Here's my little athletic child leaping around like a monkey and making friends who are far more agile than I. No doubt he got this from dad.
AFTERMATH /
Hurricane Sandy has settled an oddly dichotomous atmosphere over New York City. The G and L trains are finally running. Electricity is back for the vast majority and the only lingering daily irritant for many is gas rationing, which is on the way out. For most of us life is more or less back to normal.
For pockets of our neighbors - literally within walking distance - life as they knew it is over. They are left to dig through the avalanche of sand and debris that has swallowed everything. Beneath it anything that is left has been ruined, irrefutably, by the corrosive alkaline of salt water.
New Yorkers have been out in droves trying to help out and it is one of the things I love most about this city. I remember this from 9/11, the feeling that we are a tight knit family of 8 million. It is a vast intimacy. Last week I went with my friend Jordan to Red Hook. Red Hook is below the water table. My friends who used to live in a basement apartment there had a sump pump built in to their living room floor to use during heavy rains so you can imagine what a wall of water at high tide and a full moon did here. There was still no electricity, heat or hot water in the vast complexes of low income housing there.
We were sent to a donations center that had just opened up to see how we could help. The coordinator, Rachel, handed me $80 in cash and asked me to go buy as many feminine hygiene products and toothbrushes as possible. She didn't even know my name or where I came from and she handed me $80, which should give you a sense of the desperate need for help out there. We hit up CVS where the manager painstakingly helped me exploit every coupon and discount to maximize our purchases. Jordan hit up her dentist for a bounty of toothbrushes. Then we spent the remainder of the day wading through vast piles of unorganized donations - coats, shoes, and a baffling amount of Disney princess dresses. I wound up in charge of distributing pet food. Cat or dog? Wet food or dry? I learned that more people in Red Hook have cats than dogs and 3 people in a row told me they had Shih Tzus.
This weekend I went with Libby, Amy, and Aggie to Coney Island, one of the hardest hit areas of Brooklyn, outfitted in our Wellies. Per usual I was over prepared and we got several "are they having a sale on shovels?" snarky comments on the F train. 500 people turned out to help the parks department clean up the boardwalk and the beach.
The beach is covered in a tangle of sea grasses, garbage and the wreckage of building parts torn apart by the hurricane. Our job was to pull the garbage out of the organic materials.
I started to understand the magnitude of the clean up - extracting bottle caps, plastic bottles, toys, and an alarming number of tampon applicators from masses of shells and seaweed stretching for miles and miles along the beach in both directions. Amongst the trash were personal belongings, the unwitting orphans of Sandy.
It was back breaking work and to be honest, not terribly gratifying. When you looked down the beach after two hours it looked fairly the same. Looking at all the other people out there doing the same tedious work was extremely inspiring, however.
We worked a bit on the boardwalk too. The sand has hardened into a muddy crust onto everything it came in contact with, which is everything. It has to be painstakingly scrubbed off the boardwalk and all the stonework with huge brooms and then scooped into wheelbarrows and returned to the beachfront. A staggeringly slow process. We also saw a few signs of the boardwalk as it was - mostly extremely fit people exercising - which was a bit surreal.
Beyond the boardwalk there are just mountains and mountains of sand everywhere. Entire parks and side streets have been engulfed.
To give you some idea of how far reaching the water was, this is the back side of a huge hospital. It's not even facing the water and is an entire block away from the boardwalk. You can see the splatter of sand and water went up two or three stories.
One of the other volunteers I started talking with, a local woman, told me to go to Sea Gate, a private community at the west end of Coney Island, which, unlike the boardwalk area has nothing between it and the sea. We walked down, not really sure what we would do when we got there.
Although there is almost nothing left that is salvageable, you can get a sense of the sort of place it is immediately; an unassuming sanctuary from the crowds and chaos of the rest of Coney Island. It was charming without being too twee or precious. The first thing you see upon entering is the local church which was handing out food and supplies. The Red Cross, FEMA, Con Ed, the Fire Department, etc were all are there as well.
We stood on a street corner in limbo, feeling a bit like gawkers but not really wanting to leave just because we were uncomfortable. At that moment a woman named Jennifer walked by and said "Are you volunteers? I have something for you to do" and took us to her neighbor. She said they had no power, heat, or gas, and no chance of getting them anytime soon. The damage to the equipment from the salt water meant everything would likely need to be completely replaced for almost every house, if there was a house left at all.
Her neighbor, Tom, took one look at us and said ,"What is this, the Ladies Basement Cleaning Crew?" Then he said "No, I'm fine I've got it all covered". I think it was hard for a grown man to even think of accepting help from us, but his neighbor, Patrick, who was also helping out, seized on the opportunity to put us to work in Tom's garden.
Tom's house is stunning, a rare Brooklyn gem. It was built in the early 1900s and clearly had an incredible garden before Sandy got to it.
The garden was a knotted nest of fences entangled with vines and garbage. Amongst this we found the neighbors most beloved, personal items. I think it is only possible to understand the scale of the loss in the small things. I can't really get my head around having only half a house left, but looking at someone's wedding photo crumpled and caked in mud was painful enough.
I remember learning with Lula how it important it is to let people help you. I realized it was every bit as healing to them as it was to me. Allowing people in to my home, often strangers, fostered a trust in people's inherent goodness that I still believe in. Although I have the natural temperament of a cynic, I really do think we all bring out the best in each other in such situations.
When we finally left things actually did look a bit better in the garden. Tom made our day by asking if we were all of legal drinking age so he could offer us a glass of wine!
Before we headed back Patrick took us to his house and gave us a tour of his "man cave", an outdoor rec room of sorts that he fashioned together from various bits of furniture and salvaged wood. He and Tom both insisted that we come back to visit next summer, which I think would be wonderful to do. Our brief time there was just about three of the most gratifying hours I've had.
For pockets of our neighbors - literally within walking distance - life as they knew it is over. They are left to dig through the avalanche of sand and debris that has swallowed everything. Beneath it anything that is left has been ruined, irrefutably, by the corrosive alkaline of salt water.
New Yorkers have been out in droves trying to help out and it is one of the things I love most about this city. I remember this from 9/11, the feeling that we are a tight knit family of 8 million. It is a vast intimacy. Last week I went with my friend Jordan to Red Hook. Red Hook is below the water table. My friends who used to live in a basement apartment there had a sump pump built in to their living room floor to use during heavy rains so you can imagine what a wall of water at high tide and a full moon did here. There was still no electricity, heat or hot water in the vast complexes of low income housing there.
We were sent to a donations center that had just opened up to see how we could help. The coordinator, Rachel, handed me $80 in cash and asked me to go buy as many feminine hygiene products and toothbrushes as possible. She didn't even know my name or where I came from and she handed me $80, which should give you a sense of the desperate need for help out there. We hit up CVS where the manager painstakingly helped me exploit every coupon and discount to maximize our purchases. Jordan hit up her dentist for a bounty of toothbrushes. Then we spent the remainder of the day wading through vast piles of unorganized donations - coats, shoes, and a baffling amount of Disney princess dresses. I wound up in charge of distributing pet food. Cat or dog? Wet food or dry? I learned that more people in Red Hook have cats than dogs and 3 people in a row told me they had Shih Tzus.
This weekend I went with Libby, Amy, and Aggie to Coney Island, one of the hardest hit areas of Brooklyn, outfitted in our Wellies. Per usual I was over prepared and we got several "are they having a sale on shovels?" snarky comments on the F train. 500 people turned out to help the parks department clean up the boardwalk and the beach.
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| Con Ed workers were everywhere |
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| The legendary Shore Theater's sign was badly damaged |
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| Parks Dept brooms at the ready. Roan would have loved it |
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| Amy, Libby, Aggie, and I waiting for our assignment |
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| Doe Fund workers and the former Child's Restaurant |
The beach is covered in a tangle of sea grasses, garbage and the wreckage of building parts torn apart by the hurricane. Our job was to pull the garbage out of the organic materials.
I started to understand the magnitude of the clean up - extracting bottle caps, plastic bottles, toys, and an alarming number of tampon applicators from masses of shells and seaweed stretching for miles and miles along the beach in both directions. Amongst the trash were personal belongings, the unwitting orphans of Sandy.
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| Doggie |
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| If you know Amy you know exactly why she picked this up |
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| Wayward Cactus |
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| The woman who found this was already trying to track down this man to return it to him |
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| There were curious collections of shells all over the beach. I've never seen so many large shells together here before. |
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| Nature's will out |
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| First and only time I will probably ever hold a key to a Mercedes |
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| Much of the big stuff was gone except this |
It was back breaking work and to be honest, not terribly gratifying. When you looked down the beach after two hours it looked fairly the same. Looking at all the other people out there doing the same tedious work was extremely inspiring, however.
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| Hundreds of people volunteered |
 |
We worked a bit on the boardwalk too. The sand has hardened into a muddy crust onto everything it came in contact with, which is everything. It has to be painstakingly scrubbed off the boardwalk and all the stonework with huge brooms and then scooped into wheelbarrows and returned to the beachfront. A staggeringly slow process. We also saw a few signs of the boardwalk as it was - mostly extremely fit people exercising - which was a bit surreal.
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| Seriously, how is this guy doing this? He stayed like that for ages. |
Beyond the boardwalk there are just mountains and mountains of sand everywhere. Entire parks and side streets have been engulfed.
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| The sand is about 3 or 4 feet deep |
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| Many of the boardwalk entrances were blocked |
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| Stairways blocked too |
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| Stray cats were everywhere |
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| Swallowed |
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| Holding area for debris |
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| Playground |
To give you some idea of how far reaching the water was, this is the back side of a huge hospital. It's not even facing the water and is an entire block away from the boardwalk. You can see the splatter of sand and water went up two or three stories.
One of the other volunteers I started talking with, a local woman, told me to go to Sea Gate, a private community at the west end of Coney Island, which, unlike the boardwalk area has nothing between it and the sea. We walked down, not really sure what we would do when we got there.
Although there is almost nothing left that is salvageable, you can get a sense of the sort of place it is immediately; an unassuming sanctuary from the crowds and chaos of the rest of Coney Island. It was charming without being too twee or precious. The first thing you see upon entering is the local church which was handing out food and supplies. The Red Cross, FEMA, Con Ed, the Fire Department, etc were all are there as well.
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| There used to be a sidewalk |
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| Apparently there was a teenage boy in this house that was evacuated about an hour before it collapsed |
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| The beachfront houses didn't stand a chance |
We stood on a street corner in limbo, feeling a bit like gawkers but not really wanting to leave just because we were uncomfortable. At that moment a woman named Jennifer walked by and said "Are you volunteers? I have something for you to do" and took us to her neighbor. She said they had no power, heat, or gas, and no chance of getting them anytime soon. The damage to the equipment from the salt water meant everything would likely need to be completely replaced for almost every house, if there was a house left at all.
Her neighbor, Tom, took one look at us and said ,"What is this, the Ladies Basement Cleaning Crew?" Then he said "No, I'm fine I've got it all covered". I think it was hard for a grown man to even think of accepting help from us, but his neighbor, Patrick, who was also helping out, seized on the opportunity to put us to work in Tom's garden.
Tom's house is stunning, a rare Brooklyn gem. It was built in the early 1900s and clearly had an incredible garden before Sandy got to it.
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| Tom's house |
 |
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| Libby digs in |
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| The wraparound porch was turned in to a lumber yard by Sandy |
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| One truly stubborn tomato survived the storm. Amazing! |
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| Tom and his plum tree |
I remember learning with Lula how it important it is to let people help you. I realized it was every bit as healing to them as it was to me. Allowing people in to my home, often strangers, fostered a trust in people's inherent goodness that I still believe in. Although I have the natural temperament of a cynic, I really do think we all bring out the best in each other in such situations.
When we finally left things actually did look a bit better in the garden. Tom made our day by asking if we were all of legal drinking age so he could offer us a glass of wine!
Before we headed back Patrick took us to his house and gave us a tour of his "man cave", an outdoor rec room of sorts that he fashioned together from various bits of furniture and salvaged wood. He and Tom both insisted that we come back to visit next summer, which I think would be wonderful to do. Our brief time there was just about three of the most gratifying hours I've had.
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| Patrick's house |
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| The man cave. He plans to rebuild |
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| Tricycle |
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| Something that was saved |
CATS /
Of late, Roan has been a beast. A yelling, howling, screaming, demanding two foot tall dictator goose-stepping his way around the apartment and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Sam and I are both totally fried. This phase too, I have been told by everyone who has survived two with their own children, shall pass.
Sam sent me this video of Roan last night. I think Roan is about 15 or 16 months old. It reminded me of how much he has changed in such a short time. I think these cats have the right idea - just ignore it and maybe have a snack.
Sam sent me this video of Roan last night. I think Roan is about 15 or 16 months old. It reminded me of how much he has changed in such a short time. I think these cats have the right idea - just ignore it and maybe have a snack.
HALLOWEEN! /
Sam, Roan, my mom, and I went to Kensington, a neighborhood in Brooklyn just past Prospect Park, to go trick-or-treating with my friend Matt, his wife Holly, their girls Annie and Maisie, and the wonderful Delores (whom you may remember from a past post).
I used to go to Matt's house in White Plains every year for Halloween. Back in the 70's and 80's even the Upper East side wasn't really safe enough for going door to door at night to ask for candy. Also, I was the only kid in my building (rent controlled building = lots of old people). One year we stayed in the city for Halloween for some reason. My mom preemptively went to all of our neighbors and gave them candy to give to me when I knocked on the door, but she gave everyone the same thing. I remember coming back despondent because I got nothing but Hershey's Kisses. Oh, the life of a city kid!
Anyhow, off we set - Annie as a medieval princess, Maisie as Hermione from Harry Potter, and Roan as mad Max from Where the Wild Things Are.
Roan did not want to put his costume on until he saw Annie and Maisie all dressed up. I think he figured out pretty quickly how much attention and, ahem, candy he was going to get.
It was a great trick-or-treating neighborhood, super friendly and with a healthy dose of over-the-top houses. We got stopped about once a block by people taking Roan's picture. At one point another kid dressed as a zebra walked right up and climbed into the boat with him, which was hysterical.
When we got back to Matt and Holly's house the girls immediately tallied up their bounty and began trading - Kit Kats for Milky Ways, 2 Tootsie Rolls for a Snickers, etc, which is exactly what Matt and I used to do as kids.
I used to go to Matt's house in White Plains every year for Halloween. Back in the 70's and 80's even the Upper East side wasn't really safe enough for going door to door at night to ask for candy. Also, I was the only kid in my building (rent controlled building = lots of old people). One year we stayed in the city for Halloween for some reason. My mom preemptively went to all of our neighbors and gave them candy to give to me when I knocked on the door, but she gave everyone the same thing. I remember coming back despondent because I got nothing but Hershey's Kisses. Oh, the life of a city kid!
Anyhow, off we set - Annie as a medieval princess, Maisie as Hermione from Harry Potter, and Roan as mad Max from Where the Wild Things Are.
Roan did not want to put his costume on until he saw Annie and Maisie all dressed up. I think he figured out pretty quickly how much attention and, ahem, candy he was going to get.
It was a great trick-or-treating neighborhood, super friendly and with a healthy dose of over-the-top houses. We got stopped about once a block by people taking Roan's picture. At one point another kid dressed as a zebra walked right up and climbed into the boat with him, which was hysterical.
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| Creepy |
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| Creepier |
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| Creepiest!!! |
When we got back to Matt and Holly's house the girls immediately tallied up their bounty and began trading - Kit Kats for Milky Ways, 2 Tootsie Rolls for a Snickers, etc, which is exactly what Matt and I used to do as kids.
ENTER SANDY /
The most daunting prospect, by far, of Hurricane Sandy was how to keep Roan from going bonkers with cabin fever. He needs to be run like a racehorse, so regardless of weather we are usually outside with Roan for 3-5 hours a day. Roan and I took Gracie on a quick walk Monday morning but we scampered home when we heard the tree branches cracking overhead. Outdoors was definitely out, so I armed myself with indoor projects galore.
First, we moved all the furniture aside and did some painting.
Our neighbor Claire was a life saver. She came down and kept him entertained for hours. They created a little art gallery.
To wash off all the paint we gave Roan a bath. I had a bunch of glowsticks from another project that we threw in the tub and admired in the dark. Trippy!
None of this, however, was really burning off Roan's considerable steam so we employed a favorite game from the Coop School: FREEZE DANCE!
Freeze Dance is awesome and Roan loves it, although he's definitely better at the dancing than the freezing.
We managed to wear him out enough for a nap. Amazing! So we decided to make marshmallows. Messy, but fun.
First, we moved all the furniture aside and did some painting.
Our neighbor Claire was a life saver. She came down and kept him entertained for hours. They created a little art gallery.
To wash off all the paint we gave Roan a bath. I had a bunch of glowsticks from another project that we threw in the tub and admired in the dark. Trippy!
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| Roan is in there somewhere |
None of this, however, was really burning off Roan's considerable steam so we employed a favorite game from the Coop School: FREEZE DANCE!
Freeze Dance is awesome and Roan loves it, although he's definitely better at the dancing than the freezing.
We managed to wear him out enough for a nap. Amazing! So we decided to make marshmallows. Messy, but fun.
SAFE AND SOUND /
Hurricane Sandy has most certainly made it's mark on New York. We are extremely lucky that our neighborhood remained largely unscathed.
I thought so much about how much more stressful and frightening this sort of thing is when you have a medically fragile or special needs child. All the people and equipment that help to keep them (and you) stable is suddenly in jeopardy. I remember this from hurricane Irene last year.
Several hospitals in NYC lost power and dozens of NICU babies and others had to be transported to other hospitals. While we were all hunkered down in our houses drinking tea and listening to the wind doctors, nurses, and first responders were all out there putting themselves at extraordinary risk with the likelihood that they may not make it home to their own loved ones for days.
I feel so lucky that we live in a place where infrastructure is in place to allow people to care for one another when they are most in need. I feel so lucky that so many people are brave and diligent enough to make these risky tasks their jobs. THANK YOU!
I thought so much about how much more stressful and frightening this sort of thing is when you have a medically fragile or special needs child. All the people and equipment that help to keep them (and you) stable is suddenly in jeopardy. I remember this from hurricane Irene last year.
Several hospitals in NYC lost power and dozens of NICU babies and others had to be transported to other hospitals. While we were all hunkered down in our houses drinking tea and listening to the wind doctors, nurses, and first responders were all out there putting themselves at extraordinary risk with the likelihood that they may not make it home to their own loved ones for days.
I feel so lucky that we live in a place where infrastructure is in place to allow people to care for one another when they are most in need. I feel so lucky that so many people are brave and diligent enough to make these risky tasks their jobs. THANK YOU!
WILD THINGS /
I know it's not even Halloween yet, but as Hurricane Sandy bears down on us here in NYC it looks like Wednesday's tick or treating is in jeopardy. Therefore, I thought I might as well do the costume reveal early. And... let everyone know that Roan and Gracie won FIRST PRIZE at the Annual Fort Greene Pupkin Halloween Dog Costume Contest!!!!!! They were an ensemble of characters from the beloved Maurice Sendak book Where the Wild Things Are.
I have tortured Gracie into ridiculous costumes many times before but she's never been top banana. Roan has also been a surprisingly good sport about wearing his costume. Costume day at the Coop School was Friday (cute overload, btw) and they had a talent show with all the kids in their finery. I told his teachers I would pay anyone $50 who could get him to wear his hat, that's how sure I was that he wouldn't wear it. To my shock he actually wore it the whole time.
Gracie didn't love wearing the costume (it was almost 70º here) but she seemed to enjoy all the attention and, of course, the free treats.
I have tortured Gracie into ridiculous costumes many times before but she's never been top banana. Roan has also been a surprisingly good sport about wearing his costume. Costume day at the Coop School was Friday (cute overload, btw) and they had a talent show with all the kids in their finery. I told his teachers I would pay anyone $50 who could get him to wear his hat, that's how sure I was that he wouldn't wear it. To my shock he actually wore it the whole time.
At the Pupkin Roan was acting exactly in character, causing "mischief of one kind and another". I was so desperate to get him to sit in the boat with his hat on that I actually resorted to giving him a piece of candy (wrapped) that he found on the ground just to placate him. I hope this isn't the first step into a life out of Toddlers and Tiaras.
ISLAND ROAN /
While in Scotland this summer we made a pilgrimage to Island nan Roan, which is, of course, Roan's namesake. The island is directly across from the croft, the only barrier between the wee house and the relentless winds of the North Sea. It's about a mile away, about 700 acres, and currently inhabited by a ratty band of feral sheep.
The history of the island is incredible and mostly filled with unbelievably tough and pious people who fished, tended sheep and hunted seal (Roan means "seal" in gaelic) under fairly brutal conditions. You can read much more about the island and see photos here. My favorite little nugget of history is this:
By the beginning of the nineteenth century the only remaining individual
was a dwarf, known as Pipeir an Eilean. He had formerly been a piper in
the Duke’s regiment. He had two daughters, one of small stature,
Betsey, married, Angus Macdonald, the tallest and strongest man in Ceann
Tuath. They were joined by five other families to settle on the island
and raise their families.
Seriously, you can't make this stuff up.
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| Island Roan in the distanc |
To get there Sam's dad took us across in his boat and then went off fishing while we scrambled up the rock face. This is also how they used to get sheep from the mainland to the island. A rowboat full of sheep. No thank you.
The settlements are now collapsing skeletons filled with about 3 feet of sheep shit. You can see more photos of the houses etc on my website . It's sort of heartbreaking because clearly people worked so hard to build them and care for them once.
We walked around for a while. The wind never ever stops. There isn't a single tree. It's amazing how enchanting such a desolate place can be. Here's Roan trying to stick a carrot up his nose.
So we perched him on the island's highest point.
I love that Roan has his very own island. He will always have this place and it will be here for him long after we are gone.
BIG BLUE /
Just found this going through old emails. Photo courtesy of Sam.
ON YOUR MARK /
Recently the little man who wanted to do nothing but move has been sitting still long enough to do some drawing. Also he's gone from making big frenetic marks to tiny compact scribbles. I wonder if this has to do with his being in school now.
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| Roan Murray September 2012 |
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| Roan Murray October 2012 |
STORM KING /
A great day trip from NYC, barring traffic catastrophies, is Storm King, a 500 acre sculpture park about 2 hours drive from Brooklyn. We took Roan on a spontaneous mission there last weekend to meet up with Ben (Sam's other half at work) and Alli (Ben's other half at home) and their kids Charles and Cecily. It was a little cold and rainy but nothing's better to air out the lungs and clear the head than wandering around in the country among massive works of art.
The only annoying thing was that several times a slightly jittery employee would run up and tell us that the kids weren't allowed to touch this or that sculpture (some were fine to climb all over, but there was no signage to indicate thusly). It seemed a little precious for massive works that were subjected to the elements 365 days a year, but whatever. We stuck to the kid friendly work and wandered the hills. Overall, it was a lovely country day.
The only annoying thing was that several times a slightly jittery employee would run up and tell us that the kids weren't allowed to touch this or that sculpture (some were fine to climb all over, but there was no signage to indicate thusly). It seemed a little precious for massive works that were subjected to the elements 365 days a year, but whatever. We stuck to the kid friendly work and wandered the hills. Overall, it was a lovely country day.
GOTS ME A NEW TOOTHBRUSH /
I'm not normally a huge fan of the obsession in children's toys with flashing lights and ear splitting noises. However, on Sam's recent trip to the dentist she gave him this snazzy and hopefully non-seizure inducing toothbrush for Roan. It's shaped like a crayon and flashes for the length of one toothbrushing session.
PIXIE /
Continuing the epic multi-blog blog on our trip to Scotland, yet another dream fulfilled for Roan was to ride a pony. He is obsessed with horses - drawing them, looking at pictures, dreaming about them, etc - and is in awe of real ones when we meet them.
There is are stables near Torrisdale where you can take rides out on the dunes and they have a pony named Pixie who takes out the beginners.
The owners were absurdly nice and saddled Pixie up and fitted Roan with his very own riding hat and took him for a lap around the grounds. He was such a natural, so comfortable, not at all afraid and you would think that the baby Jesus himself was riding Pixie for the fuss that we were all making over him.
Here's all the fussing
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| Meeting the neighbors |
There is are stables near Torrisdale where you can take rides out on the dunes and they have a pony named Pixie who takes out the beginners.
The owners were absurdly nice and saddled Pixie up and fitted Roan with his very own riding hat and took him for a lap around the grounds. He was such a natural, so comfortable, not at all afraid and you would think that the baby Jesus himself was riding Pixie for the fuss that we were all making over him.
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| Torrisdale Stables |
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| Aunt Cicely and Roan |
Here's all the fussing
TWO THINGS.... /
1. I think I need some new projects
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| Before OCD |
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| After OCD |
2. I think I need to get out of the house more often
LOCAVORES /
An essential part of being at the croft is how each day revolves around food. You can easily spend the most of the day finding, catching, gutting, and cooking your supper. There is really nothing quite like eating a fish that was swimming in the ocean minutes before it was cooked.
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| Getting the rods and lines ready |
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| Threading hooks |
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| Hooks |
On the ocean we go out two or three at a time, with Sam's dad as captain, in his boat the Lady Ann. The lines have six or seven hooks on a long line wrapped around a wooden spool. Fish are found entirely by intuition and a bit of luck. You unwind the line over the side and wait a few minutes (nothing like fly-fishing which I don't think I would have the patience for). A tug or two and you pull up a line with hopefully 2 or 3 flapping mackerel. At this point in the journey my city-girl tendencies take over and Sam has to smack the fish on the side of the boat.
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| A bucket o' mackerel |
Sometimes we will put out lobster pots, too, although this time we caught only crab that were too small to eat.
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| Back you go |
Once a season Neil will go to Badanloch to spend the day fishing for wild brown trout. He and Sam went a few years ago and an entire day sitting in the rain on a boat in the middle of the loch yielded one measly fish. This time Sam's sister Cicely went with him and they hit the jackpot (I'm sure this is not a comment on Sam's fishing skills, ahem). They were delicious.
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| Wild brown trout |
One afternoon we went on a walk to Slettel, a deserted settlement which sits near a rocky outcropping that is ripe with mussels. At low tide you stoop down and rip the mussels from the underside of the rocks. Roan's favorite part was, of course, throwing stones in the water.
Once home Sam cleaned the mussels, scraping the barnacles off the blue shells. He cooked them in butter, garlic, parsley, and a healthy glug of white wine. They are heavenly.
CRUISING /
I thought I'd interrupt the Scotland blog series with Roan's current adventures in Brooklyn (courtesy of Sam, who's following on a skateboard)
SURF'S UP /
The ideal water temperature for swimming in the ocean is between 70 and 78º Farenheit (21-24º Celcius). Hypothermia begins to set in around 50º F (10º C). On the North Coast of Scotland the water temperature in August at the height of summer hovers around 59º F (15º C) and it is still one of Sam's favorite places to swim.
To the locals this is no place for swimming. Until there was a pool built in Bettyhill about 15 years ago (which is fantastic, btw - it has a hot tub, a teensy sauna, and Wifi) fishermen would routinely drown in the frigid, fertile waters. Although surrounded and very much dominated by the sea, no one could stay in the water long enough to learn to swim.
Sam took Roan in for a Scottish christening of sorts. Will, Jam. Lorcan and Maeve all ran in too and spent a good half hour frolicking in the peaty, brown surf. Maeve, blue lipped and quivering like a leaf ran in circles around a naked Lorcan who etched primitive paintings in the sand with a stick. I only got as far as taking off my boots. Briefly.
NEIGHBOURS /
One of the best things about the Croft is the neighbors, Bella and Uisdean (pronounced, vaguely, "Hoostian"). Bella has lived up there, I believe, her whole life. She had six kids (including twins). Her husband, Willy John, who passed away about 15 years ago, was born on island Roan and she lives in a little whitewashed house with Uisdean, her son and a farm of cows, sheep, and chickens.
Bella is tiny, but she is tough and has a wicked sense of humor. She has no patience for fools or laziness. Every time we go to her house she stuffs us with biscuits, tea, and whiskey, even at 10am. It took me at least 5 years of going up there before I could understand a full sentence from her deep Scottish brogue. She is, really, my idol. She is the gold standard of the kind of woman I hope to be in my life; warm and welcoming, but no bullshit, always honest, and always with a sharp wit.
Uisdean is a prince. He is generally the guy who helps everyone and you don't even realize he's doing it. He looks after the Croft and he will light a fire to warm up the house before we even get there. This year, mysteriously, he showed up with a huge fresh salmon for us that had been caught that day and said "don't ask where I got it". He's a great storyteller, although again he's speaking something entirely other than English so it takes some getting used to. He has an impeccable memory for everyone who visits and he takes it on himself to make sure everyone feels welcome and taken care of.
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| Sheep and lambs at Bella and Uisdeans |
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| Bella |
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| Uisdean with Roan and Tide |
The animals are always a big part of visiting them. They have a new herding dog called Tide who Bella picked out herself. The last one was sweet but Uisdean had to throw stones for it to chase to get him to run and move the sheep. Tide took his job very seriously and herded everything and everyone, including us.
Another addition was Princess Neptune. One of Bella's daughters, Ellen, had adopted a lamb and fallen madly in love. She washed and walked and hand-fed Princess Neptune, but eventually had to bring her to Bella's farm after Neptune had trashed all of her furniture and eaten all the flowers in her yard.
I am always amazed at these sorts of bonds that I've found on the farms over there. Mostly the livestock are treated well but impersonally, as food with feet, but occasionally some little creature will tug at the heart strings of even the most practical of farmers and, boom, there's a lamb under the kitchen table or a piglet being cuddled like a baby. The cows are routinely named after visitors (there's a Caitlin after my sister, and a Cecelia). Apparently Bella is always incredibly sad when they have to send one of the cows to be slaughtered and she's been a farmer for, like, 70 years.
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| Tide and Princess Neptune |
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| Feeding a lamb |
Roan got to feed Princess Neptune, which I think he would have preferred for himself.
Tide couldn't understand why Princess Neptune was separated from the rest of the flock. And, probably, why she smelled like shampoo.
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| Wheelbarrow rides with Uisdean |
We were lucky enough to be there for the sheep shearing. Somehow in all my years of going to Scotland I have never seen one. I was like an overeager tourist at the zoo, snapping away with my camera, but no one seemed to care.
It's quite an operation. You have to get them all lined up in these pens and then they are sort of wrestled to the ground and sheared as they are rotated like a rotisserie chicken. Most of them seem to just zen out and resign themselves to the process.
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| The red mark is paint to help the farmers identify their flocks when they roam in the open fields |
Bella was SO not impressed with these guys. She thought they were too slow and disorganized.
By the way, there is am AMAZING documentary about sheep herding in Montana called
Sweet Grass. It is so fascinating and you will probably never complain about your job again once you've seen it.
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| Bella, having none of it |
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| This one managed to escape shearing |
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| Roan helped out. A little. |
In this photo Roan is seconds away from being taken out by a tup, an unneutered adolescent lamb. Sam lept in and grabbed him just before he was boxed across the field. That would have been a serious reality check for a Brooklyn boy.
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| Sam, Bella and Roan with Lorcan and Tide |
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| Everyone gets a rest and a cup of tea |
More than anything I was so glad that Roan was able to meet Bella and Uisdean and everyone else up there. We named Roan for this place in no small part because of the reverence we have for our neighbors up there. They don't just visit up north for a couple of weeks in the high sun of the summer. They are there walking the hills in a gale in the dark of winter. They keep the fires warm for all of us.
ISLAND NEAVE /
We took some of Lula with us to Scotland.
When we knew Lula was going to die we were faced with all these horribly practical decisions, and one of them was where she should be buried. It was too momentous a choice, one that seemed to require foresight and logic that neither of us, in a delirium of grief and sleep deprivation, possessed. She had never been more than a few feet from one of us for nearly her entire life, so it seemed best to have her cremated so we could keep her at home with us.
The beauty of cremation is that she can be in as many places as we want and still be with us. Her lovely face and fragile body were reduced to a box full of ashes. But for the fragments of bone, a tiny piece of femur, a shard of something else, that took my breath away to see - what is more intimate than to see your baby's very structure that you created?- the ashes are indistinguishable from any other charred remains. In separating her body into an infinity of grey particles she was emancipated her from all the pain and illness that tethered her to our house or a hospital for her entire life. Now she could go anywhere and everywhere all at once. So, we have begun to assemble a pilgrimage of places we want her to be and people we want her to be with.
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| Lula's ashes. I made the bag from leftover material from her baby quilt. |
First and foremost was Island Neave, Lula's middle name and closest neighbor to Island Roan. Sam arranged for Billy, a local fisherman, to take us there with Will, Jam, Lorcan and Maeve on a Friday morning. The weather had been gloomy and temperamental all week. Friday morning, as it happened, was perfect.
Billy took us the long way around Neave. It's a tiny, uninhabited island with sculptural outcroppings of rock that grow to meet luminous green hills.
There is no mooring or harbor or even a slip. Billy grabbed the side of the rocks and held on as we scrambled up with the kids. We walked over to the beach and scampered around for a while.
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| I don't know what these are but they were growing on the rocks right on the beach. Amazing that something so delicate can live there. |
We spent a while on the beach and then hiked up to the top of the island. As there are no sheep to gnaw away at the heather or otherwise erode the scenery the land is pristine. It is covered in tiny wildflowers and springy grass and yellow lichen. The view of the sea is endless.
We stood against the wind for a while and then had a whiskey toast to Lula, the adults anyway. Sam put Roan on his shoulders and we gave him the bag of ashes to scatter over the heather. He got some on Sam's head and enjoyed watching the ashes dissipate through the crisp air, totally unaware of the weight of the moment.
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| Another delicate creature living on Neave |
It was wonderful to have the four of them with us to celebrate Lula's return to Scotland. She had been to Scotland only once and in utero, when Lorcan was still a toddler and Maeve not even a twinkle and it feels like we have all lived a lifetime since then. Somehow I felt like they understood what this meant to us, that it was not a mourning or a burial, it was a liberation and a tribute to the lives our kids have given us.
Before we headed back to meet Billy and the boat Sam recited this poem:
In this world
love has no color-
yet how deeply
my body
is stained by yours.
- Izumi Shikibu
FIRST DAY /
Holy cow, today was Roan's first day of school. Time F L I E S.
As was expected, Roan didn't look back for a second. He dove right in.
His teachers are wonderful and full of amazing amounts of energy. The other kids are adorable and sweet. Look at their name tree! A microcosm of Brooklyn for sure.
When I went to pick him up at 3:30 he had no interest whatsoever in leaving. They said he was good, although later he admitted that he threw something inside and was told not to. He didn't nap. And they all said "wow, he's athletic". I hope by that they mean incredibly agile and strong, and not a hyper maniac.
Every day he is there he gets a "Today I..." sheet.
As was expected, Roan didn't look back for a second. He dove right in.
His teachers are wonderful and full of amazing amounts of energy. The other kids are adorable and sweet. Look at their name tree! A microcosm of Brooklyn for sure.
When I went to pick him up at 3:30 he had no interest whatsoever in leaving. They said he was good, although later he admitted that he threw something inside and was told not to. He didn't nap. And they all said "wow, he's athletic". I hope by that they mean incredibly agile and strong, and not a hyper maniac.
Every day he is there he gets a "Today I..." sheet.