylaid with family first,” she said. “After earning an associate’s degree in elementary ed, I had two daughters, (one is currently a teacher and the other is a certified school adjustment counselor) and then returned to North Adams State College and completed my degree."

"I love teaching,” she added. “Whether it is a student at the middle school or a student taking a graduate course, I find that I learn by teaching. It always keeps me on my toes; what should I do next?"

Maryann Sherman, of Pittsfield, has a bachelor’s degree in education from the College of St. Rose and a master’s in education from North Adams State. She has been a teacher for 32 years and is now teaching second grade for the sixth year at Stearns School in Pittsfield. She has taught first grade and kindergarten at Sacred Heart, Notre Dame and Mark Middle School. When she wasn’t teaching full-time, she was tutoring part-time.

"I have always loved working and playing with children. I started as a park director in Pittsfield for three summers. I enjoy watching children learn through discovery and exploration,” she said.

All five agreed that knowing you have made a difference in a child‚’ life is one of the most rewarding things about teaching.

Bevan said, "I have heard from students and parents that I have made a difference, but I am not sure I knew it when it was happening."

Sherman recounted a conversation she had with a former student:

"I encouraged a little girl to be the main singer in one of our little musicals several years ago. I told her she should take singing lessons when she was older. I heard recently from one of her teen friends that she is finally pursuing this, and that this is the most positive move she has made in her life for a long time."

Hiltpold, who taught students who are now judges and lawyers, said, "I’d like to think I’ve made a difference in all my students’ lives. Conceited, aren’t I?"

McLaughlin said that although it was strange to go to colleague-to-colleague relationships as a teacher at Wahconah, where she was once a student, she could not imagine what she would have done without mentors like her former 10th-grade math teacher, Mary Shipp.

"I find it sad that kids who work as cashiers can’t add and subtract without the register display, but I am encouraged by connections with students who have been struggling when you see they understand the whole process that leads to the answer, after you have tried different methods to help them understand. There’s no feeling like it."

Beauchesne, with only a few teaching experiences, said she worked with a 5-year-old kindergarten student who had learning disabilities and would get frustrated when he could not understand the lesson.

"I worked with Mike and was able to help him slow down his reading and think about each sentence after it was read,” she said. “He was able to improve his writing by looking at example sentences and use the forms of punctuation as clues. I felt I had a positive impact on his learning abilities and also his confidence in helping other students with their work."

Teaching is hard, sometimes heartbreaking work, and teachers often feel under-appreciated and misunderstood because they "only work 180 days a year."

"People think you leave the job at 2:30 or 3, and that you don’t bring the work home with you." McLaughlin said. "What they don’t understand is, though you may not be in the classroom, you are always working — correcting papers, planning and preparing lesson plans, worrying about your students, taking continuing education courses and addressing the concerns of students, parents and the ‘powers that be’ by listening and learning yourself."

Beauchesne said, "The biggest misconception is that teaching is easy! Many people assume that being a teacher is laziness, but it is one of the hardest professions. It takes infinite patience and confidence."

"People don’t think we work hard enough,” Sherman said. “They don’t realize how many decisions are made during the school day and after, when plans are made, strategies are formed and instruction is finally implemented to meet the needs of each child."

The passion these five women have for teaching is apparent. They offered advice to others pursuing a career in teaching, based on their own experiences.

"Be flexible, be compassionate and remember that all children want to please, even the ones that may drive you crazy," Bevan said. "Don’t be afraid to change. In all cases, ask if what you are doing would be good enough if you were teaching your sibling, child, or grandchild. Always keep your expectations high."

Hiltpold said, "Forget all the nonsense and teach the subjects."

"Learn from your students," McLaughlin said. "Be understanding because the best laid plans won’t always work out the way you expect — and always be willing to listen because sometimes that’s all you need to do."

Sherman said her advice could serve teachers and parents alike: "Think like a child; appreciate little things. Eat well, exercise and stay healthy. You need all the energy you can get. Remember teaching is an art and a science. Keep an open mind and be creative. Teaching is never boring. Balance your school life with family and friends. Enjoy it.

And always have a good pair of shoes."

Musician finds harmony on unlikely instrument

2008-10-13T08:18:00.002-04:00

Published July 08, 2004 - www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate

Cathy Schane-Lydon with her most popular instrument. (Photo By Linda Galok)

“I was irrevocably betrothed to laughter, the sound of which has always seemed to me to be the most civilized music in the world.”
— Peter Ustinov (1921-2004)

GREAT BARRINGTON — Irrepressible laughter lingered between every note in the tune of Cathy Schane-Lydon’s conversational tone. Lively humor harmonized the personality of this petite blonde musician who plays six instruments and “can’t remember a time that I couldn’t read or play music.”

“What’s perfect pitch? The sound of the accordion hitting the bagpipes in the dumpster.” Schane-Lydon joked. “The funniest thing, though, is that of all the time and money I spent on piano lessons, it will probably be the accordion or the ukulele that makes me famous.”

Mark Lydon, her husband, a former radio personality at WSBS, bought her a “big beast of an accordion” for her birthday 10 years ago and she taught herself to play. Lydon said her accordion playing has “taken her many interesting and unusual places in her life and opened doors that might have otherwise been closed.” She agreed.

She recently sold her “beast,” a Gilletti accordion, and bought a more portable 24-pound Weltmeister for an upcoming trip to Africa. She carries her new accordion in a backpack because “all the cool accordion players use backpacks now.”

She and several other musicians are going to Niger, a landlocked country bordered in the north by Libya and Nigeria in the south, in November. Project Troubadour is sponsoring the trip, but the musicians are responsible for raising the necessary traveling funds themselves. The portability of the accordion helped her become part of the trip because, Schane-Lydon said, “you can’t tote a piano around with you.”

She has done a lot of traveling abroad but never to a country so vastly different from the United States.

“This is a Muslim country,” she noted, “and there is a lot of anti-American sentiment in Muslim countries right now.”

She said she is less worried about her safety than her mother is, however, because she believes she is “good at blending.”

“I have a lot of respect for local customs. I will cover my head in public. I learned the words for please and thank you and I plan to smile – a lot,” she said. “The goal of the trip is to open our eyes to how different our cultures are but how similar when the root of everything can be music. Music can make a difference, and it can be the language that we can use to make something beautiful together in spite of the differences in our lives.”

Alhough she didn’t profess to know exactly why accordion music is so underappreciated by the public, she did confirm, “In the beginning, it’s loud and obnoxious until you learn how to play it.”

Once the accordion is learned, she said, “It’s a blast. It’s so emotional. You can play almost anything on an accordion, from heartbreaking Italian love songs to wonderful lighthearted polkas.”
Schane-Lydon practices her accordion playing while she wanders from room to room in her house, with her dogs, Henry and Mary, padding along behind her. She said almost anyone can learn to play the accordion once they understand all the buttons.

Schane-Lydon grew up in Canaan, N.Y., and has lived in the Berkshires since she got her bachelor’s degree in music composition at Simons Rock College in Great Barrington in 1984. Her mother, a classical pianist, taught her how to read music. Her father, a jazz reed man, taught her to play by ear.

“He’d put a needle on a record and say ‘play that’.”

He especially loved the Viennese waltzes. They listened to a Strauss concert every New Year’s Day, and her dad “achieved nirvana” when he heard her play old Strauss waltzes on the piano. Her younger brother, Fred Schane, whom she labeled a “brilliant, experimental musician,” works at The Music Store in Great Barrington. He has recently released a self-written, self-produced and self-performed CD, “Happy Now,” and will begin a nationwide promotional tour at the Armi of Great Barrington on July 30.

In addition to piano and accordion, Schane-Lydon also sings and plays the ukulele, pipe organ, bass, flute and electric keyboard. She is a member of three musical groups – Mood Swing, the Ladies Auxiliary Ukulele Orchestra and Jovia. She plays for church services, gives private music lessons to people of all ages and has been a music teacher on staff at Springfield College for more than eight years.

When Schane-Lydon studied musical composition with Alice Parker of Parker/Shaw at Westminster Choir College, she remembered Parker saying to her, “What is music? Music is not those little dots on the page. Music is what comes out of you.”

“It’s such a simple concept,” Schane-Lydon said, “but it totally changed the way I thought about music. I used to think that I must play every note absolutely perfectly – and there’s room for that — but there has to be room for . ‘I’m going to express myself musically and who cares if I play a note that doesn’t sound quite right.’ The wonderful thing about music is that if you make a mistake you don’t fall to your death. That’s one reason I don’t teach rock climbing instead of music.”

She said her biggest challenge has been teaching her music students that it is OK to make mistakes.

“Amateur musicians just aren’t acceptable in our society anymore. Everything is perfect after it’s multi-tracked and tweaked. The mikes they use on stage correct {the voice} so that we never hear anyone sing off-key. But music is a huge joy. To be able to sit at a piano and have your family around you and everyone singing happy birthday or holiday music – that is ultimate happiness. Our society has taken the joy out of music by holding us to impossible standards of perfection. Today’s pop music is less about the music and more about aesthetics and marketing.”

She added, “Music is really good at helping you understand that you’re not always going to be perfect yet you can still go on. She recalled playing the church organ for a wedding. Her back was to the church, but she had an overhead mirror to use for her cues. Her prompt to begin playing the wedding processional was when she saw the mother of the bride (who would be dressed in lavender) take her seat.

Unfortunately, when the mother of the groom, who was also wearing lavender, took her seat, using the overhead mirror caused Schane-Lydon to reverse the bride and groom’s side. She played as many versions of “The Wedding March” as she could think of and couldn’t understand what was taking the bride so long.

“But the real point of making music is just making music,” she maintained. “You can always keep getting better, and you can always be critiqued, but it’s not a critique about your own self.”
She said music gave her the discipline and openness to be able to improve herself as a person. And she now has sticky notes for her mirror to label “brides’ side and grooms’ side” at weddings.

She did wish that she had taken her musical talents a little more seriously and less for granted. She said she believed teachers who told her that her hands were too small to succeed as a musician. She doesn’t believe them anymore but lamented the time lost to the fallacy that she couldn’t do something she loved because she “wouldn’t be successful.”

Schane-Lydon views her music and life with clarity: “Mistakes aren’t a big deal and music is a cooperative art,” she said.

The last song she played to accompany Eileen Cozzaglio’s students at their recital compelled her to “listen to the music.”

“From the tiniest students playing 8-inch violins to the big galumphing adults who used to be that small, we all played ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ for the final song because it was something everyone knew how to play,” she said.

She described the experience as one of those universal moments of “pure musical harmony and joy” – just like laughter.

Don't color this Chameleon crazy

2008-10-12T08:45:00.004-04:00

Published August 05, 2004 www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate

“Part of being sane is being a little bit crazy.” — Janet Long

PITTSFIELD — “Most people expect me to be weird. I am actually very normal,” said Christine Burke, owner of Crazy Chameleon, a professional piercing and tattooing business at 56 Elm St. “I go to parent teacher conferences. I do laundry. I even stand in line at the deli, just like everybody else. This business is what I do; it isn’t who I am.”

Burke, a master body piercer, has tongue, eyebrow, lip, nose and ear piercings, as well as multiple tattoos, including one of a chameleon on her hand, which is only visible under black light. She also has red hair, green eyes, a few freckles, Irish charm, “infinite patience” and a phone phobia.

“I won’t even call the pizza guy,” she said during a recent interview. “I do much better face to face or with answering machines.”

Conducting her day-to-day business, however, requires a lot of phone time. She has overcome her phobia as well as her inherent shyness, to deal with people as far away as Portugal and Japan.

“The language barrier makes me wish I had taken more foreign language classes, but somehow we manage to communicate,” she said.

Burke, with an associate’s degree in accounting, bought Crazy Chameleon almost six years ago and last fall expanded into a sideline business, as a distributor of UV ink, which produces tattoos that glow under black light.

“This is a relatively new development within the industry. It’s been very successful and a lot more work for us than we realized it was going to be,” she said. “I read somewhere that if you think owning your own business means three-hour lunches and copious amounts of time off, you’re crazy. I have never worked harder for anyone than I have for myself. I try to average six hours of sleep a night. Once in awhile, I even get that much.”

On a typical day, she said, “I get up between 7:30 and 9 a.m. for two hours of computer work at home. When I go into the shop, I’m piercing customers, answering questions, taking phone calls, ordering inventory, packaging orders, running errands, fixing my broken shoe, cleaning the purple ink off my chair after a customer faints on me and my purple pen goes flying — you know, your typical day-to-day chaos.”

She added, “I don’t sit down again until 9 or 10 at night to do another two hours of computer work. Sometimes I can even squeeze in time to escape into a book before I fall asleep. One of the advantages of working for yourself is that you can do some of your work while you drink your coffee in your fuzzy purple bathrobe. But there are disadvantages. too. When you work at home, you can’t ever really get away from the job, especially when your husband and kids work for you, too.”

Burke’s husband, Bob, is a former tattoo artist and the Web master for Crazy Chameleon’s Web site, www.piercings.net. He gave Burke her first tattoo, which runs from the top of her thigh to her knee, isn’t completely finished yet and may not ever be “done,” she said.

“Most of the time, he works at home and I work at the shop, so we don’t spend any more time together than the average couple. That’s why it works so well and probably why he’s my best friend. People would look at him and think he would never be one of those supportive guys, but he absolutely is that guy,” she said.

“When I wanted to buy this business six years ago, I went home and said, ‘Bob, I’m taking a home equity loan on the house. I’m buying the business and a car.’ He said, ‘OK.’ A year later, he got hurt at work. When he was ready to go back, the company wanted to put him in a different position. He said, ‘Honey, I don’t think I can do that. I think I could work for you.’ I said OK.”

Burke said her mother set the couple up on a blind date when she was 14.

“I didn’t like him right away. and I didn’t marry him until after the kids were born. We have our ups and downs, just like any couple, but we are always supportive of each other.”

Burke makes it clear, however, that she and her husband don’t own Crazy Chameleon together.

“He works for me,” she said. “It was awkward at first, but now he and my boys line up to greet me at the front door every Friday night with their hands out — that’s payday,” she said. “I’m what people think of as the typical ‘dad.’ I get home, flop down on the couch, play with the kids, make a mess and hand out money.”

The couple has two children, Andrew, 15, and Brendan, 11, and, according to her, “the luck of the Irish.”

“We’ve been fortunate that we never had to put our kids in day care, in spite of the fact that we both worked full-time and sometimes more than one job at a time over the years. I haven’t spent as much time as I would have liked with my kids, but they’re growing up fine, and I still like my 15-year-old — how many parents of teenagers can say that?” she asked.

“I never thought this is what I would be doing at almost 35. I always pictured myself as a bookkeeper. I was the only child of a federal auditor and a teacher. My dad died suddenly when I was 17, my mom died after a long illness when I was 24. I have my family, including the people who work here, but I wish my father had been able to meet my children. I think that would have really rocked.”

She said tattooing and body piercing are no longer considered rebellious but “a new family bonding experience.”

“Mothers and daughters come in for matching navel piercings, or fathers and sons to get their first tattoos. My customers range in age from 10 to 75, but at least once a week I get the 40-50-year-old customer whose spouse, boyfriend, girlfriend, significant other ‘doesn’t know I’m here and I want a fill-in-the-blank tattoo or piercing.’ It’s now an acceptable way to mark life’s important milestones.”

At 6 Friday night, a carload of customers called for directions. Vincent English gave Burke an update on the day’s events and handed over the cordless phone before leaving for the day. Jim Cichowski was tattooing flowering ivy on the top of a customer’s foot, while her friends, given permission, watched him work. Eryn Kelly had Friday off, but a list, decorated in pink hearts, hung on Burke’s bulletin board, a constant reminder that Kelly appreciated her as a boss and friend.

Brittany Daly, 17, was Burke’s next customer.

“It’s not a special occasion,” she said. “I had my belly button pierced, and I’ve wanted to get my nose pierced for a long time, so I’m finally doing it.”

Daly picked out the nose stud, and Burke led Daly to a curtained room with a chair similar to those found in doctors’ examining rooms. Cleaning and sterilization commenced — soap and water for Burke’s hands, a Q-tip and antiseptic for Daly’s nose, inside and out.

“Ever had your nose professionally picked before?” Burke asked her. “You have now. …You’re going to feel me tap the needle, and then it will all be over.”

She inserted the 2-inch needle to open the hole for the stud, and Daly’s eyes immediately began watering.

“That hurt really bad,” she said.

Burke agreed.

“I thought the nose was probably the most painful of all the piercings I’ve had,” she said. “But the hardest part is going to be figuring out where to put your thumb to blow your nose.”

For perhaps the hundredth time that week, she continued with a series of directions and handed Daly a list of instructions, with a stern admonition: “Read these because I mean them.”

“I am a very patient person, except when it comes to people who pierce thinking they know how but don’t and I have to clean up their mess,” she explained. “But I almost always see the good in people and give everyone the benefit of the doubt, along with fifth, sixth and seventh chances.

“I’ve been burned but I’ve also been extremely lucky,” she said. “Good help is hard to find, and you can’t teach good customer service. Everything else is teachable, but you can’t teach people how to be nice. I am exceptionally fortunate with an amazing crew right now. Luckily, I’ve never made a mistake that couldn’t be easily corrected.”

Unlike chameleons that have the ability to change the color of their skin with the temperature, light and their emotional level, Burke, being fair skinned, doesn’t have the ability to hide how she really feels most of the time.

“It takes a lot to make me blush, but I always turn red when I’ve been crying,” she said. “When you’re in business for yourself, some days are easier than others. The best part of this job is that it’s way more responsibility and I’m much more in control of what happens. …The worst part of this job is that it’s way more responsibility and I’m much more in control of what happens.”

Color it happy or label it crazy, but patience, optimism, hard work and being nice are clearly working at the Crazy Chameleon.

Hinsdale: The Little Town that Could. And Did

2008-10-11T08:24:00.012-04:00

Published July 29, 2004 www.iberkshires.com, The Advocate & The Heritage of Hinsdale: an Anthology

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done
But he with a chuckle replied
That maybe it couldn’t, but he would be one
Who wouldn’t say so till he tried.
— Edgar Albert Guest, 1881-1959.

Some say it was impossible that Israel Bissell, Hinsdale’s most famous resident, traveled by horseback from Watertown, Mass., to Philadelphia, Pa. in just five days in 1775.

When Hinsdale residents and town supporters said they wanted to plan a nine-day bicentennial celebration of the 1804 founding of the town, many felt that would be impossible, too.Bissell reportedly rode for five days with few stops for food, little rest and the sacrifice of at least one horse’s life to spread the word that American militia needed help in Lexington.

No horses were harmed in the planning of Bissell’s hometown bicentennial celebration, but pony rides were a popular event. And, with thousands of cookies baked and sold, and hundreds of hamburgers flipped and fried, no one went hungry.

Plenty of committee members did, however, spend many a sleepless night wondering what they might have forgotten to do and how they were going to accomplish so much with so little to celebrate the 200th anniversary for so many days.

Carole Forward, Hinsdale Bicentennial Celebration Committee chairwoman, was born and raised in Hinsdale. She does not ride a horse, and she said she had no idea what road she was on or what course she should follow when she began her journey toward the celebration more than two years ago.

Nevertheless, Forward’s appeals for help were heard, and her prayers were answered with time, money, materials, ideas, elbow grease and the overwhelming love of the people in and around Hinsdale, who volunteered to make their celebration happen.

Forward said she had little preparation for her job as the chairwoman but “no one else wanted the job, and someone had to do it.” Having raised three boys, she said her job as chairwoman was “easy by comparison.”

Susan Suave, who also helped organize the event, said the community spirit was contagious.“When I moved here five years ago,” she said, “I was welcomed with open arms. I hadn’t moved away from ‘neighbors’ because I never really knew any of the people who lived next to me. Thanks to this committee, I not only know all my neighbors, they’re my friends.”

Sauve, a business consultant, teacher and member of Arrowhead’s board of directors, has been involved in many fund-raising projects during the course of her career and “has never seen such passion for a project.”

“This committee raised over $70,000, sometimes quarter by quarter, doing anything and everything they could think of,” she said.

The country auction alone brought in over $4,000 with everything from a load of hardwood to computer repairs up for bid.

“Everything sold,” Sauve said, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

She added, “Even though she won’t give herself any credit, Carole Forward was the driving force behind the whole project. She kept saying she didn’t know if she was ‘doing it right’ and that she “didn’t know what she was doing.’ She was doing it right, instinctively.”

Forward said, “I’d never done anything like this before, and if we had known how big it was going to get, we might never have even attempted it in the first place. Good thing we didn’t know.

“For every problem, there was a solution. For every Plan A that fell through or didn’t work out, someone was ready with a Plan B or a Plan C,” she said. “We had so much help, there was never the possibility that something wouldn’t happen. Sometimes it didn’t happen the way you thought it was going to happen, but it always happened. Everything we asked for, everything we thought of, someone was there to offer it, donate it, sell it, run it or, sometimes, just do it.

For example, she said, the front of Town Hall needed landscaping.

“No one asked. It just got done one Saturday, at no charge for supplies or labor, by a bunch of local guys and business owners, and we couldn’t have thought to ask for anything more beautiful.”

She added, “There were people who told me I wouldn’t be able to get the camps to agree to camp day and that I couldn’t do this or that, but I never believed there wasn’t anything we, as a committee, couldn’t do.”

Judy Casey, lifelong Hinsdale resident and Kittredge School teacher, agreed.

“With a population of less than 2,000, there were few Hinsdale residents who weren’t involved in some way, planning and working for this event,” she said. “At the beginning, some people were worried that we shouldn’t spend money on ‘frivolity,’ but as donations began pouring in and people started coming together for this event and stepping up to volunteer, they realized this celebration wasn’t frivolity at all but a way to bring life back to the town and spirit back to the community.”

Casey, who said she never misses an opportunity to teach a lesson in life, added, “I did it for the children. I made them all sign the guest book that will go into the time capsule. They know that signing their names now means they will be the ones who plan for Hinsdale’s 250th celebration.”

The message of cooperation spread throughout the town, according to Peter White, Hinsdale’s Webmaster: “Two 10-year-old girls approached the information booth Sunday and asked where they could sign up to help with the 250th anniversary.”

White, a resident who said he keeps moving back to Hinsdale every time he moves away for a few years, came to the project late but pitched in wholeheartedly. His efforts for Hinsdale may be viewed at www.hinsdale200.org.

Many of the committee members have lived in Hinsdale since they were born, and, much to their surprise, the committee, as a whole, got along.

“Everyone didn’t always agree about everything,” said Tom Butler, a lifelong resident and school bus driver, who volunteered as a tribute to his mother, Isabelle. “But, for the most part, everyone really got along. The level of energy and cooperation was amazing.”

It wasn’t always so. David Olds (“Oldsy”) and James Fox, (“Foxy”) both on the committee, both in their 50s and both lifelong residents, met when they were in first grade.

“I gave Foxy his first black eye,” Olds recalled.

“And I think I ran,” Fox remembered.

Neither Olds nor Fox remember what started the fight but, “The principal made us shake hands and we’ve been friends ever since,” they said in unison.

Steve Suriner, a full-time nursing student, jail employee, father, grandfather, fire department member, muster team member, committee member and seven-year citizen of Hinsdale, said, “Dave and Foxy even have their own little town within the town of Hinsdale where retired fire trucks go to rest and be restored now. They combined their last names and called it Foldsville, right in Foxy’s backyard.”

He said coordinating the bicentennial was time-consuming but worth it.

“Sleep is overrated,” he said. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do with myself every Wednesday night now that the celebration is over.”

Many committee members agreed that “the only disappointment is that it’s over,” They said they know the adults want to continue the “cookie walks,” and the kids all want camp day and an outdoor movie every year. Well, there is money left over, and the committee plans to put it to good use. Members especially want town celebrations to become a tradition in Hinsdale, and they want something lasting and something everyone can use and enjoy.

Charlotte Baillargeon, who owns Maplewood Bed and Breakfast, with her husband, Bob, said, “I never saw a bunch of people with so many ideas and so much energy to back all of the ideas up. My heart just bursts with pride as I experience the celebration that I helped plan and execute.”

Peter White’s wife, Sally, said, “I could never have done what Carole did. She never lost her temper, and she was so generous with herself. If I had been in charge, I would have been bossy. I would have wanted things my own way. Carole never did that — she always listened to everyone else’s ideas with respect.”

Sally White was in charge of the town’s birthday cake, and it was the largest cake she ever created. Her grandchildren were not eating her creation on Sunday, though; they were riding it as a float in the parade.

During the weeklong celebration, one of the Native American re-enactors Rick Salazar, had explained to his audience that the Iroquois tribe ruled this area for many years by diplomacy. Like the Iroquois women, who had great power and influence in their tribes, Hinsdale’s Bicentennial chairwoman was “a mother and a dictator,” according to Steve Suriner. “Whatever you needed in the moment, that’s what Carole could be. If you needed a hug, she would give you a hug. If you needed a kick, she could provide one of those, too. She was the hardest worker of all of us, and she inspired all of us to work as hard as she did.”

With the same generosity they have shown their town and each other for the past two years, some of the committee members offered advice to other towns planning similar celebrations:

Suriner: “If a town and its people put their mind to it, anything is possible. If somebody tells you no, you just think of another way to ask. If they don’t have time, ask for money. If they don’t have money, ask for expertise.”

Judy Casey: “You really do learn everything you need to know in kindergarten. Just remember that.”

Susan Sauve: “Get Carole Forward to run your town celebration, or, if she’s unavailable, find someone who can create a team with laughter and gratitude. And remember to say thank you.” Forward: “I certainly couldn’t have done it without every one of the people who worked on this. It will take me another two years to thank them all. No town has ever planned any celebration so big or for so long. Let it get out of control and follow it wherever it leads. Don’t worry about following Roberts Rules of Order.”

Tom Butler: “If you can’t have swimming at camp, set up sprinklers at the fire station. If you can’t have a movie, tell stories. If you can’t have one band, find another. Give your kids a happy memory, and you never need to worry about volunteers for the next celebration.”

The "Joy" of Berkshire Tourists

2008-10-10T05:53:00.002-04:00

Published: www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate - July 14, 2004

Remember that happiness is a way of travel — not a destination.
–– Roy M. Goodman

GREAT BARRINGTON – For many tourists, finding joy in a trip to the Berkshires may be as easy as walking into the Southern Berkshire Chamber of Commerce in Great Barrington.

“It’s small and doesn’t look like much from the outside but the soul of the place is huge, said Joy Lyon, the manager of the Chamber’s visitor center. “It’s a little oasis where people can take a deep breath and relax.”

Carol Shulman, from Baltimore, an artist and writer, said she and her husband came to the Berkshires for “the holistic culture – looking for something “left of center.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Lyon told them. “Twenty years ago, a woman couldn’t walk down Railroad Street without a chaperone. Now it’s the little SoHo of the Berkshires.”

Barbara, a New York City resident who would only give her first name, said, “Tanglewood drew us, the culture kept us and we’ve been coming back to the Berkshires every year for 36 years – part of our heart is here.”

Mike Greenwald from Long Island put it differently.

“I don’t come up here to think,” he said. “I come up here just to be.”

Sara Holliner first came to the Berkshires when she attended Camp Lenore in Hinsdale as a child. Holliner and her family considered a weekend retreat in the Poconos and the Catskills but chose the Berkshires for the “combination of nature, culture, ski areas — and because there are no bridges to cross to get here.”

Frank and Lee Landford from Dover, N.H., stopped in for directions on their way to Hancock Shaker Village. They were just happy to have found Briarwood, because their two “babies,” Ceili and Piper, Maltese and Peekapoo brother and sister dogs, were welcome there.

Those visitors provided a brief snapshot of Lyon’s interaction with the many people who come to the visitor’s center seeking advice nearly every day.

Lyon, born and raised in Liberia, West Africa, moved to Chicago when she was 13 and to the Berkshires when she got married. She became the manager of the Southern Berkshire Chamber of Commerce 12 years ago through “serendipity.” Her job, she said, is to “match expectations and needs with member services or products” and her mission is to “give something to everyone who comes through the door and keep the home fires burning.”

She gave Donald Crossman, from Virginia, directions to his uncle’s place in Worthington. She gave Lois Hartwick, owner of the Carriage House on Route 23, a hug when Hartwick dropped by to see if Lyon needed help on a busy Saturday. She gave a Chamber neighbor advice to plan his visitor’s arrival time due to the closing of Route 7 for the parade on Sunday, and she gave Bill and Julie Gauld, RV campers from Sterling, time to look around and confer with each other before she asked if they needed help.

Asking Lyon for something – a favor, directions, the new phone book, suggestions and advice – is like doing her a favor.

“I feel like the E.F. Hutton of the community,” she said.

It is true that when Lyon speaks, people listen. It is also true that she is one of those rare individuals who listen when people speak. And some of the questions she’s heard have provided her with many entertaining entries in the journals she keeps in hopes of writing a book one day:

“I just booked a room. Do your motels have indoor plumbing?”

“I’m prone to nosebleeds. What is your elevation?”

“How much is the half price on your free tickets?”

“What is this rash on my foot?”

“I'm here. Now what?”

“I never met a tourist I didn’t like,” Lyon said. “They are the same people we are. The only difference is that they are not blessed to live here so it is imperative that we share our blessing with them. Doing so, we make the space we are in twice better.”

Lyon’s favorite memory is of Judy, a tourist from Connecticut who stops by once a year to say hello.

“Judy was going through a bad time a few years ago and needed a place to stay where she could relax and reflect on which path to take in her life,” Lyon said.

She sent her to a motel with the perfect sitting area for thinking and because she thought Judy would be comfortable with the motel owner, who was a great listener.

“She was so pleased with my advice that she came to me again and asked me to suggest a restaurant,” Lyon said. “She was uncomfortable going out alone and wanted somewhere she wouldn’t feel out of place. I sent her to a little café, where I knew they would make her feel at home.”

According to Lyon, Judy walked past the café three times that evening, peeking into the window. It was crowded and there was only one seat left at the bar. With Lyon’s advice ringing in her ears, Judy took a deep breath and entered the restaurant. She sat down next to a local man and they had a conversation.

“The last time I heard from Judy, she and this man she met that night were still having long conversations because Judy came back to introduce him as her soul mate,” Lyon said. “I was so glad that I was there at that time and that place to point her in the direction of happiness.”

Giving directions is an important part of Lyon’s job. She directed a man from New York to the local justice of the peace once Massachusetts had legalized gay marriage. She pointed hunters in the direction of wild turkey to hunt for their Thanksgiving dinner. She aimed the female Harley rider, dressed in black, toward the Methodist church. And she helped map a route for the bus driver who, when he made his scheduled stop in front of the Chamber to pick up the passengers bound for New York City, confessed to Joy, “I’m new. How do I get to New York City?”

When Lyon first took the job, she said she knew “where Big Y, the dry cleaner and the thrift store were. I didn’t know Norman Rockwell from Chesterwood or north from south.” She now has all the important information and she is more than happy to share it. She knows who has ticket deals, how to get to the llama farm, where to rent a canoe, the best places to ride a bicycle, which hotels still have rooms available and that “It’s not a good idea to stop in the middle of a crosswalk on Route 7 to get a better signal on your cell phone.”

She said, “I studied and I learned and I still love the job as much today as I loved it on my first day.”

Merry Oislander, who runs Lakeside Terrace in Monterey, described Lyon as “the essence of fun.” Bill Harwood of Coffingbostwick, who has known Lyon for 30 years, said she is “extremely able and always willing to help people.”

On his way to Virginia, Chris Sheehan from Ohio stopped by for the bus schedule. He had just completed the first leg of his Appalachian Trail hike at Mount Greylock. He said the first thing he learned his first day on the trail was “how out of shape I am.”

“But the second thing I learned,” he said, “was that if I really buckle down and stick to something, I can do it.” Lyon admires the hikers she meets and always asks them the most important thing they have learned in their journey. She said the majority say how little they need to be happy.

When she was born, Lyon’s father, Dr. Harold Percy Lyon, wrote her a letter. In it, he said, “I promise I will make your life interesting but I can’t promise you happiness – that is yours to choose.”

Lyon said, “I find myself in the moments I’m in now doing and being everything that I love to do and be. Even when things go wrong, I’m almost always happy — on the inside, where it counts.”

Why We Write

2008-10-09T13:02:00.006-04:00

Although the art of letter writing seems to have become as obsolete as inkwells, writing letters hasn’t disappeared – it’s just changed its form. We could blow the dust off our feather pens and dig out the parchment paper, but these days letter writing is much simpler (and cleaner). No stamps are needed, no scrounging for a scrap of unused paper, and no nasty envelope glue to lick; we still, all of us, at least sometimes, communicate in writing.

Why? Why don’t we just talk to one another? Why not pick up the phone or drop by on your way home from work or hang over the backyard fence? For one thing, cell phone plans often make talking more expensive than writing. And there’s not as much time in a day as there used to be. Yes, I know there are still 24 hours every day, but we squeeze in more and more “stuff,” making the days and weeks seem shorter than they actually are. There’s more to do and, seemingly, less time to do it in.

So we write. We write notes to our ourselves and our families, and stick them on the refrigerator, the bathroom mirror and in backpacks and briefcases. We type emails to catch up with the friends who live far away and make plans with the ones who live up the street. Just press send. We don’t even talk to each other on our cell phones anymore – we use those opposable thumbs to “text” them messages, using a type of shorthand no respectable letter writer of the past century could have deciphered, much less answered.

So, yes, we still write. But why? It’s not because it’s easier. Or is it? Many people would confess they hate to write. They say they’re not good at it, they can’t type, they don’t know how to spell, or they don’t have time. And those are just the excuses from the people who are writing. The ones who aren’t writing have the very same excuses, and more.

But writing has been with us since people picked up sharp sticks and decided, “Hmmm, before I skewer dinner with this, I think I’ll leave a message for the Mrs. on the cave room wall” – “Honey, gone for meat, back soon. Love, Harry.” Writing has been with us forever and; love it or loathe it, read it or write it, do it or don’t, writing isn’t going to fade away within our lifetimes.

Writing can be difficult, frustrating, annoying, or cathartic, rewarding, even mesmerizing. Ever gotten a note from a first grader? A love letter from a crush? I bet you still have them tucked away somewhere. Went to college? To summer camp? Into the Peace Corp or the military? Moved away from home at some point? I bet someone wrote to you to tell you what was happening back “home” and that they missed you. And I bet some of you still have those letters, even if (or especially if) you don’t have the people who wrote them anymore. Rereading an old letter lets you to feel the touch of someone who’s no longer there. A conversation can be forgotten; the written word is there forever.

So is that why people still write? Why do people write? I have some theories (113 and counting, to be exact). Maybe you have your own. If the reason you write isn’t here, please add it to the list.

No one can tell you to shut up – write as much as you want for as long as you want (allowing for meals, sleep, and bathroom breaks, of course).

You won’t lose your voice if you feel like yelling – just type all capital letters or bear down harder with your pencil.

It can be cathartic, even if (especially if?) you never share what you write with anyone else (which avoids hurt feelings and awkward family reunions).

You won’t stutter or mispronounce words and look stupid.

You can make sure you’re using exactly the right word because you have time to check your thesaurus and/or your dictionary.

You don’t have to see anyone’s reaction to what you’re saying unless you choose to be in the same room while they’re reading what you wrote (never a good idea, especially if you’re trying to make them laugh).

You can include anything and everything that you ever wanted to say without worrying that your audience will stop paying attention. (While it’s true they might stop paying attention, because they’re reading rather than listening, you’re not going to know.)

You can edit your writing. Sometimes it’s hard to edit your mouth.

We write:

To convey information.

To remember.

To forget.

To reveal.

To conceal.

To connect.

To detach.

To explore possibilities.

To exaggerate.

To minimize.

To control.

To surrender.

To imitate.

To initiate.

To intimidate.

To earn money.

To find the truth.

To find a soul mate.

To find a job.

To find ourselves.

To intensify an experience.

To heal.

To profess love.

To vent anger.

To share sadness.

To convey sympathy.

To produce laughter.

To celebrate happiness.

To entertain yourself.

To entertain others.

To titillate.

To provoke.

To illustrate.

To compare.

To decide.

To request.

To require.

To flirt.

To play games.

To be serious.

To rule.

To accept.

To decline.

To escape boredom.

To look busy.

To relieve anxiety.

To argue a point.

To get good grades.

To explore options.

To get organized.

To impress.

To surprise.

To relax.

To energize.

To ask a question.

To answer a question.

To commemorate an occasion.

To think things through.

To help.

To hinder.

To evade.

To evolve.

To get involved.

To pretend

To support.

To comfort.

To assuage guilt

To proclaim innocence.

To appease.

To direct.

To confuse.

To encourage.

To discourage.

To make plans.

To break plans.

To beg.

To contribute.

To forgive.

To apologize.

To honor.

To express an opinion.

To criticize.

To complain.

To condone.

To condemn.

To advertise.

To demand.

To request.

To praise

To make something new.

To review something old.

To congratulate.

To annoy.

To commit.

To separate.

To show.

To tell.

To create controversy.

To establish authority.

To leave a legacy.

To imagine.

To consider.

To dream.

To plan.

To share.

Writing symbolizes the spectrum of human emotion. Writing shares, saves, memorizes and memorializes life. That’s why we write.

The writers at Writers 4 Rent want to help you write it right.

Lenox is home after Sept. 11 tragedy

2008-10-08T06:10:00.002-04:00

Published December 09, 2004; www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate

“There’s no place like home.”
— Dorothy, “The Wizard of Oz.”

LENOX — “I have a really high embarrassment threshold, and, by the same token, I’m missing a certain fear gene,” said Karen Beckwith of Beckwith & Barrow Interiors in a recent interview.

Beckwith, a self described Navy brat and “native of all over” arrived in Lenox from Garrison, N.Y., a small town 50 miles north of New York City, two years ago and managed to launch a successful business.

She moved here with her husband, Scott Barrow, a professional photographer, and her daughters, Ardis, now 18 and Rebecca, now 14. Armed with an Off Spring magazine article listing the nation’s 100 best public high schools, a book, “100 Best Small Art Towns in America” and “gut instinct,” Berkshire County became Beckwith’s first choice as the place to live, work and finish raising her family. They moved to Lenox without jobs and knowing only their real estate agent, Barbara Kolodkin, who has become a close friend.

Beckwith said her first big surprise in Berkshire County was that, although she knew no one, everyone already seemed to know her.

When she went to Legacy Bank to open her own account, the teller informed her she was already in the system. The local veterinarian, too, had her name, and the new family orthodontist thought she was a native, since he knew the Beckwith family had been in the area for years.

“It feels comforting to come to a place with an uncommon last name and find a family tree,” Beckwith said. “In all of the places I’ve ever lived, no one ever had my name before. I feel like I belong here.”

She and her husband had talked about moving for several years because their two girls were enrolled in private school, 30 miles south of Garrison, and the 80-minute commute on a major highway twice a day was draining. However, they had been renovating their home in Garrison, one section at a time, for 16 years until, Beckwith said, “It had been polished to a high luster and was exactly the way we wanted it.”

Her children had lived in the house their whole lives, and it was the longest Beckwith had ever lived in one place, so the decision to move was not an easy one.

The impetus for the family move began on the most infamous day in American history, Sept. 11, 2001.

“Two planes flew down the Hudson River, just yards from where I lived and worked, and crashed into the World Trade Center,” Beckwith said. “My kids were at school across the river, toward the city, toward the mayhem. And sitting at my neighbor’s, watching the news, weeping, I saw the second building go down. I stood up and said, ‘I have to get my kids.’ It was in that moment I couldn’t fathom leaving my kids across a body of water every day that I couldn’t cross without a bridge. We had always talked about moving after the kids were away at college, but after that we thought, why wait?”

After many months of research and innumerable visits to small towns from Camden, Maine, to Kilmarnock, Va., they chose Berkshire County as the only place that had everything on her “short list” of 30 things she wanted in a new town. Her motto, as a veteran mover from childhood days, was, “put it in a box and let’s go.”

That did not win her any popularity contests with her children or the longtime friends she was leaving behind, but Beckwith said she was determined to make the move “an adventure rather than a chore.”

Warned that New Englanders were hard to get to know and that it would take a long time to be accepted, she said, “I have not found that to be true. The people I’ve met have been generous and friendly.”

Finding suitable studio space to share with her husband at 56 Church St. in Lenox, above Zink’s restaurant, was not instantly successful, however. Beckwith said it took her husband six months of patience and persistence, the help of real estate agent Ellen Cohen and the willingness of a landlord who had other plans for the space, to “give us a chance.”

Beckwith, a graduate of the Parsons School of Design and Florida State with a bachelor’s degree in visual arts and The Fashion Institute of Technology with a degree in textile design, began doing residential interiors at the request of a local associate. With a broad range of experiences in art, design and textiles, she has done a multitude of design projects, from redesigning malls in France to conceiving the embroidery pattern for Cannon sheets. She is also a painter, and her long-range plans include more time for painting and selling her artwork.

Word of mouth has generated most of her business, thus far, she said. Focused on making houses into homes, she offers interior design suggestions based on her own home design. She said she feels every house needs “something quirky, something unique to the particular chemistry of its inhabitants.”

“Choices should be made based on your personal interests. Make sure your home accommodates that — whether it’s cooking or reading or sitting in front of the fireplace or TV. Figure out what you love best, and in some creative, quirky way, make sure that it is there for you in your home. From a design perspective, it should be beautiful, but the real test is how it makes you feel when you walk in the door.”

Because Beckwith and her family are all artists, they have a blackboard in their entryway for self-expression. Currently, the blackboard has a “fantastical mermaid” that her oldest daughter, Ardis, drew. There are rules for the blackboard.

“Everyone gets a turn to put up something funny or inspiring but no four-letter words, no chores and no grocery lists are allowed,” Beckwith said.

She has also created a moon garden in her backyard and said “digging in the dirt,” made the yard feel more hers.

“When I’m finished designing a house, the goal is that house feels like the client’s own home,” she said.

To accomplish that, she said she also had to cultivate the art of listening. Alhough she recommends that people who are considering opening a business in the Berkshires to “do more research than I did,” she added, “There are only two things you need to succeed — enthusiasm and the intention to want to do a really good job for people. You must be committed to those two things.”

Shugrue running as 'advocate' for the people

2008-10-07T05:54:00.001-04:00

Published August 19, 2004; www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate

Timothy Shugrue (Photo By Linda Galok)

“Stay centered by accepting whatever you are doing. This is the ultimate.”
— Chuang-tzu (369 BC - 286 BC)

PITTSFIELD — Timothy Shugrue kicked off his campaign for Berkshire County district attorney in the middle July against the current District Attorney David Capeless.

Shugrue has never run for political office and last week described it as exhausting, the time spent away from his family a sacrifice.

"It’s well worth it, but I never realized there were so many events and agricultural fairs in Berkshire County," he said. "The thing I love most is that it’s put me in touch with so many people I might not have normally met."

Since there are no Republicans in the race, the Sept. 14 Democratic primary will be the day Berkshire County’s district attorney is elected.

Although Shugrue has been an attorney since 1986, when he graduated from Western New England College School of Law in Springfield, and a politician for a few weeks, Shugrue used neither word to describe himself.

"I like to think of myself as an advocate,” he said. “In my practice, I don’t necessarily tell people what to do as much as I try to teach them about the laws, allowing them to make their own informed decisions."

A highlight of his career was teaching at the National College of District Attorneys, University of Houston Law Center in Houston, Texas in 1991.

"I hope my kids go into teaching," he said. "The law can be a tough, nasty business and you can’t leave it at the office every day at 5."

An assistant district attorney in the Child Abuse Division of the Hampden County district attorney’s office from June 1986 to December 1990, Shugrue said he was witness to "horrifying crimes" but felt he was making a difference in children’s lives, prosecuting sexual abuse cases no one wanted to deal with at the time.

"Silence is an abuser’s ally," he said. "People don’t want to believe that someone would hurt a child, but, unfortunately, it happens."

He came to work as an assistant district attorney in Berkshire County in January 1991, at the behest of Gerard Downing, to help prosecute a backlog of sex crimes.

"Gerry knew I wanted to come back to Berkshire County and he gave me the opportunity," Shugrue said.

During his time with the Berkshire County district attorney’s office, Shugrue was the founder and co-creator of the Berkshire County Children’s Advocacy Center. He considers it one of his proudest accomplishments.

"There was no after care for kids who had been abused," he said.

Also referred to as The Kids’ Place, it is a combination prevention and healing center for children who have suffered from or are at risk of abuse. Law enforcement officers, forensic interviewers, doctors, social workers and therapists work together and are available 24 hours a day, seven days a week for victims and potential victims. The program is multi-funded and self-supporting, run by Executive Director Jennifer Stokes.

"She was so brave to take on this job," Shugrue said. "When I asked her to move back here, we had bought the old Red Cross building on Wendell Ave, but didn’t have any money to refurbish it and I only had one year’s salary available for her and no idea where the money for the following year would come from or if it would come at all."

In December 1993, after eight years working as a prosecutor, and with the Kid’s Place no longer requiring his day-to-day supervision, Shugrue said he felt he was no longer achieving any personal growth in his career and he joined Marcus, Antonucci & Quigley. He then opened his own private practice at 212 South St. in April 1994.

"Divorces, in their own way, can sometimes be as hard as child abuse cases,” he said. “I feel I have accomplished a lot in my career and I’m happy with that. I now want to go back to being more involved in the community."

Born in Uxbridge on April 4, 1960, Shugrue moved with his family to Pittsfield when he was 13. He attended Taconic High School, where he ran an FM radio program. He had a book of old laws that remain in effect (albeit unenforced) today, and every program highlighted one of those laws, he said. Kicking a pigeon and spitting on the sidewalk were two of his favorites.

He is the middle child of an Irish Catholic family of two brothers and four sisters, most of whom continue to live in this area. His father, Walter Shugrue, lives in Lanesboro with his sister, Annmarie Vogel, and her family. His mother, Sophie Shugrue, passed away in February 2002 after struggling several years with Alzheimer’s — two weeks after his mother-in-law died and barely three months after he had married for the second time.

He met his current wife, Joann Shugrue, on July 22, 2001, at her son’s hockey game in Springfield. They were married less than six months later on Dec. 8, 2001.

"I didn’t think I’d ever get married again, but when it’s right, you know it and we both just knew it. We felt lucky to have each other when we both lost our mothers within such a short period of time."

Currently living in the town of Washington, Shugrue describes home as his "little piece of heaven." He is an enthusiastic gardener and said, "Growing roses is just time and patience." His office is always full of flowers, which he has delivered twice a week. His home is always full of children.

"All the kids’ friends like to come here and we enjoy having them," he said.

Sharing physical custody of his daughter, Caitlin Shugrue, with his ex-wife, Shugrue has added a 14-year-old stepson, Joshua LaBarre, and an 11-year- old stepdaughter, Jordan LaBarre, to his family, putting Caitlin in the middle at age 12. She will be 13 on Sept. 11.

"At first Caitlin didn’t want me to run for DA,” Shugrue said. “She liked the fact that I was able to help our friends with real estate closings and other legal matters, but when I explained that the job of DA would make me able to help more people who were less fortunate, she became my biggest supporter. My whole family has made sacrifices during my campaign, without complaint, and that’s been so heartwarming."

Although he’s an avid reader of non-fiction, Shugrue won’t watch horror movies.

"The kids tease me, but I’ve seen the real thing. Autopsy photographs haunt you forever. After seeing it first hand, it’s not entertainment to me. It’s forever an image that you can’t get rid of. They don’t go away — but I hope they make me stronger."

He admits to reading all of John Grisham’s novels just to get a glimpse into "what the glamorous side of the law could be like, if things really happened that way." His reading and his experiences have made him believe everything in life happens for a reason and he said he wouldn’t change anything for fear changing something bad might alter something good, too.

"I’ve had disappointments – ups and downs are part of life. You can dwell on them or you can get on with things. There are many people who deal with truly awful situations, and it is amazing what people can overcome and give back. So I try not to complain because something broke in the house or I’m having a bad day. If you can appreciate things, you realize that your problems are minuscule compared to some."

In private practice, he has learned that everyone has problems; things aren’t always what they appear to be and people will surprise you.

"I tend to see the good in people, but you see a lot of greed in my profession — it sometimes seems as if everybody is out for the buck. But I also think there is simple kindness in people. I used to be amazed when I would go to church and people would listen to the sermon and then cut each other off in the parking lot. But the more we are kind to each other, the less our defenses come up. If we can reflect on what’s right in front of us, we can make people’s day. I guess you’d say that I’m an eternal optimist," he said.

Shugrue thinks that his optimism has given him the tools to accomplish his goals in life.

"People told me the children’s center would never happen, but it did happen and it’s happening still."

He feels his intuition has helped make him successful as a trial attorney.

"Body language and eye contact will tell you a lot about a juror. You want them to make eye contact and be a little uncomfortable with that so that they’ll listen harder and give their decisions more thought — hopefully in your client’s favor, if you’ve done your job well."

His superstitions, he believes, might have been what helped the Patriots win the Super Bowl last year.

"I waited to get up from my seat until they got that field goal," he confided, "I’m sure it helped."

Faith, hope and good luck charms firmly in place, Shugrue’s goal now is a successful bid for district attorney.

"I grew up safe here and I want the same thing for our kids. There needs to be a balance. I want to work with community agencies to help prevent crime rather than just prosecute it. Working as a team, maybe the worst crimes will someday be kicking a pigeon and spitting on the sidewalk."

The Crabs

2008-10-05T09:04:00.003-04:00

I'm more crabby than usual lately. Some people try to tell me it's because I've just turned forty and I'm on the downhill slide. It's true everything seems to be sliding downhill, while I'm bumbling along behind the rest of my body, vainly trying to catch up with my bad knees and flabby upper arms. Age and gravity could be to blame, I suppose, but I think the real source of my crabbiness is the scientific community that keeps discovering new and improved techniques designed to suck all the joy right out of my life.

I used to think I wanted to live a long and healthy life but the term short and sweet has started to look mighty appealing. Pancakes, for instance, are better in a short stack with sweet dark maple syrup topping. Little kids are short and sweet too, except when you try to borrow one of their Tootsie Rolls. The short and sweet set seems to get just as crabby as the over 40's when it comes to sharing chocolate.

Fat in the milk, salmonella in the eggs, nitrates in the bacon and preservatives in the juice has gotten me out of cooking in the morning; a plus. But mad cows, chickens with colds, and glow in the dark fish were driving me to the edge of veganism and green never was my favorite color. Then I find out there's arsenic in the air, waste in the water and pesticides in the peaches. Was there anything left that wouldn't kill me?

I started to make a list of foods that were bad for me but I ran out of paper. The only things that are left are....Well, this week, there don't seem to be any left. Maybe I can eat again next week. The paper started to look pretty appetizing at that point, but I was positive the ink had too many carbs. As soon as someone figures out a way to make paper taste good though, the food police will be snatching that right out of our mouths too.

Remember when food was fun? You celebrated a visit to the grandparents by going to the corner Dairy Queen for a chocolate soft serve. Your birthday was something that you looked forward to because you got to have your cake and lick the bowl too. Now you just hope nobody remembers your birthday by paying for a billboard with a bad 40-foot picture of you and a stupid rhyme on it. And you eat your ice cream by sneaking downstairs and standing in front of the freezer door clutching a spoon while peering over your shoulder, hoping the refrigerator motor won't start running and wake up the rest of the house.

How I long for the days when a Ring Ding or a Twinkie or a Devil Dog after school was a nutritious snack and Froot Loops and Apple Jacks with whole milk was considered a balanced breakfast.

Unless you live on Mars, you can't escape the food police anymore. They stock your grocery store shelves, fill your pantry and infiltrate the bottom drawer of your desk where you used to hide your candy bars. Worst of all, they're chattering incessantly inside your head. Now that you know that no matter what you consume, you'll get fat, develop cancer, go blind or suffer the ill effects of constipation, bloating or gas, you will never again have another guilt free moment of mastication.

What I want to know is why can't they discover that liver causes stupidity, stress builds better abs and believing everything you hear makes you beautiful? Those might be reasons to live longer.

The one good thing is that at the ripe old age of 40, I finally feel well informed. I get it now. Work equals stress, sugar is unhealthy, sex is dangerous, exercise is exhausting, laughter causes wrinkles, smoking causes disease, drinking causes accidents, and food causes death. Simple.

No wonder I'm crabby.

Coping with the Unexpected

2008-10-04T07:58:00.002-04:00

Published iberkshires.com & The Advocate January 20, 2005

Jess Kielman, right, performs a Tarot card reading for her partner, Gayle Andrew. (Photo By Linda Scott Galok)

PITTSFIELD — “Being psychic doesn’t mean I can predict the future,” one of Berkshire County’s well-known psychics, Jess Kielman, said during a recent interview. “I can only tell you what MAY happen — what WILL happen is up to each individual.”

Like a doctor who rarely takes time to check her own pulse, Kielman admits she doesn’t take much time for her own Tarot readings, except for occasionally asking her cards, “Can we afford a plumber this week or how can I make money more efficiently this year?”

One quick personal reading in spring 2001 turned up a reversed devil card for the month of June. Although the cards’ negative reading indicated that something really difficult could happen, Kielman, who knew she would be on vacation in Cape Cod that month, said she didn’t pause to consider the negatives, instead thinking she would be spending time resting and reflecting. And so she did not predict the turn her life was about to take on a Sunday afternoon a week later.

Things had not been easy to begin with for Kielman or her family that year. Her partner of 11 years, Gayle Andrew, was still recovering from a cancerous tumor in her right hand. Andrew’s ex-husband was battling a serious health problem of his own, and their children, Devin and Rebecca, were both having a hard time in school because of the stress and resultant turmoil in their daily routines, Kielman said.

While she was filling in for a coworker at Canyon Ranch that Sunday afternoon, she said, Andrew was home in Pittsfield with Devin, then age 12, helping him study for finals, when they realized his French book was still at school. They decided it was a good time to take a break and go pick up his book at school in Williamstown.

Kielman said the house was empty when she got home. She called Andrew’s mother to check in, but Gayle and Devin had not been there. Kielman said she was not worried until the phone rang. The Williamstown Police Department was calling. There had been a three-car accident on Route 7 in front of the state Highway Department Garage. There were multiple and serious injuries. The two people most seriously injured were Gayle Andrew and her son, Devin Shea.

Kielman said she ran for her car in a panic to get to the emergency room of Berkshire Medical Center.

“We were all where we needed to be that day,” she recalled. “If I had been home, I would have gone along for the ride, and Devin would have been in the backseat, which was ripped from the front and destroyed by the impact of the crash. I don’t think he would have survived it.”

The emergency workers broke the passenger side window to remove Devin from the car, but he shrugged them off, refusing to move until he knew they were taking care of his mother. He lay on a stretcher by the ambulance, with 10 broken bones, but begged the EMTs to let him stay until they had gotten his mother out of the car.

Kielman related that, in BMC’s emergency room, separated by a curtain — Andrew frequently losing consciousness, and doctors and nurses working over them both — Andrew and her son continually called out to one another, checking in to ask, “Are you okay? I’m okay,” never losing their connection of simple words of love and encouragement.

Andrew, a professional acupressure therapist, had 123 breaks and fractures. She had broken bones in both hands, arms and legs; her hip was crushed, her femur shattered and the steering wheel had punctured a lung. The most extensive damage was to her right knee and foot, as she had instinctively tried to stop both her Ford Taurus and the Dodge Dakota truck that hit her head-on. Two sets of Jaws of Life used in tandem, helped extricate Andrew from the car.

BMC admitted Devin, while Life Flight airlifted Andrew to Albany Medical Center.

Kielman remembered trying to “multi-task, spiritually,” during that traumatic time.

”It really challenges your world view,” she said. “I heard myself tell Gayle, ‘You have to live!’ But then I would think, ‘What if it’s her destiny to die? What if that’s what she wants or needs on a soul level?’”

So, she said she tried to prepare herself for either outcome. Andrew was in a drug-induced coma for three weeks, and the doctors were unable to predict the outcome. Held together with titanium pins, plaster casts and pain medication, Andrew later said she couldn’t imagine how it was possible to “feel so broken and still be alive.” Months later at Laurel Lake Nursing Home, she asked a nurse if a person could die from crying. When a doctor told her she would never walk again, Andrew found that unacceptable and knew her only alternative was to work toward healing, no matter how much it hurt.

She recalled one of her toughest physical therapy sessions during a month’s stay at Spaulding Rehab in Boston. She baked chocolate chip cookies in order to start regaining the use of her hands. Bones were still healing, more surgery loomed, and standing up was still impossible. Her grip was weak, her hands trembled and twitched, and frustration and pain battled for attention. The measurements inexact, flour scattered on the floor, the batter perhaps a bit too salty, she persevered for more than two hours. Those cookies were for Devin, she said, and he ate every one.

More than three years, 10 surgeries, hundreds of thousands of dollars and immeasurable hours of pain and physical therapy later, Andrew will need more surgery, still tires easily and needs to use her wheelchair at the end of many days. She may never fully recover from her injuries but she said she can’t fathom giving up.

The whole family still suffers from post-traumatic stress, jumping at loud noises, which can be comical at times because, Kielman said, “Gayle tends to get excited over small things and shouts out when she sees a humming bird, bringing us all running to make sure she’s all right.”

Andrew said, ”Jess put a bird feeder outside my window at the nursing home. It was good Feng Shui — something living to watch — the tough guys, the love stories. It was probably one of the smartest emotional things she could have done for me.”

Although the experience has drained Kielman and Andrew, as well as their families, of time, money and emotion, they agreed they have grown from it. They said they are thankful for every well of prayers, support and help from family, friends and all the professionals they met.

Climbing the stairs of their two-story house was impossible for Andrew, even with a friend’s borrowed rock climbing equipment.

“That didn’t work but it was a hoot,” she said, laughing with Kielman.

They needed a stair lift, but there was little insurance money from the accident and they couldn’t afford the equipment or the installation. Friends decided to have a tag sale to raise the money.

Lynne Soldato, owner of Zucchini’s Restaurant on Route 7 in Pittsfield and Pasta’s on Route 8 in Cheshire, donated Zucchini’s parking lot and provided a considerable amount of food. Tailored Rental gave them a tent; local businesses donated things for a raffle, and one couple, planning their own tag sale, heard about the fundraiser and loaded their truck with all their own things, donating them to Kielman and Andrew to help them raise the money.

“People came to buy things from us and brought their own things back so we could sell them. We had 15 helpers by the end of the day,” Kielman said.

They raised enough money for the stair lift and had enough left over to build a wooden walkway so Andrew could get to their garden.

When they were trying to find an inexpensive wheelchair, the United Cerebral Palsy Association, a national non-profit with offices on West Street in Pittsfield, stepped in with one to use “for as long as we needed it,” Kielman said. “They are wonderful, kind, and just there for everyone, even helping you find whatever they don’t provide.”

All their experiences weren’t positive, of course, and psychic ability isn’t necessary to see that life will always hold special challenges for this family.

“Government assistance programs don’t always assist; people don’t always tell the truth; some businesses care more about money than people, and, as hard as the staff might try, nursing homes can be badly understaffed and overworked,” Kielman said.

Andrew can’t presently use her skills as an acupressure therapist to earn a living, but she and Kielman still offer Feng Shui lectures at Canyon Ranch. Andrew has learned to make beautiful jewelry, sun catchers, door hangers and dowsers, utilizing the art of Feng Shui.

“I had to be in bed for several months after every surgery, and there is only so much television a person can tolerate. Jess built a tower on wheels for all my beads and supplies,” Andrew said.

Two weeks ago, Andrew drove a car for the first time in almost four years, and she was gleeful when she talked about using snowshoes the past weekend, although she wasn’t able to go more than twice around the house and “needed a two day nap afterward.”

“She can’t do the grocery shopping yet,” Kielman said, “but she can drive me to the store.”

Kielman admitted she still doesn’t take time to tune in to herself and her own life’s possibilities.

“Laundry, meals, making a living and taking out the garbage — all seem to use up the day.”

“When get extra stressed and irritable, we know we have to stop and take time for ourselves and each other,” Andrew said.

Kielman offers free Tarot readings at 8 a.m. the last Tuesday of every month with a call-in segment on WUPE radio station, 95.9 FM in Pittsfield, and has recently taught classes in Tarot and astrology through Berkshire Community College. Kielman and Andrew may be contacted at Canyon Ranch in Lenox, as well as through their Web site, www.berkshirefengshuiarts.com.

With their little free time left at the end of every day, they are also writing a book, “Accidental Journey,” about the accident and their experiences along the road to recovery. It will include interviews with the people involved in the accident, rescue and recovery, what they did, how they felt and if and how it changed them in profound or simple ways. It will also include information about practical ways of dealing with the human side of the aftermath of trauma. The inspiration for the book came from the lack of resources for victims of trauma.

They hope their book will help others by shedding light on what can be a long, dark road.

In Quest of A Giant Orange Dream

2008-10-03T13:00:00.007-04:00

Published www.iberkshires.com & The Advocate - October 20, 2004

"Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons. It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth." — Walt Whitman (1819-1892), “Song of the Open Road”

HINSDALE — A growing number of people in Berkshire County and the surrounding areas have been visiting their back yards at the crack of dawn and in the dark of night on a regular basis. Some wear headlamps. Some bring blankets. They range in age from kindergarteners to grandfathers. And they’re all after one thing: giant pumpkins.Phil Daignault of Hinsdale started down the garden path with just a seed of an idea and a question, "Can I actually do it?" He needed to know, and now his interest has produced a source of fascination for his whole family.

Some giant-pumpkin growers spend thousands of dollars and some spend a few hundred on what many refer to as their obsession. Its roots may have begun in Canada, with a man named Howard Dill, and the craze appears to have spread from Canada to Australia and almost every continent in between over the past 20 years.

In 1996, Berkshire County growers formed their own self-help group. Dues are $10 a year. They meet once a month for seven months. Their first meeting is in March and their last is in September. They buy their supplies in bulk to save money and share their ideas, advice, knowledge, equipment and muscle freely.

To top it all off, this down to earth group has no desire whatsoever to find cures for their particular predicaments. They are carving out a way to enjoy themselves and they’re having too much fun to stop now. In fact, they invite everyone to join them in their gigantic passion.

"It’s something the whole family can become involved in and have fun with," Daignault said.

He and other growers admit it is a huge responsibility. From 5 a.m. feedings and warming blankets to better methods of providing important vitamins and minerals, to finding a dependable, experienced babysitter if they need to go out of town, they are all putting their hope, faith and best efforts into growing the healthiest, strongest, and of course biggest giant pumpkin they possibly can.

First prize in some contests can go as high as $35,000, with bonuses from sponsors ke Coca-Cola. Some contests are more modest, such as the Sept. 25 event at Whitney’s Farm stand in Cheshire, which drew 25 entrants — nine in the under-18 category — where first prize was $200.

Joe Goetze, of Pittsfield, was the big winner that day with an 846-pound pumpkin. Five-year-old Casey Hopkins won in the children’s category with a 474-pound pumpkin of her own.

Goetze had a larger pumpkin in his backyard patch, which he harvested on Oct. 1 for the Topsfield contest. The Topsfield Agricultural Fair is the oldest fair in America, established in 1818. Topsfield’s biggest pumpkin contest started in 1984 with just 16 entrants and a winner of 433 pounds.

Goetze won first prize at Topsfield in 2000 with a 917-ound pumpkin — just 2.8 pounds heavier than the second-place pumpkin. He did not fare as well this year, coming in fifth with an even larger pumpkin weighing 1,124.8 pounds. Another member of the Berkshire Giant Pumpkin Growers Association, however, Bill Hopkins, (Casey’s dad) also of Pittsfield, placed third with a 1,170.6-pound giant pumpkin. Steven Sperry of Johnston Rhode Island was the 2004 giant winner with a 1,253-pound pumpkin, and Fred Macari of Coventry, R.I., placed second with a 1,173.4-pound pumpkin.

But none of this year’s hopefuls beat the world record of 1,337.6 pounds, grown by Charles Houghton of New Boston, N.H., in 2002. Maybe next year.Daignault and his wife have both won at Topsfield. In 1996, the first year they went, his wife, Joan, won with a 746.8-pound giant. They met Senator John Kerry, who was attending the fair that year. That was a big year for the Daignault’s three sons as well. Their mother, sure she had no chance of winning as a first-time pumpkin grower, had promised that if she won, she would buy them motorcycles with her winnings. Jon, now 16, Bryan, now 13 and Matt, now 11, much to their mother’s chagrin, well remember that promise.

The Berkshire Giant Pumpkin Growers do not have a full-time fundraiser, so their president, Goetze, who works full-time for the town of Lenox, was able to find only one sponsor for the contest held at Whitney’s this year. But that was enough. Steve Garrity of L.B. Corp., in Lee, sponsored the local event. The growers hope that, as interest spreads, more sponsors will follow suit.

Nancy and Chris Fischer of Averill Park, N.Y., who attended the contest at Whitney’s, are also members of the Berkshire group but are ineligible to win the Topsfield contest, since New York is not part of New England. The Fischers’ pumpkins were the shiniest at Whitney’s, and Nancy Fischer shared their secret: "a weak solution of bleach to clean it and Lemon Pledge to shine it," she said.

Chris Fischer’s pumpkin weighed more than his wife’s this year, so she had to buy him dinner. She donated her pumpkin to a local Cub Scout group, which is selling guesses on its weight to benefit the Hunter Dobert Medical Fund. Dobert has leukemia.

The challenge to grow giant pumpkins is time consuming, intensive and rewarding but can sometimes be downright disappointing.

"There's a lot of luck involved, and my family and I have been extremely lucky," Daignault said, "You can do everything right and things can still go wrong."

His family has had pumpkins rot from the inside from too much watering. One hailstorm can destroy a season’s work; too much rain won’t leave enough time to fertilize, and drastic changes in the weather can cause the pumpkins to split and explode.

Patrick Walsh, 17, a Pittsfield High School student and 4-H Club member, had his crop destroyed the year when his uncle’s cows got into his pumpkin patch to have a snack. Walsh’s passion for pumpkin growing started at his grandparent‚s farm in Washington but spread to his own back yard, which is a plus, according to Walsh, because "There’s less lawn to mow now."

One of the Berkshire Giant pumpkin growers, Dan Hajdas, also had some bad luck this year. As workers prepared to load his giant for Topsfield, they found a hole in the pumpkin, which disqualified it."The agony of defeat," Daignault sympathized.

The year one of Daignault’s giants was to travel to New York City for carving, it cracked right before the trip and was unusable."They were going to pay $1,000 for it," he said with a grimace.

At the end of the growing season and after the contests, the Daignaults usually give their pumpkins away, carve them into giant jack ’o lanterns or parboil them and freeze them for pumpkin pie — a lot of it.

"It takes about 12 hours and a lot of freezer space to cook and store one of the giants," Daignault said. "They have a coarser texture, but they are just as sweet as field pumpkins. The seeds can be dried for snacks, too, though they have fewer than you would think for something that big — about 100 per pumpkin."

Daignault applies his success with giant pumpkin growing to life:"

You can do anything if you work hard at it and want it to happen bad enough," he said. "You could spend as much raising pumpkins as you do raising kids, but kids are easier. The most important thing to remember is to make it fun."

The generous, friendly growers said they have learned through their giant-pumpkin experiences that you will reap what you sow, and they are grateful for the chance to share the harvest.

If a seed of interest in growing giant pumpkins has sprouted, or if a desire to become a sponsor for giant-pumpkin growing contests has blossomed, call Goetze at 443-0939. He said the group appreciates and welcomes the chance to help new growers — and maybe one day one of them will beat the world record.

40 years of gracefully coping with death

2008-10-02T09:11:00.004-04:00

Published November 11, 2004 www.iberkshires.com, The Advocate

"May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon your fields and, until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand."
— Irish Blessing

David Dery says he has always taken the high road in his funeral home business.

“There are so many times where you could take a nickel here or a nickel there, and unfortunately, in business, when you start that habit, it becomes hard to break,” he said in a recent interview. “I’ve had friends who have gotten themselves in trouble doing that. Just stay on the road of honesty — it’s easy to stay on that road. I’ve always felt that way and have invited clergy concerned about the cost of funerals to look at my books.”

His books may be open to scrutiny, but Dery’s mouth remains closed about matters he considers private. After 40 years in the business, he has many stories, ranging from the truly tragic to the downright funny but declines to share most of them because he feels confidentiality is a fundamental obligation of a funeral director.

Dery, who turned 70 on July 13, is president of Dery Funeral Homes in Pittsfield, Cheshire and Dalton. He described himself as a retired consultant to the business. His son Frederick Dery, who joined the business in 1989, is vice president, and runs the day-to-day operations.

David Dery’s father, J. Edward Dery, opened the funeral business in 1937. Although he did not map a direct route for his life, David, as the eldest son, said he knew he would eventually follow his father’s footsteps and join the family business. He worked at the funeral home summers and school holidays once he turned 18, until he graduated from college and moved away.

Following his heart in his personal life, Dery said, “There was no set plan or really many plans at all. I thought I might be a lawyer, but then I married Hope and joined the Air Force. We were living in Spokane, Wash., flying B52s, having fun and having babies. That was the only plan.”

After seven years as an Air Force officer and with a degree in history, Dery returned to Massachusetts to attend The New England School of Anatomy and Embalming in preparation for joining his family’s business. Attending school during the day and working as an apprentice at Waterman Funeral home every night until midnight, Dery spent a year in Boston while his family lived in Pittsfield.

“I went from a captain giving orders to going to classes with kids just out of high school. That was a tough year,” he said.

Dery and his younger brother, Ed Jr., who had recently graduated from college, both joined the family business in 1964. Ed Jr. was also born on July 13, seven years after David.

“I wanted a flashlight but I got a brother,” Dery said.

Having had his own tragic losses, Dery said he felt more equipped to empathize with families who were suffering their losses. When his dad, J. Edward Dery, died just four years after he and Ed Jr. had come into the business, Dery said, “We didn’t have time to mourn. We had the funeral on a certain day, and by golly, the next morning we were both right back at the office. The funeral business is a tough business. You can’t just close the doors at 5 o’clock Friday night and come back Monday morning. You are on call 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.”

“Funeral directors,” he said, “are primarily needed to bury the dead. Historically, that’s been very important.”

The job also includes the ceremony involved with burying the dead, and Dery feels that is just as important.

“In most cases, it is a means of therapy for the family, friends and community to join together in a common loss. Unfortunately, there has been a recent trend away from ceremony. I think people come away fairly empty without it.”

He added, “People say they don’t want a wake or ‘put me in a pine box and throw me in the woods.’ How many times have I heard that? I challenged a woman one day and said to her, ‘What makes you think your family is going to do that for you anyway?’ I did it deliberately, and she got mad at me because people really want that, but they don’t want to say that’s what they want.”

Many people, Dery said, are afraid they aren’t important enough to be mourned or loved enough to be missed.

“I have had wakes where one person sat beside the casket for two days straight, one where only the ex-wives came and some where the family comes but they’re happy because ‘It’s no secret, Mr. Dery — he was brutal to us and we’re glad he’s gone.’ Generally, the family, rather than the deceased, decides on the type of ceremony, though prearrangements have gotten more popular recently.”

The trend, he said, has also been more toward cremation than burial. It’s much less expensive, but the ceremonies may be just as elaborate.

“Over the years, I’ve cremated mahogany caskets just like I’ve buried mahogany caskets,” he said. “The casket is involved in ceremony. Whether you bury it or cremate it, no one is ever going to see it again. As cremations became more popular, we developed a rented casket. From the outside, it looks like a beautiful oak casket, but the inside is a heavy cardboard box. The body, when delivered to the crematorium, must be in a combustible container.”

Dery said he has had many unusual requests over the years to dispose of the ashes and does his best to accommodate them all.

The cost of funerals in 1964 started at $500 to $600. The cost of a funeral today starts at $5,000 to $6,000.

Dery explained. ”The funeral home has a place, and that place has to be paid for, cleaned, heated, maintained, painted once in awhile. Then you have to put manpower in there, and these people may have to be on call because you always have to respond quickly.”

Since Berkshire County is a semi-rural area, most funeral homes are small, and the employees do not specialize but become jacks-of-all-trades, he said.

“At the Dery funeral home, we own our own livery service, including a hearse,” he said. “The president has washed a number of cars over the years and never minded doing it either.”

Sometimes funeral home employees must be the pallbearers as well. A casket made of steel might weigh up to 200 pounds.

“Years ago, we used to hire off-duty firemen, but I don’t think they want to do that anymore,” Dery said. “The fire department was a place where you could call and get six strong guys to come for a few dollars and a couple of hours.”

The work can be depressing and grueling, and employee turnover can be quite high. There are days, Dery admitted, when he gets depressed, and his son Fred also has bad days. There are ways to cope, however, and Dery recommends finding time off to do things you love.

“You have to understand that when a person goes out to buy a TV or a car, he’s usually in pretty good frame of mind — he’s happy. When a person comes in to buy a funeral, they are at the lowest point in their lives. There is not a lot of hilarity going on, and they can be obnoxious and you have to excuse all that because they are not themselves,” he said. “You will have many people who will try you very much — one of the biggest difficulties is working for people who are under a tremendous amount of stress. You need patience.

He laughed.

“But the older I get, the less patience I have.”

Dery has a favorite outlet to relieve stress, and any back road will do when he rides his BMW motorcycle. He has been riding for 19 years, and his only regret is that he didn’t start motorcycling younger because he’s met so many nice people and seen a lot of the world over the years.

He has ridden in almost every country from Argentina to New Zealand. His favorite place is northern Spain, where, he said, “The roads are beautiful and the food is marvelous.” He went to Italy and Sicily last year, Scotland and Ireland this year and plans to visit Sweden and Norway next year.

When Ed Jr. died at age 48 in an automobile accident in 1989, Dery was on a motorcycle trip and on his way to Estes Park, a national park in Colorado on the highest highway in the United States. Dery said he got to the park at mid-morning and was surprised to find a message to call home. Shaken when he received the news of his brother’s death, he worried about making it home safely. But, thanks to the kindness of friends and strangers, getting home was no problem, he said. A police officer stopped him near Tabernash to give him a message from friends in Denver who had arranged for a ride to the airport and a plane ticket home.

“Eddie and I had both intended that I would retire in my early 60s, and I always felt secure in the knowledge that he would be there taking care of things. When I lost him, I didn’t know what to do but just carry on as best I could.”

He said he found it difficult meeting with the families for some time and felt lucky to have competent staff to help him in his own time of need.

“When someone dies, despair is awful, and the road to recovery may be long. One of the things a funeral does is provide a transition between your husband sitting at the breakfast table that morning and four days later when you’re sitting alone. I can’t imagine people not having a funeral, but plenty of people today don’t. A funeral is the therapy that a family goes through with confrontation. It’s the most important thing, and if you’re lucky enough to have faith, the sadness will pass more easily. It also passes easier if you have friends and relations along the way that you can be with.”

Dery’s family includes his wife, Hope, “the love of his life,” his son Bart, whom Dery described as “a free spirit with a generous heart,” his daughter Diane, “a true delight,” Diane’s son, David, 21 and in college, (his only grandchild), and his son, Fred, “the outdoorsman who will continue the family tradition and keep the business on track.”

Dery does not speak of death with fear or his own funeral with worry. With his loving family and the thousands of friends he has made the world over, he said he has faith that once he has taken his last ride, he will be mourned with ceremony and, hopefully, remembered with more laughter and love than tears and regrets — just the way he has tried to live his life.

The Force is with Them

2008-10-01T05:46:00.005-04:00

The Force is with them

Published iberkshires.com & The Advocate September 30, 2004

Marc and Deanna Strout and their daughter, Paxton. Photo by Linda Scott Galok

“The way a team plays as a whole determines its success. You may have the greatest bunch of individual stars in the world, but if they don't play together, the club won't be worth a dime.” — Babe Ruth (1895-1948)

LANESBORO — On a warm, rainy night, in a room filled with more toys than furniture, despite the threat their pictures would be posted on bulletin boards in two different police departments, exposed to ruthless jeers and caustic comments from their co-workers, Marc and Deanna Strout consented to questioning.

“The first time I met him, he almost shot me,” she said.

“She stalked me for two years,” he said.

“We kept running into each other,” both agreed.

“I finally asked her for her phone number,” he said.

“I told him no,” she said.

“And then she told three people we knew to give me her phone number,” he said.

“That is so not true,” she said. “He was done the first time we met.”

He said, “Well, you can only take so many restraining orders out on someone.”

The Strouts will celebrate their third wedding anniversary on Oct. 13.

Marc Strout is a sergeant on the Pittsfield police force, a third-generation police officer who has been on the force for 10 years. His father, Craig Strout, and grandfather, Fred Strout, are both retired. Deanna Strout has been a Dalton police officer for seven years and was a part-time EMT prior to that. She said she knew she wanted to be just like her uncle, George Wendling, a retired Dalton police officer, from the first time he used his cruiser’s PA system to say good-bye to her.

The Strouts' daughter, Paxton, is 18 months old, and a little brother is scheduled to join their family in February 2005.

“I would love it if one of our kids goes into law enforcement,” Deanna Strout said.

“Absolutely not an option,” agreed her husband.

Deanna Strout has her master’s in criminal justice and feels the degree helps in that it makes her more accepting of people, because, she said, “It’s not our job to judge.”

Her husband served four years in the Coast Guard before joining the Pittsfield police force and felt that gave him an advantage in getting hired. Both said the trend is that more people are attracted to police work, even though they also feel it has become a less respected line of work. They agreed a civil-service background or a degree is almost mandatory in being able to compete for the few openings available.

Both attended the Police Academy in Agawam, and Deanna Strout said her grades were better than Marc’s.

“We’re kind of competitive,” she said, “about everything. We have card night with our families every week, but we can’t play Monopoly anymore because Marc gets way too aggressive and it gets ugly.”

Her ideal vacation would be a Disney cruise; her husband would like to swim with great white sharks. She has brothers; he has sisters. She is a morning person; he is a night owl. The dog is his; the cat is hers. She is an avid Red Sox fan; he is a fanatic Yankees supporter.

She said, “The battle of the century will be whether this next baby is named after a Yankee or a Red Sox player.”

“He’ll be named after a Yankee,” he said.

“The mother signs the birth certificate,” she said, then turned to her daughter. “Paxton, what do the Yankees do?”

Paxton blew a raspberry.

“Paxton, what do the Red Sox do?” her father asked.

Paxton blew another raspberry.

“She’s our little politician,” Deanna Strout said, sitting on the floor, feeding Paxton her yogurt.

They both work the night shift and said they average about five hours of sleep each but are used to it. They agreed it is both easier and harder to be married to someone in the same line of work.

“She understands the stress and the situations I deal with every day because she deals with it, too,” Marc Strout said. On the other hand, he said, “It’s harder not to worry because we know exactly what the dangers are.”

They don’t own a scanner, but they are aware of each other’s calls when they are working, since Pittsfield and Dalton back each other up on occasion. They have been lucky in that neither has ever been seriously injured but said the emotional and mental stress can be just as difficult, and they feel lucky they can rely on each other when things get tough.

Deanna Strout recalled the worst situation she had ever dealt with: “A little boy had died. My chief sent me home and called Marc’s department. They sent him home and he took me out for a milkshake. He understood what I was going through and was able to be there — he knew what to say and what to do.”

Marc Strout lost his partner, Jack, a trained German Shepard police officer, to spinal myopathy a few years ago.

“People will say they understand because they lost a pet, too, but I didn’t lose a pet,” he said. “Jack was my partner and a member of our family. We were together 24/7. We worked together, lived together and depended on each other, sometimes in life-threatening situations. Deanna understands that.”

Deanna Strout is the only female officer on the Dalton police force. Her husband’s lieutenant and several of his co-workers are women. The Strouts said they have both witnessed the varied reactions of people to female officers and find them sometimes odd, sometimes funny and hardly ever surprising.

Deanna Strout recalled an incident that still makes her laugh: She had been on the job for about a year. A car failing to yield almost broadsided her cruiser. She followed the car for about 5 miles with her blue lights and siren going, but the driver would not pull over. When a state trooper finally cut the car off on Merrill Road in Pittsfield, her cruiser, another Dalton cruiser and two Pittsfield cruisers were all in pursuit of the “criminal” going 30 mph.

“There’s a little old lady driving the car, and the trooper said to her, ‘Ma’am, this officer would like to speak to you.’ I said, ‘I’ve been behind you for 5 miles with my lights and siren on — why didn’t you stop?’ She said, ‘Well, I didn’t know why a little girl would be driving a police car, so I didn’t want to stop.’ And the first thing I did was turn around to see if everyone else heard it, too. Of course they did, so I still hear about it.”

They both agreed that men and women in uniform have unique and effective ways of dealing with situations, and they have learned from each other.

She said, ”I’m a small woman, so if I walk into a bar fight and start acting like I can take on the world, then I’m pretty stupid — and I’m going to get it handed to me in a big hurry. I have to go in and use my head and deal. If I treat people with respect, I get it back. It’s the rare person that doesn’t agree with that and calm down.”

He said, “Female police officers are less likely to be in a violent situation because of the way they deal with people. If I tell someone to do something and they don’t do it, the situation may escalate more quickly than if a female officer tells him to do something — people are more aggressive with male officers — but male officers may be more aggressive than female officers.”

Deanna Strout witnessed her husband in a violent situation on her way home from her own 3-to-11 shift one night. She said it was one time when the potential reaction of others might have slowed her reaction time.

“I drove around a corner and saw a Pittsfield cruiser stopped on the side of the road with the driver’s door open and the lights going. That seemed strange,” she said. “I saw it was Marc’s car, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him on the ground fighting with some guy. I was still in full uniform, but my first thought was, ‘Will I embarrass him if I stop and help him?’ You know, I’m his wife jumping out of her truck in the middle of the night to help him in a fight. I actually had to process that thought before I slammed on the brakes and jumped out to help. Of course, I didn’t do anything to help. He’d already called for backup, and his guys got there really quick. I just kind of snuck back into my truck because I’m thinking they are going to give him so much crap that his wife stopped to help him.”

The thing they both love most about their jobs is they never know what their nights will bring. Deanna Strout has been in her own physical confrontations, and her husband has had occasions when logical thinking was “the more important resource.”

She said, “Another officer and I were called to a bar, and a guy took a swing at me. I had an older brother who used to beat the crap out of me when I was a kid, so I was like, game on. I had the guy pepper-sprayed, on the floor and handcuffed before my partner could even react — you do have to be able to handle yourself. We don’t just write speeding tickets.”

Marc Strout recalled being sent to a robbery at the Tyler Street Pizza House.

He said, “A guy ordered three pizzas with everything. When he got there, he grabbed them and ran out the door. I thought, well if I’m going to steal three pizzas, I’m not going to be running very far with them, so I went into the closest apartment building at the corner of Curtis and Tyler. When I got to the third floor, I could smell pizza, so I started knocking on doors. Sure enough, there were the thieves, eating the stolen goods.”

They said they both went into police work with a desire to help people.

She said, “You start out thinking you’re going to make a difference, and you find out pretty quickly that you can’t. It’s kind of depressing — so you just do what you can and do your best every day.”

He said, “We deal with the same 2 percent most of the time — it’s the other 98 percent that you do the job for.”

“I know it sounds dorky, but I think of Marc as invincible,” she said. “He’s one of the smartest people I know, and I respect his opinions. I’ve learned not to take as much grief from people, and I have much more self-confidence because of Marc. I’ve learned that, even if you don’t know the answer, pretend you do. People need reassurance that you’re going to fix things, even if you have no idea how to make that situation better.”

He said, “Deanna has taught me patience with people. Stuff that before would have sent me over the edge and wind up getting someone locked up now makes me laugh, and I can just let it go.”

The Strouts have arguments like any normal couple, but they believe laughter keeps them sane at work and keeps things working well at home.

She said, “The longest argument we’ve ever had has been about 10 minutes. I’m quick to apologize. He’s a little more stubborn.”

He said, “We don’t fight very often because we don’t have time. We don’t fight about money.”

“Because we don’t have any,” she said.

“We don’t work any overtime,” he said. “We live on what we make.”

“Our family time is way too important, and you can’t get that back,” she said. “Family traditions are very important to both of us.

“We’ve always had the same goals.”

“We love each other’s families.”

“And we don’t fight about work.”

They said they consider their fellow officers family, too, and, just like family, they can be brutal in their honesty and in their jokes — much worse than dealing with criminals.

“I can mess with them. They can mess with me, but nobody else better mess with us,” he said. “We can scream and yell and go nose-to-nose with each other because, when the night is over, we’re still family.”

“Even taking our jobs into account, it’s a very low-stress relationship,” he said of his marriage.
Complimenting and complementing each other, they finally confessed:

“He really does have a sweet side,” she said.
“She cleans up nice,” he said.

Red Sox vs. Yankees, they watch side by side and every day, work, play and raise their family on the same team.

2008-05-28T14:05:00.004-04:00

Remember do-overs? If it weren’t impossible, I used to think I’d have one of those please. For my life. Not too far back though, because, contrary to popular belief, I am borderline sane and have no desire to live through teen angst a second time.

I’d go back just far enough to appreciate skin without stretch marks and hair without gray. Back to the day when food still tasted good because calories didn’t count. The day when riding on the back of a Harley was cool, not suicidal and mini-skirts were hot, not embarrassing. Back to when my doctor was older than me and hadn’t heard of specialties, or HMO’s. Back before voicemail was a word and my only conversations some days were with my appliances. Back before shopping malls were a popular form of entertainment and before station wagons disguised as mini-vans came equipped with entertainment centers. Back before money was God and God couldn’t afford a decent place to live. Back before crime was rampant and politician was synonymous with criminal. (That may be a little too far back.) Back to the day when doing nothing was fun and time equaled only opportunity and potential. I’d live in the moment, every day and savor it. I’d eliminate guilt from my list of favorite words and forget what it felt like. I’d never let anyone convince me I didn’t have what it takes or take me anywhere I didn’t want to go. I’d never believe anyone who thought they knew me better than I knew myself or tried to tell me that I didn’t know my own mind.

But most days I’m glad it’s impossible for a life do-over. Sure, I might be living in Hawaii or married to Mel Gibson or working as a journalist and traveling all over the world. But Hawaii has flying cockroaches and Mel Gibson has six kids and strange women writing him love letters and the news is too depressing to write about and traveling is nice but so is home.

Each and every person I’ve known, place I’ve been to, or thing I’ve tripped over or bumped into has made the person I am today. I kind of like her. Most days. Sometimes. Good or bad, everyone makes a contribution to the life of others, shaping the people they are and the world we live in.

I now know that doing something is always more powerful than doing nothing. And going back can’t compare with moving forward. I can’t change the past, but I can make the rest of my time count. I won’t stress if I don’t finish the laundry or the dishes. I don’t care if I never make a million dollars. I won’t worry about another gray hair, and I definitely won’t give up or give in so easily if I truly need or want someone or something in my life to make it better. Maybe I’d ask for just one do-over though. The second time around, I’d write it all down. Before I forgot……..And so my family would have something more to laugh at even after I’m gone.

The Connection in Collections

2008-05-23T09:54:00.010-04:00

If you’re going to start a collection, choose something that you can hold in your hands; something that won’t break the piggy bank; something to remember where you’ve been or where you’re going; to commemorate an occasion or mark the passing of time. Each time you pick something up from your collection, a memory will come back to you.

I collect key chains. Like most collections, it started by accident. It’s a strange thing to collect because they’re really not worth anything. They’re not unusual or expensive or unique or rare. Everyone probably has ten or twelve of them lying around somewhere. I doubt they’ll ever be mistaken for valuable antiques and when I die, they’ll probably be donated to the Goodwill or tossed in the dumpster along with all my hopelessly (even now) out of date wardrobe items that so appall my 24 year old daughter.

You can pick up a free keychain in a gas station or your bank or the grocery store. They’re sold in airports and gift shops and department stores all over the world. They’re small and portable bits of stone and plastic and wood and metal hanging from a ring or a clip and you can find them everywhere. They’re as common as penny collections and there’s an oversized one of those in my collection too. You can take anything and attach it to a 49¢ clip and chain and have an original key chain for your own collection.

When I first started collecting them, I carried them attached to my keys. But as my collection exceeded 20 and showed no sign of slowing, I had to find another place for them, as they were getting heavy enough to damage my ignition, not to mention my posture from carrying them around.

They went from hanging on magnetized hooks on the door of the refrigerator, down both sides of a four drawer filing cabinet and rested, at times in a plastic storage box when I couldn’t find a place to hang them. Sometimes little people would come to visit me. The collection had grown and the reached almost to the floor. Just the perfect height for little fingers. They couldn’t hurt them. Most were washable and the ones that weren’t could be replaced. They were most fascinated with the little train that played four different sounds when you pushed the button. That’s the only one that had to be replaced regularly as it ended up in toy bags and back packs on a regular basis after these visits.

Finally, my thoughtful husband bought me a giant bulletin board and hung it over my desk. (Actually the jangling of the chains always alerted me to his ice cream raids on the freezer but it was thoughtful.) The pushpin thumbtacks hold the collection as if someone had that very purpose in mind when they invented pushpins. I started to hang them in orderly lines. And then I thought it would be more interesting to see where they’d end up if I just hung them as I took them out of the box. The English crown hangs next to the Dutch shoes and the magic 8 ball hangs under the cuckoo clock from Germany. Nebraska and New Jersey coexist peacefully and the jade from Japan and Amethyst from China never clash, separated by the white quartz from a trip to sea out of Boston Harbor.

After awhile, the more well-traveled members of my family began picking them up for me. I have one from Singapore, four from Saudi Arabia and two from Switzerland. Some have the names of cities I’ve visited, and some are symbolic. I got one at a wedding that serves as a bottle opener and has the happy couple’s name and wedding date printed on it. They’re still married and have two kids. My father-in-law picks them up at the grocery store or the hardware store or he comes across the old ones he had stored in a junk drawer for years and gives me one each time he comes to visit. His choices are practical – there’s a miniature sewing kit, one that turns into a pair of manicure scissors, a small set of three tiny screwdrivers, a miniature calculator and a tiny camera. My mother picks up silly key chains with sayings like, “I’m not weird, I’m gifted” and “Weird but Lovable.” (Thanks, Mom. Subtle, she’s not.) There’s the troll my daughter used to have attached to her backpack for good luck in fourth grade. And the #3 that represents Dale Earnhardt, bought the year he died. My grandmother made her first transatlantic trip a few years ago to visit her sister in Hawaii so I have a surfboard and a pair of flip-flops, both in hot pink and neon green. There are the heavy pewter Hershey kisses from Hershey Park Pennsylvania, a moose from Maine and the Eiffel tower from Paris. The miniature picture frame key chains with my family hang closest to the desk, where I only have to glance up to see them. Number 1 Mom and Number 1 Dad hang side by side – a Christmas gift from my daughter when she was eight. She spent her whole allowance on those key chains. There’s a little plastic pig and a jolly green giant from my sister in law in Florida and a holographic angel from my niece in New York. A little devil hangs to the left and below Portuguese money and the moon turns it’s back on a star. The hearts hang in a little group below the angels and a roller blade and Tigger hangs out with Tommy Tomato. Miniature lanterns, flashlights and whistles, stuffed animals and a plastic turtle all have a special place on the board and in my memory.

If there are little boxes under the tree, at Christmas, I know they’re for me and I’m excited and relieved they aren’t expensive pieces of jewelry. They’re important little pieces of each giver, given to me to show me where they’ve been and who they are, attaching us by a link and a chain. And most important to me, that they were thinking of me while they were away. Maybe they’ll all come together when I’m gone and take back the ones they’ve given me and remember me when they start their own collection of key chains. And remember where they’ve been and who they are and maybe, if I’m lucky, they’ll remember me too.