Wednesday, December 30, 2009

We're Off

Greetings:

Mile 0

The Element is packed almost to the ceiling with our sets of golf clubs and Chris’ bicycle. We set off for Dad’s in Franklin to leave him some cash and to say goodbye. He is upstairs in the dining room at Golden Crest and is glad to see us. Hopefully we will all survive without seeing each other for over two months.

Gini was presented with a ‘truffle snake’ in her Christmas stocking. It has since been put back into its original 2 lb Harry and David Dark Chocolate tub and given preferred seating in the front seat. As we left Franklin, NH we felt like our trip had begun and Gini was definitely on vacation. The Patriots game on the radio was to serve as our entertainment as we made our way to Middletown, NY to visit with brother Bob. He lives in the family house now so he could save on rent and was awaiting us for dinner at Nina’s.

As we started listening to the game we made a pact. For every touchdown that the Patriots scored we would eat a dark chocolate truffle. This became life threatening as Brady passed for four touchdowns and Morris ran in another. We decided that maybe every other touchdown would be cause for embracing Harry and David.

Mile 300

It was good to see Bob at the old homestead. From 1957 to 1968 it was Chris’ home. Gini first paid a visit in 1972 and Mom liked her. Gini, at the time, marveled, as did many others, at the back yard. For Dad, after coming from Ireland and then the Bronx, this was his first house and could not cope with the condition of the yard. So he had it blacktopped. Odd as it was, it was a mini school yard the whole time Chris lived there. Bob and he played hours and hours of home run derby, whiffle ball and managed to hit whiffle golf balls in a competitive fashion over the years.

Now Middletown did not seem charming with all the crowded ‘garden apartments’ squeezed into lots meant for single family homes across the street. Street noise and activity was 24/7. Nina’s, however, was a different story. Somehow this restaurant, which could have easily competed with anything in Manhattan, had nestled onto Main Street in Middletown. Dinner was most enjoyable.

The basement at the house was filled with many of Mom’s ‘backups’. Literally one could furnish three or four kitchens with the accumulated treasures of over fifty years of marriage. Well, maybe in the spring we could deal with this … but now? Not so much.

Morning brought sunny but windy weather. Now begins the iPhone versus AARP/MapQuest death match. Google was not helping, there was an hour’s difference in travel time with their version. We decided to head for Delaware and make for Cape Charles and the Chesepeake Bay Bridge. Anyone who has driven this must be amazed at how this bridge dips, not once but twice, under Chesapeake Bay and then leaps to the surface once more. The sun is blinding as we head west late in the afternoon. The wind is howling and one might think we are in a Hitchcock movie as seagull after seagull lies lifeless on the side of the road.

Mile 770

We did successfully arrive in Norfolk thanks to the iPhone. The reason we were there was because of Gini’s family. Uncle Buzz had taken an apartment to be near his son Mike (Gini’s cousin), his wife Mary and their daughter Amy, her husband and the latest star, three year old Crysta.

Buzz lives in a wonderful senior apartment complex called the Talbot on the grounds of a major hospital in downtown Norfolk. He is a former Navy jet pilot who was glad to see Gini:






He is 88 and pretty fit. He has a second bedroom at his place so we were quickly shown to our suite.














Dinners that night and the next were filled with seafood from Chesapeake bay. Oysters William and crab crakes were big hits. We also learned of the area’s icon the mermaid. She is displayed in various ways throughout the region:















The first night culminated in a drive through the visual wonders of the local botanical gardens. The trees are lit up with Christmas themes:



















The next day we immersed ourselves in the rich history of the area. This is Yorktown, Hampton Roads; Newport News; Gosport and Portsmouth shipbuilding; the Monitor and the Virginia dueling to a draw. Mike had hoped that we could see the story of the Monitor at a Newport News’ Mariners Museum but it was closed that day. We then opted for Norfolk’s Naval Museum guarded by the USS Wisconsin:



Not only was it fascinating because of the area’s rich historical pedigree but Buzz was in his milieu. He had made over 500 landings on aircraft carriers for three decades. First hand info is always sweet.

The Beaulieu clan then hosted us at Olive Garden for a family dinner that had four generations present:


We still have a soft spot for good family/friends:



And the joy of a grandmother and her grandchild:



The next morning Mike and Mary took us to IHOP and we were off to find Myrtle Beach and Rick and Hanna.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

And Your Little Dog Too!

Greetings:

As you may or may not know, to make a comment on a blog posting you go to the end of the post and click on the link that reads ‘0 comments’ or ‘1 comments’ or what ever number followed by ‘comments’. You will be able to read submitted comments, if any, and be able to type in your own. You are always more than welcome to do so.

After Coop d’Etat 2 (Part 2) there was a single comment:


Chip Duggan said...
Ok... all happy go lucky fairy tale comes true. i love it... I really do... but lets here the juicy stuff, disenchant us for a sec. Like, the hard times, I mean the really difficult times... you know the juicy stuff... Then you can go about how luck you two truly are... which by the way is really f@C!%&G lucky. Fairy tales do exist and its not a goal, you just are living it!

your son,

Chip


Can you imagine this? From your own son?! This was like Toto pulling on the Wizard’s curtain. I am the Great and Powerful Baron!!



Now somewhere there must be a burnt witch’s broom in exchange for this presumptuous behavior. Well, we’ll deal with the ‘broom’ later.

Interesting quote in the online New York Times today:

"People who have something really private to say probably shouldn’t do it in a text on their cellphone."
MARC ROTENBERG, executive director of the Electronic Privacy Information Center, a public interest research group based in Washington.

So let it be known that Gini never chased me down the driveway waving a golf club but maybe in the past forty years there may have been three or four times when she might have had the urge. So yes, my son, there have been moments on the dark side. Some of them need to have their garments of embarrassment and shame shed before discussion but there is a chance that some of them may forever remain … private.

I know that because of “…fearing … that I'd become my enemy in the instant that I preach” I have forsaken the lecture approach echoing with sentiments of “Don’t you make the same mistake!”. However, the humbling confession in a blog-like posture might be able to yield some perspective on disenchantment.


So here goes…


Charlie, Gini’s dad, was mentioned in the previous posting. Ann, her mom, had passed on several years before Charlie died. She had battled breast cancer for twenty years and finally succumbed. Gini has always been mindful of the genetic message that may have been transmitted to her.

We had only been married a year. The doctor’s report was handed across the desk for our perusal. Underlined in red was ‘malignant carcinoma’. Gini was not to escape. Dr. Henry P. Leis, in medicine’s Who’s Who and chief of breast surgery at New York Medical College, quietly awaited our response.

Gini had made a promise to herself after absorbing her mother’s experience. There would be no mascectomies … no disfigurement. A biopsy would be performed but even should it be malignant then nothing else but a lumpectomy would be done.

The discussion each succeeding night concluded in the same way. There would be nothing done besides the lumpectomy and I was not to exercise my legal right as husband to determine any other course of action upon learning of the biopsy diagnosis while Gini was on the operating table.

We tried black humor amidst the ambience of ‘Love Story’ to try and maintain our epicurean vector.

The morning of the medical procedure came. Gini was taken away. I sat there resolved to respect my wife but wishing I could live with betraying her for my own selfish reasons. Each hour passed, many hours passed, too many of them. I could not betray her. Que sera sera!

It was during these long hours that disenchantment took hold and sunk its claws into our psyche. It still was not easy to shake when Dr. Leis finally came to me in the afternoon and proclaimed, “Your wife is a witch! The incision bled like there was a malignancy but the cysts are benign and were removed.”

************************************************************************

Now let us fast forward to a much awaited opportunity of travel that Gini had provided. It was to be a trip to Mexico that included several days at a spa south of Mexico City overlooking a lake. However, Gini in her determined effort to be responsible and to try to be adult (at this point the garage had not been built), had scheduled an appointment with Ned Gordon, our lawyer. The purpose was to create our Last Will and Testament. We’re gonna do what before leaving? You’ve got to be kidding! And lo the documents appeared and were signed. Airport … ho!

Mexico was wonderful. The spa was amazing. I had not been treated like this since I was a baby and the swaddling clothes were a nice touch. We were aromated, massaged, reflexologized and cuticled until we were mush. It is also the one time when we can claim with recreational delight that the earth moved. We were resting and a mild earthquake rumbled and a rainbow appeared above the lake. Magic!

Our last night was celebrated with a romantic dinner. What was supposed to be a lingering glance suddenly became something else. Gini’s eyes rolled back as she fell to the table and then slumped to the floor. She did not respond to my pleas. She did not move further. Superstitious thoughts of having signed the wills rushed to my mind. Why wouldn’t she respond?

I yelled in Spanish for help and have someone call a doctor. Aid came and we were soon able to determine she was breathing. The doctor came to the conclusion that the circuit breaker labeled ‘Gini’ had flipped off but it was back on now and everything would be fine. Mexico… hmm … maybe some other time.

********************************************************************

Now from the point of view of a child (namely Chip) who knows what our relationship looked like. We will have to continually ask him to develop and refine a perspective. He did witness some rather adult partying and perhaps some hypocritical behavior. Which brings me to that burnt broomstick that I have presumed he has ceremoniously produced.



Perhaps our example was the subliminal rendering of “Surrender Chip”. Hard to say but it would be agreed that the development of the story of ‘The Party’ would prove stressful.

I was drooling over the sausages and peppers I was fryin’ up and getting ready to pop open a Sam Adams when the phone rang: “Dad I’m in trouble…” Every parent knows that these words are to be feared but must be met robustly.

We had purchased a home outside Keene as an enlightened way to avoid dorm costs upon resale. Chip had three roommates. They had a party. Over three hundred people came thanks to cell phones and the internet. The fire department came, The police came. The drug squad came. The media came. Our house was famous on Manchester’s Channel 9. Twenty six pot plants were found in Chip’s closet by the drug squad… two and a half hours before they got a search warrant.



The flying monkeys had landed. This was most disenchanting and family pride seemed vertiginous.

Chip will be clean and sober five years on December 11th. He has become an artist, a carpenter, a lover, a graduate student, a seeker, an outdoorsman, a good son. He can be very enchanting. Somehow he melted the witch with gifts that he always had but previously thought he was without.

********************************************************************


No one is infallible. No one is mistake free. No one has done it all correctly. Some are lucky.

Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.


Enchante´
.
.
.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Coop d'Etat (Part 2)

Greetings once again. When we last left our heroes they were hub deep in mud trying to master the backhoe in one week.

By the time that John did arrive, the foundation excavation and regrading along the entrance side of the house had been accomplished even though Chris was now channeling Noah. Not too much damage – Chris was rudely educated about the articulation abilities of the backhoe when he swung it in a direction that he thought would be away from the house. That crunching sound was so disappointing. The framing around one of the windows of the front apartment bore the scars until just a couple of years ago.

Chris decided to spread the energy and the anguish by having his basketball team (did you know he coached the jayvee for two years and the varsity for two years?) carry cinder blocks and mortar under John’s direction.

It began to take shape:




Bob Huber also came to the rescue with his earthmoving equipment to help backfill and finish grading.

At this point John was back in his element and the framing, walls and roof rose quickly. Chris managed to save some face by doing the plumbing and helping with the electricity and speaker system. And then it arrived:



Steps would have been nice, huh? Well, later with that.

We could not deny that the only description for this whole escapade was decadence. The chickens would be so jealous! (There was and always be concerns about poultrygeist)

This tub was warranted for only ten years with a life expectancy of maybe fifteen. Somehow we have been using it for over twenty years. It has been brought back from death’s door at least twice and has a slow leak to remind us of its age. But boy does it feel good after a tough day and the weather is frightful. Gini always tried to convince various soakers to run out into the snow afterwards. Chip and Claire fell for it – ah youth! Gini, herself, did make the chilling plunge once also – you go girl!

There was much rejoicing when we finished.

From the front of the house:



But the best view of the barn has always been from the back:





But as you have seen, for the first several years of the barn’s domicility there were no steps to go from the parking area down to the house. This became even more dramatic when we regraded the area for the hot tub room construction. My poor mother when she visited! Everyone’s poor mother!

Now I never thought too much about this but we were always convincing Von D’Luccis that helping with these projects was tantamount to exhilaration and godliness. There is something to be said that our role model was Tom Sawyer and his fence painting – or should I say the coordination of the fence painting.

This time Charlie, Gini’s dad, definitely was in tune with the vision. Mike Foley spent a rapturous afternoon in the window of the front apartment designing the steps and Geoff (our brother-in-law) fell into laborer status. But Charlie was inspired by the steps. Despite his initial retreat when suggesting living in town when we were renovating the barn, he always was in love with the project. Now it was his turn to shine – and shine he did. His energy was boundless.



Geoff and I were along for one heck of a ride. It all culminated in Charlie demanding a ‘tamper’ to make sure that the fill in the steps would be firm. He built one from a six by six and long threaded bolts for handles. (seen behind me in the picture)

These steps will survive nuclear attack and ‘…will outlast us all!’.

Charlie left us about a decade ago. Though there are many ways in which he is remembered this is my favorite. I have to disagree with Shakepeare, for the good this man did does live after him and is not interred. Merci beaucoup Charles.


**********************************************************************

The barn has been a Von D’Lucci vortex for quite a while now. Gini and I counted one hundred different people that had spent the night here during the course of one year. Dining, drinking, dancing and divertissement have been the themes.

The quintessential event may have been when we were host to Katy’s Cookin’ Cabaret. Katy Richard and Chris Hinchliffe provided Alexandria, Bridgewater and the surrounding community for several years with fine food (Cajun theme) and equally fine music.

With the barn as the venue for this memorable evening, Katy gave a cooking class:



There were almost thirty people seated for the extravaganza:



We did have to make room for the music:




Everyone should have a friend like Katy:



But we actually do. Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Katy and Molly (her sister) are now Taco Sisters in Lafayette Louisiana and are wowin’ ‘em there too. (See February 2009 blog)

***********************************************************************

The barn does continue to expand and just in time for Chip’s high school graduation a two-car garage, family room and three-season porch were added. Gini says this marked our true emergence as ‘grownups’.




So in the famous words of Fred Ebb:

Come taste the wine,
Come hear the band.
Come blow your horn,
Start celebrating;
Right this way,
Your table's waiting



And as for me… and as for me,
I made my mind up back in Chelsea,
When I go, I'm goin’ like Elsie.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Coop d'Etat (Part 1)


You’re gonna live in a what? A chicken coop? You’ve got to be kidding!

This was basically the response from parents, family, friends and riff-raff. Our poor parents thought that now that we had been married for 11 years, Gini was working for a travel agency in Boston and I had been teaching at the University of Lowell, that the worst was over. We had matured and turned the corner on outrageous behavior. Uh, maybe not.

Gini and I subscribe to the monkey wrench theory. If things are going on too long, no matter how smoothly, you ‘throw a monkey wrench into it’. If you cannot put the pieces back together again or have lost interest in doing so you might as well find out about it sooner than later. If you do put the pieces back together then you will be bonded much stronger. We have done this two or three times in our forty year relationship.

This time we had bought this chicken barn in 1980 and had dabbled with improvement projects for a few years. Then, as bratty as we were after being ‘just us’ for eleven married years, Gini became pregnant, we quit our jobs and sold our house in Cambridge that we owned with Gini’s sister and my cousin and headed for New Hampshire.

Now wouldn’t you feel just calm and tranquil upon seeing your expecting daughter/daughter-in-law move into:



Well, both sets of parents decided to visit us at ‘The Barn’ very soon after our move. Within two hours of arrival my father, with lifelong back problems from various car accidents, was lying in the back seat of the car. My mother, who had one scotch and water everyday late in the afternoon, decided 1:00 pm was the right time for this one. Gini’s Mom found it difficult to speak. But Charlie, good old Charlie, decided to play the visionary with me:



We talked about fruited plains, purple mountain’s majesty and at least two golf holes.

Just a few hours after their departure Charlie and Anne called. Somehow the vision was clouding and they would pay for us to live in an apartment in downtown Bristol if we would come to our senses. Well, politely and firmly, we would like to decline your offer.

I mean we had amenities like a flush toilet. It was in the back part of the barn that was basically an open 48 by 24 foot area. We thought the Moroccan wall hanging was classy:




The basics were definitely present. You know, a fridge for beer, a hammock, wood for the stove:










I mean we even had electricity!...and a satellite dish!!
















Granted there were shades of the Grapes of Wrath ever present:




and we had to be somewhat creative with our closets:




Our first Thanksgiving was memorable since Gini was now well into her fifth month and the furnace that we had ordered arrived in such poor condition that we had to send it back to Somerville Lumber and wait for a replacement. In the mean time that stove that you saw only burned for two hours before you had to reload it. Ah those restful nights.

None-the-less Chip made his appearance on time and he thought that the rustic approach was the way to go:






We all lived in the front part of the barn. This was where the chicken farmer had kept the feed and the tools. There were air tight, tongue-in-groove stalls for the feed with tubes leading to the outside so that the feed truck could pressure blow the feed into the stalls. These made good walls for a bathroom to surround our Moroccan wall-hanging.

At this time let me introduce our hero John. Granted I can say that just one other guy and myself renovated the barn but really...I was the “other guy”. John said that he would do the job for an amazingly low price due to the Beautiful Sister Discount (he loved Gini, Janice and Linda) but we had to name Chip after him. So enter Charles John Duggan as the legal sobriquet for Chip.

Now let it be said that some people can do things so well that they can perform with “one hand tied behind their back”. We did not really anticipate that John would take this as a real challenge:



About 80 per cent through the job John had an aerial dispute with a wasp.

The first real project after making the front apartment livable for all of us was the back deck. This was because we needed a platform for the blender. Our daily incentive was the DOD (Drink Of the Day) which required precise blending:



The roof was the hardest – thirteen days non-stop. I now have arthritis in my feet from lifting 4 by 8 sheets with the arch of my foot.

Chip proved to be an interesting addition – he did not sleep – for two and a half years. Our friend Linda was also living with us and John. All of us were in the front part of the barn, when Chip arrived. There couldn’t have been ten feet separating any of us. We, being the progenitors of ‘benign neglect’, proudly made Chip the first inhabitant in ‘our’ side of the barn when his room was completed first. Thank goodness for those baby monitors and speakers.

Chris, having completed a master’s degree in Energy Engineering decided that the high tech way to heat this place would be a Russian Fireplace, a centuries-old technology. We sent our precious five dollars to Basilio Yevtuschenko in Richmond, Maine for plans. He sent us the plans and some phone numbers of some satisfied customers in case we needed further convincing.

This kind of fireplace is a large box of bricks that has ‘baffles’ in it so that the heat from the fire goes up and down several times before escaping through the chimney. When the fire is out, a damper is closed to seal in the heat. On the coldest of days the fire only burns for a total of 8 or 9 hours. For over twenty years we heated our entire side of the house with just three and a half cord of wood. Thank you Basilio.

Getting a mason to build such a ‘crazy thing’ was not easy. None of the Newfound area masons would take it on since they did not believe it would work. The only mason in Meredith who would do it said we had to wait over two years. Our friend Reno Rossi, yes, of the Rossi family that built the restaurant as you come off Exit 23 on I93, felt sorry for us and agreed to do it:



It took eleven days and he even he was impressed when the first fire draughted very smoothly:




We were very proud of what John led us to do though we were very nervous when the huge half round window for the master bedroom was lifted into place:



The finished product was impressive:










Now we could enjoy our view directly:





That car sitting in the yard was the only irritant to Gini, a real Saab story. It was later removed as a birthday/anniversary present.

So it was the simple life for us – that is if you feel that a hot tub is de rigeur to simply relax. I dared to rent a backhoe/loader in the midst of seven inches of rain but out of the west came John to rescue us once again. (to be continued).

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Commencement 2000

Greetings:

For the sake of completeness I am posting the commencement speech to the graduating class of Newfound Regional HS in the year 2000. As mentioned in the previous posting it was a speech that I had, uncharacteristically, worked on for many weeks to ‘fine tune it’. Not helping the situation, at the time, was the promise of bad weather and the move of the ceremonies into the stuffy, very warm gymnasium.

I wore my custom made Italian suit (boy is that another story!). We sat on the stage waiting for the graduates to make their way into the hall. At each seat was a plastic bottle of water. I had never been a fan of bottled water so I was ill prepared to figure out, on the spot, how to open it and use the handy-dandy dispenser for sipping. I tore off the outer wrap; struggled with the nozzle and then proceeded to spill an appreciable amount on my light gray, linen suit. The water stain did not look like it came from a bottle but from me!!

Observing all this was my good friend, Bob Miller, the Guidance Director, who advised me to go into the locker room and use a drier. Quickly I agreed this was a great idea, rushed inside the phys ed teacher’s office, into the locker room and then realized the drier was the one on the wall - about five feet off the ground and not easily applied to my soaked thighs. So I boldly removed my pants and stood there waving them under the blasting hot air. It became readily apparent that this was a magical solution as the water vestige vanished in two minutes. Had anyone come in at the time they would have been hard put not to die of hysterics. It did, however, cause me to break into hearty, relieved laughter thus calming my nerves in preparation for my commencement speech.

Gini was another story. From her perspective from the audience I had been calmly sitting on the stage and now was nowhere to be seen as the music announced the entrance of the graduates. I was still unaccounted for, the class president came up on the stage to greet the audience and introduce the class. Eventually I was seen scrambling behind her to regain my seat in my freshly dried suit.

I do agree that this speech is somewhat involved and could make your head hurt, that is if you had not already decided to zone out. Many of the graduates did enjoy it as did several members of the audience. I am sure that there were many who did not.

***********************************************************************
Graduation 2000

Thirty two years ago at my own high school graduation I gave the valedictory for our class. It was a time of high energy, unrest, creativity, dreams, ideals, horror, consciousness-raising and naivete. The theme of my speech was: ‘Create and be responsible for what you create…’. It was touted as a formula for life and success.

So now, no longer seventeen years old, another speech is to be given to graduates. The world seems to have maintained its atmosphere of high energy but for earning power instead of flower power; horror and unrest are something we do not want to have anything to do with while claiming concern for those in the midst; dreams and creativity are assessed for their applicability to the internet and NASDAQ; and naivete is a quaint notion that does not even survive the Teletubbies.

So how does ‘create and be responsible for what you create’ fare in this world and from a more experienced , perhaps, mature, perspective? Well in terms of prognostication it couldn’t be farther from state of the art. Amazingly in this culture at this time it is always someone else’s fault. ‘…How did I know the coffee was going to be so hot when I spilled it on my lap when I was driving?...’ to ‘…you cannot mark that wrong because you made the question so confusing!...’ So perversely I must take responsibility for missing the point and vow to be more responsible in considering other people’s conditions when I make demands on them.

Well, what about the ‘create’ part then? Are we in a new Renaissance of thought and production? If we are talking about the august microchip we are certainly creating new definitions of how many additions, subtractions and comparisons can be done in a billionth of a second. If we are talking about the world of finance, our creativity is unbounded when we sign checks for the Big Dig or make initial public offerings for businesses that would challenge Seinfeld’s sense of being about nothing.

Sorry about the jaded commentary but I wanted somehow to make a connection to what inspired me back then to what inspires me now. At the same time there must be a reason for why I feel consistent with that statement made so many years ago uttered in urgency and as a challenge.

It is here that Newfound comes into the picture. What an atmosphere in which to create. At first I thought this would be done through the big picture. Within two years of arriving here I was at the administrative level negotiating with the state of New Hampshire for grants and programs for our district. During that time I became familiar with how all our schools and communities operate. There is a lot of competence in our region, you have been fortunate.

So in creating what some referred to as a technology empire and others as ‘smoke and mirrors’, I wandered through your classrooms. You were probably in the first grade and you were the ‘students’ in the big picture. This pattern continued for about ten years before I realized that although I had come to know the staff, school board, budget committee and community support members, I had very little idea who ‘the students’ were. Faces were familiar but names and their personae were not. Luckily I was able to coach basketball and now track and some of you came into focus. Ultimately, though, the joy of what education could offer was missing. So I felt responsible to do something about it. As a full time teacher for the past three years we have shared the same world and I am very pleased to be a part of it.

The world you have made here is a good one. There are many districts who would love to have the atmosphere we have here. I will always be impressed with the way most of you treat each other. There is a sensitivity and action that at times we wish you would apply to your school work but beneficently provide for each other. This is a good thing (pause) These things you say and do matter very much.

But now we wave our magic wand and…ding…you now have to deal with a lot more than homework. You are expected to say and do things that carry a lot more responsibility with them.

What is it that you feel when you respond to these expectations? Are you anxious to let someone know what it is, or are you giving them what you think they want? Have you developed enough sense of self to know how to gauge that response? At times high school seems about performing to a set of standards fixed by the world of education. So your choices are conditionally limited to these expectations. As staff we spend many hours examining and developing these standards. We even feel enlightened occasionally. Our concern is rooted in an appreciation of skills and processes that we value highly. They represent mastery.

In achieving your diploma you have mastered certain skills and processes. This was very responsible but have you created anything in pursuit of these definite standards? I think that there is something unique in your possession of your creation and that is your self and sense of self. It is through your choices and actions that ultimately provide the definition of yourself.

Believe me… we, parents, staff, relatives and friends, have tried to help you with this. But it truly is your creation and no other’s. It is yours to determine how to feel satisfied, happy and accomplished. This realization is constantly challenged by everyone else’s version of what should be done and how to do it.

So here is the real challenge, perhaps even a contradiction. How do we be ourselves in the midst of everyone else being themselves? How can someone else know what it is that is driving me and what I need to feel fulfilled and successful? What is it that I need to be aware in order to allow that feeling for someone else? Well, if it comes down to a curriculum or a rubric I think we are all in serious trouble.

We will get back to that… So… what is truly great about this moment today? Let us just be this moment – (pause) –
There is no assignment due, no deadlines to be met, the future is for later and maybe we should start snapping our fingers to the beat of now and treasure it. (graduates snapping fingers) Dig it.

The idea of something being valuable for just feeling it is almost a cheat. Let us feel good about ourselves here and now because of this day, the ceremony… the ritual. There is no necessity to explain why, it just feels right to take it all in. But slowly, oh so slowly that gambit of responsibility interferes with our idyll and time emerges to measure our response.

So engage, create once again and make it yours. The perfection of the timeless moment now a prisoner of memory. What you do does matter. It matters in your development, it matters to the rest of us who are looking for support and opportunity to present our own creations. It matters to the well being of the planet and the universe. For as long as one moment yields to the next, you are the dynamic providing meaning and purpose.

Compared to our luxurious indulgence of no time and no responsibility this may seem contradictory. What is there in continuing our efforts in a responsible fashion? Hey, maybe it’s joy. Maybe it is seeing your child or those in your care frolicking. Or, dare I say, because you like yourself better when you see yourself meet your responsibilities. Or because you disengage that ongoing argument with yourself, that ceaseless criticizing of yourself and begin to feel currents and breezes that you had never noticed before. Forces not of your own making available somehow for … what?!

Let us review here. You have somehow survived school standards, your personal life, the interaction with other’s lives to be at this graduation ceremony. Some guy who you thought would be an interesting speaker is rambling about creating, being responsible and just enjoying the moment. He keeps saying that what I do really matters but I probably will not know why. This is school all over again.

Check this out…

When you do things that bring you joy, simple and otherwise; when you like yourself for what you are doing instead of disliking yourself for what you are not doing; when you have emerged as a person operating in the climate of the universe, something interesting happens. You have qualified for the ultimate experience. You can now be caught up in some of those breezes and currents that you may not have noticed before. You can now use them to maneuver as if they were cosmic tides. The extreme among you may use them as cosmic waves for surfing.

And in this manner of pursuit, sense of self has been supplemented by something greater. It might be that you have tapped into the daily rhythm of a life that suits you and those around you. It might be that time and fate have conspired to afford you opportunity and wonder. It might be the sensation of self surrendering into another person, another place or another existence.

What ever it is for you, the meticulous building process of school whereby it was important that we name the tools, the components, the procedures will now be something else. The future, instead of threatening to be an elaborate burden of creations and actions is now a transcendent flow. What could be occurring is that you have tapped the essence of the universe.

So will you be so bold as to embrace this process under the scrutiny of today’s values and pressures? Perhaps it would be easier to adjust to earning power and follow a financial plan and hope that friends and family will happen along the way. Or will you try to avoid it all because none of it makes any sense?

I propose to you, no, I challenge you to take all the efforts so far, the self that you have developed, to answer the responsibilities of your life, to create in a stylized fashion all with one real purpose. The purpose of attaining a sense of being beyond yourself … It is here at Newfound that I have found a flow outside myself. Your actions in class, on the track, in the hallways, the competency of the staff are the currents and the breezes. From Tim Mahurin who, to some of you, may be a face on a plaque in the science wing to the daily ministrations of Mary Gallagher, with these parameters Newfound has shown me how to maintain my commitment to my challenge thirty two years ago. It is your development that inspires the transcendence of self. To me this is the ability to love and in case you haven’t noticed you are deep in its midst now. Thank you for your attention.

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And in the famous words of Rick Nye: “You are such a windbag!!!!”

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Baccalaureate 2003

Here is a transcript of a videotape of the Baccalaureate speech that I gave to Newfound’s graduating Class of 2003. This was Chip’s class and I was one of the two class advisors.

The original speaker had backed out and one of the class officers asked me to take his place. I accepted but I had made a previous promise to myself a few years before.

I had given the commencement speech for the Class of 2000. I had poured my heart and soul into the speech and had spent weeks preparing it. This was very unlike me. It was delivered in a very hot gymnasium because of the threat of foul weather. It was fairly well received, a few even raved, but several felt that it required too much thinking and was very complex and deep.

So, much to the concern of the principal, I decided to make this one up on the spot. I had a general idea that I would relate a trip to New York City with Rich and Val to faith, hope and love, quote a song… and that was about it.

My parents were in the audience (because of Chip’s graduation). My mother was to pass away seven months later. This speech was one of the finest and proudest moments of my life:

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Greetings!

First I’d like to thank the class for the honor and the privilege you have given me this evening. Secondly, I’d like to let you know how uncomfortable and anxious this has made me. (low laughter). And you will probably see this as we go along. Up until just a few short years ago, at the end of the scholarships, I did not return. I don’t consider myself a religious person but I do consider myself spiritual. And after hearing Mr. Gilman’s speech, just a few short years ago, I realized that there is a lot to spirituality.

But I decided to look up ‘baccalaureate’ to try and ease my anxiety….so I got through some definitions..’graduation sermon’. …I didn’t like that. –So I’m lookin thru, lookin thru- ‘sermon: a long and tedious speech’ – I’ve done that plenty of times. (ripples of laughter).

The day after Nicole asked me to do the speech, we were heading for New York City with some very close friends. And I don’t know if you are familiar with the island of Manhattan – it is very long and thin. And in the middle of it is a big green rectangle, called Central Park. And it stretches for miles and miles… trees, flowers, bridal paths, reservoirs, pond, …plenty of people.

So when we left our hotel and we had decided what we were going to do..The girls went one way and the boys went another way. So Richie and I decided that we would walk up the west side of Central Park to the Museum of Natural History, We’d go see the Rose Science Center.





As you get to the Museum of Natural History, it looks like a traditional museum but on the side is – a glass cube. It’s about 70 feet tall. What’s also impressive about it is that there is no span across it, just a glass cube. But inside it is a huge sphere.


Now as you come into the science center you walk around this sphere. And they use this sphere to try and impress upon you the scale of things in the universe. At first you might be looking at Jupiter as compared to maybe one of the moons. Another time you might be looking at a hydrogen molecule as compared to an electron. It is very fascinating just to walk around.

Then you go into the bottom half of the sphere, where they present you, on the bottom half, with a film of the birth of the universe…How they got the cameras there, I don’t know (strong laughter) (pause, shoulder shrug)…CNN! (spoken a la James Earl Jones). So..Maya Angelou narrates the birth of the universe. And, after the big bang, they let you out, your head is reeling just a bit. And you follow a long spiral path…Every step you take is ten million years ..(pause)..it takes a long time to get down. As you wend your way down, which is quite a ways, you realize you covered thirteen billion years. At the end…the very end, there is a very small line …and that represents the presence of humanity…in the history of the universe.

So we got out of the Museum of Natural History and go to..oh excuse me, we didn’t leave..We went upstairs to go to the top half of the sphere…And they have redone, with technology, the entire floor of the top half of the sphere as a sub-woofer. It vibrates as you watch the universe unfold before you.

And as you did leave the Museum of Natural History, and got some sandwiches and headed for the park, we were just reflecting on our cosmic experience. One of the things we reflected upon is that there is so much that we cannot, and never will, understand. And to me, that is the basis of faith. You cannot know..everything.. or explain..everything. You just have to go on. And, to me, being there in Central Park with my friend, in awe of the cosmic sense… It’s the same awe one might feel watching the sun set over Newfound…or maybe in climbing the mountains in the Presidential Range. … or maybe being with a close friend.

And we sat and ate our sandwiches and we started to get up and walk so we could meet Gini and Val over the other side of the park…when, all of a sudden, a whole bunch of runners come running by us. … all full of energy. Two of the runners were way ahead because they were aliens. They were running way too fast. (chuckles) And then there were just hundreds and hundreds of people just going by us. And we made ourselves to the other side of the park over to the Guggenheim Museum, which, again, I recommend you go to, because in the midst of all the squareness and angles of Manhattan is this long, flowing, wavy building. It was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

So we got together and started walking…finding our mandatory cup of cappuccino …. and began thinking: What is it that causes us to build these huge buildings, and put this green rectangle together, and to run like crazy through it with all this energy.

I believe it is one of our contributions to the universe..and that is hope. Why should we, in the midst of not knowing, not being able to know, should we invest all this energy? To make great buildings. To make wonderful places to sit and have lunch. To expend our energy just for the feeling it gives us.

As we wended our way through, and I decided I wanted to see a movie..I had to make my way to Times Square. I was standing there waiting to cross the street in Times Square and I realized as I looked at all the corners..There are more people here than in all the Newfound School District! (good laughter) And as I watched these people…I saw families… I saw friends… lovers… people just going around, having a good time… And then it made me realize about the connections that we make. How we get outside ourselves and how we become connected to the universe. I believe that to be love. Every time you extend beyond your own limits, when you step out with faith… with hope…and you connect with somebody, you are connecting with the universe. And that, to me, is what I believe… to be love.

Faith, hope and love… These are our contributions and our connections to the universe.

(Reaching into the inside pocket of my jacket to take out a folded piece of paper and putting on glasses)
As I walked up the west side of Central Park… I walked by a person’s house that used to live there. And as I was trying to do that, that person had a bit of an effect on my personal life. Let me read you something…

Imagine there's no Heaven

It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one (voice shaking)
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one


(Folding up paper, putting it back inside the jacket,)

So, my hope for you…is peace.

Our gift to you is love.

(Flashing the peace sign)
Keep the faith, baby!
(taking off glasses)

(Uproarious applause, standing ovation)