Legacy through the Lens

The work of Danville photographer George Cahoon to be celebrated

By Sharon Lakey

Most people who are connected to Danville in one way or another will have run into George Cahoon's work. His photographs have appeared in Vermont Life, on a variety of local calendars and exhibited at many nearby craft shows. His iconic photo of Danville, shot from Diamond Hill, also graces the cove of Village in the hills, a history of Danville, Vermont. Subjects for him have run the gamut, but he says “for the most part, they are scenic.”

On January 17, an exhibition of his life's work behind the camera will be held at the Danville Historical House. “The opening of the exhibit will be held from 11:00-2:00,” said Mary Prior, President of the Danville Historical Society, “and will be up through Valentine's Day.” In the planning stages are a reception, multimedia presentation and photos lining the walls for close-up viewing. “Pieces will also be available for purchase,” said Mary, knowing that many of the photos will connect the viewer to precious and personal images from their past.

George's photography career began humbly with a need to record his surroundings. “My family was always artistic,” he says. And that got him into a little Kodak in the mid-fifties. From there he graduated to his first SLR (single lens reflex 35mm) where he much more impressed with the resulting images. “I traded that one in on my first Rebel Canon and started selling a few of those shots.” Fifty years later, he has accumulated 25,000+ images that are stored in two rooms, neatly stacked and labeled. Most of the images were recorded around Danville.

Wanting to get a sense of the work that will be on exhibit, Mary and I looked through some of the proposed images stacked on a table at the Danville Historical House. As we leafed through them (many of them of well-known local farms), we wondered at George's perspective. “Look here,” said Mary, holding up one of the old George Swett farm. “Where was he standing to get that shot?” And it was difficult to determine, because it was not pictured from the usual angle one would have experienced from the road. As we continued through the stack, we noticed that all of the shots were like this. George had captured the farms as they lay in the landscape from an unusual perspective. “He always took a ladder with him,” mused Mary.

Earlier, George and I had spoken of perception when we looked at his most famous picture of Danville. In the photo, Cow Hill sits squarely behind the village. From our daily experience, driving to and through Danville, the mountain is more to the south. But George changed our perspective in that photo, too. One can imagine him trudging through a field with his cameras and ladder on that clear blue day. There he found the perfect spot on Diamond Hill to fill the frame and tweak our understanding of how the town fits into the landscape. It is subtle but full of intention.

Therin lies the artist's gift to us.

This article was first published in December issue of The North Star Monthly.

To view these and more captioned photos, click here.

Recording History with an Artist’s Eye

Betty Nickerson documents 26 years of the North Country Chorus

By Sharon Lakey

If you frequent Marty’s, you may have noticed Betty Nickerson. She is a stately, 84-year-old woman with a kind and interesting face. If it was winter, she was likely wearing a plaid tam-o’-shanter with a red pom-pom on top. That, and her quick eye, possibly piqued your interest.

She lives a few miles out of Peacham, on one of the tree-lined back roads. Her house is nestled above a rolling pasture, an old cape built in 1805. Betty is an artist, a writer, an archivist, and a singer. I came to interview her about her work with the North Country Chorus, an organization for which she served as historian for 26 of its 61-year (and counting) span.

I was greeted on the lawn in front and guided through the former carriage shed and into her studio. There, in every nook and cranny and hung from every wall, are pieces of her art world. On the worktable are pages of her newest project: an album of her own life history.

She described her art medium as “cut-out, collage and montage.” In passing, she shared one of her new album’s pages. On it is glued a little Betty, holding a ball and giving the photographer who captured the moment a look at her serious side. The page resembles the scrapbooking craze that was revived in the 80s. The difference is that Betty’s is more organic; she is working from no manufactured scrapbooking materials.

We moved into her kitchen where she served mint tea. She shared that she lost her husband, Hal, a number of years ago. “That was rough,” she said, and then showed me a picture of the two of them in younger times, sitting on a beach at the Cape. They stare out at the camera, all smiles in grainy black and white. “It lifts my spirits every time I look at it,” she said.

The couple moved to Vermont in 1970. Hal taught agronomy at Blue Mountain and Betty was an art teacher in the St. Johnsbury schools. She retired from teaching in 1983, after a 30-year career in Connecticut, Rhode Island and Vermont. From her experiences, she wrote and published a book entitled Does a Stone Grow? She describes it as “…not a textbook, but a book in which I hope to share…the many ideas that prompt Art lessons.”

Hal (a tenor) and Betty (a second alto) loved singing with the North Country Chorus. But Mary Rowe, the beloved director of 50 years, recognized that she had more than a singer in Betty when she asked her to be the group’s historian. It was easy to see that on the way through the dining room, when Betty pointed to a stack of albums representing the Chorus’s history.

We sat to drink our tea in the living room, and, as we chatted, Betty moved about the house to gather things about which she was speaking. She set up a display rack that was made expressly for the albums. Because the albums are heavy, this rack allows them to be viewed more easily. Most of the albums are loaded with 24 pages. “The new Chorus board has talked about putting them on computer,” said Betty. Showing her generation’s comfort level with computers, she added seriously, “but I don’t know how they do that.”

Each page is made of illustration board cut to 15” x 20” at Ross Business Center in Wells River. The design space for each page is actually 15” x 17”, leaving the three-inch blank space if the left for binding. “I use principles of design, color and shape when planning each page,” she explained. Upon the pages she has glued photos, news clippings, images that she created or clipped, and other memorabilia. After completion, both front and back, the pages are taken to Sharon Reimer at the Framing Format in St. Johnsbury, where they are encased in protective plastic. Noreen Crane makes the cloth outside covers according to Betty’s direction, and the finished album is assembled by punching two holes in the binding and tied with string or ribbon to hold it all together.

In these albums resides a remarkable history of a remarkable organization. The North Country Chorus was formally established in 1948 by a group of music lovers in Littleton, New Hampshire. They set the precedent for the type of commitment they expected from their members from the beginning. At a meeting of the board on September 13, 1949, it is stated, “…The necessity of perfect attendance at rehearsals was discussed and the responsibility of each member of the Chorus to learn his notes was felt to be of the greatest importance.”

A few years later, in 1951, Mary Rowe of Wells River, VT, became the director. Her husband, Dr. Harry Rowe (a bass) joined the Chorus, too. It was more than a bit of good fortune for the group. Throughout the years, members have practiced once a week and given local performances during Christmas, spring and fall. A Madrigal Dinner was added in 1982, and, beginning with a trip to Ireland in 1977, the Chorus has made trips abroad about every four years.

In a memorandum to the Chorus before their trip to Austria and Hungary in 1986, Mary wrote: “…and we must be ready for spontaneous outbursts of song, but always remembering that we are representing America in the best possible way. Sing with joy and good feeling, communicating friendship and respect… Through our music and through our contacts with the people we will meet, we can create a positive image that could have important influences on events in the future.”

Betty reflects on that trip to Hungary. “When we went there, the country was still under Russian rule. As we sang their national anthem in their language, tears streamed down their faces. We felt the emotion of the moment.” Later, in 1990, Betty remembers singing in Poland in the Church Slavonic, which houses Poland’s most holy relic: the Black Madonna. “There had to be a special dispensation from the Pope enabling Mary to direct the chorus with her back to the icon,” said Betty.

Knowing that I was coming for the interview, Betty had searched through the albums and found an article I had written about the Chorus for the North Star in 1991. As I read through it, I vividly recalled the first time I heard the Chorus--Mary, so small in stature but supremely focused, directed the many voices into one beautiful sound. In the article, I described that sound as “holy.” Betty understands that description. “There is a tremendous sense of comradeship in the group. It is bigger than each of us, a celebration of the blending of many voices into a single voice. It is a spiritual experience,” she said. She attributes much of this to the character of Mary herself. “She had a deep concern for each of us and the creation of beautiful music together.”

Mary passed away in 2002. As with all long-lived organizations, the reins of leadership have passed to others to carry on the tradition. Alan Rowe, Mary’s son, is now the able director, and Betty has turned over the historian’s duty to Cindy Mitchell. A new round of rehearsals are set to begin on September 1.

And, by the way, Dr. Rowe is still singing bass at 95 and Betty’s singing second alto this coming season.

For more information on the North Country Chorus, including information on joining and performance schedules, go to http://www.northcountrychorus.org/index.html

This article was first published in the August 2009 issue of The North Star Monthly.

To see the photo album related to this article click here.

Oh, Neato!

The Life and Times of Marion E. Sevigny

March 12, 1922-May 29, 2009

By Sharon Lakey

“Sev and I were in Florida, retired in a nice, clean development. Every morning, we would sit at our breakfast table and watch the ambulance go by--in for someone and out with someone. We looked at each other and knew this wasn’t for us. That’s when we decided to come back to Danville and give the time we had left to our own community.”

That’s how I remember Marion’s story about how she and her husband Paul--who she often referred to as “Sev”--felt about retirement. We were on our way back from a library meeting in Montpelier, chatting in the car. She was dressed in her usual attire—a skirted dark suit, white blouse and heels. Not a hair out of place. When I dropped her at the library, she took her powder blue file box from the back seat, and we said goodbye.

That’s the most intimate conversation I ever had with Marion. Her veneer could be intimidating, but under that impeccable surface lived a thinker and a doer, and that conversation helped me understand why this woman and her husband were at the epicenter of all things Danville.

Marion was the first of five children born to Howard and Alice Calkins: Marion, Roy (Deke), Paul, Leland (Gus), Carmen and Zana. “Marion was A+, you know,” points out her brother Deke, “I was down the alphabet some.” He also went on to explain that while Marion was hitting the books, he was doing the chores, something he says he didn’t mind doing.

Her penchant for neatness probably came from her mother, Alice. The family still tells of their mother’s memorable trip to school to fetch daughter Zana, who had failed to make her bed! Carmen laughs, telling a story about her sister Marion’s neatness. “She was watching me as a baby, and I dirtied a diaper. Horrified, she plunked me into a pillowcase to avoid the mess but waited for my brother Paul to come home and change me.”

True to her studious nature, Marion was named the Salutatorian of her class in 1940. Classmates and staff were already in awe of her organization and ability to keep books. From the yearbook Danville Hi-Ways classmate Nathan Morrill wrote in the class gifts: “To Marion Calkins I present this law book, hoping it will give her the exact points she can prove her arguments by.” Classmate Frances Roberts wrote in the class will: “To the next School Comptroller, we will Marion Calkins’ ability to keep books—alone!” Principal Manning added: “All class treasurers will please meet Marion Calkins after school so she can check up on your bank books.”

And in class epitaphs:

“Marion Calkins,

Here we see,

Passed away,

When she got a D.”

Classmate Donald Douse, in the same yearbook, wrote an interesting essay that questioned our country’s ability to remain neutral in the European war. Just over a year later, after Marion graduated from Champlain College, it was no longer a question, and her life would take a new direction.

Her boyfriend at the time, Paul Sevigny, had joined the Air Force and was determined to fly. In his memoir, he writes, “In May, 1943, I wound up back at Sheppard Field, Texas, to learn how to assemble the new gliders we would get overseas in five crates. While there, my girlfriend from high school days asked her parents if she could come to Texas to see me. Her dad said, ‘Sure, go ahead, but don’t marry that little Frenchman. He will never amount to a tinker’s damn.’ Well, she came down and we got married the day she arrived.”

That was the beginning of Marion’s life as a military spouse, who traveled the world with Paul throughout his 24-year career. Sister Zana explains, “She was an involved military wife. While Paul was away, she never complained, and she always worked.” That life had its high points, especially in the 50’s when Paul got into racecar driving.

From Paul’s memoir, he writes of the couple’s trip to Los Angeles, “We [he and Marion] went to the sales place and saw this beautiful XK-120 M Jaguar, bright red, and it had been clocked at 142 miles per hour at a trial in Belgium. Well, we…drove out with this Jaguar. When we got to the race …we ended up in the pit area where all the race drivers were…We had a ball there with many people looking over our new Jaguar. One movie star, Paul Newman, who was racing said, “Hey, take it around a few laps!”

Two of Marion’s siblings credit the globetrotting couple as instrumental in their own careers. Zana, the youngest said, “They were my mentors. One trip back home, they took my friend and me to Boston to see the Ice Follies. It was my first trip to Boston. And as I neared graduation, they convinced my parents that I needed to go to college. After college, they convinced them I needed my masters.” She did both, with an undergraduate degree from the University of Vermont and a graduate degree from the University of Michigan in the field of special education. Carmen credits Paul and Marion with encouraging her to join the US Air Force, where she worked as a nurse.

Paul and Marion were thinking about a future in Danville when Paul wrote: “In 1954, I was promoted to captain and my wife and I had a chance to purchase Diamond Hill Cabins in our hometown of Danville, Vermont. [We] drove the Jaguar back to Vermont and purchased the 14 acres and 12 cabins. It was a summer business, so we planned on Marion running the business in the summer and join me in the winter.”

The couple continued to manage the cabins for a few years after Paul’s military retirement. He left the Air Force with a rank of major. After their short attempt at full retirement in Florida, they returned to Danville with their newfound goal of “community” before them. Marion went to work for Bruce Corrette at his accounting firm, where she remained for 40 years. During off-hours, Marion joined Paul in their dedication to community. As her good friend and co-worker Irene Trudholme said, “I never saw Marion and Paul socially, because they were so civic-minded. I think that defined their life together.”

One cohort in her activities was Steve Cobb, who owns and runs the Danville Restaurant and Inn. He called his relationship them as a “close friendship,” one they developed over 30 years. Paul and Marion became two of his best customers. Stories of their selfless gifting abound, and Steve shares this one. As chair of the building committee for the Danville Methodist Church, she would ask him yearly to be thinking about something the Church really needed. “When we were working on our handicapped accessibility remodel, Marion ordered a dozen donuts from me. When Paul came to pick up the donuts, he handed me a check for $2,000, written to the Church. They did things like that,” said Steve.

Marion offered him advice, too, in his own role as community volunteer. When he was President of the Pope Library, she told him, “’Always choose your helpers by what they can offer either physically or financially.’ It’s a piece of advice I’ve often thought about.”

The “neat thing” never left her, either. Steve remembers Marion showing up on a Sunday for a library cleaning in a blue blazer, matching pants, white-collared shirt, heels, and yellow rubber gloves. Former Town Clerk, Ginny Morse, remembers going on a cemetery clean up with her in a similar outfit, and Carmen and her daughter, Chelle, still laugh about Marion gardening in pantyhose and pumps.

This joy of tidiness is best described in Marion’s own words. Carmen shared the story of how Marion reacted when she showed her older sister how she had fixed up a basement room for her young daughter. When she beheld Carmen’s handiwork, Marion stopped mid-stair and exclaimed, ‘Oh, Neato!’”

“Neatness was one of her bugaboos, alright,” said Ginny. “She would order a dozen donuts and pound of coffee from Steve for the town garage crew every once in a while. It gave her an excuse to down there to see if everything was in order. She didn’t like to see a lot of spare parts lying around. Marion took a lot of pride in the Town and wanted it to be shipshape.”

As a Town Selectman for 18 years (Selectman being the designation she preferred) Ginny said, “She was a peacekeeper, but very firm. If she had an issue, she held to her position-- very calm, very determined and very steely. She was one of the most delightful people I’ve ever met. Danville is going to miss her in so many ways.”

In 1993, Marion and Paul celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary at the Danville Restaurant and Inn. It was a joyous occasion for the couple, and Paul lived another seven years before passing away in 2000. After his death, Marion continued in her service to the community and her job. According to family members, she and Paul had decided that upon their deaths their legacy of community service would continue. Always well prepared, Marion made plans that the estate would be divided up and given to community organizations in percentages that she and Paul had previously identified.

Over the last several years, Marion’s health began to deteriorate, though she was able to work through it. Her eyesight was difficult and there was a circulation problem in one of her legs. A stint, put in to improve circulation, brought on a staph infection that complicated her recovery. Her doctors told her an amputation was a necessity.

Though she had fought long, she made a decision at that time that “enough was enough,” said Zana, who was honored to spend the last week by her side. “She never wavered in her decision. Dartmouth Hitchcock was outstanding in meeting her request to be kept as comfortable as possible. There was no fear of death on her part, no delusions. She and Sev had talked this over. She said it was her time to go, and she was ready to rejoin him. Whenever Marion set a goal, she went for it.” She died with dignity on May 29, 2009.

Marion’s eulogy was read by her niece, Marion E. McHugh, Zana’s daughter from Raleigh, NC:

“Being her namesake has come with responsibility, and I am honored to rise to the occasion. My prayer is that the legacy of Marion E. Sevigny transcends time. Here is what I believe MARION stands for:

M is for Mighty in spirit and work—no one can deny that Marion was a hard worker.

A is for Always generous and kind—with her possessions and time.

R is for Right choices—doing the right thing. The things we learned when we were young still apply when we are old.

I is for Integrity and accountability.

O is for Oath—she was a woman of her word.

N is for Negotiator of peace—Jesus said on a hill long ago…blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called the sons and daughters of God (Matthew 5:9).

On this day, we have the peace of God that passes all understanding. We love you Marion E. Sevigny!”

This article first published in the North Star Monthy, July, 2009

To view the accompanying photo album, click here:

The Dream of Dairy Farming is Alive in Danville

The new Carson Family Farm is up and running

By Sharon Lakey

Twenty-five-year-old Casey Carson leaned forward in the chair, his eyes lit with determination. “I don’t consider it a risk. I went into this with the attitude that it is going to work.”

Striking out on his own as a dairy farmer in tough economic times is daring in anyone’s book. It is also a hopeful sign that dreams still flourish in an industry that has been in decline in our state for a long time now. Presently, only nine Danville farms are shipping milk; the Carson Family Farm, the newest, began shipping to Horizon Organic in March.

Dreams take a lot of work and support from many corners to become a reality. For Casey, the idea generated from a love of place. Many Danville residents may remember him from his youth; he and his brothers, Brett and Asa, were those handsome boys driving a pair of young oxen in Danville Fair parades. The Carson land lies between the villages of Danville and North Danville. Beautiful rolling acres spread out on both sides of the road, and the stately Kittredge Hills stand guard in the distance.

Grandparents Leonard and Helena lived just down the road from Partridge Lane where the boys grew up under the watchful eye of Janet, their mother. Though they never milked, they raised beef, and the whole family got together in summers to do the haying. This effort kept 114 acres of Carson land free of forest.

After graduating from Danville High School in 2002, Casey found work milking at two local dairies: the Webster farm in Danville and the Kempton farm in Peacham. In the fall, he entered Vermont Technical College to study dairy, but it was always a “hands-on” education that compelled Casey. He sought and landed a job at Sprague’s Dairy Farm in Brookfield, VT, an operation milking 400 head, three times a day. “I was spending a lot more time out there than in class,” Casey admits. He quickly decided college wasn’t for him.

In the back of his mind was a burning question, one that was put to him by two older mentors when he was hiring out as a milker. Don Moore of Peacham and Matthew Lindstrom of Molly’s Pond asked him, “What are your long term plans? Where are you going from here?”

Hoping to answer that question, he decided to try his hand at milking on his own. He rented a farm in 2005 from Melvin Churchill in Cabot. Finding the barn too small, he looked for a larger space and moved his cows to an empty barn owned by Betty and Albert Ackerman, where he milked through the winter of 2007. But when the Ackerman grandchildren decided they wanted to milk, he was out of a barn and ended up selling his herd to them.

Without a barn, what was he to do? “My Grandfather and Mom were very supportive,” says Casey, and the thought of placing a new barn on Carson land took hold. When he expressed self-doubt, he remembers his mom’s reflective words, “Money worries everyone.” Fellow Danville dairyman, Everett McReynold’s encouraged him as well, and Casey came up with a plan. The Vermont Economic Development Authority (VEDA) thought the plan sound and family support worthy, because they offered him loans to build the barn and start operations. “They’re working with me,” said Casey, who will begin to pay back the loan this fall.

Those driving the road between North Danville and Danville last summer saw the dream-barn emerge, stick by stick. With added muscle from Jesse Kittredge, Geoff Pelletier and Ryan Ward, who helped set the posts and carrying beam, the big barn gradually appeared. It’s located in the field just behind his boyhood home, set at an artistic angle to the road and painted red. The free stall design was chosen for the convenience of a one-person milking operation. “I think it’s better for the cows, too,” said Casey, “because they can walk around.” The design also allows for lots of airflow, keeping the barn fresh during Vermont’s long winters.

Leonard got to see the barn, but didn’t get to see it in action. “It really hurt me when he died; he was a big support for me,” said Casey of his death in early January. In spirit he is there, though, in the form of a portrait hanging in the tank room and his red tractor sitting beside the barn along with Casey’s yellow Caterpillar Challenger. The skid steer, used to clean the barn, is yet to arrive.

Casey decided to go organic because of the size of his farm and a higher price for the product. He likes the management style that comes with organic, too, because the cows must be able to pasture. To accommodate their range, he will work to clear more of the pastures that have grown up. Grain is purchased from Morrison Custom Feeds in Barnet, who handle organic feeds in the area. “I trust them,” he says. Fieldwork is hired out to Matt Gilman of Wheelock.

His favorite cows are a cross between Holstein and Jersey. “Holstein for the production and Jersey for the milk quality,” said Casey. He purchased young cows that had never been milked this spring from John and Beverly Rutter, who were downsizing their herd. The bank considers a cow viable for three to four years, but “they can go longer if organic, because you aren’t pushing production so hard,” said Casey. For the next few years, he plans to milk around 60, but his eventual goal is to milk 80, a figure he feels is economically sound and matches the size of his barn and acreage.

Though there is no set schedule, a typical day for Casey might go like this:

5:00: up for morning milking (1 ½ hour job)

7:30-8:00 feed the cows

Break: never set, but sometime between 8:00 and 9:00

Fencing and odd jobs

12:00: lunch

More work around the farm

4:30: get ready to milk

5:00: evening milking

7:00 to 7:30: finished

On the day of this interview, Casey was hard at work with a very important partner—two-year-old Taylor, his daughter. It was the evening milking time, 4:30 in the afternoon on a cold April day. “She loves the barn,” said Casey, and it was apparent from everything she did. The child was in perpetual motion. First, she used her little pink shovel, then loaded a bucket for feeding the calf, then practiced using the cups for the milking apparatus, then moved a few cow piles from one place to another with a hoe in the unused side of the milk parlor. Finally, she asked her dad if she could lie down, and he escorted her into the front room where there was a couch for Taylor’s well-deserved nap.

“It only takes about an hour and a half to milk now,” said Casey, moving easily from one cow to the next in the milking parlor. Perhaps all those hours working the oxen as a kid helped, because everything went smoothly for the young cows. Two were confused when entering the parlor, but in short order Casey was able to talk them through it without raising his voice. “I used to yell a lot, but yelling doesn’t really get you anywhere,” he said.

What kind of person does it take to dairy? “It’s hard to tell,” said Casey. “You have to like to work, especially outside. You never know what’s going to happen, and there’s always something to do. It takes the right kind of person to want to dairy.”

To view other photos related to this article, click here.

This article was first published in June issue of The North Star Monthly.

The Little Cape That Could

Danville Village House to Open Its Doors on May 2

By Sharon Lakey

“It’s been a labor of love, but I’m not a patient woman,” said Mary Prior, President of the Danville Historical Society.

She’s had to learn to be patient, though, as the charming cape, now known as the Danville Village House, has slowly reappeared in its original form beside the statuesque Danville Congregational church on Hill Street. 

The project began in 2006 with a letter sent to various organizations in Danville. In it was a stunning offer from a lawyer, announcing that an anonymous donor wished to gift substantial money to a group who had a good idea about how to use it. 

Impatient Mary, never lacking for an idea, jumped at the thought of establishing a restored building dedicated to the collection and sharing of history in the center of Danville Village. Margaret Springer, who had worked for 30-plus years as president and archivist of the Danville Historical Society, was ecstatic about the idea, and the thought began to gather momentum.

Time was of the essence, and Mary immediately contacted Paul Chouinard. “He is an architectural perfectionist by avocation,” said Mary. He’s a real estate agent to boot, and they set out to find a house that would fit the bill. By luck or grace, the little cape by the Congregational church became available. 

“I like where it sits,” said Paul. “It is near the center of the village, and it has historical integrity.” Paul describes it as, “a prototypical Cape Cod style home mirroring the austere simplicity of early nineteenth century, rural Vermont homes.” 

Oddly enough, Mary found that the lineage of the people connected with the house were among the long-standing families of Danville: Sias, Choate (the builder, a cabinet-maker), Currier, Cahoon, Peck and Gadapee. It was a perfect match. “All the work the historical society had done under Margaret’s direction and tireless efforts made it possible for me to research this house,” said Mary. 

With Paul’s knowledge of early construction and Mary’s deed research, a detailed history of the house, proposed budget and projected use of the building was sent to the lawyer of the donor. Imagine the excitement when Mary received a letter that related the donor would pay the purchase price of $198,000 and another $200,000 for restoration. “The donor had some good suggestions as well,” said Mary. “For example: Weren’t the proposed cedar shakes a fire hazard? The donor was also adamant that the house would have a meeting room and parking lot.”

Together, Mary and Paul, conferencing with the Historical Society, worked out the renovation plans. Paul, a real stickler for detail, was chosen as clerk of works. They visited Sturbridge Village. “The buildings there were built in the same time period as the house,” explained Paul. “It helped to visualize what the house looked like back in 1838 when it was built.” In their planning, they designed for historical correctness as well as compliance to the Americans with Disabilities Act..  

In keeping with the desire to use as many local artisans and builders as possible, Paul began the painstaking job of putting together contracts. The list of chosen contractors included: Harold Lunnie, foundation; Garren Calkins, driveway excavation, parking area, and seeding; Michael Walsh, garage restoration, single story addition, clapboard siding, flooring, and shed storage room; Joel Currier, wood for flooring and wainscot; Paul Dussault, heating; Hollis Prior, landscaping; Luke Colby, wiring; Sally A. Fishburn, replacement doors and windows; Phil Beattie, stonework; Lucian Avery, blacksmith; Steven Towsley, chimney; and Frank Siebenbrunner, finishing details. (This list doesn’t include the red-hued Mary and her husband, Hollis, who could be watched for weeks as they voluntarily painted the whole building.) 

Meanwhile, Mary continued her historical research, this time in a more communal way. Her Grammie Tennie was a social historian. In writings for Vermont Life and the Burlington Free Press, she published stories told by those still living about people and events of the past. “I spent a great deal of time driving her to remote locations throughout Caledonia and Essex Counties,” Mary remembers. “I’d wait, sometimes for hours, while she interviewed someone for an article she was writing.”

In Grammie Tenney’s tradition, Mary searched and wrote some social history of Annie and Sam Currier, who were owners of the house from 1933 to 1960. Sam died in 1943, so for most of that time, it was known as Annie’s house. The interviews include some wonderful stories, two of which follow. 

Janette Langmaid Morse, Mary’s second cousin: 

“Annie Currier looked like she wouldn’t like children, but that was not the case. She had a sort of scowl for an expression, but she was the nicest woman. My mother and father lived next door. My son Alan used to go visit her often. She would have a nice, sweet pudding for him. One day, she offered him his pudding; he didn’t like it very well, because it wasn’t sweet. 

‘Why doesn’t the pudding taste like usual?’ he asked.

‘It’s Indian pudding,” Annie replied.

‘Where did you get the dead Indians to put in the pudding?’”

Winona Gadapee, former owner of the house:

“I loved that house. I would still live there if I could, but my breathing required a brand new house. While we lived there, the key to the Congregational church hung by the kitchen door inside the sun porch. It was available to anyone who needed it. When we sold the house to the Grayecks, the key still hung there for use by all. Once, Mr. Grayek, who was Jewish, laughed in telling me that the key to the church hung right beside the doorpost that they would touch on their way in as a Jewish blessing. 

‘Only in Danville,’ he would say.”

In a way, the tradition of the key still exists. But this time, the house itself has become a key. All those who paid with money and time offer the residents of Danville a lovingly restored place to meet, research, chat, and remember their dear ones and the community in which they lived. 

Besides the May 2 Grand Opening, programming ideas are starting to stir. Mary plans for the building to be open from 1:00-8:00 on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturday mornings. “We need to spread the work into the community, so Danville Village House becomes alive and vibrant,” she said.

To see the picture album related to this article click here    

To enjoy a video walk-through of the Danville Village House, hosted by Paul Chouinard, click here

This story was first published in April, 2009 issue of The North Star Monthly

What the World Needs Now

Is a good belly laugh

At the height of laughter, the universe is flung into a kaleidoscope of new possibilities.  ~Jean Houston

By Sharon Lakey

One day my daughter, who lives in Waterbury, called. “Mom, you’ve got to come with me to the next Laughter Yoga class. It’s free,” she enticed. Her voice sounded full of smiles.

I answered with a half-hearted “Maybe,” and a “thanks for the invitation,” but really I never intended to follow through. First, it was a long way to drive to Richmond, VT, and second, the idea of laughter yoga seemed a little forced.  Maybe it was watching night after night of grim news reports that finally pushed me over the edge, because early the next Tuesday morning, I found myself braving snow-covered roads for a chance to lighten up a little.  

And, it was fun. I mean—really fun.  

There were six of us that first day, including leader, Dawn Decker. We met on the second floor of the Richmond library in a beautiful space--hardwood floors, tall church-like windows and walls painted a restful yellow. 

In a short introduction, Dawn explained the basics behind Laughter Yoga, including this piece of research: an average adult laughs five to seven times a day; a child laughs over 300 times, and for no reason at all. I was taken aback by the statistic, and felt sad about my own rusty laugh mechanism. But as Dawn briefly explained it, “Just fake it till you make it.”

Wishing to turn loose my own inhibitions, I entered willingly into the group laughter. Dawn is a superb laugher, and I found it surprisingly easy to join in. With a variety of prompts, we shared everything from titters to guffaws with Kleenex in hand. And the more we laughed, the happier and more relaxed I became. Dawn incorporated gentle yoga stretches into the program, and as our time came to a close, sitting in a circle touching toe-to-toe, I felt warmness toward these women. It seemed as if I had known them all my life.

Later I found out that Dawn, a yoga teacher of 25 years with international certification, is fairly new to laughter yoga.  “I’ve always used laughter in my yoga practice, but this is more focused.” In August of 2008, she attended a two-day workshop in Burlington. “At the end of the workshop, I found I was exhausted, but exhilarated by the possibilities.” Wanting to share this gift with others in her new community of Richmond, she offered free weekly sessions to all-comers.

With just a little research back home, I discovered I had totally missed out on this worldwide phenomenon. The movement began in Mumbai, India, in 1995 by a medical doctor, Madan Kataria, who was writing an article about the connection between laughter and good health. Kataria had studied the writings of American Norman Cousins, who suffered from degenerative, painful arthritis. 

Cousins set out to cure himself with a combination of Vitamin C and laughter, which he stimulated by watching old Marx Brothers movies. He recorded his method in the book Anatomy of an Illness where he reported,  "I made the joyous discovery that ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect and would give me at least two hours of pain-free sleep. When the pain-killing effect of the laughter wore off, we would switch on the motion picture projector again and not infrequently, it would lead to another pain-free interval." 

Wondering how the medicine of laughter could be spread to the general population, Kataria decided to go to a local park and ask people there to join him in laughter. Five strangers agreed to join in the experiment. At first, they laughed by telling each other jokes, but Kataria noticed several things about that; they ran out of good ones rather quickly and not everyone thought a particular joke was funny. But, he noted, it only took one person to laugh at a joke to get the rest of the group to join in.

He decided they should try laughing for no reason at all. It worked. People could laugh at nothing and soon his group of five had grown to hundreds laughing in the park on a daily basis. Laughter clubs were soon to spread infectious good will throughout the world. Information from the American School of Laughter Yoga reports, “At the last count there were an estimated 6000 Laughter Clubs in over 60 countries, the vast majority of which are free and public.” 

Kataria’s wife, a yoga teacher, was the first to introduce gentle yoga stretches into laughter clubs. It was a natural fit. Breathing is one of the five principles of yoga and laughter is an especially good exercise for the breath. According to an article from the American School of Laughter, “It effectively flushes the 2/3 of ‘stale air’ that most people unknowingly keep inside. Repeated practice teaches us to become more and more consciously aware of our own breathing pattern.”

Soon, Kataria felt the unmistakable power and good will generated by laughter could be of help in our world. In 1998, he organized the first World Laughter Day in Mumbai. It caught on and was given a permanent date--the first Sunday of May.  Imagine the sound created by the 10,000 people laughing in the Town Hall Square in Copenhagen, Denmark in the year 2000. Steven Wilson, psychologist, author and head of the World Laughter Tour brought it to New York City in 2001. 

This year, World Laughter Day has made its way to Richmond, Vermont. Dawn invites you to a gathering on May 3, 2:00 p.m., at the Richmond Free Library, 201 Bridge Street. She hopes for at least 100 souls to join her in laughing for world peace. In the words of Steve Wilson, “Regardless of the reason you laugh, the primary purposes of laughter have to do with reducing the terrible effects of stress, and connecting with other people; laughter plays a huge role in maintaining relationships. Actually, we need laughter more now than ever!”

Amen.

For more information about Dawn go to http://dawndeckerbodywork.com/ 

See more pictures

This article was first published in the May issue of The North Star Monthly: http://northstarmonthly.com/

 

 

To See the Universe in a Ruffle

Mathematicians and Artists Team Up to Recreate the Coral Reef 

By Sharon Lakey

Nancy Lewis dreams of a coral reef—right here in the Northeast Kingdom. In the dead of winter, when our color scheme consists of variations on gray, this sounds intriguing but farfetched. Not so. All it takes is a crochet hook, yarn dyed in the bright colors of the sea and a little math instruction. “Math?” you ask. Hyperbolic geometry, to be precise, but don’t run to the exits just yet. 

On a camping trip in 1997, Daina Taimina, a Latvian mathematician who was working at Cornell, discovered she could crochet a hyperbolic plane, something that had never been seen or felt in 3-D. This simple act shook the math world as it gave tactile expression to a geometry that challenges Euclidian concepts. In fact, hyperbolic geometry challenges former views of our universe. Under Euclidian concepts, our universe in flat and infinite; under hyperbolic concepts, it is round and finite. (See note at bottom of article.)  

It turns out that hyperbolic planes, the basic structure of the coral reef, have been crocheted for centuries. To an untrained math mind, though, they are seen as ruffles. Nancy, who grew up in Lewiston, Maine, was instructed in crochet by her grandmother, who was avid about it. In Danville, she points to a lovely potholder hanging on her refrigerator, a circular piece with plump red strawberries nestled in the center. “I made this from one of my grandmother’s patterns,” she said, thumbing through some paper patterns she has inherited. 

The patterns didn’t hold her interest for long, though. “I was curious about shapes,” she said. “I became fascinated in filling space with structure.” This curiosity made its way into fanciful creations that became strange crocheted shapes on top of hats, reminiscent of an undersea adventure. She was unknowingly creating hyperbolic planes. 

When Nancy moved into our area, she put a few of these hats on consignment at Uniquity in St. Johnsbury. The Wool Away shop is located at the back of the store and when owner Mariam Briggs saw them, she immediately connected them with a new fiber arts movement that was storming the country. She encouraged Nancy to submit some of her creations to the project, which she did through photos.

The project originated with ecology minded twin sisters in Los Angeles, Christine and Margaret Wertheim. They founded and are co-directors of The Institute For Figuring, which educates the public about figuring techniques using the underlying principals of physics. The plight of coral reefs was of particular concern for them and when they connected with Daina Taimina and her hyperbolic crochet models, they went into action. 

Inviting crochet artists to submit from all over the world, they created the Hyperbolic Crochet Reef in figures. This exhibition has toured museums and raised the consciousness of the reef in cities from west to east, including Los Angeles, Chicago and New York. Nancy’s pieces are included. “I don’t know where they are now, but I keep getting these postcards and brochures in the mail letting me know of new openings.” Her name is listed prominently among the contributors with a simple “Nancy Lewis (VT).” 

That’s all fine and good, to have her pieces out there traveling in style, but her dream is to bring this into the Northeast Kingdom. Enter Newcomb Greenleaf of St. Johnsbury, a math professor at Goddard College. “I retired once,” says Newcomb (from places like Columbia and Harvard), “but I’m back to it.” Besides teaching math, Newcomb also teaches Buddhist meditation, and that is how Nancy showed up in his life as a student. Chatting together one day, he found out about her hyperbolic crocheting and before long they had designed a workshop course at Goddard. 

Under his direction, Nancy created hyperbolic planes like Daina Taimina’s so he could explain to students the underlying math principles, then the group moves on to crocheting under Nancy’s direction. Nancy is pleased to say, “Everyone but Newcomb has been successful at it. It’s very freeing, because there is no set pattern.” 

Newcomb sighs, “My fingers won’t work like that; I think I’m too old.” But it is easy to see that he enjoys this teaming experience. “The work is so tactile,” he says, lifting a wormy looking figure that is lying on the Nancy’s kitchen counter. And indeed, it is so enchanting I had to scrunch it, too, and wondered aloud how difficult it was to create. 

“Not hard at all,” says Nancy, smiling. These are simple crochet models, and anyone can do them. She’s going to get her chance to prove it. Catamount Arts is offering a four-hour local workshop on March 28 to all comers who would like to learn the basics. The cost is $35. “People should come with a hat body,” says Nancy, showing an example of a simple ribbed tube. If you haven’t done your homework, you can purchase one from me for $5 at the workshop.”

Maybe a few people will get hooked. That is what she is hoping. “I would like for a group of us to work together to form our own collaborative coral reef. Right here. Do you think we could do it?” 

Notes--A simple and excellent description of hyperbolic geometry can be accessed at this address  http://theiff.org/oexhibits/oe1f.html 

Nancy’s website address is www.medusahats.com 

For more pictures and this article click here

The article was published in The North Star Monthly, March 2009

  

Firsthand Account of the Inauguration of President Obama

Gabi and Lauren hold The New York Post photo of the inauguration ceremony. The arrows represent where both of them were standing during the event. 

View Gabi's photo album

View Lauren's photo album

By Sharon Lakey

On the morning of the swearing in of the 44th President of the United States, Danville senior Gabi Potts arose at 2:30 a.m. from her bed in the Marriott Conference Center in Washington D.C.  At 4:30 she arrived at Union Station. She felt safe, but intimidated by the four Secret Service agents standing there with their assault rifles. At 5:30, she walked to a designated Silver Gate on 3rd street and presented her ticket. 

Once inside the Mall Standing Area, she was nearly knocked over by Jesse Jackson, who was bustling to the ABC broadcasting booth. At 6:30 she had made her way to the front, near the right side of the Reflecting Pool. She elected to stand against a concrete barricade where she felt protected from the pressure of the crowd that was already beginning to flow into the area. During that walk she had tripped, skinned her knee, and lost and recovered a shoe. 

At 5:30 a.m., Danville freshman Lauren Peterson arose from her bed at the Best Western in Tysons Corner, Virginia. At 6:30 she boarded a shuttle bus with other students in her group and was brought into the city. They were dropped at a point near the National Museum of the American Indian. After going through a security checkpoint at the Museum, similar to what airline passengers are sent through, they attended a hot chocolate reception. 

But, as the time neared for the ceremony, her group of five decided they wanted to go into the crowd. Once more they cleared security and worked their way toward one of the Silver Gates. Having no tickets, they waited near the fence, surprisingly close to where Gabi was waiting. Lauren  remembers  feeling a strong sense of anxiety about what could happen; all the show of force in Washington made that possibility obvious. She could see where Barack Obama was standing, but the large crowd made actual viewing of the event impossible. Wanting to see and hear the ceremony, her group returned to the Museum to watch it on the Jumbo Tron. 

Gabi felt a frightening surge in the crowd behind her as the ceremony neared. The fence and lack of tickets were no longer an impediment; the people simply moved forward, and the fence was gone. But she stood her ground, one of two million who were there to personally witness the swearing in of America’s first African-American President. “I could see his silhouette from that distance, his hand raised for the oath,” she said.

Lauren remembers that moment as one of silence, a stopping, a collective holding of the breath. “A perfect moment,” she said. “All of our history of division was behind us, and we were looking into the future. And there was hope.”

Gabi describes the sound that followed after his hand dropped. “People cried and screamed. Words like, ‘finally’ and ‘yes we can’ and ‘thank you.’ It was a passionate and natural outpouring of emotion that rose all around me.”

“We felt like one family, not separated,” said Lauren. 

The moment that had brought people of all ages and colors to the White House was over quickly. Gabi remembers that many turned after the oath and began crossing back over the lawns, not even staying to hear President Obama’s speech. They had come for one reason--to watch with their own eyes the defining instant when America became truly a land of opportunity for all.

The girls arrived in Washington on January 17, Lauren by air and Gabi by land, to participate in the activities planned by each of their respective student groups. Gabi’s group, The Presidential Classroom consisting of 350 students, was housed in the city; Lauren’s group, The National Young Leaders Student Conference consisting of 7,300 students, was housed outside the city. 

Gabi’s agenda included student caucuses, tours to Mount Vernon, the Jefferson Memorial and the Pentagon Memorial, which honors the 184 dead from 9/11. It also included speaking appearances by two well-known men: Dr. Ed Smith and former President Clinton. “For three days we were surrounded by Secret Service agents and didn’t even know it,” she said. “It was all in preparation for President Clinton.” After the inauguration, a celebratory ball helped her group relax and enjoy each other’s company in lovely clothes and a feeling of multicultural good will.

Lauren’s agenda was different from Gabi’s. “There was less time in the classroom,” she said. There was more touring: the Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, Jefferson Memorial and the Capital Building. A trip down the Potomac on a dinner cruise was an outstanding moment for her. “I guess we must have been a terrorist risk, because the boat was crawling with guards,” she said. Her speakers included such luminaries as Colin Powell, Archbishop Desmond Tutu and former Vice President Al Gore. On the Lincoln Memorial steps she saw a performance that included Stevie Wonder, U2, Garth Brooks, Sheryl Crow, Bruce Bringstein, WILL.I.AM, Usher and Beyonce. Her celebratory ball was held at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum where she enjoyed dinner and was treated to a performance by Daughtry.

Both girls were thoroughly entertained by The Capital Steps, a group who bills themselves as  “the Washington-based troupe of Congressional staffers turned songwriters. We put the MOCK in Democracy.”  “I bought all three of their CDs,” said Gabi with a mischievous smile. 

They returned from their trip by car on Friday, driven by Lauren’s mother. It was a long 10-hour trek that inched them along the clogged highways and bridges that President Obama speaks of in his plan to rebuild America’s infrastructure. 

There was the usual letdown from the shining moment they experienced firsthand, but the trip gave them time to unwind and reflect on their experiences. “A huge hurdle has been overcome,” said Gabi. “There’s a lot of pressure on him. I worry about that.”

This story was published in The North Star Monthly, February 2009