Inspiration!

 Preface:  

Reading this story I wrote in 2009, I couldn’t help but think it still rings true for me.  The circumstances are most certainly different, but I have just recently emerged from another ‘life changing’ experience and the fundamental principles of taking risk and being open to what may come still apply.  

The winding, glorious streets of San Miguel de Allende

 INSPIRATION – March 2009

Before I left to spend the month of February in Mexico, some of my concerned friends expressed their dismay over my trip.  “You’re going alone? Aren’t you afraid?”  I admit I shared their concerns.  Even though I knew that San Miguel de Allende, a colonial city in the middle of the country, was safe and beautiful, the idea of not knowing ANYONE and being so far away, for so long, was unnerving.  

So, why was I doing this?  That was the big question with a fairly simple answer: to see what, if anything, was left inside of me.  To find out who I was at this odd juncture of my life, where so much of what had defined ‘Me’ no longer existed.  I was sick of looking in the mirror and thinking: Who am I now?  My business, my place in the community is gone.  My marriage is failing, my beloved dog has died.  All I saw was a sad, lost, purpose-deprived old woman.  I didn’t recognize myself anymore.

Coming to this kind of crossroads is hardly a unique experience.  We all go through these passages throughout our adult lives, as we continue to develop and as the winds of external circumstances push us around.  Sometimes a minor course correction is all that is necessary. Sometimes, major surgery is required.  As I boarded the plane for Mexico on Sunday, February 1, I  wasn’t really sure what treatment was in store.  Did I need an attitude adjustment or was it going to be major surgery?  I had no idea.  I just knew I had to go.

By the time I arrived at my rental in downtown in San Miguel, without knowing where anything was, how to purchase necessities like food and - right away - a bottle of wine, I was close to panic.   What was I thinking?  What was I doing here?  How would I manage? 

To my rescue came my Yoga training.  The only thing to do was breathe, take it moment by moment and be open to the experience, wherever it may lead.  By the next morning, as I walked through the winding streets, encountering warm and friendly faces, sunshine and bougainvillea, I began to suspect I was headed toward a revelation.

In no time at all, I began to make new friends, find my way around town (yes, there was food and wine!), go to school and learn a lot more Spanish.  I started to feel lighter, younger, different.  I realized I was smiling a lot.  I was no longer the sad, lost woman that had boarded the plane in Boston. 

I was beginning to write myself a new story, even though I had become pretty attached to my old one – my personal “movie” that  I, my friends and family had created together. In reality, when I looked in the eyes of  all the familiar people in my life– my cast members – I saw what they saw – the character in the story that I had created.  It defined me. 

But, now I had given myself the opportunity, to pull myself  out of that movie.  I had set myself down somewhere else, where everyone I met was new and looked at ME, not my story, not my history.  In the mirror of their eyes, I began to see myself anew.   I began to see possibility.  I realized I had a choice: ‘I don’t have to be sad.  I don’t have to be lost.  I can write a new movie where I am the heroine.  I can make peace with the past and close those old doors that keep creaking open. It can be a new day!’

The revelation had begun and I had to write about it.

I set up a website to chronicle my trip – observations, ideas and images of this singular event in my life.  I also hoped that sharing all this with the ‘folks back home’ would keep open the lines of communication and help to alleviate any homesickness I might feel.  It never occurred to me that sharing what was happening for me would actually make a difference to anyone else.   But, as it turned out, I was contacted by many women who followed my journey, telling me that I was an inspiration to them.  Me - an inspiration?   Well, sure - if I could find a new purpose, new hope, a new “movie”, then they might be able to do that too!   It was pretty exciting knowing that my experiences were blowing some fresh air in others’ lives!

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At this time of crisis in my own life, I chose to drag my tired self to a foreign country hoping to shed old skin, and a narrative that just wasn’t working anymore.  But, really, this work of re-writing your own story can be done anywhere, any time you choose.  It can begin with the smallest decision, a change of mind.  A change of heart.  An opening of your eyes.   Taking a risk that feels strange and scary.  

I make new friends easily.

Be brave.   Dare to be ‘not the same’.    You will see yourself anew, reflected back in even the most familiar pair of eyes.

Who knows?   You may become an inspiration!

In January, I knew none of these people!

Our Little Harbor Town on the South Shore...

 

After selling our enormous Victorian in Marshfield Hills, Massachusetts, we made the big move across the North River Bridge, a couple of miles away to a tiny house right off the main drag of Scituate Harbor.  It was really my idea.

Maybe it’s a nod to my City Girl Self – the one who would leave her apartment on the Upper West Side on a Saturday morning and spend the day roaming Manhattan, perhaps stopping to take a nap on the Great Lawn in Central Park.  Everything right under my nose! I loved it.

Harbor life is kind of like that – on a fractional scale.  During our summers, Boo and I walk down to the waterfront every afternoon to watch the fishing boats come in and load their catch onto the market trucks.  There is something so fundamental about it.  The easy comradery of the fishermen, washing down their decks, laughing or complaining depending upon the success of the day.

We don’t have to leave the Village very often, if we don’t want to.  There's a well stocked hardware store, TWO nail salons, spas, an acupuncterist, chiropractor, dentist, dog boutique, gourmet restauarants, great Chinese takeout, pizza and sub shops, ice cream for late night cravings, as well as Mullaney’s Fish Market – they do have the freshest fish (and why not?).  There’s even a multi-screen, state of the art movie theatre.  Art galleries, toy store, gift shops, music store, dance studio….  honestly!  All in less than a mile stretch.  And, of course, there’s the beach only ½ mile away.   Oh yes, and three liquor stores, plus a grocery store that sells beer and wine.  We don’t want to take the chance of running dry, now do we?

And just to keep an eye on things, St. Mary’s Church, on the corner as you enter town, has Mass on Saturday nights and Sunday mornings.   The Methodist Church makes its presence known every day of the week, though– at 9:00 AM, 12:00 PM and 5:00 PM, as the carillon rings out Christian hymns that can be heard throughout the Village.   And, to make sure you know they have a sense of humor, it’s usually Christmas Carols – O Come All Ye Faithful, Hark the Herald Angels Sing – and occasionally Amazing Grace or Jesus Christ is Risen Today.  

The Irish Riviera.  That’s the nickname for this little gem, tucked along the harbor on the Coastline running from Boston to Cape Cod.   It’s the place the TV stations send their reporters to cover nor’easters and hurricanes when they find their way to the Boston area.  You’ll see them out on the jetty, or by the Lighthouse, yelling into their microphones while the wind, rain, snow, sleet, and surf just beat the hell out of them.  But, in the Summer – ah.  It’s all about the ocean breezes, the sailboats' halyards clanging on their moorings, having lunch at the Mill Wharf, looking out at the sparkling sea.   One tends to forget winter – for a while.  

Star of the Day

  

Star of the Day

from  a collection of short stories "My Life at the Marshfield Hills General Store"
by Sherry Campbell Bechtold

Years from now, the little General Store in the center of our village will still be there.  Some well intended soul will be stocking the candy corner and making recommendations on what wine to buy.  Every morning, a Charlie will arrive early and buy a lottery ticket, a cup of coffee and maybe a muffin.  Preoccupied young men will leave their cars running while they dash in and pay for a newspaper.  Kids will get off the school bus and pile into the store with way too much energy.  Lively white haired widows will look for greeting cards.  Young moms will bring in their toddlers to buy a pop.

Occasionally, maybe on a holiday weekend, folks will stop in and the owner won’t recognize them.  They don’t live in the neighborhood, but they ‘used to’.  They will walk around, smile and say “wow, I haven’t been here since I was a kid.  I used to buy candy here – right in this corner, just like this”.  They’ll ask the owner how long he or she has owned the store, and then they’ll talk about the way it was – years ago. 

“There was this woman who used to own the store.  Her name was Sherry.   She was nice, and she didn’t seem to mind all us kids.  I remember she made me ‘do the math’ whenever I bought something.  She would say “if you can’t add it up, you can’t buy it”.  I guess it really bugged her that kids in those days couldn’t add in their heads!  And, if you took out money from your pocket – or your shoe – and it was all crumpled up, she’d hand it back to you and make you flatten it out, nice and smooth, and hand it back to her.  She was funny that way.  But, you know, the thing I remember most about her was her dog…..”

Her dog.  That lovely pale Golden Retriever, appropriately named Star.   She was there when Sherry was there.  If you saw Star, lying on the front porch or across the front door (so everyone coming in had to step over her), you knew Sherry was behind the counter.  They were a team.  Star’s job was to be wonderful….the object of love and adoration.  She was there for every toddler who wanted to bury his face in her abundant fur.  She was there to offer solace to every tired guy at the end of a long day at work.  She was there to remind everyone who was drawn into her sphere of influence that unconditional love isn’t just a phrase and that oh, well, I guess life can’t be all that bad. 

 There truly was something special about this dog.  Before becoming a permanent fixture at the store, Star was a visiting dog at a local nursing home.  Weaving her magic web, she cast a spell of comfort and warmth among the lonely residents, occasionally performing a tiny miracle like inspiring a mute stroke victim to speak his first words in months.  “What a beautiful dog!” he said, stroking her silky ears.

“Star of the Day, who will it be?”, Ray Amorosi sang to her whenever he walked through the door to find her holding court.   She was always the Star of the Day. 

It was late fall in 2008, just before Sherry sold the store.  Star was diagnosed with brain tumors and began to fail.  Less than a year, the vet said.  Unsteady and sometimes more than a little wobbly, Star came to the store every day with Sherry.  She would hear the keys as Sherry picked them up from the kitchen counter, and she’d wake up from her nap, slowly getting to her feet, goin to the door prepared to walk across the street – like very other day.  Once at the store, she assumed her place – blocking traffic – and went back to sleep, stirring only for a familiar touch.

When, on one November afternoon, there was a sign on the front door of the store “closed temporarily”, there were some who intuitively knew what had happened.  Beloved Star had died, at home, lying in the sun, with Sherry holding her and stroking her face. 

It’s probably best that, a very short time after, Sherry turned over the store to new owners.  Being there without Star was just too painful.  Though, she was not the only one who was heartbroken – even grown men broke down in tears when they came in expecting to see the ever present Star.  It would never be the same without her.  It was the end of an era.

“I guess everyone thinks that their childhood was special and that nothing could ever be like that again.  But, you know, I think that being a kid here, at that time, coming to the store every day.  Sherry scolding me for not knowing how to add up my money – because she really cared; you know?  And that dog.  Everyone loved her dog.  And everyone loved her loving her dog.  It was pretty special.”

The Lucky Ones

Last night, we attended an event at the Punta Gorda Isles Yacht Club - we're not members, but occasionally there is something special hosted there and we go.  This particular event was the "farewell" to our beloved Maestro of the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra - T. Francis Wada.  His last season as conductor has just come to a close and there seems to be no end to the love and gratitude our community has for this extraordinary person!

We were not here in Punta Gorda (heck, we had not even heard of Punta Gorda!) before Maestro Wada took the helm of the CSO.  During our first winter, looking around at things to do, we discovered that 10 minutes from our house was a concert hall where a Symphony performed.  I admit I had my doubts.  Having lived in New York City and Boston, I proudly consider myself a music snob.  So, with my nose sufficiently in the air, I went to hear this so-called Symphony Orchestra. (sniff).  I mean, how good could it possibly be?

Quite good, as it turned out.  And, that little concert hall (affectionately known as CPAC) proved to be as well designed as any of its size in any major city!  Who knew?  Well, now I did!  So, it came to pass that we have been season subscribers since.  And as the years have flown, our Charlotte Symphony Orchestra continues to grow and evolve, playing to sold out audiences who absolutely love them.  Maestro Wada has had everything to do with that.  His musicianship and creativity are, of course, exemplary.  But what has worked the magic is his SELF.  His loving, charming, funny, delightful, completely endearing SELF.  It may sound a little trite to say "everyone loves him", but we all honestly do.

Last night was another sold out house - how could it not be?  True to Wada's mission, there was entertainment and style, and unabashed energy for fund raising.  An endowment now in place, in Maestro Wada's name, funding is in full swing and our dearest leader is more than happy to bend a knee - if that's what it takes - to keep his Orchestra going and growing.  How can anyone say 'no' to him?  Well, they can't.


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Sitting at the beautifully appointed table in the dining room of the Yacht Club, looking out at another stunning sunset, palms, the boats, the canals, being here to honor this man and this music,  I had a mystical moment of  'look where I get to live!'.  How lucky can anyone get?  


 As the evening ended, Al Holland - yes, THE Al Holland of the Platters (another fine, gifted human happily caught in Wada's net) sat down at the piano to sing the celebration to a close.  As I walked down the hall to leave, and heard him croon "Only You......"  and I couldn't stop myself from singing along 'can make this world seem right...".  When I got to the front door, there were a few others waiting for their rides and they were also singing, so we finished the song together, smiling at each other, enjoying our flashback.  Our music!  That was our time!  One of the ladies turned to me and said "We were so lucky".  

Yes.  We were.  We still are.