“Living in the Moment”

Posted on October 21, 2020 by profkf

I’ve seen a lot of versions of this phrase in various interviews over the past few months and today, on a fairly dreary day, where music and quiet has allowed me more time than usual to dwell on it, I decided I had no clue what it really means so I thought I’d give my own take on it.

Many days I spend time fretting about what is to come while simultaneously looking back on what has passed. Fretting might be a bit strong, planning with an eye toward what could go wrong is maybe a better description. I have come to enjoy days that, weather wise, are very appealing (today is not one of those days) and on those days there is less “fretting” and more appreciation for the day itself. That doesn’t stop me from constantly running a “to do” list in my head and trying to make sure the appropriate boxes are checked each day. Being where I am on the cradle-grave timeline I have far more things to look back on than many, however, I do realize that I also have an infinite amount of things to look forward to. The idea of “legacy” occasionally surfaces and it’s those times where I do, in fact, live far more in the present that in either the past or the future. I have not left a series of literary masterpieces, hit songs, hall of fame athletic accomplishments, buildings with my name on them, endowed chairs at universities, or so on. What I, and my incredible wife, have both done is to get up each day and share experiences and suggestions with a lot of different people, young and contemporaries. We have no way of ever knowing what effect that has had, other than the occasional note or email we get. What we do know is that every day we “show up” [I stole that from a friend, thank you John Neral for that] and open our minds, hearts and souls and learn. I have learned far more from the people I’ve worked with both young and old, than I suspect they’ve ever learned from my and THAT to me is what it means to “live in the moment”

Do I have strong opinions? You bet I do, will I fight for what I think is the correct way? YUP! Am I occasionally stuck in a rut in terms of what I like and how I go about things? Oh Yeah!! What I’ve learned, mostly from my wife over the last magic 18+ years, is to take a breath, “listen” to what the universe is saying, and sometimes take that magic leap of faith. That, I think is living in the “now” or the “moment” or the “present”. Making choices, informed choices, sometimes spontaneous choices, choices that don’t hurt anyone and might helps someone. Listening to the music of the day, singing the silly song, never missing the opportunity to look foolish while laughing away.

What will things look like when we are “back to normal”? Who knows…what I do know is that every year Uncle Dominic P. Starace would remind me (usually at the family Thanksgiving feast, while most adults where talking about the “good old days”) that THESE ARE the good old days, that there is no day better than today. This moment in time.

“When life gives you the opportunity, always drink the good wine”

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And now the day bleeds into nighfall

Posted on October 15, 2020 by profkf

“The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas…”

“Outside the street’s on fire in a real death waltz, between what’s flesh and what’s fantasy”

These are just a few of my very favorite lines from some songs, actually the line about the moon is from The Highwayman, a poem by Alfred Noyes, that I was required to read and analyze while in high school it was later put to music by Phil Ochs, a very simple voice and guitar singing the exact poem.

Music has always been a major part of my life, I measure many of my experiences by what was playing at the time and certain songs immediately bring back memories, both good and bad, it has been even more important since the kerfuffle that is Covid. I have geared back from seemingly incessant TV watching and have gone back to playing music almost all the time. It’s easy now with Alexa and streaming, even more so having discovered an independent radio station while in Vermont (104.7 THE POINT). Having had the opportunity to do a lot of thinking while reading and listening I’ve realized something that I’ve always known but really had put on the back burner, that being, how incredibly lucky and thankful I am to have had a broad education as a very young man. I was required to read and analyze poetry, history, works of literature from the classics to the contemporary, the key points being READ and WRITE.

There is so much power and beauty in words, I am incredibly jealous of all who can “turn a phrase” whether it’s in print or in song, the ability that great writers have to, in brevity, paint a picture more vivid than anything your eyes will see on an HDTV is not only a talent but truly an expression of, and often from, the soul.

I am so thankful that I was “forced” to engage in this kind of learning, I was too wet behind the ears to even have a clue what the long play was or how meaningful it would become, and yes, I complained vigorously about “wasting time” on such things and reading things I didn’t see (at the time) had any merit. Fortunately those adults (back then) not only didn’t mollify my “being upset” but simply marched on with or without my compliance. My folks, who by any comparison were undereducated (dad a HS dropout, mom a HS graduate but followed the path set forth for lower middle class women back then, secretarial studies) still encouraged me to read and discuss things. I was lucky enough to have had a second grade teacher (Sister Callista at St. Brendan’s in the Bronx) who replied to my mother’s complaint that I was constantly reading comic books with the following “I don’t care if he reads a cereal box, if he loves to read, give him anything with words and let him have at it”

Lyrical turns in songs both those I’ve loved for years and those I keep discovering always give me pause and keep me thinking about how better to say something whether it’s to my friends, my kids, my incredible wife, or to explain better to the classes I still teach…..”words matter” they hear over and over and over…

Imagine for a moment, knowing how much funnier yet poignant, these lyrics are from a Warren Zevon song about death (“My Ride’s Here”) if you know who he’s referring to in these lines

“Shelley and Keats were out in the street
And even Lord Byron was leaving for Greece
While back at the Hilton, last but not least
Milton was holding his sides”

Just so musings while listening to various songs this afternoon….and somehow hoping those who shaped these things for me know how special they were and how grateful I am.


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Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Posted on October 10, 2020 by profkf

“Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes
There’s gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time“

These Bowie lyrics have been running through my head this morning. My incredible partner in life, Sue, will, in two short weeks, retire from Greenwich High, pretty much the only place she has ever worked since getting there (there was that singular anomaly of one year in Weston, but that mistake was quickly corrected). More than 3 decades spent at the top of her game, in perhaps, the most difficult of circumstances, SPED, will close out on what will likely be a chilly fall afternoon.

Having faced similar changes 8 years ago, at, coincidentally exactly the same time, had my thoughts racing about changes. I spent 25 years at GHS myself (that’s where we met), and I have nothing be incredibly fond memories of a place and leaders that allowed me to grow, encouraged me to try things, to make mistakes as long as I recognized and corrected them. I once asked Bernie Capuano, the person in charge of Math, Science and Technology for the entire district (yes, once upon a time there were leaders capable of doing all those jobs well) a question, his response was something that still rings in my thoughts: “figure it out, I hired you, I trust you…” How do you NOT go miles above and beyond not to disappoint someone who puts that much faith in your ability? There was no micromanaging!! It was not just Bernie, it was the top leadership at the district, the Headmaster at GHS, the Housemasters, the Department Chairs, and the building principals at the various schools. There was a chain of leadership and support that encouraged the professionals they brought on to do their best.

One of the routines Sue and I have each evening is to “catch up” from the day during happy hour. Over the past few years I, who now enjoy a wonderful few hours each day having returned to my “roots”, teaching in small Catholic school, where I am treated exactly as I talked about above, frequently talk for a few minutes, “I went it, I taught, I had fun, I came home, I walked the dog….” Then Sue regales me with not only Tales of Brave Ulysses, but each story seems to be more and more a chorus from a Harry Chapin Song:

“Dance band on the Titanic
Sing “Nearer, my God, to Thee”
The iceberg’s on the starboard bow
Won’t you dance with me

Mama stood cryin’ at the dockside
Sayin’ “Please son, don’t take this trip”
I said “Mama, sweet Mama, don’t you worry none”
“Even God couldn’t sink this ship”

Well, the whistle blew and they turned the screws
It turned the water into foam
Destination sweet salvation
Goodbye home sweet home“

It is heart breaking to me that such an incredible place, is, in fact, now just like the Titanic in so many ways, rudderless, leaderless (well, there are people in leadership positions but they are simply tokens and the micromanaging and LACK of trust in their autonomy comes directly from the top) and firmly headed for that same euphemistic iceberg. I realize that change is natural, but during the previously mentioned 25-35 years we were both involved in, there were changes, but the trust in the “grunts” and the support they have been afforded has declined over the past 10 years to the point where it truly is untenable. A simple example is staffing reductions: Once upon a time there were two Resource Room teachers, each with their own full time para so that they were able to properly work with the individual needs of each of the kids, then it became ONE para to be shared, and now there are none…oh, and the caseloads have gone UP, not down, paperwork has INCREASED, not decreased and the needs of the kids have increased exponentially due to societal changes (including parents wanting new kids and figuring the school is the place to have that happen). It’s not just in one area, it’s across the board, in all disciplines, but that’s just a single, ringing example of the fact that no one in charge has listened to the lookout screaming “Iceberg, right ahead”.

Once upon a time, when I was much younger, I asked an incredibly talented colleague, why she decided to stop teaching AP classes (and this was before anyone was allowed to “try” anything, it was when we actually had standards)…her answer was simple “You’ll know when it’s your time to step away”.

While the life changes Sue’s retirement will bring can be scary for both of us, we are very grateful that we’ve both managed, in our own time, to get seats in the lifeboat…before we got to the verse in Harry’s song

“Well, they soon used up all of the lifeboats
But there were a lot of us left on board
I heard the drummer sayin’ “Boys, just keep playin'”
“Now we’re doin’ this gig for the Lord”

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October 4th, 1980

Posted on October 4, 2020 by profkf

It was a cold, crisp morning in the Berkshires and I was driving like a madman, running lights, trying for all the world to get stopped by the local constable as a baby was on the way and I wanted an escort to Dr. Ray Haling’s Birth Center. Well, there was no police car anywhere, but I did manage to get to the small white house safely and quickly, and the process continued. I was terrified…there is no manual for becoming a first time dad and I was simply going along with the flow. Dr. Haling and his wife (a nurse and midwife) were as calm as could be. We were escorted up to a very comfortable bedroom with a queen size bed where, complications not withstanding, the birth would take place (for those worried, the house was directly across from Berkshire Medical Center and we had signed consent forms that, should he deem it necessary we would be taken, without question, to the hospital).

The labor was moving along, and for those gentlemen reading this, presents pain like nothing I had ever seen and even now I remember seeing it, I could go into the details but won’t you can read those anywhere. I’ll leave it at my part in the play being the left stirrup and covered in all kinds of fluid as I did the best I could to pay attention to the things I learned during the Lamaze classes.

Once the head crowned, Dr. Haling encouraged me to shift positions and to actually “catch” the baby…talk about being scared, I originally turned him down, but he again, very calmly (so calm that he was listening to a Notre Dame game on the radio periodically leaving the room to catch the score) suggested I do it, and said “it is something you will remember forever”. So I took up my post, got into my best Yogi Berra stance holding the now crowning head in my hands and saying to my self “no batter, no batter”….and there she was…(and yes, in the time before the production now known as gender reveal we didn’t know until that moment what the sex was, but now we did…I held her for a few moments as the Ray and his wife smiled, and her mom now could breathe without the shattering pains and they guided me into getting the placenta out as well. They took her, cleaned her up, gave her the APGAR scores and gave her back to us. I was speechless (honestly…totally speechless), they left us alone after her mom had taken a shower (that’s what she wanted to do immediately and for good reasons) and we simply sat with her and marveled at what had just happened.

About two hours later, our neighbors arrived with some celebratory pizza and champagne and then that was followed by a visit from Dr. Rosenfeld, the pediatrician, who sat with us for what seemed like a few hours, and guided us through what to expect and what to look for over the next few nights and before her first trip to the office a week later.

After making sure that mom and daughter were medically sound, we went home (no overnight stay that was one of the ideas of using the birth center instead of the hospital) and making our way up the stairs, put Kate Noel, down in her crib where she promptly fell asleep. Her mom was, exhausted and fell asleep quickly herself. I could not sleep a wink, I was scared of doing something wrong (the adrenaline continuing to mix with fear, worry, joy and pure excitement) and kept poking Kate every half hour to make sure she was still breathing (yes she slept that deeply).

Well, it’s now 40 years up the line, the memories still as vivid as they were that day, Kate now has a daughter of her own, a loving spouse and has overcome some pretty serious health issues.

Happy Birthday Kate Noel Fitzpatrick Silgals!!!

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How lucky am I to have lived in the time of “Achilles” 18-2-7

Posted on September 22, 2020 by profkf

This past weekend we lost a national treasure. Ruth Bader Ginsburg or RBG as she came to be known. I’d be lying if I said I even knew half of what she brought to this nation’s sensibility and what an incredible legacy she leaves. Yes…I knew the big stuff, but until the tributes and summaries started being posted (even with the recent documentaries and film) I don’t think I truly appreciated what a giant she was.

I have lived 68+ years, I have had the great fortune to have seen, heard and experienced many incredible people and events in sports, music, literature, education and beyond. I’ve seen some true evil and have seen humanity rise above and ultimately recover and refresh. I could give a list in all the areas I’ve mentioned but cataloging would be (a) boring and (b) pointless as many of what I consider great or transformational are simply my opinions. Certain events have no debate: 9-11, Vietnam, slavery (yes it existed in many forms and still does during my lifetime), assassinations, all reprehensible events without debate. We’ve had leaders or nominal leaders who have helped us or hurt us even that’s open to debate. The idea of “legacy” is also open to interpretation. What is not, by any stretch of any imagination is what Mrs. Ginsburg leaves and what she brought to the party.

She quietly but firmly and convincingly, broke through the glass ceiling that was much lower then than it is now and much harder to break through. She was empathetic, incredibly hard working, but also had, by all reports, a fabulous sense of humor. Her best friend on the Supreme Court was Antonin Scalia, someone who politically, could not be further away from where she was, yet they shared a love of music, and according to RBG he made her laugh. While they frequently didn’t agree, they were able to debate, discuss issues and appreciate the other’s position without public trash talking.

The more I learn the more in awe I am of this physically tiny woman who, for so many years, held the nation on her shoulders. I am at an age where many who I looked up to have passed or are passing. I’m at the point on the cradle-grave timeline where I’m looking much farther back than I am looking ahead when it comes to time, regardless, I am incredibly appreciative that I have lived during what was (and hopefully will be again before too long) a true golden age of reason and achievement.

Regardless of your “side” tonight, raise a glass to RBG and look around you and say a small thank you for what she has contributed to your surroundings, I know I will.

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Join me on a journey

Posted on September 13, 2020 by profkf

While in Vermont this summer we discovered a local independent station…104.7 The Point. We also discovered it opens seamlessly on my Alexa devices at home and at school. It is a return to the days of WNEW-FM: eclectic and totally enjoyable. I have taken to letting it play in the house and at school (before classes) most of the time. It regularly transports me back to my late teens and early 20s where music was a constant and the voices from the radio were friends and reliable companions. This very morning,while reading the paper (electronically now on my Ipad..a small but significant difference) I mentioned to Sue how delighted I was to have this station and how much I’m enjoying that everything old is new again.

For the past 4 years, every Sunday morning from 10am – 1pm the world stops and Sue and I sit quietly (and share Bloodys) and listen to Fred Migliore who, until we found this station from VT, was our only hope as he and his show FMOdyssey could easily have been part of the WNEW lineup. This morning, after going shopping during “old man hours” I was sitting and listening to the Point playing while waiting for Fredtime (yup, that’s how I have Alexa programmed….”Alexa: Fredtime” and she cooperatively opens the station) The Bloody’s were mixed and waiting for the start and even more magic happened…this show was a replay of an older show (normally I miss when he does not do a new show) about, of all things, WNEW-FM. It includes interviews with Jonathan Schwartz, and the late Pete Fornatale and Alison Steele (the Nightbird). I am in heaven right now. These folks were my friends, I was not the most confident or social teen and most nights I didn’t sleep much, Alison was on from 10pm-2am and many nights I simply tossed in bed listening to her on a transistor radio under my pillow (like Fred, the wrath of my father would have been worse than not sleeping).

As the years went on and I aged, and got married, the station remained a part of life. Sunday mornings included the NYTimes and Vin Scelsa, then Pete’s “Mixed Bag” show. It provided time to read, to think, to relax to talk and a soundtrack of life. That’s missing today in this world of constant contact, immediate response, quick gratification. There is something magical about having it again, not only on Sunday, courtesy of Fred, but now daily courtesy of The Point and VT independent radio.

The world remains upside down (don’t be fooled by the football reboot today the tumult is not over yet) but during all of this mess, music and many of those playing it have kept the thread of love, peace and humanity moving along. It continues to be a shining ray of hope for this old curmudgeon.

Cheers….it’s time to pour another Bloody….

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A small glimmer

Posted on September 1, 2020 by profkf

Well, I started back to school today for my 45th year in front of a classroom. It was strange and a bit disconcerting with all the protocols, masks, etc, however, and it’s a big however, it was exciting and kinda fun. It was GREAT to actually see, greet and kid with the kids. My classes are small (the largest is 16) and the room is large so I certainly don’t face the same obstacles and dangers that I would at the high school setting I “lived” in for most of those years. The glimmer of hope I felt was how well the kids were doing with the masks and spacing an being conscious about everything. I never felt uncomfortable or worried. Now I know it was day 1 of Covid School Year 1, but I’m hoping this works, though, of course there are far more variables beyond simply how the kids and adults act at school, nonetheless hope springs eternal

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Golf in the time of Corona

Posted on August 30, 2020 by profkf

Let’s face it folks….golf is a game/sport that, for the most part, is part of the world of the “privileged”. Now I don’t consider myself privileged, I am the son of a bus driver, who, at the height of his earning power carded a salary of $11,700 per YEAR. My mom was a secretary in a hospital (she went back to work after my sister went to school) and earned far less per year than that. I grew up in the Bronx, in a second floor walk up, shared a bedroom with my sister, the room divided by a pool table, and we “summered” in a bungalow in Far Rockaway for many years. My folks provided a life that was placid and comfortable, though money was always tight. Savings? Nope, what came in went out pretty quickly. They did end up buying a condo in Vermont after both my sister and I were grow and “gone” but never lived there, not even one day, as my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer (horrible medical care), and it was under a year from diagnosis to passing, and my mom, not ever having learned to drive, was incapable of living in a place where driving was a necessity.

So, you must be wondering now, how the hell does golf play into this…read on folks…read on…

It was the summer of right at the conclusion of 8th grade, in the Bronx, where my friend Jimmy Paturas asked if I was interested in golf…I had NO idea what it was, but said “sure” (since I had nothing better to do…Far Rockaway was still 3 years into the future and my folks had no money for camp so I spent my summers in the Bronx with whoever happened to be in the same boat). He had some clubs and off we walked to the local NYC Municipal course at Mosholu. We played 9 holes and I was HOOKED…I loved it (I was terrible with my baseball swing) but I LOVED it…there was something so special about it that I immediately asked for some clubs. My dad took me down to Honig’s Parkway (the local “everything” store) and bought me a Spaulding starter set …it consisted of a driver, and 1-3-5-7-9 irons and putter. It was the start of a life long attraction to a game that is impossible to be consistent at.

During my college years there were two summers where I played 6 days a week and got pretty good at it, but life got in the way and over the years the ability to play got lost….time, money, time, kids, time weight gain, arthritis , all took their toll. Age now had the biggest “impact” even with the new technology in the clubs etc…

After bariatric surgery I was invited to play in a fund raiser for the school I now teach part time in and I, again, fell in love with the game. Over the past three years I’ve bought new clubs and have taken to try to play 2-3 times per week. My game has improved (to the extent that it can at my age) to where I’m now disappointed when I shoot over 90, quite the change from a while ago. While golf is by no means a cheap game to play, when you dollar cost average it out a $50 round comes out to about $12 per hour…not shabby at all these days, and if I play locally and walk, it’s under $8 per hour. It’s competitive, it’s fun, and due to handicaps and various tee placements it allows all players to compete on level ground on the same “track”.

That brings me to the title….Golf in the time of Corona…(it’s been quite a long journey to get back to the title, no??) Every time I’ve gone out this year I realize the same thing: For about 4-5 hours I am in a bubble of “normality”, living life the way it has been since I finished 8th grade in 1966. The game naturally allows for distance, we are outside, the game is the same in 2020 as it was in 1966 (and as it was well before I discovered it). It is both serene and frustrating, most days it’s beautiful, the surroundings are always beautiful, the people you play with, whether they be friends or strangers, always sharing the same love of the chase, like the running community, always supportive and uplifting regardless of whether you are playing well or poorly.

These past few months have been tough on everyone, I don’t know how I would have done as well as I think I’ve done if it had not been for the ability to “escape” for a few hours a few times each week and return to those “thrilling” days of yesteryear and the bubble that is the golf course and the game itself.

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There was a time when I used to love the night…….

Posted on August 24, 2020 by profkf

Let’s take a trip back in time, somewhere between the years of 1970 and 1974, Far Rockaway, NY, beach bungalows, sometimes known as “the workingman’s Riviera”

My folks would rent the bungalow for the summer, and the season began with Memorial Day and end after Labor Day, the bungalow owners were pretty flexible about the “closing” date since my folks had already arranged to rent the same place for the following year, generally the water was not shut off until Columbus Day and we were free to come and stay until then. 1970 was an important year as I had my first car and was able to come and go as I pleased, often spending weekends in the bungalow along with friends who spent time in their folks rented places as well. We were kings and queens of our own spaces. After Labor Day it was pretty quiet, almost scarily surreal, but it was very “cool”, the drinking age was 18, we all were at least that, so we had beer and tequila and occasionally some herbs that were mostly courtesy of a friend who lived a few miles north year round by the beach.

We spent the days on the beach, as we did every day during the summer, (yes we worked as well at summer jobs but when not working, it was as described), played furious games of paddleball, had dinner, drank a bit, took a trip for burgers and ultimately to Friendly’s for a Fribble and Fries. Upon returning, we would head up to the boardwalk and continue sipping, (or sometimes with the tequila, shots), perhaps light up a homemade herbal roll, and just enjoy the ocean, sing off key, and talk and solve the problems of the universe. When the weather was warm enough we’d take post midnight swims in the ocean. The time after Labor Day usually brought with it the biggest surf as the result of the tropical storm season just heating up. I vividly remember, more than one 2 AM swim, in a slightly altered state, bodysurfing backwards so we could see the moon and the stars, totally oblivious to the fact that there were likely all kinds of sharks around, Far Rockaway, after all is the open ocean, not the sound, or some inlet. However…We were immortal.

Mostly we didn’t sleep much we were awake as we loved the night and all it promised We would catch up on our sleep the next day in the sun on the beach, we all believed that an hour sleeping in the sun was as rejuvenating as 6 hours in a bed.

Let’s move the timeline up almost two decades…1991, Huntsville, Texas….I was part of a program with an incredible group of folks dedicated to moving mathematics education ahead and incorporating the brand new “graphing calculator” into Calculus instruction. We started each day at 8 AM in a large group in a lecture hall (there were about 30 of us), by noon at lunch, we sat around by the pool and brought out the coolers with the beer we had iced up that morning, after the afternoon session (always more raucous due to our mostly liquid lunch, much to Dr. Foley’s dismay), the coolers again opened up and we mostly walked across I-10 to get to a local restaurant or headed out in vans to various places. Upon returning, we’d again gather at the pool, and again the coolers were omnipresent…if anyone tried to go in for the night the line was “you can’t go in, it’s not tomorrow yet”, then, of course, when midnight hit, it was STILL not tomorrow it was just another “today” so we stayed mostly until the beer ran out (requiring a trip to reload the next morning before the first session…thank god for drive through places in Texas back then)…again sleep was not very much in vogue the night was our friend and we were immortal still…

Late 90’s I was teaching during the day, tutoring at night, and then upon finally arriving home, would have dinner, make sure the kids were in bed and then work till 2 or 3 in the morning as part of the HP group I was working with.

Now it’s 2020, I hate the night, I struggle with it, during the day, life goes on, if the weather is good, I’m outside, I play golf when I can, Abbey the dog keeps us busy then the sun starts to set, it gets dark (seemingly very early now, and getting darker, earlier, by the day) and the gloom starts to set in. There are nights where I almost feel like crying (I don’t though), I’m sad by the current state of affairs, I’ve not even dipped my toe into the ocean for perhaps the first time since I was 13, I’ve been to the beach twice, and due to the current restrictions (which, unlike many, we are taking very seriously) was not even that much fun…first it’s only Long Island Sound, not the ocean, second it’s pretty much find a space, sit down, wander into the water, sit down, repeat…no running, no long walks…

At night my head now spins about my melancholy, some things haven’t changed since 1970, I’m sipping a great blanco tequila as I write, but that’s about the only thing that hasn’t changed…Immortality has given way to an overwhelming sense of mortality. This “mess” seemed to begin for me with the sudden loss of my friend Silvio, and nothing has been the same for me since. It was the explosion of the reality of mortality to me, and the nigh now represents that inevitable darkness. When I do finally go to bed, sleep is ok, but I rarely feel rested and renewed (the hour on the beach was so much more than 6 or 7 hours in the house now). If I do wake up during the night I can hardly shut off a myriad of thoughts and falling back to sleep is very difficult, I wish the house was large enough to just get up and listen to music but our “castle” is anything but so I toss and turn until it gets light and then I get up for the day and start all over again…

I used to love the night, now I dread it….

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Paradise found….

Posted on August 17, 2020 by profkf

A year ago, Sue and I were looking for a place to stay so that we could attend a memorial for my Uncle Dom who had passed the prior winter. We looked at AirBnB listings and came upon The Rose of Sharon Cottage at Beforest Gardens in the town of Sharon, VT. Our original plan was to stay for 4 days, but we had to cut it short, 2 nights only, to attend the wedding of a friend back in CT, the day after the memorial.

We instantly fell in love with the cottage, and decided we’d try to go back this summer…well, as luck would have it, all of our travel, including the week we had scheduled at the ocean earlier this summer, was scuttled due to “it that shall not be named”….We did reach out late June to see if they were even taking folks in this summer, and the plan was to book some dates and keep it open in case things either did not improve or, perish the thought, became worse.

As the summer progressed, here in the Northeast, we’ve done a pretty damn good job of inching along and car travel between states has been mostly open and seamless so off we went, this time for a 5 night stay, packing as if we were going for a month, of course…well, wine etc, mandatory supplies….

We arrived after a relatively quick and easy drive up and immediately upon walking in we realized we had, for a few precious days, regained a sense of calm and peace. The cottage itself is comfortable, beautiful, beautifully appointed, and every single detail that you can imagine has already been taken into account by Eric and Coley, our hosts. They own and run the working farm that the cottage sits on, here is the website that will give you a little information about them and the farm: https://www.beforest.com/, but to say it does not even come close to doing them or it justice is truly an understatement.

Think of it this way…the Winvian, in Morris, CT gets constant raves for the 18 individual cottages they have to stay in, while The Rose of Sharon cottage is the only one on the farm, it would fit perfectly, if transported to Morris, CT. It is as comfortable, more spacious, and has what the Winvian does not have, a full, working kitchen. Let me try to give you a flavor….

You walk in to the main living area with a comfortable loveseat that is actually a futon for additional sleeping (it’s only two of us, so that’s not an issue), a small but again well appointed full bathroom with a great shower, within the bathroom is every imaginable item, and some things you would not even think you’d want during a visit, yet it’s there (too numerous to list). Across from the loveseat is a small desk and above it a multi function sound system radio/CD/the ability to plug in and stream from your phone or ipad etc. Games, books, etc. a few feet further is the kitchen. Full size fridge, stove, sink cutting board, work area, island with stools to sit at, coffee maker, toaster, coffee grinder, microwave etc. Pots/pans/bowls/potholders/covers/untensils/spices/olive oil/towels/cleaning materials/foil/bags….and the knives….Misen chef’s, bread, pairing knives to die for… I know I’m leaving out things as well but I don’t want this to become simply a catalog.

Out the back door is a small pond where frogs and crawdads and other things I suspect are fun to watch, Hummingbirds are frequent visitors to the plants growing next to the comfortable chairs where an evening glass of wine is a perfect accompaniment. There is also a garden adjacent where we were encouraged to take what we’d like to use if/when we cooked anything. Upstairs is an incredibly comfortable bed, desk, AC for the occasions that you might need it, a ceiling fan and enough space for the two of us.

While all of this is simply perfect, it is the ambiance and the feeling that Coley and Eric give off that makes it so very magical. The most amazing thing for me is that I am NOT a “woods” guy. That would be the very last choice I’d make when it comes to travel, however, the feeling I got for the quick trip last year simply “sucked me back in” and I was excited to go again and am even happier that we did. There was the matter of the “river adventure” however, even with that mishap Coley and Eric were so great it turned into something I can now really laugh about, and at no time did it take away from the wonderful experience in the area and at the cottage.

From that basepoint, there are multiple restaurants, it’s a short drive to the Alchemist in Stowe (for those who know, no explanation is necessary, for those who don’t none would really do the job), but mostly it was time to change scenery, recharge, relax and reconnect in a way that, again, was just magical…

I don’t often go into the woods, but when I do, Beforest Gardens and the Rose of Sharon Cottage will always be my first choice!

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