My Father was a Sailor

My childhood family memories could be summed up by this one photo.

My wonderful loving father Bill Thorn loved to sail, and sail we did... every weekend and every vacation. He was widowed at 48 with 3 children between the ages of 7 (me) and 21. After we lost my mother the teenage friends of my siblings often joined the trips. I’m sure it was part of a great plan to keep the big kids on the boat.

While spending so much time on a boat might sound glamorous to non-sailors, it’s not. Sometimes it felt a little like Swiss Family Robinson. Lots of salt, sun, big waves, and mildew! We were sunburn and windburn at all times. We lived off deli sandwiches, chips, and canned soda on these trips around Long Island sound and up and down the coast to the Vineyard or Nantucket. I had an orange snoopy sleeping bag and was lulled to sleep by the waves and sounds of the clang of the rigging.

There were madcap adventures like my father falling off the boat, not once but twice while on the mooring by himself, trying desperately to figure out how to get out of the water and back on to the boat. My daddy navigated with a slide rule and a chart, a depth finder, and the stars. My brother and sister became amazing sailors and navigators. I, the youngest brought bags of barbies, books, and needlepoint and played for hours down below. I became the default family cook because I never got seasick. I have vivid memories of being very young and making and passing up sandwiches to my sister who was calling down the orders.

All strong swimmers, we swam off the boat without life jackets and no land in sight. This was so joyful until my dastardly brother and sister got stuck babysitting me and took me to Jaws in Edgartown. Have any of us recovered from that movie?

My father remarried my stepmother who brought a candy jar on the boat with tootsie pops and my life was vastly improved! Soon afterwards a boarder terrier joined the crew. I’m writing this from Orlando airport where we have been removed from a broken plane. Not unlike being run aground, I am stuck in place. I just realized I’m wearing the exact outfit my father is wearing in this photo. Sailor style sticks with you.

Giving Thanks at 5 am the day before Thanksgiving

I am sure I am not the only one who is sitting here in November thinking….”how is it possible that we are still thick in the middle of this?”. I remain, after all of these months still taken aback as I see everyone in masks, feeling like we are in the middle of some unimaginable pandemic movie of my nightmares.

When the pandemic first started and we were watching our brave Italian friends cooped up in their apartments and as Americans started to see empty toilet paper and hand sanitizer shelves…. my own family faced tragedy. The day after I purchased my first batch of emergency cleaning products, I received the call you never want to get. My darling, dearly , DEARLY loved brother had been rushed to Johns Hopkins and had stopped breathing on the way. Without more than a thought of ”where is my purse?”, I jumped in my car, drove to the airport, and boarded a plane to get to his side as fast as humanly possible. My brother Henry was my person. He was all of our person in the Thorn family. He was our heart and soul, our wet your pants laughing comedian, our biggest fan, our biggest teaser, our fiercest protector, and our most hilarious and steadfast team cheerleader. He was in Johns Hopkins on life support. I had to get there as fast as I could. For the first few days of his stay, they thought that maybe Henry had COVID-19, the first case to come to Hopkins. After days of severe visiting restrictions and the need to wear PCP equipment to hold Henry’s hand in his special room, the causes of his condition were determined and COVID ruled out. We would loose my award winning perfect big brother, we would also escape COVID ourselves due to his non contagious, non virus related medical emergency diagnosis. We would also, before the end, get a birds eye view of one of the best hospitals in the world, preparing for the worst. We watched from inches away, the A team preparing for battle. I will forever have the greatest admiration for health care workers, the sacrifices they have made during this pandemic, and the price their families have paid. This same admiration flows from my being for first responders, front line workers, food providers, essential workers, teachers and school officials. These heroic people are our angels on earth.

When I returned from Johns Hopkins in early March, I was shell shocked and horrified by the loss of my brother. While the world prepared for lockdown with impending concern, I was frozen and speechless. As a normally micromanaging and hovering mother, the on the regular, unsolicited Dear Abby, advice spewing creature of my childrens’ nightmares….I went silent. I would look at my husband with big brown pleading eyes and he would assure me they were all fine. My father was a prepared sailor, a WWll ambulance driver, and an insurance company executive. I was trained and genetically prepositioned to have my little army ready for battle, unexpected doom, and any emergency which required non-perishable rations and Twizzler. I was made for this job and I completely was not there, when the calling came. Thank God, Don and I raised equally equipped kids who knew exactly what to do without that harassing mother woman texting disaster preparation plans. They have been rockstars throughout this global nightmare.

When we left our home in Florida in the end of March, I filled our car with our college age baby, my business, our dogs, and my beloved hubs. We left our summer clothes behind because they didn’t fit in the car. I was sure I would be back for them in a few weeks. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that today, on the morning before Thanksgiving, that I would find myself here.

Here is in an inn in Bluffton, South Carolina. That baby and my husband are sleeping soundly in the room while I type. Other loved ones are minutes away asleep at my sister’s house. The rest of our loved ones are scattered around the country, Canada and London, respecting International travel bans, protecting health and following travel restrictions with our support and admiration. Those of us who have come, have come to honor my brother, who died in a time in history when funerals, memorial services, and celebrations of loved ones are impossible. Those of us who have come, have come with those who could not come, in our hearts. This week, we will celebrate the biggest heart and most hilarious spirit. In a tiny way, we will honor our biggest cheerleader.

It would be easy this year to ignore the title of my blog post and revert to dwelling on the horror our family, our country, and our globe have experienced the last few months. The loss of life, jobs, income, homes, and normalcy has taken a huge toll on humanity everywhere. I especially worry about the impact it has had on both children and mental health. I also am riveted by the plight of our heroes, many of them everyday people, who have risen past the horror into the helping position. I am cheering for our volunteers who are feeding families, I am cheering for our visionaries who see the problems and find the solutions. High five to those of you who are seeking out elderly neighbors and making sure they are okay! Bravo to those of you who are standing up to inequality and caring about others besides yourself. Thank you to those of you who are protecting our planet.

In a year without international adventures I am turning my eye towards home and community, and simple pleasures. Here are 10 things off the top of my head I am thankful for. Please feel free to add your own in the comments!

1. Those blessed souls who create television shows and movies and put them on our screens with magical systems like Netflix, Acorn, Hulu, and On Demand. If I could bake you a pie, I would. You have both kept me sane and also kept me out of my family’s hair. We all thank you!

2. Let’s hear it for the clean beauty gurus. I learned so much the past few months regarding clean beauty. As someone who doesn’t dye my hair or alter my face, I am all about good moisturizer and cleanser, gorgeous lip color and fabulous mascara. Since I am not putting chemicals on my hair or in my skin I have taken a big interested in what is going on my skin. I learned about my favorite products this year from beauty counter representative @ktschrader, blogger @nan.philips, and @indiaamory sharing what was in her beautiful pouches. Thank you ladies!

3. Drew Barrymore. Drew has been a shining light during the lockdown. Happy, cheerful, honest, encouraging. For kicks, read her blog post about her zoom meeting which went very, very wrong. Every parent needs to know…. they are not alone juggling kids and work.

4. The Southern Coterie. Thank you so much ladies for bringing amazing content and educational programs to your membership. I learned more during the last few months about running my business than I dreamed possible.

5. Rita Konig. Holy mother of God. If any of you know Rita will you please tell her there was a crazy woman stuck on top of a mountain in Vermont quarantining half the summer soaking up every word she said during her Create Academy course!! I feel so smart now!! Plus she justified all my life long luxury shop indulgences and antique hoarding!!! LOVE YOU RITA! I am dying to start my next house project!

6. My girlfriends. Sitting outside with you this summer was my bread and butter. I am so grateful to each one of you. XOXO ROCK ON “HOT MOMS”! I love you!

7. Safe cars. I have driven more these past 8 months than ever before. If I could grant a wish, it would be that everyone have safe transportation. I am so grateful to have been able to travel in a bubble to deliver children, visit my mother, and see pretty sights during a trying time. I have always loved a Sunday drive. Now more than ever I appreciate just going for a ride, looking out the window and admiring your vegetable gardens or leaf piles as we go on our merry way. You just know, this is going to be the year of the holiday light displays, right?! Tis the season to be tacky. Bring it on!!

8. Facetime. Thank you so much to whoever invented this magical product and brought it to every device I have. As a visual mother, who wants to look at her grown children, this product has brought me joy and kept me sane. So grateful to look at my babies.

9. People providing food and water. Right now in our little community in Vermont volunteers and donors are working tirelessly to provide food supplies, and holiday meals for friends in need. This is happening all around our country. Our friends at @kenyadrylandseducation fund are working tirelessly to provide Northern Kenyans with food needs and clean drinking water. The schools are closed and students are home with their families. The loss of school meals is crippling.

10. I am so grateful to my father Bill Thorn. He has been gone for several years but his heart beats loudly and lovingly in mine. It is because of him that I am so grateful and I admire people who do generous and kind things. He was so observant of those doing good in the world, he was both complimentary and appreciative. He did funerals really well, he loved his family, and he often had a little happy Winnie the Pooh like humming going on at the dinner table as he ate something delicious. I will spend the next few days striving to honor his beautiful soul and his amazing son.

I send off this Thanksgiving wish to all of you. May your souls feel love. My you find little things to bring you great joy during this holiday season, may you connect either purposefully or accidentally with someone else who needs joy. And may you feel peace and enjoy pie.

I am grateful for you, dear reader.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Tricia

Traveling in the time of Covid- Summer 2020

I have just arrived in Michigan and am taking an enormous, deep, breathy sigh. I have finally made it to our family summer cottage on the lake after three weeks of extensive zig-zagging cross-country travel. As luck would have it, I arrived on the eve of our eldest child’s 28th birthday, for which I am so grateful. I was delighted to be able to participate in the celebration of our family big brother!

I arrived just in time to see my crew playing lawn Yatzee!

I have found traveling during Covid both extremely stressful (real legitimate and frightening virus concerns) and extremely poignant (deeply important time with adult children). I walked away from this experience thinking every parent and their twenty-something child should do such a drive and spend so much time together talking and talking while on the road. However, I stumbled into this adventure and came to this conclusion after this unique situation presented itself with children number 6 and 7. I highly suspect children 1-5 are hugely relieved they escaped such torture!

This crazy zig-zagging extravaganza was completely unplanned. Each step was an unexpected chapter in the unfolding story of this crazy summer of Covid 2020. It began out of necessity. Our youngest daughter Birdie had transferred into CU Boulder last January after a life changing semester with NOLS in Tanzania - which included hiking across the beautiful African nation, sleeping under the stars (while at times avoiding lions!), living with a homestay family, climbing Kilimanjaro with neither a sherpa nor a guide, and a celebratory trip to Zanzibar with her now forever NOLS pals. Transferring into a winter community in January, living in an isolated dorm, and being sent home again in March due to COVID does not make for solid roots in a new University. It was absolutely not as fun and exciting as her dreamy and magical fall semester. She has been stuck with her parents since March, and like most college kids, she is excited to return to campus. Three weeks ago my youngest and I decided she needed a “do over” and we flew to Boulder to visit the now sunny, warm campus and find housing. Luck would be on our side for not only did she find wonderful housing in a great location, she magically stumbled upon fabulous housemates as well!

After flying earlier in the summer on a nearly empty Delta flight through the extremely empty Albany Airport and a deserted Detroit airport I was optimistic for a similar experience. I was very wrong. While Albany airport remains very vacant, our Southwest flight to Dever was not. Every row had 2 people per side and the stumbling around finding seats - which I usually love, felt exposing. The Denver airport was packed and unnerving. It was not the experience I hoped for or expected.

Upon our return to Vermont we packed up my car and my baby and I headed to Colorado. Two chatty gals in a vehicle for our college student and with a line up of both riveting and timely Audible books, we hit the road. My very accomplished driver gave mom many breaks and I had the time to get in some great needlepointing while listening to and discussing both best selling Untammed by Glennon Doyle and Caste by Isabel Wilkerson (Oprah’s latest riveting book club choice). We travelled state to state discussing many pertinent and timely topics including feminism, life choices, and our heartbreaking and unacceptable race problems in this country. We arrived new women, for sure! The needlepoint project I am working on is a beautiful and modern blue and white geometric design from Lycette in Palm Beach. There are 9 unique blue columns running through the canvas. The drive from Vermont to Colorado includes 9 states, a fortuitous coincidence creating a treasured heirloom to mark this particular time in our family and global history.

My wonderful canvas from Lycette. Pepperpot fibers and small scissors are kept in this fab India Amory bag for easy travel.

During this long drive Birdie and I needed breaks. Huge fans of Drew Barrymore, we searched aisles of Walmarts in Ohio and Iowa for products Drew was recommending and demonstrating on her Instagram account in celebration of Beauty Week. Drew has been a fabulous breath of fresh air for us during the pandemic with great blog posts, interesting IGTV videos, and fun little video posts. Her unsolicited demonstrations of her favorite face wash and Crest whitening toothpaste are darling, hilarious, and so humble. I laughed when she said Crest might want her to stop talking about their products! As if! These videos piqued our curiosity and started us on a hilarious beauty product hunt during our breaks from hours and hours of driving. We added a search for our favorite lip glosses to our road trip entertainment. I discovered two I am particularly fond of, they are Lancôme’s Juicy Tube in Magic Spell (found at Ulta) and Drew’s Flower -Petal Pout in Sangria (found at King Soopers in Fort Collins, Co.)

The hunt for the best lip gloss entertained us during driving breaks. My two favorites are from Lancomê and Flower!

The second drive to Colorado was also completely unplanned. While in the midst of Colorado Drive 1.0, I decided to tackle Colorado Drive 2.0.. Youngest son Scotty decided wisely to join his siblings and move to Colorado. His crazy mother hatched a plan to make this happen. My father used to call me Patton when I was a young mother moving 5 small children back and forth between Houston where we lived, and his home in Bronxville. My dearest Daddy had driven an ambulance in WWII under Patton and he meant this knickname as the highest and funniest compliment. He would say to me “You can move an an army like nobody’s business.” Ha! Well this time, I did it on steroids. I wish he was here to see it and laugh with me. This was not the act of a high achieving dedicated mother! Hell no! This was the act of a desperate frazzled gray-haired gal during a global fucking pandemic! ! I was a woman on a mission. On a mission to GO ON VACATION!! My wonderfully darling and romantic husband and I had planned a vacation to his family cottage on Lake Michigan. I wanted to sit on the deck overlooking this gorgeous Great Lake, needlepoint, drink wine and eat white fish dip from Leland for God’s sake. I was on a time table to get these kids out of my hair! (And they were determined to get away from me!! Their tolerance for quarantining with the grey haired boring parents had long expired.) I say this in jest, but damn it, the two trips were really magical! At least for me!

And thus began “Tricia’s moving company, the one that is running on pure crazy” chapter of The Summer of 2020. I flew home on another crowded plane through a crowded airport (YUCK!). Rented a minivan, drove to Vermont, did one load of laundry and repacked my suitcase, fell fast asleep, and got up the next morning to a packed minivan and hit the road again for my second drive to Colorado in 7 days. I had our barely 23 year old son, his 22 year old fiancé and their gorgeous Dr Suess-like pup Otis. While my first drive included a cooler and an expert sandwich maker by my side, this trip was fueled on gas station food, particularly candy and Diet Coke. While I will be detoxing for months from the chemicals and sugar I ingested, my heart will be full forever from the three days I had my son in the co-pilot seat. There were no books on tape or music on this trip. This will forever be known as “Mother and son do not shut up for one fricking second for three days.” (As I type this I think of my older children reading this thinking “Holy Hell!! Thank God I was not trapped in a car with mom for three days!”) Scotty’s fiancé Miranda somehow survived this blabber mouthing and at one point played a couple true crime podcasts for us.

Otis the beautiful Dr Suess like rescue waits patiently in the front seat for his parents’ to return at the rest stop.

Two child school enrollments were completed, housing was both secured and outfitted, and a few fabulous dinners were had with my gang. This whole experience filled my heart. Target has all my money. My two youngest children live half a mile apart. Two wonderful brothers are in close proximity and mama got out of dodge. It was all so damn good!

My final departure from Denver airport was complete. My wonderful spaced out seat on United was a pleasure and I made it safely to Traverse City. It is here, in a cottage built by my mother and father-in-law in the early 60s that I begin my quarantine for the umpteenth time. The turquoise waves are rolling rapidly and loudly towards the beach. The wind is blowing and I sigh. 12 days more days of quarantining until I feel like this trip was truly a success.

I’d like to share with you some non-factual and purely opinionated travel tips I have.

1. Some airports are deserted and feel super safe. Some airports are crowded as hell and you have to ride jammed in windowless trains to your gate. Some security lines are empty and some are like Studio 54 and have you winding through paths of people with everyone well within 6 feet of you on every side.

2. Some travelers are very cautious and avoid you like the plague, literally. Some do not believe in science and boundaries or covering their mouths when they cough. It’s like Lord of the Flies meets Darwinism. You try to keep yourself safe amongst people who don’t believe there is a virus. (insert eye roll.)

3. Some states have mask requirements. In some states you will not see a mask at all. (We found the later to be shocking and unnerving.) It’s worth doing research on state mandates if you care about this stuff before you travel.

4. Most restaurants in highway rest stops are closed. A cooler full of great bread and cold cuts is a dream during road travel. A creative sandwich maker like my girl Birdie will make you realize sandwiches with Thousand Island dressing and pickles really are THAT good!

5. We found the roadways to be rather quiet, hotels to be at minimum capacity, and precautions like no daily housekeeping comforting. With the exception of one state, all hotel workers were in masks, behind screens, wearing gloves, and really welcoming to weary travelers. A special shoutout to the Hotel Boulderado which made me feel particularly safe on all three trips to Boulder!

6. Outdoor dining is great. Outdoor dining where mask-less people walk by close to the table on the sidewalks, not so great. Try to choose tables that don’t border the walkways.

7. Many of the shops and restaurants in some airports are closed. Airlines are not serving their normal fare. Bring snacks and other comforts and entertainment with you.

8. Over all, I am personally more comfortable with road over air travel at the moment. I have been in 3 empty airports. I have also been in a very busy airport 3 times.

9. If you find yourself needing a rental car bring a variety of chargers and a phone holder that pops into the fan vents. I have found myself numerous times without CarPlay in rental cars, only cigarette lighter charger outlet, and phones with maps falling on the floor while trying to drive. I found what I needed in gas stations along the way and it made my driving long distances so much more simple.

Best wishes to your own families as you navigate the new normal!

Looking forward to a few days doing this, and doing it right here next to this beautiful lake..

Human Rights Activist and Global Health Student Decided to Stay Put

Randa Chehab is a dear childhood friend of mine. I spent many summers as a young girl with Randa at a girls sleep-away summer camp in Chatham, Massachusetts. Randa was so much fun, with a huge contagious smile, a hearty belly laugh, and big blue eyes which looked like gorgeous pools of the most beautiful water you have ever seen. Growing up in the 70s with transistor radios blaring throughout the camp, all the girls would join into song when the Beach Boys “Help me Rhonda” came on the radio and we would serenade our lovely childhood pal with “Help me Randa, Help help me Randa.” The irony is not lost on me that our Randa is the helper and a new version of our ballad needs to be let us “Help Help you Randa!”

Like many of you who found friends on social media, several years ago I was so joyful to reconnect with Randa, who I had lost touch with in high school. It has been my honor to have a front row seat in watching Randa go. As one of the best childhood athletes I knew, it was not surprising to me that yoga would play a role in Randa’s adult life. However, having the privilege of viewing what she has been doing for others has been a complete honor. I was worried for her as a I read her updates about being stuck in India during the global pandemic. I asked Randa if I could share her story here, with all of you. I would like to share our Summer of Love needlepoint profits with her organization and I wanted you all to know why.

(There is a trigger warning I need to share: there is mention of childhood trauma in this story.)

1. Can you please tell us a bit about your background, where you went to school and what you studied?

I went to Smith College, got my undergrad in developmental psych, and rowed crew for the 4 years I was there.  After college I worked for years in outdoor education with the Colorado Outward Bound School and the National Outdoor Leadership School. After many years full time in the field (35+ weeks), I decided to put down roots up in Bozeman, MT, where I lived and worked on an organic farm and I also went to massage therapy school. I  was nationally certified (and still am) in therapeutic massage and bodywork. In 1999 I went on to PA school. I come from a family of physicians and so felt like I was a bit of a black sheep and needed to blend in more. After graduating from the University of Wisconsin, Madison  and passing my boards, I  decided to follow my heart with yoga. I just could not understand our health care system.

My yoga teacher at the time left Bozeman and handed me her students. I was so not ready to teach but she told me my heart was in the right place so slowly slowly from there it evolved into an incredible adventure. I have had a studio in Bozeman since 2002 and have been traveling internationally to teach since 2009.

2. I know you have been to India several times, what were you doing
there previously to this trip?

I've actually been coming to India since 2006. I come in the winters to
immerse myself in the practice of ashtanga vinyasa yoga with my
teacher, Lino MIele. Yes he's Italian!  He comes to the south of India for 2 months every winter. I practice with him and assist by helping with the other students. It was in 2006 I met my business partner's family.

3. You moved to India before Covid, what did you go there to do? Why?

Yes, I arrived in  India on Oct 2, 2019. My move is twofold.  My
business partner and I set up a home stay and yoga centre here in
Kerala about 35 km north of where my teacher does his immersions, in an old Portuguese settlement.

4. What is the Portuguese settlement like? What is a home stay?

It's basically an area of fisherman and very well educated and very Christian.  Every km for 9 km there is a Catholic church, names like Joseph Fernandez, Darvin, Beena Perriera. A homestay means the people that run the place must live at the house. Guests can have a room and can have access to the kitchen and my business partner will also cook but charges. He's a chef and he understands how the system here works which is not straightforward.

5. Where are you getting your master's in global health?

Northwestern University in Chicago (Feinburg School of Medicine). I am finishing my masters degree in Global Health, focusing on ending violence against women and girls. Ending violence against women and girls is one of the UN's Sustainable Development Goals for 2030.  Needless to say  I wanted to have a soft landing after doing my work in gender based violence up in the north of India. Kerala is a well educated state.

Just 2 weeks after landing here last fall I flew to Kolkata to meet my
organization, NISHTHA. www.nishtha.org.in
Nishtha is a grassroots organization that started in 1975. Mina Das is
the director now. It was her father, the local village physician who
said to his wife, "we need to do something for these women and you need to do it because you are female!" ( She’s nearly 90 now and I had the privilege to meet her during my time with NIHSTHA).

I know from my travels and time on this continent, females are at a
total disadvantage. From the time of a fetus onward, with sex selective abortions still happening… the girl child has been considered a burden. It's unfathomable  because women run the household and if there wasn't a woman running the household so much of India would collapse. Also for a country to climb out of poverty, how does it happen if half the population is kept down? Melinda Gates speaks of this in her book, The Moment of Lift.  This culture has such deep roots in tradition and in 2020 I feel the tradition is not serving the people.  Even the most educated women I know here feel helpless at times. AND the family reputation is an altar. Many girls and women are sacrificed on that altar.

6.) Can you tell me a bit more about the program about women and girls? I thought the poster about how women are regarded was riveting. What is happening to the women and girls? What does the program do to help them? How big is the program? How do donations support the program? What do they need the most?

NIHSTHA now has 10,000 girls it looks after in about 225 villages
south of Kolkata. It is building capacity for education and basic human rights! Honestly the message of right to live, right for shelter,
right for protection and right for development for both boys and
girls and men and women.  There are 3 groups for females. Divided by age: young girl, teenagers,  and then the women's groups. All
support groups and each support group will communicate with each
other, like big brother and sister programs. Safety networks are set up
within villages to end child marriage and save women from abuse.
Women have also been given micro-loans and as you can see from the
photos are entrepreneurs with street food, textiles, pottery, etc. It
is impressive. A lot of money goes towards education, school uniforms, and hygiene kits.  There is a feed the grannies program. Elders can be outcast in poor rural areas. 600$/ month will feed 100 grannies. Educating children of sex workers, giving daycare and physio to children with disabilities... It is a tremendous organization

This was so key for me. It was actually Prilita Das' husband who
was a village physician that said to her back in the early 70's we
need to do something for these women as after marriage, they are so
isolated and living conditions are so poor. So it was initiated by a
man that gave it to his wife as gender issues were big back then. Now
Mina Das, Pirlita's daughter and her granddaughters run Nishtna. I met them all except the husband. He passed years ago. The fact that
Prilita is still alive is incredible. She’s in her mid 80's and for India she is way past the average lifespan for a woman. When I met her I burst out crying, and bowed to her feet.

7. When Covid struck, I know you were trying to figure out what to do about staying or leaving, how did that all play out? Can you please tell us about how Covid is affecting India?

With the dense population of India and the high percentage of those living in poverty I refer to India as a powder keg in terms of COVID. India went on lockdown suddenly with barely any warning, which meant no domestic or international flights, no trains, no buses. All state borders were closed for nearly 10 weeks. Only essential shops, hospitals and government jobs were open and for limited hours. Literally the country came to a screeching halt. Pretty devastating.

By the time we were given repatriation options it was way too risky. As a global health student and my training in medicine I knew i needed to stay put. Flying meant putting myself and too many others at risk. I call the flight now the COVID CAPSULE. Repatriation flights were going from Chennai, Mumbai and Delhi, all hotspsots! We are very lucky here in Kerala. I mentioned before there were no domestic flights, no trains, or buses etc. so a private driver and the drive time made no sense. Too dangerous. My global yoga community was also telling me I was better off in India as they gave me a peek into their countries;
Italy, Germany, Denmark, Spain, Russia, England, Ireland, Scotland, Finland, Norway, Sweden, and the USA.

8. Where are you? Are you safe?

I am safe in Kerala. Our Health Minister is a rockstar. She has done a tremendous job. The case numbers are rising as we have all the Non- resident Keralites  (NoRks) returning from other countries and other states. But for now local transmission is very low.

9. I first heard about the cyclone that hit India from you. Can you please tell us what happened in India? How does this affect the
organization you have been working for? (For those like me who did not know, a cyclone is what we call a hurricane in the U.S.)

Cyclone Am phan hit West Bengal May 20th. Total devastation and destruction. It took a few days before I could even reach my organization by phone. It was very, very unsettling.  80 % of the homes in the villages I support were destroyed. All agriculture lost including COVID rations, and there is no access to clean drinking water. As you probably know with COVID and lockdown there was a rise in domestic violence globally. In Kolkata, girls were not able to go to school and women could not go to work. Now girls are being forced
again into early marriage and women cannot work as the cyclone destroyed what basic infrastructure they had. So it is really a dire situation. I do know how strong and resilient these women are however the girls are my biggest concern. Nishtha has made such strides for equality in many arenas but our situation is really critical at the moment.

10. What can we do to help?

Mina, as you recall, the Director of NIshtha,  asked me to raise money for clean drinking water. I am now channeling my efforts for this basic need. Nothing else can happen without such needs met. There are still over 63 million people in India without access to clean drinking water. She wants to install Water ATMs. We will start with 2 villages, each water ATM serving 20-25,000 people. We hope to reach our goal of 15-20 water ATMs.

11. What is a water ATM and how much does it cost for one for a
village? Last year I raised money for drinking water in Kenya. When
people know what they are buying, how much it costs, etc, it's easier to raise the money for such an important cause.

A water ATM is a purifier of an already established water pipe. They are like a cash machine but dispense clean safe drinking water. For every rupee invested in clean water 4-12 rupees are made back. With the water ATM one liter of water is one rupee. My organization priced one at 700 USD. Initially we are going to install a water ATM in 2 villages. One village serves 20,000 ppl and the other 25,000ppl. The director of Nishtha would like to install a total of 15-20 water ATMS.

12. Please share anything else that you think would be helpful to thework you are doing?

Tricia, what can I say? India is a country in a development bracket with Brazil, Russia and China. It is no longer a developing country but it still has a very large percentage of its people living in poverty. When you work in
human rights it is important to see the big picture because we are ALL connected. The most marginalized take the biggest hit. I was sexually abused as a child and I come from privilege. I want to pay it forward.
Help these women and girls have a voice, ownership of their bodies, pride and joy, and equal opportunity. Education is key and a strong support group. Building community resilience to trauma is something
NIHSTHA is doing very well.

13. Any word on your ability to travel in the future?

NO regular international flights as of yet and not until after July 15th at the earliest. It’s been mentally draining playing out scenarios in my head. I was supposed to go out for visa formalities and have been on an exit permit since March 29th! I had a ticket to Sri Lanka mid-March but India banned all visas suddenly so if I left I would not have been able to get back in. Immigration will give me 30 days once international flights do start. Until they start again, immigration will give me monthly extensions for my exit permit.

Update since original rough draft was written: I “spoke” with Randa last night. She feels she did the safe thing staying in India. She felt if she traveled she would be part of the problem. At the time her state side medical professional friends told her India was safer. Now Covid has arrived in India and where Randa is.

To help support Randa’s mission please consider donating to https://yoga-gives-back.networkforgood.com/projects/98836-randa-chehab-s-fundraiser

A Giant Thank You to All of You Kenyan Water Warriors!

I write this on Thanksgiving morning as I fly from Vermont to Boulder for a celebration with our children. I’ve never been to Colorado and I am so looking forward to taking it all in, while most importantly celebrating the gratitude I have for our family. 

While I am obviously grateful for the many gifts I have (of which I count frequently in a Gratitude Journal I carry in my purse), never in my wildest dreams could I have predicted the source of one of my biggest joys to date.  For this year, not only am I grateful for all of you, those who have followed my dream on this wonderful needlepoint journey….but also those who have followed the journey across the globe to Africa with me.

Last June I attended the annual Spring Fling event for the Kenya Drylands Education Fund AKA  KDEF (pronounced Kay-Def). Although I have a been a big admirer of the organization since meeting my dear and remarkable friend Sarah Hadden, I seemed to be one of the few in our town who had not yet met Ahmed Kura. I knew many people who knew Kura, as he is called, and spoke so highly of him but I had yet to have the opportunity to meet him myself. Don and I had already signed up to join the nine day KDEF Safari trip planned for October. I was anxious to meet the man who would introduce us to his country I had heard so much about. Like all great meetings, I had no idea the joyful turn this introduction would take.

During the luncheon event Kura addressed the crowd and spoke about his experience growing up in the very rural part of Northern Kenya known as Korr. For fear of butchering the factual and inspiring story I will give you the very brief gist. After a parental death and a remarriage custom, Kura, the youngest of a very large family, found himself as a child without a home or parental support. Growing up in Northern Kenya, in a pastoral community Kura was unable to attend school beyond the government-run free elementary school. I have since learned from our mutual friend Sarah that Kura was absolutely devastated that he didn’t have the fees to attend secondary school and that he at one point tried to sneak into the private high school classes to learn anyway. Sadly, the school administrators would not let him stay without paying the school fees. Pause here please, and imagine a 9th grade boy in rural Kenya trying to sneak into a cinderblock classroom to learn and being told to leave. How devastating that must have been! Long story short, an older more established in-law eventually found Kura an American sponsor, a professor from Georgetown University, who paid Kura’s high school fees. This man Kura is very wise, speaks more languages than you can count on one hand, and has world class social skills. He could easily have a very lucrative career anywhere in the world. What he has done instead is dedicate his life to his people, to help create an organization in his homeland which supports education for those in need, provides mentor programs to ensure student success, and delivers feminine hygiene products for school girls so they don’t miss any days and can reach their maximum potential without marrying at a very young age. That day in June when I met Kura, he was in Vermont telling a very interested group about these fabulous initiatives. His whole career is about making life better for his people. This ADD luncheon guest was distracted, I got sidetracked by a detail in the presentation. Did someone say something about clean drinking water? Was there a need? Do they not have clean drinking water in Northern Kenya? Was there a drought? What was that little snippet I just heard? Who needs water?

A few days later during a dinner party I asked Kura what the water situation was like in the North and “How much does a truck load of water cost in Africa?” I learned that a truck load of water costs $350.

As I mulled over what to do with this information I learned that Kura had returned to Kenya to discover that Marsabit County in the Northern Drylands was in dire straights. There was no water and the pastoralists were in severe medical danger. Lives were in jeopardy. Women and children were walking 10 kilometers to get drinking water. Children, pregnant and nursing mothers, and the elderly were the most vulnerable.

I offered to help, Sarah Hadden and Kura, the co-directors of KDEF decided that in order to do their wonderful work,  their recipients and their communities needed water. I started blabbing all over about this, on Instagram, on Facebook, and through email, I blabbed about the water crisis to anyone who would listen. We also planned a party at our home in Vermont where we could raise awareness and some funds. This was not an organized effort, there was no Go-Fund Me, there were no publications, nor a formal ask, it was just word of mouth by the town crier. Do you remember that scene in the first Harry Potter movie where the Dursleys were trying to keep Harry from getting his invitation from Hogwarts and the wizards send thousands of them into the house? We had some serious Harry Potter Owl Post magic happening too. Checks started coming. And coming. And coming. They came from old friends, new friends, instagram friends, friends of friends. Needlepoint shops collected and sent funds. Checks came from a little island in the Gulf of Mexico, and from all over Vermont. People just kept handing me checks, mailing checks, and contributing online. Every one of our family members jumped in.  EVERYONE WANTED TO HELP!!  I am seriously tearful after typing that sentence. I can not thank you all enough. As friends and family in America shared their resources and Sarah was managing the influx, Kura was driving all over Northern Kenya evaluating the drought situation. The farther he got into the more rural areas, he was finding village after village in deep despair. As fast as KDEF was finding need, money was flowing. I would tearfully send Kura messages that simply said “I found you some more water”.  Sarah Hadden and I frequently looked at each other in shock and with tears in our eyes. Water started flowing immediately when the first checks arrived. 100 percent of the over $22,000 raised went directly to water in Marsabit County. In most villages it was water truck deliveries, a temporary solution until the rainy season came. In two villages water wells or catchments were repaired so that those villages had a permanent solution. In both cases, local workers were hired for the repairs to keep the money in the community where the water was needed. 

In October Don and I joined seven other Vermont friends on a trip to Kenya. There is no question the highlight of my trip was visiting all the villages you provided water for. In village after village, the community came out to greet us. There was dancing and singing which brought me to tears every single time. Village elders spoke to us in ceremonial celebrations sharing their deepest gratitude to all of you who sent the water to their desperate villages. In one village a local Kenyan Government official came to pay his respects. In that same village the Chief said “The world has forgotten us but you did not.” Each village happily allowed me to take photos knowing they were being shared with the amazing people who sent them water. I had the most wonderful conversation with the driver of the water truck. I thanked him profusely for the many, many hours each week he left his family and drove around the drought area delivering water. He thanked us all in return, he said he had the best job in the world. I also spoke with the mason who spearheaded the well and water catchment system, he too felt it was a honor to join this team providing drinking water.

Thank you one and all for your generous donations. Fifteen thousand people got water for five months, two villages have long term solutions. Many lives were saved. The people of Marsabit County thank you!! I am just lucky enough to be the messenger.

We get ready to leave Sumburu and head up north to the drylands.

We traveled in a caravan.

Local Villagers were waiting for our arrival. Pictured here are Sarah Hadden, myself, and Kura with our welcoming dancers. The woman on the right in the striped dress is the assistant Chief.

This well was rehabilitated. I have a dream that some day my grandchildren will pilgrimage to this special spot and see my name and date on this well.

Kura presents a special surprise

Opening this well was my greatest honor. I was so excited about the whole experience that I didn’t even realize it was Halloween until I read the sign.

Kura translates information between the Vermonters and this beautiful community.

American co-founder of the Kenya Drylands Education Fund (KDEF) Sarah Hadden turns on the fresh clean water

Two miles of pipe had been installed underground to ensure this water was carried to the village. These woman will no longer have to walk 10 kilometers for drinking water for their families.

Beautiful dancing and singing

Local children are so fascinated to see their visitors from across the globe.

Kura, a Kenyan government official, and the town Chief talk to us about the amazing impact this new well has on the community.

I absolutely loved his outfit. Grateful elderly men came to the event.

KDEF Co- Founder Sarah Hadden and board members Ellen Baer, and Pam Art enjoying this beautiful day.

These are herding/pastoral communities. Animals are their financial resource. Without water, their animals will die.

In another village the community shows up to meet us and collect water from the KDEF water truck. Everyone is excited to see Kura who provides help to their communities in many ways..

More gatherings of joyful water recipients in each village.

We were all invited to sing and dance with the villagers, our Deb enthusiastically always jumps in!!

In these communities gathering water is the job of the women and children. In the background you can see one of the village homes.

The children are both excited and mesmerized by their American visitors. I was mesmerized by the young children carrying their little siblings on their backs.

Tom greets the children.

In another village we met the whole community outside of the school. I was most excited to see the woman on the right with the red necklace. I had seen her in one of the videos the first day the water truck drove into her village. She addressed us all during the town meeting and asked that we send her sincere thank you to all of the donors. The older children wear their green and white school uniforms. Thanks to a new donor these younger children will have uniforms when they begin school again in January. Each school uniform costs $6.

Deb plays with the kids. Deb is an orthopedic surgeon so it was not uncommon for people to ask medical questions when they knew her profession.

A second classroom, an outhouse, and two hand washing stations are new additions to this school. A large fence was donated and installed to keep animals from running through the school yard and harming children.

This is the brand new classroom built at the school. The wall behind me is painted with black paint as a chalkboard.

Don says hello to all the women who came to meet us.

This smile made my day.

villagers come and line up their water cans.

This beautiful water truck was donated by a family from Vermont.

This sweet boy supervises water delivery.

Windsor Castle

Last week we were at Windsor Castle. It was a chilly, drizzly day and there were only a handful of us nosy tourists poking around. I had been there as a 12 year old and still marveled at Queen Mary’s dollhouse like the 12 year old girl I used to be. I brought home a book on the magnificent dollhouse for future miniature marveling.

We went in the St. James Chapel and I sat on the bench in front of Doria’s roped off seat. I remember feeling so many feelings for this American mother during the wedding and admiring how Prince Charles treated her. How she must of felt! I can’t even imagine how she feels now. I read a few days ago that Hillary Clinton had been at Frogmore with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex that same day we were there. Obviously I have no idea why she was there but I’m grateful for any and all support the young couple receives. I’ve started many drafts of unfinished blogs voicing concern for the horrific bullying by the press and social media of these young parents, especially their main target Meghan. I’m so grateful every time I hear someone publicly stand up for them. Shout out to you, George Clooney! I’m particularly disappointed in the comparisons and pitting against each other of the two Ducchesses. I find it especially distasteful from other women. We know better. The idea that people think they know strangers who they have seen photos of but have never met always astonishes me. Having just spent a joyful week and a half in the UK, I was reminded that neither of these lovely non-Royal born women have any privacy or any freedom. They live in gilded cages with their beautiful babies and hopefully the support of some dear friends. They can not walk the gorgeous streets of London, pop in shops, or enjoy the restaurants I love. They can’t stop into a pharmacy or a lingerie shop and buy any personal items without it ending up in the paper. They can’t even buy chicken at the grocery store without ending up in a tabloid. Even if they try to do errands they are gawked at, photographed, followed, or worse. Yes, they have beautiful homes but they probably don’t feel safe leaving them.

I spent yesterday in Vermont curled up by the fire absorbing with delight the third season of The Crown. I won’t spoil it but what fabulous actresses!! Much of the series reiterates these observations. The Queen spends a great deal of time watching the world on TV. Having grown up royal (and before such penetrating media coverage) the royal sisters lived their lives behind thick walls, often at the expense of their marriages and children. Seeing Princess Margaret, played by Helena Bonham Carter was just magical.

If you give a mouse a cookie....

For the past many months my husband and I have been planning a dream trip. We never set out to go on a long journey, this was one of those “if you give a mouse a cookie” scenerios. About a year ago I joined my long time and dear friend Kari on a yoga retreat. She had become a teacher at Sellwood Yoga in Portland, Oregon and had begun teaching with her friend, studio owner, Savonn. Kari and Savonn were bringing a group to Lucca, Italy and invited me to join. As you can imagine it took me all of 4 seconds to decide to go! Many, many years ago I owned a very small yoga studio in Vermont and although I know very well all the ins and outs of yoga, I no longer practice, and am in despicable shape. I marched myself over to Kripalu for a few warm ups and off I went to Lucca to join this extraordinary trip. Little known fact: Many gorgeous villas and estates throughout Europe rent out their spectacular facilities to yoga retreats. Seriously, who makes better guests than yogis??!! Yoga retreats are also a great value and often include meals made on site by local cooks… and there are sure to be visiting masseuses! I had wonderful plans to meet Don after the Italian retreat, and we enjoyed romantic Lake Como and adventuring around Switzerland - even returned to Murren, where I had studied in college. I did however, feel that Don had missed out. There were other men at the yoga retreat and our group had the opportunity to thoroughly enjoy Savonn and Kari’s classes and the chance to see many lovely sites in Tuscany. We had dinners in neighboring villages, went on a wine tour, visited Cinque Terra, and took Italian cooking lessons. (Which have resulted in the purchase of TWO pasta makers and NO homemade pasta to date!)

When another retreat presented itself, I immediately invited Don to join me. This time in France!! And thus, we have the beginning of “if you give a mouse a cookie” or in our case “if you are going to a yoga retreat in France, you might as well….”

If you are going on a yoga retreat in France, you might as well go to Barcelona!! 6 years ago we had the most fantastic International student Patty come and live with our family. For the last 6 years Patty and our Birdie have gone back and forth to spend great amounts of time with each other!! Birdie has completely adopted Patty’s family and vise versa. It was high time we made our way to Spain to see Patty and meet her amazing mother Louisa!! We tore ourselves away from Barcelona this morning after 3 full days and 4 nights of living it up in Spain. We toured the city and museums, we spent time with Patty and Lousia’s family and friends, we saw other girls who had studied in Vermont. We even celebrated Don’s 60th birthday. Because we were traveling with a local family, we often found ourselves in settings where we were the only tourists, which I love. This included the Barcelona Polo Club. It was very hard pulling ourselves out of our friends’ warm and inviting home but we had to continue on our journey.

If you are going to France for a yoga retreat, and you are going to Barcelona, you must take a week between and drive through the Pyrenees. (Marital traveling tip number one: When you plan a trip, have each spouse pick different locations or activities. Each spouse needs to be very enthusiastic for the other’s activities. This creates great travel harmony and a high percentage of future travel!)

Don loves athletic pursuits and adventure. As evident by the photo above, I am very happy sitting on a couch needlepointing. (Extra points if there is auditory enjoyment such as conversation with family or friends, television, or a great audio book.) I absolutely love to travel but my own personal choices might not include steep inclines, maps, undergrounds, or the woods. I also insist on staying far from Alligators. Don takes me way out of my comfort zone…which includes my current packing accoutrements… hiking poles, hiking boots, and scratchy wool socks. Tomorrow I fill my pockets with asthma medicine, grab my favorite travel tool (my beloved camera), and follow my husband through the gorgeous mountain range between Spain and France. I thoroughly expect a gooey cheese and baguette reward!!

Stay tuned for more Pyrenees stories and the other “cookies”, we are adding to this adventure!

Deep country breaths...

It’s been a whirlwind since we arrived in Vermont. The first week we were here two great friends Sarah Hadden and Lisa Helmholz-Adams hosted two amazing events. I have written about the Period Party (to raise awareness of Feminine Hygiene needs) and The Feast of Venus event to raise money for Hunger Free Vermont. Both of these events were planned and executed by friends in our community who are seeing beyond their own needs, rallying troops, making epic things happen, with kind compassionate hearts. The next event I am looking forward to supports our local Summer Lunch Program. This program creates summer meals for children in our community who participate in the free lunch program. Think about this for a moment, kids who get free lunch and or breakfast at school….go on summer vacation… and those meals don’t exist anymore. I am so grateful for the wise souls who realized that there was a need, and created a program to fulfill those needs. It is a program very close to my heart and I look forward to hearing what they are doing and how we can help.

In the meantime I have been in the midst of time with our children and needlepoint adventures. HQ is being set up, packages arrive daily, and we are making some new dreams come true.

I am taking in the sights, smells, and feels of being back in the mountains. Yesterday I needed to take a long drive through the country to deliver a very special package. I passed farms, and mountains, lakes, and lots and lots of horses and cows. I saw signs for local country events. Country stores dotted the roads, along with 200 year old steeples, and old stone walls. It was a visual feast of riches.

Deep breaths of mountain air fill my lungs.

1973

Our barn in Chester, Vermont

In 1973 my widowed father married my wonderful stepmother. I was 8 at the time.  My stepmother came into our lives with great love for my father, a yellow VW Bug, half a house in Vermont (which she owned with her sister and brother-in-law) and 12 new cousins for me. I’d only been to Vermont once before. And I’d only been on one ski vacation to Lake Placid before Vermont became such a huge part of our lives. I was the child of a sailing family. I knew nothing about life in the mountains. Nothing. 

The Vermont house, Chester, Vermont

My mother had died a year and a half before I started skiing with my new cousins. I was the baby in my family, and then the baby in my family who lost her mother at 7. I was doted on and spoiled...by my father, my two older siblings, my grandmother, and many others....and then I wasn’t. When I joined all these new family members at this house in Vermont I was thrown into the pack. All of a sudden I was in my Lanz nightgown in an old farmhouse, bunking in the same room with all the girl cousins, waking at the crack of dawn, eating a hot breakfast I did not like, and tossed into the way back of a cold but fabulous vintage Landrover with my packed lunch and hand me down ski sweaters on the way to catch the first Okemo chairlift. And it was fun as hell. Yes, fun as hell!  (For clarification purposes, it’s important to note that the “hot breakfasts I didn’t like” were lovely spreads of pancakes and eggs made by my aunt and uncle. I was Lucky Charms and Poptart girl. The issue was all mine.)

I didn’t want to take ski lessons. I’d done that for a week at Whiteface the winter before. I felt like a dork and hated being that baby in lessons. I’m a youngest child, youngest children do not like to be left in the dust by kids who know more. For some reason my parents and aunt and uncle all thought that given my aversion to ski school... it would be a great idea for my youngest two cousins to teach me to ski. They were excellent skiers. The whole family was. It apparently never bothered any of the adults that my new cousin ski instructors were 9 and 11! I seem to remember them receiving about 3 sentences of instruction with the basic theme of “don’t loose her.”  Both of my cousins happily took me off to ski with them. If they weren’t happy to have me in tow, they never let on. They made me feel like one of the pack. They also didn’t allow this tag along to alter their plans. I was going to ski, I was going to keep up with them. I was going to quickly learn to navigate all forms of lifts. And we were going to start our lessons at the TOP of the mountain. It’s actually a brilliant, although crazy idea.  I was forced to learned quickly. There was only one way to get down to hot chocolate. To this day, I can keep up with anyone and I’m not afraid. My form is not so beautiful but I’m smiling with glee all the way down the mountain. 

This theme of kids going off on adventures continued.

The dairy farm next door.

This is the dairy farm which was next to our house. We were all told never to go over there. We were also told we were not allowed near any of the cows. Although these two rules are actually the same message delivered twice, we didn’t listen. One day when the parents were otherwise occupied or most likely not home, we walked right over there and crawled into the closest pen with the cows. Somehow, real or imagined we decided one of the cows was “charging us” so we ran and dove under the rusty barbed wire fence. Being the slowest runner and fearing for my life, I didn’t notice that the barbed wire was cutting a line across my lower back. This created a new predicament, I was wounded, there was no possible explanation for the parents. Again the youngest cousins... who were about 10 and 13 at this point became my medics. There were secret rubbing alcohol cleanses and smearing whatever else we could find in the medicine cabinet on my wound, one that I could not reach nor see without a mirror. It’s amazing now that I think about it, that the 3 of us in the bathroom together did not alert one of the mothers to trouble! The horror of the issue at hand was on the light side of the scale of justice, when we considered the consequences of the parents finding out we had been in the cow pen. I remember leaving that Sunday eve promising my cousins I would hide my wound from my parents when I got home. I don’t think any of us told anyone until we were in our 30s! I will be forever grateful I never got lockjaw or anything else you can get from rusty wire in a dirty cow field! 

These adventures continued. Suburban children in the mountains with their parents. Shooting cans, playing in the fields, riding tractors, hiding up in the trees from wildlife creatures. It was my own version of “Little House on the Prairie.” My wonderful new stepmother and her very fun sister made sure we did it all, some experiences were new and some were to keep the family rhythms flowing. My father and I were the only Protestant members of this large devoted Catholic family. Saturday mass happened on the way home from the mountain in ski boots and the ski sweaters. I often wondered what I was doing in this new church while my father and uncle were in the car reading the newspaper while the women and children were inside. I was told by my father I was welcome to join them in the car if I didn’t want to participate in mass. I tried this once or twice and decided an hour with old men reading the paper was 9 thousand times more boring than giggling with my cousins in the pews. As a result of years of family time in Vermont, I am as comfortable now in a Catholic Church as I am on a ski mountain.

I grew to love the seasons in Vermont. Winters were spent on the mountain, cozied up reading books at night, and family dinners around the table or at local Inns. I learned to quickly love pre dinner cocktail time around a fire at an old Vermont Inn. An Inn with a dog and board games in a real win! Summers were spent visiting the Jelly Mill, riding the Bromley slide, and swimming in Emerald Lake. All things my own children would grow up doing 

We were weekenders... we left Bronxville on Friday nights after my father came home from work in New York City. We drove our family wagon to Vermont. No seatbelts. Sleeping bags in the way back of the wagon. We left after a full day of activities on Sunday. I remember feeling so tired when I crawled into my comfy Snoopy sleeping bag. Now I realize, my parents must have felt even more so!

I moved to Vermont 17 years ago. A soon to be divorced mother with five small children between the ages of 3 and 9. A girl from Bronxville came via New Canaan and Houston. My husband Donald came 30 years ago from Michigan via Palo Alto and Santa Fe. We both found Vermont through Aunts, Uncles, and cousins.  We met here, married here. Our children are not weekenders. They are the real deal. They have Vermont in the hearts. And so do I.

Reflections at 5:43 am under the influence of jet lag.

As I sat down to write a blog on something entirely different from where I am going to go, my instant messenger awoke and brought me a plethora of fabulous messages from our son in London.  When he found his mother was still on European time and wide awake since 4 am we quickly switched to FaceTime and I had a long fabulous chat while I got to look at his handsome face and hear about his first week at work. While traveling (and wandering around places visually taking in the feasts of the sights) I had a lot of time to think. One of the topics whirling it's way through my brain .... is that of electronic communication.

As a HUGE Jane Austin fan, who also follows and absorbs other period literature which reflects on the societal interactions of people, I love observing human interactions, including communication with the written word.  Dropping by and leaving a social calling card, a written invitation, or a love letter...whether engraved on paper,  handwritten in ink, and delivered by various methods all intrigue me. Although I grew up in a home where thank you notes were a strict requirement, and then rebelled against them for a way too long period of time, I love nothing more than getting a correspondence. I love the mail. I love an invitation, a thank you note, or a friendly card. The thing I love most is a love letter or poem written by my husband. No wait, I love those with all of my heart, but the thing I love the very most is a letter, card, piece of art, or very thoughtful text from one of our children. I don't feel disingenuous saying this part about ranking our children's communication above that as my husband's because I would imagine he feels the same way.  

You hear so much negativity about everyone's noses being down to their screens. While traveling this month and observing people from all over the world, I witnessed this first hand. I did it myself at times. Yet, I think there is a very lovely part of this era in time....because in some ways, I liken it back to the Austin days, when written words were used to make social and love connections. Disclaimer: According to Doug Chapman's fabulous and intuitive book The 5 Love Languages, there is no question- my love language is words. 

Those of us of a certain age talk about how we grew up without social media, texting, portable communication, etc etc. We bask in this fact and talk about how hard it would be to be young now and seeing what everyone else is doing.  FOMO our kids call it. The Fear of Missing Out.  The comparisons are obviously challenging, especially for teenagers and young adults. When we were kids we didn't know what others were doing or what we might be missing. We had no answering machines. We had no call waiting. We had to call from a telephone located in a public room of our house attached to wall not far from adults and chances are you were going to get a parent on the other end of your phone call to your friend. My own parents monitored my greetings very carefully for a time and finally relented when I had the "Hello Mrs. So and So, This is Tricia, MAY I PLEASE speak with Bloopty Bloop." If that "May I please" was not said, there would be loud whispers at me, guiding me into correcting myself. All calls had to be made in very respectable hours. Communication with the world outside of your house stopped around 9 pm unless you were assured there were not parents home at the other house.  We didn't have man servants delivering handwritten notes at all hours of the day like the lovelorn in Austin's day.

I like to think of written communication whether it be emails or texts, or private messages as some sort as a modern way for old fashion communication. The fact that millennials, and now many of the rest of us, no longer prefer talking on the phone has taken us back to a time before we had them. A quick message to connect to new people is like as a social calling card dropped on a silver dish in the foyer.  An email invitation for dinner as a noninvasive way to invite a potential friend mimics the old fashion note delivered to their home. A text from a child telling you what they are really thinking or feeling, and a love email from your paramour resemble the written words of the Austin era.

As I end this piece my messenger awakes again. This time it is the identical twin of my earlier morning communicator. (And yes, they have contacted me in birth order.) This one is from France. This joyful boy is sharing news and thoughts and ideas. My heart is full. 

The Smallest Church in America

This school year has become the year of road trips.  As our youngest child went off to college and we have unintentionally become the road trip couple...up and down the East coast multiple times between Southern Vermont and Southwestern Florida.  Some of these trips have been to get our little dog home for the holidays, some have been to visit children. A friend in Florida told me that every time they make these trips back and forth to New England, they stop somewhere new. Our newfound empty-nesty-ness is giving us just that freedom to explore all kind of treasures off the beaten path. This week on a drive between Charleston and Jekyll Island we found such a treasure....The Smallest Church in America.  My ever patient and always wonderful husband kindly turns around and pulls over when I start doing my "Oh!! did you see that?!?!" as we drive by such treasures. 

The Smallest Church in America ~  Darien, Georgia

We were confused about all of the signs about cameras. I now know that the original church burnt down from arson and this one is the new church, rebuilt by volunteers.

Twelves seats, a nod to the number of Apostles.

Kindness matters.

It was wonderful to visit this lovely site without the help of Google and knowing nothing about it, just stumbling across something interesting and taking it in without any knowledge about it's origin. The sign out front says "Built in 1949 by Mrs. Anges Harper and deeded to Jesus Christ". 

I have since learned that Mrs. Harper was a service station and grocery store owner who built this tiny church as a place to give back to her customers, a spot they could relax and have a peaceful moment on their journeys. She deeded this property in perpetuity to Jesus Christ and in the land records Jesus' address is "Heaven". 

A few years ago there was a fire and the original church burnt down.  It is believed that a vandal was using a blow torch to try and break into the donation box.  Volunteers donated the supplies and their time and rebuilt the church immediately.

Mrs. Harper used to bring blankets to the church for migrant workers. We found these pants and shoes with a kind note. Small acts of kindness are everywhere.

I must really blame Jenny!

The other day I accidentally changed the name of the blog page to "I blame Jenny". I only discovered this by looking at the analytics of this website on my phone and I noticed that my most dedicated website follower kept looking at "I blame Jenny". I was far from a computer and unable to change it, and really had a great laugh. If you know Jenny, you will share this laugh.

Jenny is my college roommate from Freshman year and one of my favorite people on the planet. 

In November, Jenny, and two of my other most favorite people on the planet, Sarah and Aimée (also very best friends from college) all came to visit me on this little island in Florida. A long overdue girls' weekend was had following a most wonderful 30th reunion at St. Lawrence University last spring. All three of these amazing women were instrumental in my life as a young woman. Thirty years ago- with them- I managed to get into all sorts of trouble, we laughed and laughed years worth of laughs, and we talked about everything under the sun as we grew from girls into young women.  Aimee and I also traveled the world together after graduation and visited almost all of the European countries on a fabulous walkabout. These women are part of the core of who I am.

Sarah, Aimée. Jenny, Tricia

Fast forward...November. How truly amazing to spend 4 days alone with these divine friends. No topics are taboo, no explaining who we are, with a deep understanding of each others parents, and a great desire to know all about each other's children and spouses we reconnected right where we left off. Our days were spent relaxing on the beach and riding golf carts into town- where Sarah did her usual amazing job as fashion stylist for each of us. Evenings were spent at my favorite restaurants eating the island's finest fare and enjoying copious amounts of tropical cocktails. ("copious" one of Sarah's wonderful words that reminds me of her every time I use it.)

But Jenny kind of ruined all the fun.... she started talking about weight and health. Damn it!

Jenny had tried the Whole30 with another college friend and was looking into doing it again. She fricking inspired us to give up dairy, alcohol, sugar, and carbs. Like some crazy preacher, we listened to her!! We had a farewell meal fit for queens on a gorgeous deck overlooking sunset on the gulf of Mexico. Farewell to each other, and farewell to all those food items we hold dear. 

There was a bet involved. We naturally divided into teams. Sarah, my partner in another adventure! This was the kind of bet only college friends make. Disgusting financial consequences  with pay offs to organizations you would never want to give money to. Plus there was the added bonus of the threat of dirty T-shirts designed by the other team to be worn on the streets of our hometowns. I can laugh now, but the threat was REAL! 

And thus I started the Whole30. 

The short version is that the first two weeks I was crabby as all hell as I detoxed not only from the items above but from diet coke. I thought I would miss wine, but in fact, I really missed my true love...gummy bears. I also missed Vermont maple syrup, which is hilarious, but I don't think I actually eat it that often. 

Once I got past the first two weeks I felt fantastic. REALLY, REALLY, FANTASTIC. I could breathe, I had amazing energy, and slept like a baby. I did the Whole30 for 37 days because I felt so good. I lost 10.5 pounds easily, no calorie counting, no portion control, just eating a fabulous paleo diet. 

Tomorrow I start again for another 30 days. This time there is a glorious light at the end of the tunnel. I was invited by a friend to join her at a yoga retreat this summer in Italy. Normally, I would have said no. The thought of getting in shape for this event would have seemed like too much! But this me says "YES" because I know with the whole30, I can do it. I just need to get myself back into the grove. Tonight we have really, really fun dinner plans with new friends. Tomorrow is a new day. 

As for the outcome of other challenge. Let's just say that in the end we are all winners because this challenge created a constant text conversation between the four of us. In honor of friendship we each donated to a cause we hold dear and we share the information on each cause with each other. The real win is the reconnection of a lifelong friendship with women I hold dear.

Feeling immense gratitude for all of the people who keep the roads safe....

My intended lovely little road trip with my eldest daughter Brooke, actually turned into quite an ordeal!!! Not 15 minutes off the island in Florida, we witnessed (as the car directly behind it) a head on collision.  Although it happened very fast, to us it appeared to go in slow motion..... as we watched a car pull out from a full stop into head on traffic with no way to call out and warn or stop it.  By the grace of God, there were no serious injuries. I dumped our car on the side of the road and helped the elderly victims out of their car (doors crammed shut, airbags deployed) while another man called 911. Arm chair expert here diagnosed one of the elderly men with a broken wrist and a possible concussion, everyone survived what could have been a triple tragedy. The police, ambulances, and fire trucks were there in minutes.  Needless to say, when we got back on the road, I was very shaken!! My father was always very, very calm in a crisis. He was an ambulance driver in WWII, first for the British Field Service, and then for the US Army under General Patton. His calmness in an emergency wore off on all three of his children. We are pretty calm in a crisis but later need to download the stress of the event. Needless to say, this accident set the tone for a slow and cautious journey.

Our father Bill Thorn with oldest granddaughter Katrina in North Salem, NY

Our first stop was Palmetto Bluff to see my sister Puddy and her fantastic husband (who has been in my life since my 8th birthday party!).  Phil is our family's premier chef and superior event foodie provider. Oh how grateful I was to learn that he had made a wonderful paleo dinner to help me through my last few days of the Whole30. He'd researched what I could eat and made the most delicious steak and vegetable kabobs with a sauce to die for. Sunday was spent at the Montage Palmetto Bluff where the three girls had "spa day", lunch at the wonderful Buffalo's restaurant, and a little Christmas shopping. It was a perfect way to catch up with my sister before the holiday rush.

Photo of a garden in Palmetto Bluff by brother-in-law Phil Doetzel, who is both an amazing chef and a even more amazing photographer!

On Monday Brooke, little dog Finn, and I got back in the car early to head towards Vermont. While talking to my brother, known on my instagram account and in real life as....Mr. Spanky Pants..... we learned that a snow storm was going to hit our little town of Vermont at 3 am.  We had to make some quick choices. Knowing there were no snow tires on my SUV, I wanted to get to Vermont before the storm hit. The thought of being trapped for days in someone else's house or worse, a crappy motel with a little dog fueled my energy to get there. Quick thinking, Brooke and I made a plan to drop her in Maryland with my youngest son Scotty. She would fly to Boston from there and I would power through the night to get to Vermont. I literally kissed my 20 year old son Scotty on the side of the road while I handed over his sister and kept going.  I am so grateful for my family members who kept calling me through the night to check on me. My husband, sister, and stepmother win the prize, staying up much later than usual, calling to make sure I was alert and entertained for a portion of my 14 hour journey. I listened to Diane von Furstenberg read her book "The Woman I Want to Be" on that dark winter night. I am grateful for her company and wonderful stories!

My air traffic control coordinator Puddy Cat with my weather man Mr. Spanky Pants

Mr Spanky Pants all grown up. 

Little dog and I arrived to a warm house in the mountains just as the snow flurries began to fall, 2:30 am on the dot.

My family has had a home in Vermont since I was 8. I went to St. Lawrence University in Canton, New York where it's literally a winter wonderland most of the school year. And I have lived in Vermont as an adult for the past 16 years. I know snow. I do snow well. This week I have had my challenges dealing with the snow. I confess to having more than one meltdown moment. I kept thinking of the movie Baby Boom which was filmed in my community. Diane Keaton finally looses it. I was getting close to that point!  We are in a new house this year, having moved over the summer. I don't know where all those winter emergency things are. I had a devil of a time turning up the hot water heater, finding the snow tires in the garage, shoveling with a garden shovel, because our snow shovel seemed to have gotten lost in the move. I cleaned off my car with a broom, dug out all the winter clothes I could find. I was snowed in for two days with only the food in the pantry. This would be no problem except I was on my last days of the Whole30. Eating non perishable pantry food was not any easy way to finish the whole30! Dinner one night was olives stuffed with garlic! These hardships were met with joy as I built large fires, watched season 2 of the Crown, face timed with my darling husband, and needlepointed fabulous Christmas ornaments. 

Identical twin sons Colin (left) and Willie (right) in "Mont". Weston, Vermont 1997

Eventually the plows came, our lovely mountain road has been plowed several times now and sanded beautifully. Our driveway has been plowed by a wonderful family that live nearby. I've managed to get the snow tires on the car, and to the grocery store! The trip here was arduous but oh how grateful I am to be in Vermont for the holidays. The tree went up this morning. The wrapping starts today. I've had lunch with some girlfriends and have run into others. It's SO good to be home.

I have an ample supply of needlepoint kits ready. Photos and the shop will go up tomorrow.

Safe travels to all of you as you make your way around to do your shopping, visiting, and celebrating.  And a big shout out to the emergency responders, the snowplow drivers, and the folks who make and sell snow shovels and scrapers!! 

Our family one Christmas a few years ago in Lyme, Ct

Road trip begins!!

Heading north towards Vermont with awesome stops on the way. Car filled with TONS of needlepoint, daughter Brooke, and one tiny black dog. Not traveling light like my grandfather Harry Thorn!!!

LOVERMONT: Oh how we love you, Vermont

Tomorrow we head back to Vermont. To snowy, wonderful, Christmasy Vermont. Home.

When thinking about Vermont, I think about what makes Vermont so special to us. It's the childhood home of our 7 children. It's the place where Don and I met and fell in love.  It's gorgeous, or as my father would have said "God's country." But most importantly....it is the place where so many folks we love live.  Giddy with excitement about seeing our Vermont pals. xoxo

One more child....

I grew up in a tiny one square mile town with several large families. My childhood friends were the youngest of ten, the youngest of eight, the youngest of seven, one of six, the youngest of five, The oldest of four, etc, etc, etc.  Of course, there were plenty of us with one to three children, but I was completely in heaven when I visited the homes of the big families. My own siblings are 12 and 14 years older than I.  When I was little, there was a house full of teenagers. Their friends were a part of our family.  I loved the chaos. I stayed awake as long as humanly possible every night so I wouldn't miss overhearing one teeny detail of conversation and the happenings of my teen siblings. And then...they went off to boarding school and college...and things got quiet. It was at about that time, I decided I wanted to have ten children. 

As a teenage girl and young woman, I would happily announce that I wanted ten children. When I was in college, my father told me he needed to have a conversation with me. I knew from his tone of voice and the way he sat me down that it was serious. He told me that it was important that I stop telling boys I was dating or potential boyfriends that I wanted ten children. In his mind, this was going to drastically downgrade me in the "eligibility for marriage" category of any young suitors. Perhaps, he thought, he would have to start acquiring cows for a dowery to go with this completely illogical daughter he apparently was preparing to marry off at 20.  What he didn't realize was that this parent-child moment only encouraged me to continue talking about wanting a big family.  I knew I would need a partner who shared my same goal. Or was as crazy as I was. Little did I know that after a divorce, a few years of single parenting of 5 small children, that I would find that very man. An amazing man with two young boys who wanted to marry a woman with 5 children. At the time, my father was at the end of his life and in the throws of dementia, but oh how he would have loved this man, who dearly loved his daughter, and shared her love of this big crazy family. Seven children within seven years of age!

We lived in a big old higgilly pigilty farmhouse in Vermont. Each of the many tiny bedrooms was full. And then....kids starting going off to boarding school and college. We quickly went from 7 to 2 in what felt like no time. It was at this time that our two youngest children switched schools to a small Independent school two of our older boys had attended. At one of the new student orientation school dinners, I was approached by a friend at the school who asked me if I would be willing to take an International student. It would "only be for one month, a child from Spain" she said. There was a binder of applications and I could choose my student. Faster that you can say "Her husband wasn't there and she decided to take an 8th child without discussing it with him" I was pawing through that binder!!! With five sons and two daughters, I knew for sure I was picking a GIRL!! And I found one, one that shared several interests with our own youngest daughter. I was going to pick HER!! But then I turned the page. And I saw a girl named Patty. (My beloved mother's name). And even better...she was a TWIN. I have twins. I get twins. I had to have the twin named Patty!!  Deal Done. Signed on the dotted line. Give me Patty. And oh, yeah, I need to tell my husband...one more child. We just got one more child! YIPEEE!! Oh, and yes, I did read her interests on her application. Not one. Not one was similar to our daughter. I just picked a girl who doesn't particularly like sports and loves shopping, for a girl who was the captain of the soccer and basketball team and didn't know the names of any brands of clothes. (A Vermonter who didn't even understand how an department store worked. Truth.)

Courteney and Patty at Niagra Falls

Fate would have it that picking an 8th child who shares the name of your mother and the birth story of your sons, is the very, very best way to bring a new member into your family. That day changed our lives forever. Our smart, beautiful, smiley, funny, laughing girl arrived a day or two before school started.

Courteney and Patty at the top of Empire Bluff, Michigan

Our lives have changed forever. Our girls have become sisters. Our other kids have a new sister. Our family has a new Patty. And our daughter Courteney, has an entirely new and additional family in Spain. 

Sisters forever

The girls now go back and fourth every summer. There have been a total of 4 trips so far. Patty travels with our family and is completely and totally one of us. She has spent a summer with us in Michigan and gotten a Canadian stamp on her passport. Courteney travels to Spain where she is loved and cherished by her Spanish family. She not only has the most amazing Spanish parents, she also has a new twin brother, aunts and uncles, cousins, and abuelos. In fact, Courteney accompanied Patty on her high school class graduation trip to Ibiza (I know!!! What was I thinking?!?!) and the girls were lectured up and down on safety in both English and Spanish!! 

Patty experiencing a small town American parade where the septic cleaner throws toilet paper! 

I am eternally grateful to Courteney's Spanish parents who share their precious girl with us and treat our girl like their very own. 

Can't wait to see where in the world this adventure takes the girls!

Visiting Puddy in Palmetto Bluff

How lucky am I to have a sister who lives in Palmetto Bluff?!?!

The newest Montage Inn at Palmetto Bluff

My sister Puddy and I have a code for gift giving, if we want to hint to the other about the gift we are going to give the other, we say "it's a one for you, one for me". This obviously means, "I liked it so much, I bought myself one too."  (Those are usually the best kinds of gifts!) (And our favorite kind to buy!)

Fire pits on the May River

Many, many decades ago we started using another phrase.  While divvying up some family treasures our darling (and only child) father suggested his daughters share the last few left over odds and end pieces of jewelry.  He used the plural "your" to describe things the sisters would share. (We have actually done a very good job of this hilariously ridiculous task.)  That also was the birth of our code word "our". This is the possessive "our". This is a "I like what you have so much, I'm your sister, so it belongs to both of us."  Although my sister didn't build me a house in Palmetto Bluff as well (not a "One for you and one for me"!), I am going to declare it an "our". "Our" Palmetto Bluff. "Our" everything in Palmetto Bluff....house, dog, zippy golf cart, etc. Good Idea! Right?! Only problem is I also have a brother and nieces and nephews declaring "our" on my guest room! 

The May River

Set along the May River, between Hilton Head and Savannah, Palmetto Bluff is a 20,000 gated Low Country community in Bluffton, South Carolina.  The setting is movie set gorgeous, with it's drooping Spanish Moss and glorious Low Country architecture. The cornerstones of life in Palmetto Bluff are Low Country Culture, Nature and Conservation, Community and Connection, and Outdoor Pursuits. My favorite three activities are oogling the gorgeous homes, eating all the awesome Low Country food, and hacking my way around the Jack Nicholas signature golf course with beloved brother-in-law Phil. 

I'm working on a "one for me, one for you deal" right now, Puddy, I'll take this one please!

Eerie and very romantic Spanish moss is everywhere

Docks on the May River

Outdoor oyster bake in Moreland

Perfect sunset seating over looking the marsh

Sunset by the pool

Love the serenity by the Moreland lap pool

Game room extraordinare

Tomato soup and grilled cheese with tomato and bacon hit the spot after a round of chilly golf at the May River Golf Club.

Donald enjoying the Jack Nicholas signature course at the May River Golf Club

We saw several bald eagles while golfing. Sadly this was the best photo of one!

Always, always have a needlepoint in tow.  Working on Iris.  This canvas will be available in kit form from Tricia Heaton Designs next month.

Little House in the Big Woods

"The great, dark trees of the Big Woods stood all around the house, and beyond them were other trees and beyond them were more trees. As far as a man could go to the north in a day, or a week, or a whole month, there was nothing but woods.  There were no houses. There were no roads. There were no people. There were only trees and the wild animals who had their homes among the big woods"

Innisfree  Fall 2016

"Walnuts and Hickory nuts were dropping to the ground in the Big Woods, and squirrels were scampering busily everywhere, gathering their winter's store of nuts and hiding them away in hollow trees."

Innisfree Fall 2016

"Wolves lived in the Big Woods, and bears, and huge wild cats.  Muskrats and mink and otter lived by the streams.  Foxes had dens in the hills and deer roamed everywhere."

Millbrook, New York Fall 2016

"Autumn was great fun. There were so much work to do, so many good things to eat, so many new things to see."

Text by Laura Ingalls Wilder from Little House in the Big Woods. Photos by Tricia Heaton