My Kennedy Connection

Ted Kennedy's death has brought back for all of us the lives and deaths of the members of his family, and the various tragedies suffered by that family.

We all remember where we were when JFK was assassinated, but I also recall how I babysat for a family who claimed they would leave the country if JFK lost the election to Richard Nixon. My parents were staunch Nixon supporters, and I, myself, had been roped into being a Nixonette, so as a young teen, I was pretty skeptical of the Catholic John F. Kennedy. Thank goodness those days are behind me.

Then, I voted for Robert Kennedy in the California primary - my first opportunity to vote in our great democracy, and sitting on the bed in our Stanford high-rise student housing, watched him die at the hands of Sirhan Sirhan in the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. Having come a long way from my days as a Nixonette, I had become a true child of the 60s, believing passionately in the Civil Rights Movement and peace and social justice. It took a long time for me to actually act on the beliefs that had slowly developed through my college years, but the person I have become has been strongly shaped by Kennedy ideals of service to country and working to make a difference in the lives of others. Teaching was the closest I could come to living out those ideas, though the Peace Corps may still await me.

In 1977, I finally had a chance to meet a member of the Kennedy family when Senator Ted Kennedy came to offer the dedication speech at the opening of the Franconia Frost Place. I was the Project Director for the house as a historic museum and organized the summer music and poetry program. I had written all the publicity for the Kennedy visit and the opening of the house; I had been interviewed by Time Magazine and various state newspapers; I couldn't wait for the dedication day to happen.

The day of the dedication was a perfect, hot, New England summer day. The Kennedy entourage, including Ted, Eunice Shriver and three of their children, flew into the Whitefield airport and traveled to the Franconia Town Hall, where my family and I stood on the lawn in what the local paper described as a "throng of 300 people" to hear the various speeches that day. CBS news covered the event, and it was one of the biggest deals to happen in Franconia for a long time. Imagine my devastation when the Chairs of the Frost Place Committee recognized the work of every other person who had worked on that day and on getting the Frost Place ready for opening, and never mentioned my name. I was crushed.

I was, however, all the more determined to meet the Senator. As the ceremony came to an end, I drove hastily to the Frost Place, and planted myself beside the door where I knew the Kennedys would have to enter the house. I had never done anything quite this bold, or pushy. As the group arrived at the Frost Place, sure enough, the Senator led the way down the porch to the screen door where I thrust out my hand and as he shook it, I introduced myself and welcomed him to the Frost home. Did I shake hands with Eunice? I don't remember. I faded back into the woodwork, where I stayed for the rest of the afternoon. I had met the last of the Kennedy brothers.

Whatever can go wrong, usually does

For a week now, my life has started to crumble. Just in small things, and nothing really serious. Last night, though, when the large glass coffee pot tilted out of the dish drainer and smashed on the floor, I stopped to ponder how the infrastructure is failing at my house.

A week ago I brought home a small fan from my mom's apartment which had been turned on for who knows how long, but wasn't actually turning. It was so hot that I'm surprised it hadn't shorted out. In any case, I took it apart, and armed with the housewife's friend, WD-40, I tried to fix it. WRONG! When I put the propeller back on the shaft and pushed a bit to try to seat it, the whole assembly crumbled in my hands. Into the trash with the whole thing.

An hour or so later, I was opening a can of tuna fish to make lunch, and as I was holding down the lever thingie to make the can turn , the lever broke off in my hand. Hmmmm, another broken item.

On Wednesday morning, I was in a hurry to clean the upstairs bathroom before company arrived, and as I scrubbed the top of the soap dish which was grouted into the tile in the NEW bathroom, it fell right off the wall and into the tub. Huh? I called the builder and left a message that I needed an emergency repair. Yeah, right. He did come over, but discovered a crack in a line of grout above the soap dish, and wet grout, made the more so by all the humidity. So - upstairs shower out of commission until the whole area dries, he replaces the bad grout and re-cements the soap dish.

Moving right along, Sun. night comes and I break the coffee pot at about 10:00 p.m. I sew the seam binding on Emily's skirt wrong, and so, it came as no surprise that this morning, a tree service arrived at the house next door and has semi-denuded the landscape between my screen porch and their garage; along the street and alongside the boundary line on the far side of their house. Earlier this week a backhoe came and levelled out the far side of their yard, and then built it up so that water will now all run off into my back yard so they can put a shed over there to put their bikes in.

Ah yes, and my bone density is becoming less dense, and who knows, I may, myself crumble into dust......time to up the calcium and do some weight lifting. I would be happy if the karma around here would shift just the tiniest bit!!

Birthday fun

My favorite yoga teacher always ends class by saying "Remember that every day you have something to be grateful for." For those readers who know me, you know that the past few years have been difficult for me, not just because of dealing with Langdon Place and my aging parents, but because my immediate family members have had lots of issues with each other for which I have been smack in the middle.

This summer marks a turning point in family relationships, and I just want to go on record that we have now had two family birthday celebrations which have not caused me to be in high anxiety or wishing I could be somewhere else (like in witness protection).

Last night Todd hosted a small family birthday party for Emily who turns 9 on Saturday. Sarah was able to come, but sadly Ben had to work late. There were just the five of us, and Todd grilled portobello mushrooms with mozzarella and tomato slices (Emily's request) and he made potato salad and I provided green beans out of my garden. The piece de resistance was the birthday cake made by Todd. It was delicious, and he had taken pains to frost it, put colored sprinkles all over it, along with pastel colored m & m's and most impressively, pink "roses" made out of frosting which he had created with a cake decorating tube. Nine candles and a birthday wish later, we all launched into cake and ice cream, followed by presents.

Emily, who has inherited the Twombly talker gene (that's my side of the family), talked non-stop through the meal, expressing her opinion on a variety of issues, no matter what they were. Hmmmm, I wonder where she inherited that trait??? She thanked each of us as she opened our presents, saying several times how much she loved something. Today she willingly wrote a thank you note to Great Grammie, since she couldn't share in the celebration yesterday.

Todd has really stepped up to the plate this summer and has had a great time finally being the dad that he's been capable of all along, but for a variety of reasons hasn't really been able to demonstrate. He has had the kids this week for the 3rd week of "Daddy Camp," and they have gone swimming, hiking, on a duck tour, played with Leggos, light sabers, the slip and slide and one day, the kids had 3 friends over for a play date. He is firm but reasonable with them, and genuinely has enjoyed spending so much time with them.

All in all, I am so grateful for my children and my grandchildren and for the family glue that finally has returned to hold us all together!!

Blasting off once again

This morning was the much-dreaded appointment with Health and Human Services to make known to the government that my mother is on the verge of having no money and needs to become a member of the Medicaid System. The appointment was dreaded only because I knew from past experience with my father that I would be in a locked room with a social worker person who would speak slowly to me so that I would be sure to understand the complexities of the welfare bureaucracy for approximately three hours.

In anticipation of the appointment, I had gathered 15 months of bank statements, her birth certificate, dad's death certificate, proofs of medicare, Blue Cross, soc. sec. income, pension income, cost of Blue Cross, cost of Langdon Place, my photo i.d., durable power of attorney and her photo i.d. Fortunately, I called for the appointment one day before I put my recycling at the curb, and thus, when the social worker person said I would actually need bank statements going back to April, 2007, when I had enrolled dad, I was able to fish through all the paper (being glad we don't do single stream recycling) and pull out the requisite statements from April, 2007 to the present. They just needed to make sure I hadn't gifted anything to anyone from mom's bank account, or set up a a trust fund for myself, etc.

So . . . at nine o'clock I joined all the other folks in the waiting room at HHS where there is a lovely mural of a tranquil ocean scene complete with sailboats floating. There was a pregnant girl in sweatpants with her shirt not quite covering her belly and another young woman with bleached hair (sprayed red in front) and a tattoo on her chest which said "Brooklyn." I felt right at home. From behind bullet-proof glass, the social worker person called my name and told me to meet her in Room #1. The door locked behind me, and she entered from a door at the back of the room and we had a large countertop-type desk stretching from wall to wall in between us. (Just in case I wanted to leap across and. . . do what???) I wanted to assure her she was safe with me, but I figured if I had to be there for more than 3 hours, I wasn't sure she was safe with me!!

The appointment proceeded in textbook fashion, with me fishing out documents and passing them to her pile for photocopying. When she came to the stack of bank statements (which I'd like to add here I had put in precise order and clipped together by year - dad would have been super proud of me), she looked at every page, following the trail of the cashed out CDs. On the Sept., 2008 bank statement she stopped and said "What's this?" pointing to a check I had written to "Citizens Bank or Katherine Morgan." For the life of me, I couldn't imagine (at first) what that was all about, and I have to admit, it was peculiar. "Oh," I said, the light dawning, "I had to use this account to buy Euros for my trip to Italy." (Oh shit, I thought, that's never going to fly past this woman). "I paid it back," I said hastily. "No, actually, my mom owed me money for meds and supplies, so I subtracted what she owed me from what I had borrowed from her . . . . " I trailed off. Was this going to screw up the whole deal? A mere $208.00 transacation? "Oh, that's fine, she said, after a suitable pause where I'm sure she was recalling every other check I had written to myself throughout the entire two years of bank statements.

She gathered everything I had brought with me to take to photocopy, and before she left, she explained all of my/our rights and all of my responsibilities going forward, the penalty for perjuring myself on any of these forms and the possibility of jail time for a felony offense if I fail to notify them if my mom inherits any money, or when/if her income increases/decreases and any number of other likely scenarios. I wanted to say to her "Yeah, just put me in the slammer now, and let someone else drive my mom to her doctor's appointments, purchase her boxes of Depends and repeat over and over to her that she does NOT have a doctor's appointment tomorrow." I didn't say it, though.

When she returned after about 20 minutes of photocopying, she explained again how all the finances would work, including the fact that between now and September 1st, I have to spend down about $650.00 of mom's bank account. I can't imagine the look that crossed my face, but she said "I can see I just lost you there." Yes, I had to admit that since her bank account was now well below the $2500.00 she is allowed to keep, and since, after all, I had been under suspicion only moments before for the $208.00 I had spent on Euros, I was a bit perplexed that suddenly I was to go out on a spending spree with mom's money. In an explanation too lengthy to include here, I do in fact, understand why I need to spend money, but with the caveat that I can't put anything on my credit or debit cards and pay myself back, "because that would look bad."

So, after only 2 1/2 hours, I left HHS, and by now there was a good line of people waiting to be seen. All that is now left for me to do is A) spend a lot of money B) decide whether I want to keep control over mom's income and pay the bills going forward (Langdon Place gets all of her income minus the cost of BC/BS and the $56.00 per month she is allowed as "spending money)or have the money directly deposited to Langdon Place and C) Try to get Langdon Place to get mom into the Medicare Part D program so that all of her meds and over-the-counter (?) drugs will be paid for going forward.

So, after 5 years of shepherding the money and spending as little as possible, I now need to make sure that we never go over $2500 in her bank account, counting the $56.00 she is allowed to have in an account at Langdon Place. Since Depends alone cost $49.00 per month, I doubt we need to worry too much about this. Imagine my great delight to get home to find my own social security statement in the mail, telling me how much I'll get to have per month and realizing just how much potential there is for living out my last years in poverty as well. Just put me in jail now. . .

Blog-tweets

Tonight the Lehrer News Hour had a segment on Twitter and Tweets, and the questionable value of twittering (What can one say in 140 characters?) and the general proliferation of social networking online. I don't "tweet," and I don't have Facebook, but i thought I would use some short blog entries (not probably under the 140 character limit) to "blast off" on some recent topics of concern. I am, simultaneously, watching/listening to the President's "news conference." I will use this as the subject of my first "blog-tweet."

On Presidential Press Conferences: In the good old days, the news reporters stood and yelled to be recognized. That was a "real" press conference, where the White House didn't know ahead of time approximately what would be asked. This is a "fake" press conference, where the White House establishes the list of reporters who will be called on, and, you'd better believe, they have also ascertained what questions will be asked. (Ha! Someone just subverted the system and asked a question out of turn!!) Yay, you go, press people.

On the Sonia Sotomayor confirmation: Senator John Kyl of Arizona stated today that he is concerned that Judge Sotomayor may not be able to leave her personal biases behind (i.e. her background as a Latina woman) and therefore he will vote against her confirmation. Did he ever wonder if the white male candidates whom he voted to confirm were able to leave their personal biases behind (i.e. their privileges as a white, upper middle class man) when they reached the bench? I doubt it.

On the arrest of Henry Louis Gates in his home in Cambridge, MA: Unbelievable.

On the Senate voting against the F-22 fighter jet amendment: Amazing! Finally a vote against something which even the Pentagon didn't want. Even Senator Gregg voted against this plane which apparently is obsolete and has experienced huge cost overruns. Definitely a victory for the voices of reason in an irrational world. (see above entry).

On the anti-abortion groups who are lobbying to make sure there is a provision in the health care legislation which will specifically state that any government-sponsored health care insurance will not pay for abortions: Who should decide which healthcare procedures should be paid for? Should birth control be covered? Viagra? Should my mother have blood drawn every two weeks? How anemic should she have to be before government-sponsored Medicare should pay for her to have a Procrit shot? Possibly the doctors are the people to make these decisions, not the government, and not the anti-anybodies.

On the weather: If I had wanted to live in a gray, drizzly climate, I would have moved to Seattle or Chautauqua. The rain forest is wearing a little thin.

On blog-tweets: It's clear why I don't "tweet" for real. I could never keep it to 140 characters or less.........

There are students and then . . . there are students

If you read an earlier post, you will discover that I have had to call the police to quell the drinking parties next door. Eventually, after calling a few times, I discovered that the guys next door are former students of mine. I don't know who is more distressed by that fact, them or me. A week ago tonight i called the police for the 5th time since June 6th, and there were 4 squad cars idling in the street from midnight to 1:30 a.m. as they rounded up kids, towed cars and arrested at least one of the boys living next door.

On Wednesday, a deputation of three of the young men arrived at my back door. I invited them in, and we sat in the living room discussing the situation. They apologized for having disturbed me so much this summer, and then they proceeded to suggest that 1) if I would stop calling the police, people wouldn't be running through my back yard (leaving flip flops in the mud and half empty cans of beer in the raised beds . . . ) and 2) If I would call them and not the police, they would "get everyone to "dial it down."

I suggested that their logic was a bit faulty. That if I were in their shoes, and being arrested because I was hosting all of Oyster River at underage drinking parties, I would change my behavior and stop the parties. They assured me they were "getting it under control," and that on Monday when I called the police, they had only invited 15 people to come over (plus the 4 of them) and REALLY, they had no idea i could hear them. Huh!

I pointed out that no one else in the neighborhood was up until 2 in the morning partying, and that since they had moved into the neighborhood, they were obliged to conform to the social, cultural and legal requirements of the neighborhood. Their eyes glazed over. They repeated their request that i call them instead of the police. They wrote their 3 cell phone numbers on a card and gave it to me. I said I'd try it once, and then I would call the police. So far, (knock wood) we have had a week of blessedly quiet nights. Even when I have seen 7 cars on the street. I am crossing my fingers.

Later that same Wednesday, I attended a reading and book signing at River Run Bookstore in Portsmouth. The reader: former Advanced Writing student Meg Frazer, out promoting her new novel. I had a great chat with her, and felt proud when she acknowledged me during her thank yous to various people who had helped her writing along the way. A friend of hers and another former student, Larissa Crockett was there with her 11 and 9 year old kids, and we had a great chat as well. She has just successfully run for the board of Selectpersons in her town and thinks she may want to be Governor of Maine one day. She told me of how she has had to defend her use of the word "selectperson" to older men who keep reminding her that she has run for the Board of Selectmen. We had a brief discussion about the importance of language in the area of women's rights.

While I was standing and eating bonbons after the reading, a young man came rushing in and greeted me warmly - you guessed it, another former student who saw me as he was walking by the store. We had a talk about what he has done since his graduation two years ago.

This morning I met with another student who has recently sent me her short stories to read. She has always been a great critic/reader of my work, and she's slogging her way through my novel as we speak. Another student who spent this past semester in New Zealand just emailed me and is returning to Durham and wants to get together.

So . . . thankfully, it's good students 5 to questionable students 3. I hold out hope for good students 8, questionable students 0.

Wedding highlights

Let me just say that the whole weekend was great from start to finish. There were no bad moments, at least that I could see! So, instead of trying to even summarize everything, I thought I'd write down some of my favorite moments. Not surprisingly,
many of those moments had to do with Emily and Nate.

At the rehearsal, my favorite moment(s) were when the minister asked Nate how he felt about managing the job of ringbearer, and he immediately said "I've done it before" in a very confident voice. Immediately Emily's hand shot up and she said "I've been a flower girl before too, so I know what to do. I'll help Ariana."

Another moment was when Nate saw the raspberry pink pillow and made a face that clearly communicated that NO WAY did he want to carry a pink pillow down the aisle. Kat immediately said "I don't want to see that face again! This is the pillow, and you're carrying it!" (or words to that effect)

At the rehearsal dinner, when the toasts began, we were all surprised when from over at the piano, Nate, with impeccable timing, ran his fingers down the keyboard from high to low notes, just as the person ended the toast offering his own personal punctuation mark to all the wonderful words that were being said.

I was proud of both kids as they met lots of new people over the weekend, and when introduced, shook hands and said "It's nice to meet you." They've had some good parenting!

Wedding morning dawned nice and sunny, contrary to all forecasts. That set the tone for the whole day of bright, sunny happiness, even when the clouds inevitably rolled in mid-day. It just didn't matter - it was warm and it didn't rain!

A highlight of the morning was a great boat ride down the length of Kezar Lake, with plenty of time for Em and Nate to steer the boat while sitting in Uncle Ben's lap. He taught them how to go in a tight circle and ride up and over the boat's wake, which utterly delighted them.

One at a time, every vendor showed up right when they were supposed to on Sat. (The tent and tables arrived Friday) A group effort led to the placement of linens, silverware and glasses. Emily, Nate and Ariana each helped under the supervision of Sarah, Kat, and me. The caterer arrived and we conferred; photos went off as scheduled; the florist delivered the gorgeous wedding flowers and rejuvenated Todd's bouteniere when the stem bent and broke. Pierce, the last minute guest of Ben's sister drove to North Conway to get the cake and delivered it with nary a mishap. He also filled all the coolers with ice and beer and other beverages. The D.J. arrived on schedule. Sarah had planned everything to the minute, it seemed.

Suddenly, it was time to head to the church. Highlights for me of the ceremony were almost so many I can't even list them all. But certainly walking down the aisle with Todd was a big highlight for me; seeing Sarah walk down the aisle on her godfather's arm and the look of great joy on both of their faces was a sight to behold. Kat was absolutely beautiful in her deep blue dress and carrying a phenomenal bouquet of deep pink and red roses and calla lillies.

I loved singing "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee" with Emily sharing my hymnal and singing her heart out. At the same time I could hear Sarah's beautiful voice leading all of us. The ceremony was one of the most beautiful I've ever attended. Sarah and Ben had adhered to a traditional format, but with a minister who knew both of them well, there was a high personal element in each segment of it. Most moving was what they called the Family Liturgy, where they stepped forward and faced all of us, sharing their feelings about our importance to them as they begin this new journey. Each of them teared up a bit, particularly when Ben read a paragraph remembering family members who were unable to be there, including each of their fathers and their remaining livintg grandmothers.

These weeks of planning were worth everything to see their faces when they were pronounced husband and wife! The final great moment was when Sarah and Ben joined hands to music of the recessional and as Sarah's took her first step down the steps, we realized that she had kicked off her shoes sometime early in the ceremony and was barefoot! The train of her dress swept over her shoes, revealing them up in front of the altar, and Kat calmly leaned over and picked them up and followed them down the steps, arm and arm with the best man.

At the reception, one of the highlights was dancing with Emily, who kept coming and asking me to dance. She is just such a sweetheart. She and Nate just danced and danced. True grandchildren of mine!

Throughout the weekend our two families kind of melted together in good food, good drink, good conversation and beautiful surroundings. It was great in every way. One of my final favorite moments of the evening was having Sarah say that the whole wedding had been everything she had wanted it to be. I say Amen to that!!