Thursday, October 29, 2009
Deere John.
Ever since I set foot on Sholan Farms I wanted to drive the tractor. After about a month of working there I asked Bob, "Will you teach me to drive the tractor?" I feared he'd want a sexual favor in return but luckily he just said, "What are you doing tomorrow?" I said, "Nothing."
Tomorrow came and went. We repeated this scenario many times.
Well. Today. Tomorrow finally arrived.
I was saying my "good-byes" to Courtney and Bob and I aked Bob, "Will you finally teach me how to drive this?" He replied, "What are you doing tomorrow?"
I said, "Bob. Today is my last day."
He smiled and said, "Get in."
I climbed into the cab.
Within 5 minutes he'd parked on a flat part of the orchard, the road between blocks 5 and 7. I hopped into the drivers seat. I asked a ton of questions. All the knobs and instrumentation were unfamiliar. "What's that I asked?" pointing to a knob. "The windshield wipers." (Duh.)
I put her in gear and soon we were crawling through the orchard. This tractor will hit a top speed of somewhere near 25 miles per hour. We cruised 5 MPH. When I stepped on the gas, just to get a feel for it, he said, "Slow down. There are people in the orchard." I don't think I'd even reached 8 MPH and had no idea I was pushing the speed envelope. There was something in Bob's tone when he cautioned me, he tends to joke around and has a great laugh, that made me think he might actually care about things.
Sometimes the people who seem the most casual are the folks who have the greatest concern.
We went through the orchard and I was surprised he let me drive for a long as he did. I marveled at how few apples were left on the trees. The leaves have started to turn yellow. Less than 8 weeks ago the foliage was deep green and enormous cortlands hung in Block 5. Today. No more.
Bob said, "I'm stripping the orchard clean."
Even though I want to go back to the orchard next week to work, stripping trees is just about the easiest way to earn a few bucks since you only have to make sure the apples aren't rotten otherwise it's anything goes. I've been pretty particular about picking and Bob once told me, "You've got good hands." I've never told him that I can gently pick 2 apples at a time. Not only do I have good hands, I've got big hands.
I'm not melancholy about leaving the country and the orchard. I know I'm supposed to head to the City. It's, "Adios," to tractors, and bushel baskets, and spending 8 hours a day outdoors. And it's, "Hello," to I-don't-know-what.
Tomorrow came and went. We repeated this scenario many times.
Well. Today. Tomorrow finally arrived.
I was saying my "good-byes" to Courtney and Bob and I aked Bob, "Will you finally teach me how to drive this?" He replied, "What are you doing tomorrow?"
I said, "Bob. Today is my last day."
He smiled and said, "Get in."
I climbed into the cab.
Within 5 minutes he'd parked on a flat part of the orchard, the road between blocks 5 and 7. I hopped into the drivers seat. I asked a ton of questions. All the knobs and instrumentation were unfamiliar. "What's that I asked?" pointing to a knob. "The windshield wipers." (Duh.)
I put her in gear and soon we were crawling through the orchard. This tractor will hit a top speed of somewhere near 25 miles per hour. We cruised 5 MPH. When I stepped on the gas, just to get a feel for it, he said, "Slow down. There are people in the orchard." I don't think I'd even reached 8 MPH and had no idea I was pushing the speed envelope. There was something in Bob's tone when he cautioned me, he tends to joke around and has a great laugh, that made me think he might actually care about things.
Sometimes the people who seem the most casual are the folks who have the greatest concern.
We went through the orchard and I was surprised he let me drive for a long as he did. I marveled at how few apples were left on the trees. The leaves have started to turn yellow. Less than 8 weeks ago the foliage was deep green and enormous cortlands hung in Block 5. Today. No more.
Bob said, "I'm stripping the orchard clean."
Even though I want to go back to the orchard next week to work, stripping trees is just about the easiest way to earn a few bucks since you only have to make sure the apples aren't rotten otherwise it's anything goes. I've been pretty particular about picking and Bob once told me, "You've got good hands." I've never told him that I can gently pick 2 apples at a time. Not only do I have good hands, I've got big hands.
I'm not melancholy about leaving the country and the orchard. I know I'm supposed to head to the City. It's, "Adios," to tractors, and bushel baskets, and spending 8 hours a day outdoors. And it's, "Hello," to I-don't-know-what.
Nonni
At any given time I've always got 5 or 6 dreams that I just can't figure out rolling around in my head. I ruminate over them all the time. In the middle of the night. "What does it mean?" In the middle of traffic. "What does it mean?" In the middle of lunch. "What does it mean?" In the middle of converstaions with other people. "What does that dream mean?" This subroutine: figure out these damn dreams, is almost always in gear.
This past weekend when I visited my Aunt T. I did something I rarely do, I described one of the dreams on the "hot list" in great detail and then asked her what she thought it meant.
I asked her because this dream concerned some of our family members. My Aunt also happens to be incredibly perspicacious. I've always wished I could be as keen and insightful as she is.
Keep in mind that the dreams I can't figure out are the best/worst puzzles in my head. It's usually the most simple and straight forward dreams that I cannot figure out. The reson: there is no such thing as a simple, straightforward dream. If you don' t believe me about that, ask Freud or Jung.
One of the people in this particular dream was Nonni, my great-grandmother, who's been dead since 1977.
My Aunt T. asked me about Nonni and I told her the very basic facts that I knew but that my impression of Nonni was that she was a victim. Where I got that impression I don't know. I think it's because I knew my great-grandmother when she was very old and all she did was sit around talking to my grandmother in Italian and I thought, There's the really old Italian lady who likes to eat vanilla ice cream melted, from a bowl.
It turns out Nonni was much cooler than that. She was the youngest of 5. Her mother died when she was very young. Her father was of high standing in the village. She was told by someone not to marry a farmer's son. Then when she was a teenager her father told her that she had to marry a rich farmer's son. She said no. (She refused an arranged marriage? Hot damn!) She moved to a city where she fell in love with an older man who was a painter. They got married. He got sick and died. She was 23 and a widow. Her brother and sister lived in the US and her brother sent her the money to come to the United States. She moved here and soon was working in a corset factory. She hated it and cried everyday. When my Aunt T. asked her why she didn't leave she said she had to come up with the money to pay her brother for passage to the U.S. and then she had to earn enough to go back to Italy. By the time she'd accomplished both, she was more or less a part of the fabric of the community in which she lived.
She met her second husband, Romeo. They got married. His father owned a produce delivery business and soon Nonni and Nonno opened a store. The had 2 children. They sold the store, moved to Italy for a bit, returned to the US and opened a second store. They sold that store and I believe Nonno died when they owned the third store.
They worked their asses off. They raised their children. They were very successful. As far as I know, when Nonno died in 1965, they had USD$250,000.00 in savings. And in 1965, $250,000.00 was a lot of money.
Even though I've always felt bad for my great-grandmother, because her second husband said and did unkind things to her, in the end she was someone who I might want to emulate. I've yet to determine if I'm the marrying kind, but owning and selling businesses and turning a nice profit -- that's worth copying.
This past weekend when I visited my Aunt T. I did something I rarely do, I described one of the dreams on the "hot list" in great detail and then asked her what she thought it meant.
I asked her because this dream concerned some of our family members. My Aunt also happens to be incredibly perspicacious. I've always wished I could be as keen and insightful as she is.
Keep in mind that the dreams I can't figure out are the best/worst puzzles in my head. It's usually the most simple and straight forward dreams that I cannot figure out. The reson: there is no such thing as a simple, straightforward dream. If you don' t believe me about that, ask Freud or Jung.
One of the people in this particular dream was Nonni, my great-grandmother, who's been dead since 1977.
My Aunt T. asked me about Nonni and I told her the very basic facts that I knew but that my impression of Nonni was that she was a victim. Where I got that impression I don't know. I think it's because I knew my great-grandmother when she was very old and all she did was sit around talking to my grandmother in Italian and I thought, There's the really old Italian lady who likes to eat vanilla ice cream melted, from a bowl.
It turns out Nonni was much cooler than that. She was the youngest of 5. Her mother died when she was very young. Her father was of high standing in the village. She was told by someone not to marry a farmer's son. Then when she was a teenager her father told her that she had to marry a rich farmer's son. She said no. (She refused an arranged marriage? Hot damn!) She moved to a city where she fell in love with an older man who was a painter. They got married. He got sick and died. She was 23 and a widow. Her brother and sister lived in the US and her brother sent her the money to come to the United States. She moved here and soon was working in a corset factory. She hated it and cried everyday. When my Aunt T. asked her why she didn't leave she said she had to come up with the money to pay her brother for passage to the U.S. and then she had to earn enough to go back to Italy. By the time she'd accomplished both, she was more or less a part of the fabric of the community in which she lived.
She met her second husband, Romeo. They got married. His father owned a produce delivery business and soon Nonni and Nonno opened a store. The had 2 children. They sold the store, moved to Italy for a bit, returned to the US and opened a second store. They sold that store and I believe Nonno died when they owned the third store.
They worked their asses off. They raised their children. They were very successful. As far as I know, when Nonno died in 1965, they had USD$250,000.00 in savings. And in 1965, $250,000.00 was a lot of money.
Even though I've always felt bad for my great-grandmother, because her second husband said and did unkind things to her, in the end she was someone who I might want to emulate. I've yet to determine if I'm the marrying kind, but owning and selling businesses and turning a nice profit -- that's worth copying.
Life continues to move at a fast clip. I'm hoping I can keep up.
I won't get into all the gorey details, but last night's power outage re-affirmed my belief that we have to shut down the house for the winter season. The short story goes like this... at 12:54 a.m. I woke up from a dream, noted the time (blazing red numerals on the electric clock), turned over and fell back asleep. Then as I was asleep I thought, "Something's not right." I woke up looked at the clock and well, there was no clock. I couldn't figure out how much time had past since I last checked the time. "Damn it, we've lost power." I stumbled around in the dark looking for my cell phone. When I located it, I noted the time, "1:00." I'd been asleep for 6 minutes. Then I went through a bit of an ordeal trying to figure out what the heck happened. Around 1:45 I got the recorded message at the phone company letting me know what I already knew, there was a power outage but the good news was: estimated time power would be restored -- 4 a.m.
Then I climbed into bed and started thinking (of course). My first thoughts were that if the power didn't come back on I had to be up at 5:30 to go pick apples and that I would not be having a shower or breakfast but since it was my last day picking apples I planned on showing up on-time, dirty and hungry.
Then I turned to other thoughts. I was glad it was 44 degrees outside so that the pipes wouldn't freeze. I thought about 9/11 and this small power outage reminded me that I'm not prepared and that folks in general are not prepared. (I almost feel like taking "prepared to another level -- Prepared to accept the Host? Prepared to receive Salvation? But let's save that for another day. Shall we?) I do not have my disaster kit in order. Which means that next season I will have it ready. Although if the temp gets too low, won't the water that I've set aside freeze? It's also time to get the wood stove and the outhouse in working order. Life in the country...
But more than anything -- and I think that this speaks volumes about who I am and where my head is at -- I was really frustrated by my current relationships. I feel that they're not where they should be and this ticks me off. Mind you I wasn't kicking myself so much as prodding myself to wonder about what I can do to improve things. As far as I'm concerned, paying the bills and having enough food and drinking water to get through 3 days of no-power is all well and good but do I really want to die (or live) without having my emotional life and my close personal relationships in good order?
The answer is, No.
Luckily Cara called at 2 am, just as the power was restored and as I was fully awake and wearing all my clothes and down jacket, lying on the comforter on my bed and we ended up having a very long chat about all my swirling thoughts.
As I return to NYC I've got enough money to get me through a couple of months. (Thank you Bob, Sholan Farms, and Johnny Applesed!) And as I return, top on my list is what can I do to strengthen my relationships? Of course, relationships tend to require that both parties want to engage in strengthening, so I'll be strengthening the relationships I can with those who want to join me in emotional fitness workouts.
There seems to be clutter in my head. (Actually this morning, as I was picking apples I decided, "You're full of shit.") I have some really bad habits but they roll at a very deep level. I'm going to grab my headlamp and descend into the caverns of my mind and I'll bring some trial mix and my stainless steel canteen (filled with water) and I'm going to find those annoy traits and I'm going to alter them. Actually, I think it's better to bargain with them and perhaps find a working compromise. I don't think that we're supposed to get rid of stuff. I've always noticed that when I go to get rid of bad habits they have a way of re-appearing in an even stronger, more destructive, form than when I just let them wreak havoc.
I've decided that life is a journey and an adventure. In one month's time I'll turn 43 and I think I've got another 50 years to go (I'm basing this on the fact that Nana (my father's mother) died this year at age 97). Even if I only have another 40 years to go, that's still a long time and I cannot and will not abide by having this junk f*cking up my relationships.
Of course, the monkey wrench in the works -- karma. Perhaps some people have come and gone because that was all they were supposed to do. No matter how deeply I loved, or hated them, they're gone and that's that. So I guess it's more the folks who have stuck around that I've got to consider.
I feel pretty good about returning to New York City. I'm still curious if I can maintain my hearfelt peace or if the smog, crowded subways, and alternate side street parking will jam me up and I'll revert to the cranky person I was in days of yore.
We shall see. Won't we?
I won't get into all the gorey details, but last night's power outage re-affirmed my belief that we have to shut down the house for the winter season. The short story goes like this... at 12:54 a.m. I woke up from a dream, noted the time (blazing red numerals on the electric clock), turned over and fell back asleep. Then as I was asleep I thought, "Something's not right." I woke up looked at the clock and well, there was no clock. I couldn't figure out how much time had past since I last checked the time. "Damn it, we've lost power." I stumbled around in the dark looking for my cell phone. When I located it, I noted the time, "1:00." I'd been asleep for 6 minutes. Then I went through a bit of an ordeal trying to figure out what the heck happened. Around 1:45 I got the recorded message at the phone company letting me know what I already knew, there was a power outage but the good news was: estimated time power would be restored -- 4 a.m.
Then I climbed into bed and started thinking (of course). My first thoughts were that if the power didn't come back on I had to be up at 5:30 to go pick apples and that I would not be having a shower or breakfast but since it was my last day picking apples I planned on showing up on-time, dirty and hungry.
Then I turned to other thoughts. I was glad it was 44 degrees outside so that the pipes wouldn't freeze. I thought about 9/11 and this small power outage reminded me that I'm not prepared and that folks in general are not prepared. (I almost feel like taking "prepared to another level -- Prepared to accept the Host? Prepared to receive Salvation? But let's save that for another day. Shall we?) I do not have my disaster kit in order. Which means that next season I will have it ready. Although if the temp gets too low, won't the water that I've set aside freeze? It's also time to get the wood stove and the outhouse in working order. Life in the country...
But more than anything -- and I think that this speaks volumes about who I am and where my head is at -- I was really frustrated by my current relationships. I feel that they're not where they should be and this ticks me off. Mind you I wasn't kicking myself so much as prodding myself to wonder about what I can do to improve things. As far as I'm concerned, paying the bills and having enough food and drinking water to get through 3 days of no-power is all well and good but do I really want to die (or live) without having my emotional life and my close personal relationships in good order?
The answer is, No.
Luckily Cara called at 2 am, just as the power was restored and as I was fully awake and wearing all my clothes and down jacket, lying on the comforter on my bed and we ended up having a very long chat about all my swirling thoughts.
As I return to NYC I've got enough money to get me through a couple of months. (Thank you Bob, Sholan Farms, and Johnny Applesed!) And as I return, top on my list is what can I do to strengthen my relationships? Of course, relationships tend to require that both parties want to engage in strengthening, so I'll be strengthening the relationships I can with those who want to join me in emotional fitness workouts.
There seems to be clutter in my head. (Actually this morning, as I was picking apples I decided, "You're full of shit.") I have some really bad habits but they roll at a very deep level. I'm going to grab my headlamp and descend into the caverns of my mind and I'll bring some trial mix and my stainless steel canteen (filled with water) and I'm going to find those annoy traits and I'm going to alter them. Actually, I think it's better to bargain with them and perhaps find a working compromise. I don't think that we're supposed to get rid of stuff. I've always noticed that when I go to get rid of bad habits they have a way of re-appearing in an even stronger, more destructive, form than when I just let them wreak havoc.
I've decided that life is a journey and an adventure. In one month's time I'll turn 43 and I think I've got another 50 years to go (I'm basing this on the fact that Nana (my father's mother) died this year at age 97). Even if I only have another 40 years to go, that's still a long time and I cannot and will not abide by having this junk f*cking up my relationships.
Of course, the monkey wrench in the works -- karma. Perhaps some people have come and gone because that was all they were supposed to do. No matter how deeply I loved, or hated them, they're gone and that's that. So I guess it's more the folks who have stuck around that I've got to consider.
I feel pretty good about returning to New York City. I'm still curious if I can maintain my hearfelt peace or if the smog, crowded subways, and alternate side street parking will jam me up and I'll revert to the cranky person I was in days of yore.
We shall see. Won't we?
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
N.
There's a woman who works at the orchard who told me her life story and since I haven't asked her permission to relay this story, I'll refer to her as N.
One of the things that strikes anyone on first meeting N. is her personality. She smiles a lot, she has a great laugh, and she's got a great sense of humor, really sarcastic. I'm always super-happy to pick alongside N. because the time flies when she's around.
A week ago N. and I were picking and I asked her what she was thinking of doing for her next job once apple picking ended. She replied, "I don't know." Mind you she bakes at a bakery 2 days per week, takes care of a young boy with cerebral palsy 5 nights per week, picks apples 2 days per week and then...who knows?
She reminds me of "Hey Mon" from Living Color.
I suggested she get a paper delivery route, and that ripped things wide open.
Before I knew it she launched into the story of her life. She was 14 when she met her future husband. He was 15 at the time and an alcoholic. They got married and ended up having 3 kids. He continued to drink and drug and cheated on N. all the time. People would come up to her to tell her about it and she'd say, "I don't want to know." She said it made her sick to her stomach. She also mentioned that when her husband was sober he was a complete ass because all he wanted to do was get high.
He eventually left her after they'd been married for 24 year and she had an 8-, 13-, and 15-year old to take care of. She'd never had a job and didn't know what she was going to do. She took a paper route and as it turns out she made good money and was able to be home to spend time with her kids and shuttle them around to all their after school activities. Basically she'd get up at 3 in the morning deliver the papers, come home, get the kids ready for school and then once they went to school she'd go back to bed for a nap.
The husband's girlfriend lived above a bar and when N. drove the family to church on Sunday morning they'd "see Daddy's truck parked outside the bar."
Eventually N. and her husband got divorced.
She says that the experience gave her breast cancer.
After a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery she said, "I didn't want to ever be stressed out agin."
I'm not telling this story nearly as well as N. tells it but once she was done talking -- I was atop a ladder filling my bucket with apples -- and even though I've been through quite a bit myself I went quiet and was at a loss for words. Maybe I haven't been through that much after all. (Nice bit of reality check on a gorgeous fall afternoon in an apple orchard.)
I've heard a lot of people who've been sick and had cancer and other troubles and N. didn't employ any of the much-used jargon. "It was a gift." "I live for the present." "Life is precious." She said, "I didn't want to be stressed ever again."
And this has become my new mantra.
If you could see N. smile, it would probably become your mantra.
One of the things that strikes anyone on first meeting N. is her personality. She smiles a lot, she has a great laugh, and she's got a great sense of humor, really sarcastic. I'm always super-happy to pick alongside N. because the time flies when she's around.
A week ago N. and I were picking and I asked her what she was thinking of doing for her next job once apple picking ended. She replied, "I don't know." Mind you she bakes at a bakery 2 days per week, takes care of a young boy with cerebral palsy 5 nights per week, picks apples 2 days per week and then...who knows?
She reminds me of "Hey Mon" from Living Color.
I suggested she get a paper delivery route, and that ripped things wide open.
Before I knew it she launched into the story of her life. She was 14 when she met her future husband. He was 15 at the time and an alcoholic. They got married and ended up having 3 kids. He continued to drink and drug and cheated on N. all the time. People would come up to her to tell her about it and she'd say, "I don't want to know." She said it made her sick to her stomach. She also mentioned that when her husband was sober he was a complete ass because all he wanted to do was get high.
He eventually left her after they'd been married for 24 year and she had an 8-, 13-, and 15-year old to take care of. She'd never had a job and didn't know what she was going to do. She took a paper route and as it turns out she made good money and was able to be home to spend time with her kids and shuttle them around to all their after school activities. Basically she'd get up at 3 in the morning deliver the papers, come home, get the kids ready for school and then once they went to school she'd go back to bed for a nap.
The husband's girlfriend lived above a bar and when N. drove the family to church on Sunday morning they'd "see Daddy's truck parked outside the bar."
Eventually N. and her husband got divorced.
She says that the experience gave her breast cancer.
After a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery she said, "I didn't want to ever be stressed out agin."
I'm not telling this story nearly as well as N. tells it but once she was done talking -- I was atop a ladder filling my bucket with apples -- and even though I've been through quite a bit myself I went quiet and was at a loss for words. Maybe I haven't been through that much after all. (Nice bit of reality check on a gorgeous fall afternoon in an apple orchard.)
I've heard a lot of people who've been sick and had cancer and other troubles and N. didn't employ any of the much-used jargon. "It was a gift." "I live for the present." "Life is precious." She said, "I didn't want to be stressed ever again."
And this has become my new mantra.
If you could see N. smile, it would probably become your mantra.
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