Monthly Archives: May 2017

Celebrate, People

Our Favorite Nephew Graduates

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Last Saturday, I got up before breakfast, as my mother would have put it, and was on the road by 6 a.m. Off to the University of Maine at Orono I went to see my favorite nephew—Patrick Meunier—graduate from college. The ceremony started at 9:30 a.m. As there were over 1,000 students graduating, it was important to arrive at the university a couple of hours before the ceremony began in order to get a good place to park and good seating.

This I did, and I was even able to save seats for Patrick’s parents—my brother Steve and my sister-in-law Rose—an aunt and uncle, and his maternal grandmother. Unfortunately, Clif was not able to come. It was simply too long to leave the dog, and now that Liam is blind, we don’t feel comfortable asking any of our friends to take care of him if we are to be away for a long time. But Patrick is a dog lover, and he understood about Liam.

My mother passed away nine years ago, and how I wish she had lived long enough to see Patrick graduate. She helped take care of him when he was little, and she loved Patrick very much. To bring a piece of Mom to the ceremony, I wore one of her favorite bracelets, and it was comforting for me to have something of hers on my wrist.

Because we arrived so early, we naturally had to wait a while before the ceremony began. Somehow, I didn’t mind at all. I watched the people stream in. I chatted with Steve and Rose, and the time just zipped by. The ceremony was held in an arena, and there was a jumbotron flashing scenes from the inside. But then, a little before 9:30, the cameras turned outward and focused on the large stream of students  in blue marching toward the arena. Later, we found out from Patrick that there wasn’t any rehearsal. The students were told to march in some semblance of a line, and by gum they did.

Into the arena they came, and our little party strained eagerly to see Patrick. And there he was, smiling and radiant and looking oh so happy to be graduating. “After all,” Clif would say later. “He’s worked hard to get that degree.” Indeed he has.

Here’s a picture of the marching students. Can you guess which one is Patrick?

As I watched his beaming face, I felt my eyes prickle with tears. I’ve known Patrick since he was a little baby, and I’ve watched him grow into a fine young man—kind, energetic, and determined—who loves art and theater and movies. I had to speak very sternly to myself so that I didn’t go from being misty eyed to outright blubbering. I am happy to report I was successful.

Considering how many students were getting their degrees, the ceremony moved along smartly. The commencement speakers were Heather and Abe Furth, local entrepreneurs and a power couple who started their first business—Woodman’s Bar and Grill—when they were twenty-three. The Furths took turns speaking not only of the importance of fearlessly going forth in life but also of making a commitment to local economies and communities. Very impressive.

Then the graduation ceremony was over, and out we went into the blessedly rain-free day, the first in a while. Naturally, we took pictures.

After pictures, we went to a restaurant in Brewer, the High Tide, right beside the Penobscot River. Such a lovely view! To mark this momentous occasion, I had one of my favorite things—a lobster roll—and as we ate, there was much merriment and joy.

The title of this piece indicates that Clif and I are playing favorites when it comes to Patrick. As Patrick is our only nephew, this is not strictly true. However, even if he weren’t our only nephew, he would still be our favorite.

Best of luck, Patrick, as you begin your creative journey!

 

 

 

Books

Threads of Realism at Hartland Public Library

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Yesterday, Clif and I went to the Hartland Public Library, where I gave my presentation Threads of Realism in Fantasy: Maya, Maine, and the Franco-American Connection. My friend Beth Clark is a member of the Friends of the Library, and she recommended me and my presentation.  Thank you, Beth!

Hartland Library is a very sweet, welcoming place, filled with books, DVDS, and computers.  I was reminded, yet again, how lucky Maine is to have such a wealth of libraries in communities great and small across the state. Hartland has a population of approximately 1,700, and the library is a real gem, a center to the town.

Being new at giving presentations, I am always a little nervous at the start. But at the Hartland Library, those who came were so warm and appreciative that I was soon put at ease. When I had finished and we were chatting over refreshments, Beth made a comment that was music to my ears, as the saying goes. Beth told me that she enjoyed my presentation so much that she would like to hear it again and to let her know if I do another one within an hour’s radius of Hartland.

Oh, thanks, Beth! I’ll be sure to let you know.

Me, my book, and a slide from my presentation
News

Three Things Thursday: Hyacinths, Ginger Nuts, and Maine, At Last

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A couple of the blogs I follow have a lovely tradition called “Three Things Thursday,” where the writers list three things each week they are particularly grateful for. I have decided to follow this practice.  Being grateful for the many blessings in life seems like a good thing to do during a time when there is much to be anxious about.

First, I am ever so grateful for my hyacinths: They are the first blooms in my garden, and this makes them most welcome. Planted over thirty years ago by mother-in-law, the hyacinths are not prolific, but they are faithful, coming up year after year. And, oh, how wonderful those flowers smell.

Second, ginger nuts: This one particularly tickles my fancy. I first came across ginger nuts in the beloved Miss Read series, books set in English villages in the 1950s and 1960s. The stories revolve around the eponymous Miss Read, a teacher in a small rural school. Ginger nuts, a biscuit— or a cookie, as we call them across the pond— are a treat often served with tea.

Now, I’m sure my English blogging friends are scratching their heads over my enthusiasm for what must be a common store-bought cookie in England. But I can’t help it. The name sounds so darned cute. And I couldn’t help but wonder, just what are ginger nuts anyway?

Imagine my thrill, then, when I actually came upon McVitie’s Ginger Nuts at a local store. Quick as can be, I grabbed them, and as soon as I got home, I opened the package and sampled a cookie—or rather, a biscuit. Actually, they turned out to be what I suspected—what we Americans call gingersnaps. But very tasty McVitie’s Ginger Nuts are, with a satisfying crunch and a little zing. As I nibbled my biscuit, I imagined I was in the English countryside, so lovely and green with its sheep and hedgerows and cottages.

Third, Maine, At Last—Lovin’ by MsMomA (aka Burndett Andres): I first met Burndett (Burni) Andres over ten years ago, when Clif and I were publishing Wolf Moon Journal, a small literary magazine. Burni submitted a piece—about Thoreau’s Maine journey, I think—and I was taken by her lively style and the wonderful narrative flow of her writing. When she started publishing an online newsletter, the Narraguagus News, I became a devoted reader. In the newsletter, Burni chronicles everyday life in Cherryfield, a small town in Down East Maine.

Over the years, Burni has published a series of books comprising pieces from her newsletter. She has called this series Maine, At Last, and I have had the good fortune of reading her latest book, Volume 10,  about everyday happenings in Cherryfield, Maine.

Maine, At Last—Lovin’ has the same lively style and wonderful narrative flow that I discovered in the first piece Burni sent me. In addition, there is a joy of life that ripples through the book. Here is what might be Burni’s coda: “Although I don’t feel called to do great things, I do feel called to do small things with great love and I like to think that comes through in my writing…” It most certainly does, and if the world followed Burni’s example, it would be a better place.

Finally, she writes movingly about her beloved partner Ralph and his struggles with Parkinson’s disease. Some of these descriptions actually brought tears to my eyes.

Hyacinths, ginger nuts, and a lively yet moving book. So much to be grateful for.

Books, News

Maya and the Book of Everything at the Hartland Public Library

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On Thursday, May 11 I’ll be going to the Hartland Public Library to give my presentation Threads of Realism in Fantasy: Maya, Maine, and the Franco-American Connection. It starts at 6 p.m., and I’m so looking forward to going to this library. After all, the Hartland Library is featured in Maya and the Book of Everything. So in a way, I’ll be going to one of my sources.

Please come if you can!

News

Three Things Thursday: My Clothesline, Emerging Ferns, My Backyard

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A couple of the blogs I follow have a lovely tradition called “Three Things Thursday,” where the writers list three things each week they are particularly grateful for. For a while, I’ve been wanting to do this on my blog each Thursday, and now that glorious spring is here, it seemed like the perfect time to get started.

A quick aside: With all the busyness of life, with the worry and the various stresses—especially with the political situation—taking the time to be grateful for what I have seems almost like a form of prayer. Or a meditation, if you will. While I certainly don’t want to look away from all that is happening in the world, I do think that spreading a bit of gratitude, near and far, is a very good thing.

So here is what I’m grateful for this week:

First—My Clothesline: I know, I know. I go on like a silly person about hanging laundry outside. But I do so love it.  To me, laundry flapping on the line is a lovely sight. The sun and the wind are drying my clothes, with no gas or electricity required. Just a bit of energy on my part, which, for some reason, I never mind expending on this chore.  Then there is the smell when the laundry comes in—fresh, almost intoxicating, sheer bliss.

Second—The Emerging Ferns: That curl of green, the gradual unfurling. With ferns, there are no buds or blossoms, but what a sweet sight when each spring they push their way through the brown leaves.

Third—My Backyard: Tucked in the woods, my backyard is a second living room when the weather is warm. Birds come to the feeders, and the yard is full of birdsong. Our patio is a place where Clif and I relax during the summer. Family and friends come over for Clif’s legendary grilled bread, and we eat, talk, and laugh. I’ll serve simple salads or grilled chicken to go with the bread. Homemade ice cream for dessert. Or we’ll just have appetizers and bread. Whatever. When we are on the patio, life is good.

And, as a bonus, for sheer geeky fun on this Thursday, May the Fourth be with you!

Art, Franco-American

The Invisible Made Visible: A Gathering of Franco-American Writers, Artists, and Creatives

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Last weekend, I went to the Franco-American Centre at the University of Maine at Orono, which hosted “its sixth annual gathering (or Rassemblement) of Franco-American writers, artists, and creatives. The annual event, organized by UMaine’s Franco American Programs, aims to create a culturally supportive space in which members of the Franco-American creative community can share their work.” (The quotation was taken from an invitation sent by the Centre’s director, Susan Pinette, and I used this because it states so well the raison d’être for the event.)

I’ve been going to Rassemblement from the beginning, and what a treat it is to spend time with so many creative Franco-Americans.

In the past on this blog, I’ve written a brief history of Franco-Americans in Maine and how they comprise about a third of the state’s population. (Most of our ancestors migrated from French Canada in the mid- to late 1800s.) Because of the history of discrimination and repression, many Maine Franco-Americans feel invisible, and I understand this is also true for Franco-Americans in other parts of New England.

When we come together for Rassemblement, we Franco-American creatives no longer feel invisible.  We read our poetry and fiction. We present our research projects. We perform our pieces, many of them centered on what it means to be Franco-American in all its various aspects. We listen attentively to each other, so grateful not to feel invisible anymore.

This year, there were a number of young Franco-American students who either read poetry or spoke about being Franco-American. What a treat to have them there! Most of the “regulars” who come to Rassemblement are what might be considered, ahem, mature. To have so many younger folks there was like having a fresh breeze blow through the event.

There were so many terrific presentations at Rassemblement, and I feel bad that I can’t describe them all. However even brief descriptions would make this post much too long.

Here are a few highlights from the Rassemblement:

Susan Pinette, the wonderful director, kicking off the event on Saturday morning.

The fabulous Susan Poulin, reading about her extraordinary aunt who was a nun.

Mitch Roberge, a UMO student, reading “Speak White,” a poem he wrote in French.

Steven Riel, a very fine poet, before his reading. Here’s an especially beautiful line from one of his poems: “Moonlight enters without knocking.”

And the talented Greg Chabot, performing one of his pieces about being Franco-American. Chabot maintains that “visibility comes from creation.”

I, of course, read from my novel Maya and the Book of Everything, and I was so proud to see it displayed on the table with other books and CDs.

And as a cherry on the sundae, I stayed at a nice little hotel down the road from the Franco-American Centre. By gum, it even had a room with a view.

A weekend with Franco-American creatives. A room with a view.

Who could ask for anything more?

Well, perhaps one not-so-little thing. I wish that you, readers, could have come to the event to hear all the talented Franco-American creatives present their work, to see the invisible made visible.