Missing George

My father passed away after a very long struggle with Alzheimer's. His wife had a ready made obituary for the eventuality of his passing. My siblings decided it didn't capture who my father was. I was elected to write our version. I sat down and wrote it in a night, inspired by creating a counterpoint to the dry listing of his professional achievements. It was a cathartic writing exercise.

George Atherton Chaffee, Jr. died February 6, 2021 from complications of Alzheimer’s. Born in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, to Frances and George A. Chaffee, on May 27, 1938, he spent his formative years in Warwick, Massachusetts.  George attended Northfield Mount Herman and obtained his Engineering & Applied Physics AB degree from Harvard University. 

George worked in the insurance business all of his life, starting as an adjuster with Kemper Insurance in Boston in 1961. He became Deputy Commissioner of the State of Vermont Banking & Insurance Department in 1977, introducing landmark legislation in 1981, creating the Vermont Captive Insurance industry. He went on to support several Risk Insurance start-ups  including Vermont Insurance Management and  SINSER Management Services. He finished his career  as senior vice president of administration at Hickok & Boardman Insurance Agency.

These are the facts of his life and illustrate his ability to navigate conformity in order to succeed.  His best life was spent skirting norms, much like his tattoos hidden behind starched collars and cuffs, to follow his passions, which were legion.

As a young man in Warwick, George started a lifelong love affair with engines with his first car - a 1937 Ford with “Death Dealers” painted on the rear fender. His fellow “Death Dealers” Cope and Rick, or the Deadly Three, marauded through backroads of Warwick and Athol, one step ahead of the local posse. Cars gave way to a passion for motorcycles. Weekends were spent at the Loudon, NH scrambles or tinkering on his beloved Bultacos. Racing segued to touring- including a memorable trip around the Gaspe Peninsula with his friend Harold. His heart expanded to include flying - both planes and ultralights. He delighted in buzzing his summer camp in Maple Corner for the amusement of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, dropping notes in a bottle into Curtis Pond to be retrieved by his audience as he flew off. 

His curiosity and intelligence were boundless. He was a lover of books and film. As a committed Gemini, he learned to prepare astrological charts for family and friends. He built his own plane. He retained a childhood passion for country western music, gleaned through his open window as sounds from the Warwick Inn wafted in. He would talk to anyone in an effort to understand the human condition- including the backwoods folk slaughtering a pig on the side of a road in Tennessee. This parade was punctuated by his constant observation that “life is rich.”

Happiest traveling solo, George accommodated a few people. He had two wives - Reta, 1955- 1976; and LouAnn, 1984 - 2021 and multiple other women sprinkled throughout his time on earth and across the tri-state area. He begat five children with Reta despite not having a particular fondness for “twidgets”. These children found ways to irritate his well developed sense of order by moving his pencils carefully arranged by length, or generally creating noise. He found his own way to irritate them in return by asking them to “hold still for just one more” photo taken with his cherished Leica. It wasn’t until later in life that George began to appreciate the enormity of this Chaffee legacy, and the good and not-so-good proclivities he passed on to his brood. 

He is survived by his wife of 37 years, LouAnn Chaffee, his brother Rufus Chaffee, and five children from a first marriage to sixth-grade baseball team compatriot, Reta Matthews Chaffee MacGregor: Susan Chaffee Hall (Robert), Arlon Chaffee (Peg), Sarah Chaffee (John Hoyt), Reta Chaffee (Andy Cadorette), and Abigail Chaffee Pandelena (Paul), eight grandchildren, numerous great-grandchildren, and many nieces and nephews.

His children will be holding a remembrance this summer at the Warwick cemetery, in the town he considered home, and where his parents and sister Susan are buried. His self-selected stone is a bench that invites all to “come sit with me.”

Flaw #567

Thanksgiving is a day that gives you plenty of time for long discussions. Especially during the extended exercise of hand washing and drying all the china, silver, pots and pans. It is probably a little late in the game for me to be figuring out that the world is fraught with danger and intrigue but I finally came to that conclusion and shared it with one of my younger sisters in the midst of our dish washing.

I have a bad habit of being what I'd like to think is honest. I  talk about what I am thinking at any given moment. It is intended to be a dialogue with the conversee but it seems that most conversees see it as a pronouncement that is set in stone. My sister declared this "thinking out loud." People quickly jump from a pronouncement to drawing a line in the sand while I am still rolling thoughts around in my head......out loud.

The danger comes from thinking out loud with people who may not want to be a sounding board. Or the danger is ...not knowing when to shut up.

Cooking Disaster

So I have confirmed why I am only allowed to cook once a week. Yet another cooking disaster. It was really more of a buying disaster. I decided to try a new brand of gluten free pizza. Gluten free products are pretty mediocre at best... so you can just imagine the results. I do not recommend King Arthur brand gluten free pizza.The gold standard continues to be Bob's Red Mill. King Arthur came out more like a focaccia which is fine if that is what you are expecting....read more on unmet cooking expectations here.

While waiting for said leaden experience in baking to rise I had a chance to finish a review of the most recent biography on George Kennon. An interesting character during interesting times. Makes you start questioning the right of the masses to vote and rule our country. Note to self....buy biography and read...right after you have finished that biography on Copernicus.

Also had a chance to read about Margaret Sanger and the history of "family planning"more commonly known as birth control. We have come a long way but it is beginning to feel as if we are sliding backwards. Another note to self- those damn Europeans have it all over us Americans when it comes to pizza and social policy.

Facing Off

Typical, everyday Sarah being unglamorous, unfashionable, unsophisticated and uninteresting.

I started doing Facebook a few years ago in an effort to learn about all the free marketing tools at my disposal....along with blogging, twitter and e-newsletters. In tandem I created personal and business accounts. It has proved to be a great marketing tool for my business. On the personal front it seems to be an exercise in self-esteem management.

Making my life sound interesting on a daily - or hourly- basis is a chore. I read every one's posts and wonder how they do it. When I start to analyze I realize that many don't have a fascinating life. They tend to post the same thing over and over......sort of advertising how boring they are. I made a rule for myself about not posting something if I have said it one or two times already. It keeps me from repeating "Oh my GOD I woke up at 3 AM again!" The world and my friends don't need to be reminded that I am an insomniac.

Being witty and on for the world to see is, likewise, a burden. I try to save the bon mots for the friends who will share in a delicious giggle with me- in real time. I appreciate when people share something witty on Facebook but it seems strained when they constantly have to one up themselves to maintain the facade.

And the biggest burden is for Facebook users to appear engaged, civic minded and selfless at all times. They are supporting a cause, being righteous or telling you what side of the political fence they fall on by "liking" someone else's post, cause or whatever. It all feels so superficial to me. Does no one do anything nice or right just for the personal thrill of it? Does it need to be broadcast? I will admit that I have participated in some of this self promotion in the past because it feels like the rules of the game. I feel as uncomfortable doing it now as I do in sporting bumper stickers on my car. I do nice things because it is the right thing to do.... not because I am branding myself.

The Power of Andy... Squared

I stayed at my sister's house the other night. It was still dark when I woke up and snuck downstairs to find some coffee. As I walked past her bedroom her husband, Andy called out "is that you Sarah? Come cuddle with me." My sister Reta has the weirdest work habits of anyone I know so she had already cleared out of bed to jump on her computer...leaving her hollow in the bed for me.

Andy's invite was all I needed. I climbed into bed and assumed the world's most comfortable position, spooning- pushing my butt into his union suited stomach, his arms around my shoulders. He noted how familiar my body felt- being practically a double of his wife- and then proceeded to tell me how beautiful, funny and personable I am. As I struggle with the definition of happiness and what a relationship is these were words that were soothing.

I asked him to hold me tighter.... and he did. With his lips practically on my ear he told me how wonderful his relationship with my sister is. She is even tempered. She never holds a grudge. She says exactly what she wants. She lets him know when he is being a jerk. And he appreciates being told. She follows her heart and allows him to do the same.

I want that. And it felt good just to be held.

As I wandered downstairs finally to find my first cup of coffee. Reta looked up from her computer and noted I was up. I told her I had been in bed with her husband cuddling.

"He's a good cuddler, isn't he?"

Yup.

Andy and Reta sharing a smooch.

Digging Up Some Personal Dirt

Things can take a while to sink in/fit in/make sense in my head. On my drive to work this morning I thought some more about the shootings out in Arizona and the media response to it. Most people have moved past it to more recent news but I am just starting to figure it out.

It would be nice to apportion blame to a larger force than a lone, crazy gunman. It is human nature to want to find a reason behind something that has disturbed us and if it was a lone crazy gunman the reasoning stops there. No linear thinking or reasoning involved. So we start to blame everyone but the most obvious instigator. We blame the "other." And the media played into our collective deep, dark needs.

I think the truth is that it was a lone crazy gunman. But just saying the shooter had faulty wiring doesn't satisfy our need to seek retribution. Punishing an insane person serves no one- they won't ever show remorse or be deterred by punishment. Only a sane person can understand the concept of cause & effect, crime & punishment.

But I don't think this lets everyone else off the hook. And by "everyone else" I mean the people who have used inflammatory language in this current social climate. We all need to respect the power of words- their ability to strengthen, destroy, marshal, belittle and enlighten. Political and military leaders have used language to sway and persuade. It is a huge disservice to our ability to communicate if we say we cannot make someone do something with words alone.

I also think it is human nature to try to find a place to put our strong emotions. I think the young shooter had huge feelings of anger, hate & resentment. His past shows a history of similar problems. I think he latched onto a seeming struggle between our political factions and poured his feelings into it. And these feelings allowed him to turn people into enemies, something less than human. He conflated anger into moral right.

And I think there is a much smaller lesson to take away. And I will make it personal here. As I struggle with feelings inside of me- sorting, dividing, dismissing & exploring- the confusion wells up in me. I find I lash out, make pronouncements, ask and weep as I struggle to make sense of it all. And those around me pay. I pour my heap of confusion into my bucket of relationships.

But I would like to think that a love that binds will keep them by me as I do for them.

Sarah uncovering more dirt. Or is it a new lily garden?

Miss Communication

Is there some trick to it that I don't get? Did I miss yet another queue for an important life skill manual because I was busy contemplating my navel?

And most importantly.... why do they make it look so easy in the movies?

• Communication
• Misunderstanding
• Reiteration
• Resolution

In an effort to be the most honest, selfish & happy person in the world I keep running smack into other people trying to do the same thing. Their thing sometimes runs counter to my things.

On the other hand I reflect that if all went smoothly every single day it would be boring. I would cease to put effort into things. I would walk around in a stupor. It would be the proverbial happy pill.

Happiness can be in the stretching, growing and trying.

Cheers! Sarah having a cappuccino in Florence.

Okay, Enough About You....

I had lunch with my good friend Michelle yesterday. She is certainly someone I would call a fellow traveler. We both are struggling along to become the best people we know how to be. Which, in my case anyways, is quite a bit less than perfect.

Over a cup of tea and garlic/chicken nachos (disgusting-eh?) she said she had to say something to me, get it off her chest, clear the air. She was slightly misty eyed so I prepared to hear another of my occasional transgressions... which it was. I had hurt her with what I thought was an unimportant comment. But it didn't matter what I felt about the comment- it had hurt her to the quick. She felt judged.

What to do? #1- Apologize. #2- Explain.

But the explanation didn't involve any minimizing of the intent of the comment. I took full ownership of it, but tried to explain the state I was in at the time. I was in a bad place. My comment reflected what I would have so harshly said to myself in similar (but not quite) circumstances.

And I am also relearning that each person's experience is unique and trying to extrapolate from my own experience and apply to an other's just plain, old doesn't work. Along with the lesson that words can be very, very powerful.

And then Michelle tried to explain away her tears. "You think too much, I feel too much." She is right- again.

Henry & Charlie making nice.

Feeling A Bit Peckish

I feel like this a lot. When I am with someone I want to touch their face and be nose to nose. I like physical connection when layered on top of like.

Especially that third photo down... pushing into some one's personal space as if to say "Hello! I 'm still here. Pay attention!"

I use to drive my husband crazy... I was the driver in the family and we would take a lot of pleasure cruises up the coast of Maine or to Northern NH looking for antique stores we hadn't yet discovered. We would also talk a lot. I can't remember about what. But I would lean over into his space frequently, proffering the top of my head and demand that he kiss it. He would eventually grow weary of this task and just start to peck the top of my head with his fingers while making a kissing noise. I knew that he was cheating, but it was still satisfying for me. At least he never, ever said "no" completely. And his exasperation with my demand was a little bit cute.

I am guessing this makes me a little bit needy.......

Truth Is In the Telling, Not Just the Knowing

Today is my 49th birthday. My big birthday gift is that I was granted a reprieve two days ago in the form of two negative breast biopsies. I had entered the high risk pool because one of my younger sisters had breast cancer and I have very dense breasts. While I still need to go for an MRI to make double, extra sure that there is nothing lurking in the shadows it is sweet relief to have received this current diagnosis.

This medical rite of passage is yet another wake up call that I don't have forever to get this life right. I had recently begun the process of reflecting on how I have spent the last decade of my life. This event has pushed me right over the edge. My self assessment led me to admit that I am not happy in my life, which is a pretty horrible realization.

I could point to specifics but the basic truth is that I am afraid to ask for the things I want- to voice my desires, wants and needs. And that is wrapped up in the other truth- that I feel I am undeserving of the things I want. It keeps me from asking. And it comes from a shamed core in me. Damned esteem issues!

And the other mitigating issue is that I anticipate people's response to my requests which keeps me from ever trying to ask for what I want in the first place. My mind has become both a refuge and a jail for my feelings. Double-Damn!

So I have given myself one year- till I am 50- to get my shit together. It means paying attention to what I really want and asking for it. It means not worrying about someone else's wants- unless I get pleasure by meeting their wants. It means being brave enough to put my wants out there regardless of the response I expect. It means I will need to say these things out loud and not just think them. And maybe, just maybe I will be surprised and gratified by the acknowledgment and love I will feel in return.

Ready, set, go.

More Water Over the Dam

Another new year has arrived and a lot of water has gone over the dam this past year. I suspect a bucket or two to go over in my future. Time never seems to stop.

My resolution this year? I am going to be truly selfish. Not just my usual day to day, garden variety sort of selfishness. I am going to be over the top selfish. Me, me, me.

There are some out there who may be saying "So what is different? You have always been selfish"

Admittedly so. But I think by being half-hearted in my selfishness I am serving no one's best interest. I sort of ask for what I want. I sort of demand things. I sort of take time from people.

By being over the top in my selfishness I will be completely true to my desires. By being completely true I will not only be completely honest, but I will be making myself happiest, which is good for everyone.

I have been working up to this. I have practiced on a few people. It takes focus and thoughtfulness. I am surprised at the results. And gratified.

Web of Women

Someone commented on the web of women in my life. I thought that was such a great phrase and I thought I would use this space to count my blessings:

Mum- my mother is my my biggest fan and supporter. I love her so much it hurts. I still run to her when I have a problem or need help. I have yet to reach the bottom of her well of knowledge and compassion.

Polly- Other Mother, my mother's best friend. I can't remember when Polly wasn't in my mother's, and our, lives. I love when she calls me "honey" and how she steps right into the role of mother at the drop of a hat. She loves me and I love her right back.

Louise- my best friend since I was a sophomore in high school. We have traveled a lot of ground together. She is clear eyed and unafraid to let me know when I have faulty thinking. She is also the friend that I can call anytime of the night and say "I need you now." And I do it for her too. She also tickles my funny bone to its very core.

Reta- my younger sister, who is so smart. When I need a reality check on people relations, business or larger philosophy Reta is the one I turn to. She is clear headed, non-judgemental and even tempered. She gives the best advice. If she says so, it must be right. Surprisingly she likes to giggle and be silly. I appreciate that aspect of her too.

Abby- my youngest sister. Abby is fiery and loud mouthed and very in touch with how she feels. When I need fashion tips or to blow my stack she is the one I go to. She knows that feelings need to be expressed to be understood. She allows me to be angry, upset, distraught and get to the other side exhausted, crying, sated and ready to figure it out. I indulge my potty mouth with her.

Michelle- started as a dog walking buddy and is now just a plain old friend. Michelle is my feminine friend. We enjoy doing girly stuff- shopping, antiquing, shoes, watching romantic movies that make us cry. She is totally right brained and intuitive- the complete opposite of me. She has a magical way of correcting me when I get overbearing or controlling. And she gets me to laugh at myself as she does it! We have had some damned fine adventures.

Annie- another dog walking buddy who turned into a friend. She is fiercely protective of me. She makes me feel very loved. It is a funny feeling to be protected by someone who is so physically tiny in comparison- but I'll take it! She is also supremely rational and a great help as I try to figure things out.

Jen- a force unto herself. I don't see her very often but when I do we fall right back into the yakking. She makes me feel okay about being both a strong, competent woman and a total screw up. She also makes me laugh until I wet my pants. (I mention laughing a lot because I hold it in high regard. If you want to be my friend, make me laugh.) Jen sees the power in me.

Susan & Lynn- I have known these two since grade school. That kind of continuity is irreplaceable. I mention them together because we always get together as a team. We know each other so well that we all know how hard to push the other and when to back off. This relationship is pure affection.

Maria- a dog walking friend. She owns a vacation home a mile from my house and comes up every other weekend or so. She asked to join me one morning as I walked past her house and we haven't stopped yet! I don't often meet someone who has my taste for covering miles when I walk. And it is a total bonus that she likes to talk about good stuff! She is like an older sister and serves as a sounding board on relationships and business. We are both good at pointing out to the other our faulty thinking, ruts, and other pitfalls of life. I appreciate her constancy and good humor.

When I feel unsettled these are the women I turn to. I feel lucky to count them as friends and confidantes.

1-Abby, Reta, Sarah, Susan at the camp around 1989
2-Louise, Sarah, Reta getting ready for the sauna around 1984
3-Sarah, Annie and my lovely Lady around 2001

Body Image

My friend, Maria, was up for the week at her vacation home up the street from me. She is a dog walking buddy but the best part is that she is a talker too. We always have something to hash over or work out.

This time she rolled out the door and then rolled her eyes “Thank goodness they wanted to cancel the brunch plans this morning. I feel like we have been eating non-stop for days.” Christmas seems to be a time of excess for everyone. She then recounted her husband and son’s unspoken contest to eat the other under the table. Maria is a diabetic so she is very careful of her intake. She is also very slim.

“Ugh, I just feel so fat after all that eating. I can feel it in my cheeks. I really need this walk. I have to be careful. Food is poison. ”

“But you are so slim.”

“I wasn’t always. When I went away to college I got into the afternoon cookies and got up to 160 pounds. I was a pudge.”

She rolled her eyes again and laughed- “Body image!”

“Yeah who doesn’t have a negative body image?” And I shared my bout with anorexia as a young teen. “I don’t think I was controlling things so much as punishing myself for all my flaws- body included.”

She laughed again and said “what flaws?”

“Come on- look at me. What’s to like?”

“You are kidding, aren’t you?”

"Yeah, right. I'm kidding."

Yeah- right. It’s still a struggle.

That would be me in 3rd grade before I cared so much about my body.... but I did love the paisley dress my mother sewed for me. I am still partial to paisley.

Audience of One

I let out a sigh as I allow Henry to climb between the front seats of the car to be next to me. He will stick his nose under my arm and flip it up in an effort to get me to pat him. He puts his two front paws on my seat so he can get a better view out the window. He continues to flip my arm and let out an occasional whine despite the attention I am paying to him. In short, he is a pain in the ass.

I got my little mutt 3 years ago knowing that he had some issues. His separation anxiety was the biggie. After owning him a little while I recognized that he would take off on me if he smelled anything good- despite a disorder which makes him stick to my side. How do you reconcile the fact that a dog has separation anxiety AND will run away given the opportunity?

I finally reached the conclusion that Henry is my karmic come-uppance. My dog is me. I like the security of knowing there is someone there to catch me if I fall.... and fill my water bowl. If I catch the scent of something delicious I want to follow my nose. I want to hang my head out the car window because it feels good, but I want to glance over to see that someone is still there. And when I am feeling insecure I want to be able to curl up on a lap and be petted till everything is right again.

I keep this in mind as Henry demands my attention while I am trying to drive my car. For whatever reason he needs its- and I give it to him because I love him. And I treasure the feeling of his warm, fuzzy belly as I remember those times he would gladly run away.

What Kind Of Dog Are You?

I am currently reading a book called Let's Take the Long Way Home by Gail Caldwell. It is the tale of two women who bond over dogs and become best friends.

Like many friends they develop shorthand phrases and little inside jokes. One of their shared jokes is to try to figure out what dog breed people would be. This is an exercise they perform on both friends and strangers.

I am sure this gets easier with time to pair a human with their canine counterpart. I found my mind turning to figure out what breed I might be. I immediately thought of an Afghan Hound. I am lanky and athletic. I suspect I am a bit high strung but also aloof. I am definitely lacking the long tresses, but if I had a tail it would be held curled and at attention.

No doubt there are many people who think I am some sort of terrier.....

So You Think You Want To Be My Friend?

I called up a friend I haven't seen in a while to ask her opinion. We always start our phone calls off with "We need to make a date and get together. I have SO much to tell you."

I then proceeded to ask her opinion "but, oh wait you have to check out this website before you tell me what you think about my most current thought."

Her response...... "Great, now not only do we need to set an agenda to get through a conversation but I have to do homework?"

Yeah, pretty much.

Probably No One Is Reading At This Point....

....which is fine by me. I can get back to my original goal which was to work on my writing/communicating/story telling skills. It is far easier when you aren't writing to an audience.

I found myself worrying about what someone else was thinking recently. It rolled around my brain like a washer set to an extra rinse cycle.... over and over and over. What if I was misreading the communication cues? What if I was getting ahead of a conversation by second guessing a response? What if I was layering my hopes, dreams and previous experience onto a current conversation?

Ahh... after rolling that thought around for a while I realized it didn't matter what the other person thought and I acted on the experience I was having.

I feel better now.

Doesn't Henry look ridiculous in a tutu? I love Henry and my nieces who dress him that way.

Drama On Pleasant View Road

Took the mutt for a quick after dinner stroll, but we had barely left the property when drama struck.

I heard peeping. Henry detected the source before I could even focus. A small grayish chick flopped about in the road. Feathers enough to flop about and really wear the mantle of " bird" but helpless enough to quiver at the huge set of teeth that is the omnivore poodle-boy Henry.

To complicate matters I heard a car approaching. To put it in perspective- I can hear a car approaching as it turns off the main road about 1/4 mile away. This noise is not to be confused with the other parallel road. I can also hone in on the whereabouts of any horse carriages tracing the loop by the echo of their hooves. All of this to highlight that this is a lightly traveled area where traffic is quite predictable.

Like Dudley Doright helping Nell tied to the track, I had ample opportunity to plan my rescue and execute it. I fumbled to tie my dog to the neighbors mail post. (Henry looked at this peeping bundle as an after dinner snack.) I dropped the lead twice but managed to get the task done. I looked up to see lights approaching so I ran into the road. The car slowed and I was able to shoo the bird to the side where it got tangled in the grass- wings akimbo.

I looked at its greenish tinge and thought baby Yellow Throat, but I looked up to see two common Sparrows fidgeting in the tree.

As exciting as this drama was I have learned to walk away. I did all I can do. I gave the baby bird another chance. It either figured out how to use its wings or it became a meal for the kitties next door. There is little else I can do to change the course of nature.

Life is hard all over.

!!!

So I read someplace that you are only allotted a certain number of exclamation points in your lifetime. I am pretty sure the usage number was below 200. I am a "!" junkie. It expresses my attitude which is a bit boing boing. I checked out the titles to my last two posts and decided I have a serious problem.

What A Man!

Amongst all the other samples/goodies I received for being a judge this past weekend were a few items for the man of the house- a comb, scalp massager, bay rum after shave. I gave them to the boyfriend who immediately took a walk down memory lane to the time when men doused themselves in Old Spice...... in order to impress the babes.

The next morning said boyfriend shaved and decided to splash on the aftershave. He met me at the door as I returned from my morning walk. As I opened the door I could smell him. But I was not sufficiently impressed so he hugged me. It was a nice smell- certainly not offensive, but I may not be the best judge as I have very little sense of smell. Maybe he smelled like a big old flower.

But it reminded me of watching my father shave when I was a little girl. It was a morning ritual. A small dish held the soap which he would lather up with a short brush and apply to his face. The razor would make a trail through the lather- marking where he had been. His slightly upturned face would be reflected in the mirror- with the occasional pull of the nose or earlobe to reach a deep crevice. And then.....

...... the Aqua Velva. It was bright blue and held in a flat bottle. He would splash it onto his hands and then onto his face. I miss this. Men all use electric razors now. There is no romance, mystery or ritual to it.