Now for the sad part...

I clicked open the email with “Hello from the past!” in the subject line to find a note from from a former student, Josh. How I love hearing from former students. I remember Josh well: a little imp of a guy with a perpetual grin and a frizz of curls and an insatiable curiosity. He played the saxophone…or was that his brother Matt? I think both. I’ll let the email exchange speak for itself …

Hello Mrs. Douillette -

Would you be, by chance, the same Mrs. Douillette who once taught at Cedar School (at least, I think it was Cedar School?) in Hanover 30 years-or-so ago? If so, I believe I was one of your fortunate students. I seem to remember spending countless hours--and reams of magical tracing paper--gleefully working on projects about dinosaurs and whales while under your tutelage. Happy days indeed.

Anyway, if this is really you, hello! I'm sure I can conjure some more memories of those heady days that will make us both feel much older!

Josh

Hi Josh!

You've reached the right person and I'm so glad to hear from you. I'm not
the greatest at keeping track of time, but I'm guessing you must be late 20s, early 30s (?). Am I close? I think I had you in the REACH program. ... I remember you clearly, and you DID have a thing for dinosaurs! :>) Where are you living now and what are you up to?

Best,
Mrs. D. (aka Ruth)

Well, sorry to say (for both of us) that I'm 41. That said, despite the fact that my memory is such that I can't remember changing my kids' diapers, I vividly remember that REACH class. My best friend at the time (and ever since) was John Goff. Somewhere in his mom's house there is a cassette tape of John and I recording some sort of presentation about dinosaurs or whales for the REACH class. I remember that I had terribly laryngitis and that the school bell kept interrupting us! John's a teacher in Maine now.

I have to tell you that your class had a tremendous impact on me. I think about it all the time. Just about everyone in that class went onto excel in life in one way or another. You were the launching pad for a lot of successful kids, and I can't thank you enough for making me feel like I could do things that were creative and engaging, rather than just the ABCs. ...

Now for the sad part - I share this not for any sort of sympathy or to be a downer but, rather, because I was admiring your blog and wanted to show you mine. Over the summer, I was diagnosed with stage 4 stomach cancer. I'm currently in the middle of that fight (I just finished my first round of chemo treatments). I've always been a writer on the side, so I decided to start a blog about the cancer experience. I thought it would be an interesting, real-time dissection of a life-changing event, and it has also proven to be quite therapeutic. Anyway, if you want to check it out, I'd love to know what you think about it.

Josh

Ahhh, Josh. Big sigh. I was just getting a warm glow from your memories of my class (Thank you.) and then the punch to the gut. Not at all the news I expected to hear. ...

No need for the rest of my email. This isn't about me. I hope you visit Josh's blog, Stage Four Sarcasm, to wish him well--literally-- and for a dose of his fantastic humor in the midst of crisis.

---

We all travel along on whatever road we find ourselves, but some endure rides bumpier than others. ~RD

For Alice~ She's home!!!!!!!

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes it's all about knowing that loved ones and friends stand behind you, knowing that support is there on the down days, the worry days, the days when you feel off-center, out of sync, bedraggled emotionally, and in pain, but knowing all the while that you're not alone. You're not alone... Alice is an online friend--she lives in Hawaii-- who belongs to the writer's workshop that I do. We've only "met" online, but those who have online friendships know that they can be just as strong as those in-person relationships. Alice was hit by a car while walking, and is in the rehab phase of things. She's working to regain mobility after a broken pelvis, a broken arm, and a broken nose. It's scary to realize how, in the blink of an eye, life can lurch and our plans for a time are displaced by survival and healing. We...

Killing time~

I'd woken feeling stuffy headed, slightly allergy-ish, puffy-eyed, and a tad grumpy. Lots to do, little time in which to do it, school issues keeping me in a state of angst, I considered not going to David's game. But it was Saturday, the game fairly close to home-- Salem State College-- an hour or so north through Boston to the town of Salem, famous for the 1692 witch trials that saw 19 suspected witches, many of them social outcasts, hang on Gallows Hill. A change of pace was what I needed whether I wanted it or not, so I went. I squeezed in a walk around the block that enclosed Salem State's O'Keefe Center while waiting for the game to begin. Just to kill time. I get so few chances to do that. Others walking, too, passed with no eye contact, no greetings, just sharing the same planet. Two were coming toward me. Still unfocused in the distance . . . one was tall, the other short . . . two men . . . loose clothing . . . like army clothes, camouflage . . . beard and lon...

Missing Becky~

Becky~ August 19, 1991 to April 26, 2010 She was so loved, this gentle pet of mine. And how she loved us back. I've been alone in my house before, of course. Those days when my husband took the kids out for the day, being able to vacuum without a baby in one arm and a toddler, riding the vacuum cleaner like it was a bronco, was solitary pleasure. Later there were quiet days as the kids were at camp and my husband at work. And then came the bittersweet aloneness when kids left home for college and a life apart. Still, I'd always liked being alone, knowing it was short lived. This morning, after my husband pulled out of the driveway with a day full of plans, I stood in the living room feeling alone in a way I never had before. An unfamiliar emptiness and silence surrounded me. Yesterday we put our 18-year-old cat, Becky, to sleep. The decision to do so was surprisingly easy. The vet had told us Becky would let us know when it was time, and somehow she did. But ...

~Upstream and Down~

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