Highway Thanksgiving

We drove to Washington, D.C. for Thanksgiving.  Well, not for Thanksgiving exactly.  Given the kids had the entire week off, we decided to drive to the Nation's Capitol for the first part of Thanksgiving Vacation.  We planned to drive home on Thanksgiving Day, thinking the roads would be empty of traffic.  The trip was great, and we learned a bit about road trips along the way.

Old Fashioned Theme Parks and Timeless Joy

            Maybe it was the time of day, maybe it was the mood.  Whatever it was, I shocked my wife a few years ago when she casually mentioned she wanted to take our kids to Santa’s Village in northern New Hampshire.  I shocked her because I said I’d go.

Little Things, Big Things and Nothings

Sometimes things don’t fit into a narrative or story.  They are just sketches.  This is one of those times.

Stick season.  Just like everyone, we pulled the last of the garden, stacked more wood. The carrots came out of the garden bright orange, striking a rare note of color to the otherwise browns and grays.  Pulled in the lawn furniture and, maybe not like everyone else, stuffed a friend’s Mini Cooper into the barn for its long winter hibernation.

Daylight savings kills the day by 4 o’clock.  It will be a week or two more before the Christmas lights go up.  Can’t wait for that.

So we have long, dark nights. It is always hard to get used to being inside, hunkered down, so early in the day.  Fires and more food are the answer, I guess.  Hibernation for us too I guess.

Hunters are out in force; their orange vests and rifles a welcome seasonal site along our small town roads.  The blast of rifles in the distance signals venison on a table somewhere.  I wish here.  

There seems to be a lot of deer this year; I have not researched it, but last winter was probably not so bad for the herd and we’ve had more deer in our fallow field than I can remember in a long time.  Hopefully no hunters will blast away behind our house.  And hopefully the hunters will have a good season without the annual mishap involving ‘I thought she was a deer’ or bullets zipping through walls.

Driving through our town Saturday night we noticed some pretty quiet eateries.  Okay, it is about as off-season in this resort-like town as it gets, but on any given Saturday night it should still be bustling.  

Kids are busy in school; classes, music, dance, sports, play, chores, life.  Fun to be a kid.  I also notice kids in our town work hard, have fun, are good and do well.  Maybe America isn't going down the drain after all.

As we get ready for another season, as we go through the motions, as we raise our kids, as we eat too much or drive to fast or work to much or oversleep, as we just go on with every day of our lives, this was a week to realize this life is not permanent:  A good friend left us November 10 after a long and courageous battle with cancer.  A great conversationalist, curious and active; an optimist, an artist, an extraordinary skier; Gary leaves behind a loving family and a wide community. 

The celebration of his life this past Sunday was a truly awesome display of friendship and respect.  I know him through ski patrol, but there I was talking with friends I haven’t seen since high school, friends from town, the dance academy, work.  All good people, all friends with Gary.  He touched us all.  I am a better man for knowing him.  Here is to Gary Sudol, 1957 – 2010.  Rest In Peace.

David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio

The Subjective Season: Winter Is What We Make It

Where we live, winter is the subjective season.  It rolls in with the potential to be all negative.  It is dark.  It is cold.  Most things outside die or sleep for months.  Water freezes.  Local food stocks grow scarce.  (We eat turkey, for God’s sake.)

The other seasons, the objective seasons, carry with them specific and obvious signs of joy.  Spring?  Need I say anything?  Summer is warm and life bursts forth from every corner.  Fall brings bounty and harvests and sharp, blue skies; long (enough) days of crisp walks (no bugs!); starry nights; our famous fall foliage; wood fires and snow tires and first frosts.

And the door then shuts.  The leaves blow away.  The skies darken.  Damp, wind-blown air chills bones.  The snow comes, the clocks fall back, we lock down 'til May.  Do we simply fatten up and sleep for six months or do we embrace the barely habitable habitat of northern Vermont in winter?  Here is a six-step approach to the season.

All Saint's Day

Took the dog out at 4 o'clock this morning.  Jack O'Lantern's still burning bright, keeping us safe as Halloween becomes All Saints Day.

David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio