Abbie Flynn’s high school friend, Katerina Shim Jensen Graham, has created 5,000 missing person posters. They will be distributed by volunteers all around Gloucester in the upcoming days.
Our son Alex, one of several awesome chefs at Passports Restaurant, not only loves to cook, but is also an avid bike rider. This week he finished building a bike he has been working on in his spare time. It’s beautiful and very super cool. Proud. ❤
To all the beautiful and loving Moms, daughters, best friends, sisters, grandmas, and aunts ~
Happy Mother’s Day!
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Our daughter Liv planned a fabulously fun and wonderful weekend in New York City and Brooklyn to celebrate her brother Alex’s 21st birthday. The weekend ended with an afternoon matinee of “Chicago.” I only took a few iPhone snapshots as it rained nearly constantly, but here’s a little Vine from the gorgeous Ambassador Theatre on Broadway.
To all the beautiful, hard-working and hard-loving Moms, daughters, best friends, grandmas, and aunts ~
Happy Mother’s Day! and
ROCK ON !
My Mom in Central Park (I think it is Central Park) with her four babies
Liv and I in hats from my hat collection
Alex the way he used to hug me when he was little, until he almost broke my ribs
Liv on the Schooner Lannon from last year’s GMG Rum and Cigar event.
Cincinnati is typically about a week and a half to two weeks ahead of us in spring bloom power.
This past weekend my dear sister-in-law, Amy, remarried a super great guy, Arnold. The reception was held at the Cincinnati Country Club where we also stayed for several nights.
The early spring flowering trees were in full glorious bloom, including hawthorns, magnolias, and cherry trees, and all looked luxuriously lush and brilliantly fresh–
Our son Alex just loves it when I pull out the camera, especially when he is eating dinner and after a twelve hour cooking shift!
Read my recent post on Good Morning Gloucester about our Father’s Day sunset dinner at The Lobster Pool restaurant in Rockport.
My beautiful son, born on the first day of spring, during a snow storm, March 20, 1993.
Alex, on his first day of college this past September. I don’t have too many recent photos of Alex; he was in the camera shy stage for all his high school years–although lately I am getting the feeling he doesn’t mind so much his Mom with her cameras.
Both our children are at last home for Christmas! Read Liv’s “Home for the Holidays” post at her delightful blog “Boston to Brooklyn.”
Live writes: The Christmas spirit runs strong in our family, mainly due to our mother’s dedication in making our home a joyous and decadent celebration of the holidays. No room in the house is left without some unique Christmas decoration and our abode smells of paper whites, clementines, and pine needles for the entire blessed month of December. I’m finally home for the holidays after my first semester of graduate school, and nothing makes me happier and more relaxed than being surrounded by Christmas joy and familial love. Read more, with lots of photos, at Boston to Brooklyn.
My darling daughter, away at graduate school, is missing home and missing especially Christmas-making. She called last night to request a snapshot of our Christmas tree. My wish for Christmas was that both Liv and Alex could come home for Christmas. Alex we knew for sure would be home (if for no other reason than he misses home cooked dinners) but Liv started a brand new job with a crazy schedule and is mired in papers and finals. I learned yesterday that she will be traveling home on the 21st and son will be home Thursday of this week. Happiest of moms am I!
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Our son Alex came home from Green Mountain College, located in Poultney, Vermont, during the long Labor Day weekend. He was under the misguided assumption that he would be able to return to the college by public transportation. Only a week after Hurricane Irene had struck that simply was not the case. Typically what is a four hour drive each way, and a drive I am capable of accomplishing both ways in one day, took closer to eight hours each way, over a two day stretch, because of the impassable roads and torrential rain.
The grim reality of mile after mile of the mass destruction created by wind and water was overwhelming. The drive was harrowing and at every turn I imagined our lives ending in a violent crash. Based on road closing notifications I thought we had pre-navigated a safe route; west on Route 2 across Massachusetts and then north on 22 through eastern New York. Not all road closings had been posted! GPS was of no help at all as it is only capable of rerouting travelers to the shortest route and for much of the drive over desolate backcountry roads cell phone service was unavailable. We made it to the college at around 7:30pm. With the continuing downpour and utter loss as to how to navigate home in the dark I found a lovely inn (with the help of a local convenience store attendant) further down the highway in Fairhaven. A true beacon in the storm, The Maplewood Inn, was closed for business after the long weekend. Paul, the proprietor, was kind enough to answer my knock and open his door. After a night’s rest and fabulous home cooked breakfast prepared by Paul, I headed home, with driving directions thoughtfully supplied by Paul, based on the Vermont Transportation Department’s latest road closings. Unfortunately, additional detours had been created from the previous day’s storms.
Driving the back roads through the Vermont countryside would at some point in the future be a beautiful experience and I very much look forward to revisiting these roadways. Route 140 takes you winding through scenic farmland and the lushly gorgeous Green Mountains. Tuesday however it was drizzling rain and if you were not paying close attention every single second, your car could easily plunge down a ravine as huge chunks of road are washed away, with only orange cones denoting the lack of pavement. Thank goodness for comic relief–I nearly drove smack into a road closed sign and a friendly minister pulled up beside my car, asking me directions! We decided to venture the closed road only to come across a delivery truck stopped where the road had vanished. Fortunately, the truck driver was familiar with the area and he gave us excellent directions to get to the main highway. Both the clergyman and I followed him convoy-style to the highway. Thank goodness for blessings, small and large.
As the rain began to clear, I was overcome with a desire to photograph the unfolding landscape, but for the most part it really wasn’t safe to stop along the road. Because of the recent rainfall from tropical storm Katia, the rivers and streams were again frightfully swollen. I also did not want to obtrude in the face of people’s tragedies or get in the way of the National Guard and relief workers. As desperate as I was to find Interstate 91, I turned off the road into what appeared to be a vacant parking lot to stretch my legs, outside the town of Chester. It wasn’t a parking lot any longer. The raging river that ran alongside the lot and fields had ravaged the adjacent cornfield, great swaths of pavement had buckled, and the chain link fencing was a twisted and contorted mass of metal.
The damage to Vermont’s developing agriculture industry is beyond measure. Because of the fear of microbial contamination, every bit of fruit, vegetable, corn, and soybean touched by flood water has to be destroyed, and any crops growing below ground will, on a case by case basis, be examined for viability. Many of the organic farmers will have to be recertified (a lengthy process) and many fields will never again be used for agriculture because of the gargantuan boulders and prodigious stone debris deposited by the flood. I saw half-houses along river banks, the other half having been torn away, thousands of great trees with colossal and unwieldy root balls laying across riverbeds, streams, and alongside highways, and miles and miles of impassable roads. The photos were taken from a single site and are only mildly representative of the destruction in the wake of Irene.
Alex Goes to Green Mountain College, Vermont
We headed up to Vermont bright and early last Saturday morning, after first depositing Alex’s girlfriend Katherine, a senior in high school, at the train station. Both are committed to making a success of the coming year, but I know they will miss each other terribly.
The day was gorgeous, with no sign of pending Hurricane Irene–besides, I thought, she is not coming to Vermont, anyway. We saved our appetites for the Trap Door Bakehouse and Cafe, with its spectacular view overlooking Quechee Gorge (see preceding post). The sandwiches and homemade pastries are simply divine–I had the Escargot–a beautiful confection wrapped in a spiral of almonds, cinnamon, and so many raisins spilling out I had to eat the breakfast pastry from it’s wax paper bag.
We arrived at 11:00 to much waiting in line–leaving Alex there while I took Tom on a quick tour of the grounds. It was his first glimpse of the school and I think he was impressed with the beauty of the campus and the fact that it is meticulously maintained–not always the case with the many small colleges we toured. We briefly looked over the organic farm, which is entirely student run. Alex loves the outdoors and was drawn to Green Mountain for its environmental studies program and outdoor adventure education leadership program.
By mid-afternoon, Alex was moved in and we were told it was time for parents to leave. He is going to be sorely missed and all the qualities that I love in him–his sense of humor, charisma, kindness, consideration, wit, and intelligence, I hope serve him well while endeavoring to meet new friends and on this adventure into higher education. I am looking forward to parent’s weekend, not too far off, in late September.
Anticipating the long drive home, we had asked the proprietors of the Trap Door Bakehouse to recommend a restaurant in Woodstock. Without hesitation, they suggested Melaza. The Caribbean inspired dishes were superb. I sampled the coconut-crusted shrimp from the tapas menu and mixed green salad with yucca, artichokes, and olives. Tom was raving about his chicken, but neither of us can remember what it was called. Ironically, our waitress urged us to stay overnight in Woodstock, to avoid Irene, because her brother had been evacuated from Newburyport.
The light was warm and luminous as we departed Vermont and the mountainsides were aglow with great fields of tall goldenrod, brilliantly illuminated by the low slanting rays of late summer sun. I am overjoyed for our son and hope with all my heart he will find happiness, where ever his dreams may lead.