Top 25 Challenge

Dad and I invite you on a brief detour from his infamous tales of long ago days in Vermont, to step into the present with a challenge of sorts.  Inspired by a beautifully talented, rock-star lass out in L.A., I decided to pose this question to Dad:  "Can you name your top 25 songs and top 25 books?"  With a slight pause, raise of the eyebrow (and wide grin), Dad ever so surely replied, "Hmmmm.... now that could be interesting."  Anyone who knows Dad is fully aware of his love of music and his passion for books of all kinds.  He really does have an eclectic taste in all things music and print.

Now, my L.A. pal is none other than the lovely Aly Trasher, daughter to my dear friend Andrea Trasher who passed away about 17 months ago after a long, brave battle with cancer.  Anyone who knew Andrea understood her to be a woman of strong character who loved the arts, was an amazingly talented educator, a friend and confidante to MANY, and someone who cherished the small blessings in life... music and books being at the very heart of her place in this world.

Aly is soon to embark upon a pilgrimage of sorts... a 150 mile trek on the Camino de Portuguese, along the coastline of Portugal and Spain, to honor her mom in what is sure to be beautifully healing journey, full of yet-to-be-discovered lessons of the heart.

To quote Aly, "I encourage you to share your top 25 with your loved ones, friends, and even people you're just getting to know.  A song can offer a lot of insight into our souls, bring comfort to the ones you love, and even tell your own life story... Be 'brave' and share."

So it is in this light that I invited Dad to take on this same challenge.  Here's his Top 25...  Enjoy!

SONGS

We Shall Overcome, Pete Seeger

Where  Have All The Flowers Gone, Pete Seeger

Amazing Grace

Margaritaville, Jimmy Buffett

Sweet Little Sixteen, Chuck Berry

Danny Boy

Charlie Brown, The Coasters

Don't Be Cruel, Elvis Presley

At The Hop, Danny and the Juniors

This Land Is Your Land, Woody Guthrie

Sweet Georgia Brown, Ben Bernie

Crying In The Chapel, Darrell Glenn

Sweet Baby James, James Taylor

Blue Suede Shoes, Buddy Holly

Love Me Tender, Elvis Presley

Mama Mia, ABBA

How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You, Marvin Gaye

Chelsea Morning, Joni Mitchell

Mustang Sally, Wilson Pickett

Hey Jude, The Beetles

Sweet  Caroline, Neil Diamond

Old Time Rock and Roll, Bob Seger

Graceland, Paul Simon

Johnny B. Goode, Chuck Berry

See You Later Alligator, Bill Haley and His Comets

BOOKS

The Audacity of Hope, Barack Obama

Roots, Alex Haley

The Grapes of Wrath (and East of Eden), John Steinbeck

Uncle Tom's Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe

Five People You Meet In Heaven, Mitch Albom

Roll Me Up And Smoke Me When I Die, Willie Nelson

Bossypants, Tina Fey

The True Patriot, Eric Liu and Nick Hanauer

A People's History of the United States, Howard Zinn

I Am Malala, Malala Yousafzai

A Fighting Chance, Elizabeth Warren

Eyes On The Prize, Juan Williams

An Honorable Defeat, William C. Davis

Marilyn Monroe, Barbara Leaming

Why We Are Liberals, Eric Altermann

Peaceable Kingdom Lost, Kevin Kenny

The Quakers In America, Thomas Hamm

Harriet Tubman - The Road To Freedom, Catherine Clinton

The Hemingses of Monticello, Annette Gordon-Reed

The Vermont People, Peter Miller

The Baseball Hall Of Fame Collection, James Buckley, Jr.

The Zinn Reader, Howard Zinn

Blessed Are The Peacemakers, S. Jonathan Bass and MLK

All Souls:  A Family Story From Southie, Michael Patrick MacDonald

Heart Of A Patriot, Max Cleeland

Love and Marriage (and babies)

Though life seemed to be rolling along in Chelsea, Dad couldn't leave his beloved in Walpole for too much longer.  As young love would have it, Mom joined Dad in Chelsea in the fall of 1965 after being married that same summer (and honeymooning in Bermuda).  It is reported that two Chelsea families took part in the wedding festivities  -  Sid and Marion Gilman, who became like second parents to Dad and Mom, and Mel Somers, Dad's principal.

The lovestruck duo made their home in that small village in a tiny little red house up on a hill.  Mom worked at the Chelsea nursing home, owned by the local favorite Dr. Martin, bringing home a whopping $2.83 an hour.  Dad continued his day gig at Chelsea High.  All was right in the world.

Being the dutiful Catholic kids that they were, riding along on youth and blind innocence, the duo started a family that very next year.   Dad often tells the story of how Mom went into labor, early labor at that, in late May of '66.  Now, first time parents know little of what truly awaits them at the birth, or during the heady, sleep-deprived days that follow.  Of course, at that time fathers were not even permitted in the delivery room.  Little of this concerned Dad much.  What occupied his mind the most was the fact that their health insurance didn't kick in until June 1st.  A May birth just wasn't in the budget.  As the birthing gods would have it, Mike retracted his initial plan to arrive early and made his entrance on June 3.   The"best baby ever" (don't get me started) came with a collective sigh of relief.

With the exception of Mia whose adoption story will be told at another time, all three of us - Michael, Kathleen and Patrick (good 'ole Catholic babies) - were born in June.  I came a year after Michael.  Patrick three years later.... seems I wasn't the easiest baby so they took a little reprieve.  Now, I don't know about you but if you do the math on this June birthday tidbit there must have been something in that back-to-school September wind that brought forth all three June babies.  You be the judge.

Hill Country Sports

Mr. Hazlett, Chelsea High School's young, handsome, eager new U.S. history teacher was also quite the athlete.  Having played sports all through high school himself, as well as during college at St. Anselm, Dad was on the look-out for inspiring young athletes.  As rural, farm country would have it, he learned pretty quickly that Chelsea offered little in the way of sports for kids and certainly had no coaches to inspire the young lot of lads.

Dad took it upon himself to work with the inexperienced high school basketball team, a crew of boys resembling the likes of the Bad News Bears clad in overalls, plaid shirts and muddy boots.  At the risk of stereotyping these country boys, this is the image that comes to mind when I think of the team Dad described to me.

On Saturday mornings, Dad set-up a basketball clinic of sorts for kids in grades 4 - 6, and sometimes the 7th and 8th graders too.  He taught them the basics of basketball and they built a foundation of knowledge and skills to draw upon when they got to high school.  Slowly but surely the boys gained more experience and finesse, and a basketball team was born.

A favorite story of ours growing up was the one Dad told about the time Gramps (Dad's dad) and Nana (Dad's mom) made the trek from Walpole to Chelsea to see his team play.  Curiously enough John and Josie brought Mom along for the ride with them which must have been quite something in those pre-nuptial days.  Riding North with one's future in-laws to the hills of Vermont.... fabulous!

At any rate, Gramps had never before stepped foot in a place like Chelsea, Vermont and the experience seems to have left him questioning his son's judgment.  Now, Gramps was a long-time athlete himself and enjoyed a good game like no other.  He wanted to see how Dad's team was coming along.  During this particular game, as the story goes, a fight broke out between one player on Dad's team (Steve Johnson as Dad recalls), and another player from the other team.  As things escalated, the visiting coach approached Dad and began shouting at him and pushing him around  -  as only sportsmanlike coaches do.  Well, Gramps was having absolutely NONE of that.  In a valiant effort to save his son, he flew out of the stands, grabbed the coach and secured him in a bear hug.  Let's just say the crowd grew quiet, the coach quickly settled down (Gramps was a LARGE man), and Dad was safe once more from the ravages of small-town ruffians.

Dad recalls local folks asking him after the game just who the man was who had leapt from the stands to free him from the assault.  I can only imagine that Dad felt a wee bit dismayed by the public scene, but also quite likely humored and grateful for Gramps' protective display.  In the end, everyone recovered, though Gramps is quoted to say, "Why the hell are you teaching and coaching up here?".  The weekend proceeded without incident and the visitors, Dad's future bride in tow, returned home to the harmony of suburban living.

And so, this young,  handsome, eager new U.S. history teacher and coach resumed his country living along the rolling hills of the Vermont countryside.  The team continued to improve, and since basketball is alive and well in Chelsea today, I credit Dad for getting the ball rolling...

Concluding side note:  
Dad reports that  he paid $1.00 a day for his one-room apartment in the center of town.  Now that was an affordable housing deal like no other, or so the story goes.

Welcome to Chelsea - Don't Blink

Dad's stories have been told and retold many times over the years.  I never tire of hearing them and somehow writing them down feels like uncovering newly found tales from long ago.  Recently, Dad and I sat together on a bright, unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon.  Mom bustled around the kitchen shooting eye rolls at us from time to time at the familiar recounting of details being told yet again.  Dad and I simply carried on with our chatter down memory lane and let the stories unfold.  In the end, we were grateful for Mom's fact confirming precision as all three of us embarked upon the shared telling of long ago anecdotes from the early days in Chelsea, Vermont.

Tucked in a small valley, off the beaten path of central Vermont, entering Chelsea feels like stepping back in time, as if the pendulum of the town's steeple clock simply stopped swinging one day and never resumed its timekeeping rhythm.

The year was 1964.  Dad was a newly trained teacher fresh out of college.  He'd never before stepped foot in what later became our cherished Green Mountain state, but he was offered a teaching position and as any job seeking young man would do, he accepted.  Until the opportunity in Chelsea surfaced, his time in the classroom had been limited to student teaching in Manchester, NH, and as a substitute teacher at King Philip High School in Wrentham, MA.  He had much to learn, but naivete and a spirit of adventure were on his side.

With an annual salary of $4,500, no teacher's union, no pension and certainly no paid coaching positions, still Dad steered himself north to teach grades 9 - 12 at Chelsea's High School.  In a school that housed 150 students in grades 7 - 12, Dad slowly but surely chipped away at his rookie status and found his way amongst the kids and families in this small farming community.

Anyone who knows Dad also remembers that he grew up in Walpole, MA.... On Harding Road.  Eating tuna fish sandwiches.  Playing ball with friends and cousins (and prisoners at Walpole prison).  But those are story bits for another day.  The rural Vermont landscape was a whole new adventure and he embraced it.  His one-dog, suburban family growing up stood in stark contrast to a community filled with farmers and their countless chickens, cows, horses, hogs, goats and sheep.  Traffic was at a minimum and nightlife was scarce.

Dad taught five classes a day.  US history and government were his focus.  And with about fifteen students per class, he felt like it was all quite manageable.  Dad was pretty certain that these "farm kids" were far easier to deal with than those he may have encountered back home, and he was grateful for the relative ease of it all.

There's more and more to tell, that is for certain.  A young bride joins him in the Chelsea hills a year later.  A high school basketball team is born.  And without fail a family is started, health insurance and all (phew).

Stay tuned for more Vermont tales  -  some true, some a bit tall, but all fantastically cherished. 

A blog begins...

"In the external scheme of things, shining moments are as brief as the twinkling of an eye, yet such twinklings are what eternity is made of  --  moments when we human beings can say 'I love you,' 'I'm proud of you,' 'I forgive you,' 'I'm grateful for you.'  That's what eternity is made of:  invisible imperishable good stuff."   --  Mr. Rogers

And so today, I embark upon a fresh new journey.  For me.  For Dad.  For all of us.  He Said She Said is a place to reflect on the good stuff, for this is what matters in the end.  

Life presents us with countless twists and turns, expected and unexpected joys and sorrows.  We never quite know when the plot will shift again.  Time and again we are asked to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and keep moving forward.  For today, and all the days ahead, we have a choice.  I choose to place my feet firmly on the ground each day and do my best to live with an open, honest, hopeful, forgiving and grateful heart.  Join me.

There are many stories to tell, wonderings to ponder and blessings to count.  Dad and I will tell them together, as only this father and daughter might do.  

More soon...