FROM HERE TO THERE!
On August 31, 2012, we signed the papers selling our house to a lovely young couple. We have been thinking about this decision for several years, and finally decided that we were away from "home" so much of that time that it didn't make sense to continue to own the property. Since the actual sale, one month ago, we have been processing and grieving, now on the road full-time.
Our first stop, was Labor Day Weekend with Carrie and Jay and the girls to celebrate Carrie's birthday. It was a wonderful family time.
Then we planned a ten-day trip to the woods in Cobscook Bay State Park. For us, the woods always provide a place of healing, solitude and spiritual renewal.
 |
| Home Sweet Home |
 |
| Favorite way to get our Vit D. |
 |
| Our front yard |
Our site was special and private enough to give us the peace and quiet we needed. In addition, two dear friends from Maryland traveled to visit with us and camped in the spot right beside us. We had a grand reunion, also.
Time then to visit with friends, Joan and Lucille and Pat and Jean, who have been supportive of our new "on the road" lifestyle. We also had time to visit with Phillip and Simon in Winter Harbor, as well as Trine, Mike and our granddaughter Torrey.
It is good to have a backup network when the weather turns too cold for us to live in the van. We will stay in Maine until Thanksgiving this year.
Now the big news! Tomorrow we will be flying from Boston to London to visit friends that we met hiking. Edward "the Duke of Gorp" and his friend Sheila will host us for two weeks in northern England (in the Yorkshire Dales area), then off to visit friends Dick and Val who we met while traveling in New Zealand.
Just for the fun of it, I am sharing a story I have written about an event in my childhood that makes me feel quite excited to be heading to London!
When I Grow Up I Want
to Be the Queen of England
My third-grade teacher
sent notes home to our parents that all students could stay home of
February 6,
1952, to observe the coronation of the new queen of England, Elizabeth II.
Fortunately for me, a few years
earlier, my dad had decided we could afford one more monthly
payment, so we
“owned” a small black-and-white television, one of the earliest models.
Sitting on the floor, my
back propped against the blue living room couch, I glued myself to the
ten-inch
screen and absorbed all the wondrous details unfolding before me. The entire
broadcasting schedule was devoted to covering this historical event, and the
glorious images
filled all of time and space for me.
The newscasters reported
many things about the childhood of Elizabeth, including descriptions
of the
training that the queen-to-be had endured, almost since her birth. They explained that the
weight of the
coronation robe and crown was monumental.
As I heard about how she had to
practice walking and standing in
preparation for the ceremony, my own spinal column braced.
My little voice inside said, “I could
do that. I want to learn to be a
queen.” Of course, I didn’t
know
that the true weight of her reign would come from much bigger burdens than her
physical
crown of regality, her robe of authority, or her sceptre of
power.
All day, I watched and
waited, hardly moving from my seat.
Finally, the scene was Westminster Abbey -- the horse-drawn carriage
arriving after traveling the short distance from Buckingham Palace. As trumpets sounded, Elizabeth stepped
down from the carriage, entered the packed cathedral, and began her slow walk
down the center aisle to receive her crown and her kingdom. Every eye was focused on her, the new
hope of the monarchy and the British Empire.
I held my breath,
praying that her neck and shoulders would bear the weight of her scarlet robe
and that she wouldn’t fall or trip.
I joined my spirit with her as she walked down that aisle, and I felt so
proud when the crown was placed on her head. By the end of the ceremony, I was crying with joy as
she was presented to the people of her kingdom -- Queen Elizabeth II.
The chimes rang out
across the land. The people
cheered. History was being
made. And, in my child’s mind, I
had determined, that some day, I would be queen, too.
*****
In the spring of my
sixth-grade year, it was time to select the May Queen of our grammar
school. From my class, three girls
were to be chosen by secret ballot to present themselves to all the other
classrooms, to be voted on, and in this way, one would be selected to be the
queen. The other two would be
members of her court. I paid no
attention to this process, thinking there would not even be an “honorable
mention” for me.
I was shocked when I
was voted to be one of the three candidates. And during a morning that passed
as if I were in a whirlwind, amazingly, I was selected by all the students of
the grammar school to be their May Queen.
I would preside over the festival that featured the dance around the May
Pole, the centerpiece of all activities,
When the day for my
coronation finally arrived, the playground had been transformed into a royal
courtyard, and, when Pomp and Circumstance played over the scratchy public
address system, I braced my spine, and marched the red carpet with my shoulders
back, my head held high. I processed to my throne in the spirit of Queen
Elizabeth II. Although my crown
was only a wreath of spring flowers, when it was placed on my head, I tightened
my neck muscles to bear the weight as if it held the crown jewels. My kingdom was small, but the uplifting
cheers rang in my ears as I was crowned.
Amazing. I was truly
fulfilling my early dream of becoming a queen.
*****
My fantasies never
seemed to lose their power to draw me toward greater fulfillment. When, I
was a sophomore at Penn State
University, the brothers of the Alpha Zeta fraternity asked me to
be their
nominee for “Miss Agriculture”, and I allowed myself to be cajoled and
persuaded to
enter the competition, never believing I had any chance at all to
be again selected as a queen.
Each candidate was
required to fill out an application and write an essay. I was studying
pre-veterinary medicine, and although I was good at Chemistry and Physics, my
weakest area was definitely English composition. My roommate must have helped
with my essay, because I’m not sure how else I could have made it to the group
of finalists otherwise.
The selection committee
telephoned me to say that at 2:00 pm, Sunday afternoon, I was to present myself
to the interview board at the HUB – the red-brick student union building in the
center of Penn State’s sprawling campus.
The closer the date grew, the more frightened I became. That Sunday, I was more nervous than
when, as a fifth-grader, I had stood before the judge in juvenile court. But at the appointed time, I managed to
force myself to walk to the union, dressed in my roommate’s beautiful suede
leather suit, and wearing her elegant green jade pin for luck.
Seated before the five
members of the panel, I was questioned for almost an hour, and I seemed to be
finding words that made them smile in response. The final question was one that might be expected at a
school so famous for football: a judge asked me if I happened to know if
Oklahoma had won it’s game the day before. Being a big sports fan myself, I had read the scores, and
was able to reply immediately, “Yes, indeed. They won 10-6 over Missouri!” I saw his eyes sparkle as he nodded to
the other judges, and I suddenly thought, “Oh, my goodness. They are going to pick me.”
If I had been shocked
to be selected as May Queen in the sixth grade, now I was completely staggered
to be informed that, in a very few weeks, I was to be crowned “Miss
Agriculture” of Penn State University.
The AZ fraternity
brothers were very excited and threw a party in my honor. Not knowing what was expected of me as
queen, I was pleasantly surprised when I was asked to have my picture taken for
the cover of the magazine published by the Botany/Plant Physiology department
and invited to present the ribbons and trophies at the State of Pennsylvania
Dairy Cattle Show held at Penn State.
My reign seemed painless, a continuous wonderful honor. In my heart somewhere, I probably
thought I was still a candidate for the starring role at Buckingham Palace.
My enjoyment of royalty
was about to change. When I was
told that I must represent Penn State University as a princess at the Apple
Blossom Festival in Shenandoah, Virginia, I was ready to turn back the
crown. The trip sounded so
frightening to me that I felt sick to my stomach every time I thought about it.
However, I had given my
word to serve as “Miss Agriculture” for an entire year, so, I forced myself to
prepare for yet another huge leap into the royal unknown. My boyfriend agreed to drive me to the
three-day event, and my roommate helped me pack my one small suitcase with my
black cocktail dress, her reddish-brown suede suit that I had borrowed for the
interview.
When I arrived at the
site for the pageant and had my first look around, I was mortified. Initially, I was part of the
introduction ceremony with the other forty or so princesses -- a group that
included many young women who came from wealthy southern families -- many being
educated at colleges that I would describe as finishing schools. Several had been competing in beauty
pageants since childhood and were in training for the Miss America contest.
Their wardrobes were extensive and expensive. When it was my turn to be introduced to the queen of the
festival, I was absolutely convinced that I was about to endure the worst
experience of my life. Her father
was the ambassador to Panama at the time, and she was exquisitely beautiful. There wasn’t another “Miss Agriculture”
in the crowd. I am sure I never
mentioned my title.
While I was unpacking
my bag, I was also observing the wardrobe of the other young woman in the room
with me, and I realized that I was lacking about five of the outfits that I
would need for all the various events planned for us. The one black cocktail dress that I owned was truly
inappropriate for a morning brunch or an afternoon tea. So, I would be wearing that heavy suede
suit (in the heat of Virginia) to a lot of occasions. Thank goodness, the
festival committee provided the elegant matching gowns that all the princesses
would be wearing for the main event.
Otherwise, I am sure my escort from the Virginia Military Institute
would have turned and ran when I appeared.
To make matters even
worse, I realized I had forgotten to pack a nightgown, and would have to sleep
in the half-slip that I brought to wear under the cocktail dress. At this point, my mind was so shrouded
by fear and shame that all I could do was pray that, somehow, I could keep
breathing through the three-day experience and escape the second my duties were
over.
Well the shame didn’t
kill me, but what did get completely rooted out of me was any desire to be a
queen again. I now couldn’t wait
for the moment when I could take the crown off my head and bestow it on next
year’s “Miss Agriculture”.
*****
I believe that every
person wants, needs and deserves to have a moment when the world seems to
center on the fact of her or his existence – with a crowd waiting to see this
person presented to
the world with pomp and circumstance. I hope that for all children, this
coronation happens
when they are born and at least once somewhere else along
the way. And I hope that shame or
embarrassment doesn’t tarnish the crowning moments of the experience.
My days of wearing a
crown as the May Queen, and Miss Agriculture were primarily occasions to feel
valued and admired, while my tortuous days as an Apple Blossom Princess showed
me I had certainly been looking in the wrong places for any sense of personal
validation -- and that I probably wasn’t the heir apparent to the throne of
Queen Elizabeth II.
As I look back to my
third-grade self, I realize that I wanted the challenge, the responsibility,
and the power to effect people’s lives as much as the crown, the robe, and the
glory. Fortunately, I don’t need
to be a queen to do that.
But, I’m sure that
somewhere deep inside, I still believe that, given the training and the
wardrobe, I could have done it!
SMILE!! You'll hear from us from England if I can work the IPAD!
