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About sandy jett ball

artist, writer, runner

Colington Road NEEDS A Multi-Use Path

SR 1217 Colington Road

Neil & his dog Hope walking to the beach along Colington Road

Five years ago I got tired of seeing so many bicycle riders and walkers try to safely negotiate our twisty winding heavily traveled Colington Road (officially State Route 1217) that barely has a shoulder and started an awareness group on Facebook. That group is now 1000+ strong. Without any membership drive. And actually very few updates. Admittedly I am not the pro-active leader this group needs. I have however chatted numerous times with NCDOT.

Helen Chaney (NCDOT Bike and Pedestrian Division) even once told me in a phone conversation that she could probably get me a million, yes a million, dollars.

I was so dumbstruck that I could not fathom what I would do with a million dollars without NCDOT to guide me. Not that they were refusing. She just was not coming forward with a plan and, to repeat, I was totally speechless. It was the just after the Christmas season. I was distracted. Of course, I said okay. But did not follow up with what now, or how, what do I need to do. And she did not offer a plan. So we hung up. Naive me thought that she would come through later with more details.

Ah hind sight. She never answers my emails or calls. Helen. Helen. Helen. Do over please.

I’m not even sure that Helen is in the Bike & Pedestrian Division any longer. Floundering here!

A recent email to Lauren Blackburn current NCDOT Bike & Ped Division Director (we have chatted before when she was interim) confirms that Helen is in another department. I am assigned to the low man on the totem who quickly responds that she will look into the matter and get back to me. Lauren also assures me that she will check on the status of the project as her department only made recommendations.

Quickly, maybe too quickly, Gary Lovering sends me a detailed reply saying that the project is scheduled to begin in 2018 and will have 7′ wide shoulders with a one foot painted division line. I and our group followers are elated. Not for the time delay yet again. But for a reasonably wide shoulder (the original plan called for a 4′ wide shoulder for pedestrian traffic).

Later the cynic in me begins to ponder if Gary is a NCDOT spin doctor. Especially after Donna Creef Dare County Planning Director, tells me, “The last I heard about the road/bicycle improvements for Colington Road was that the project had to be reconsidered for funding based on the criteria used by NCDOT.”

I mean property acquisition is on schedule to begin in November 2017. And construction begin in April 2018? No way all that property is going to be squared away in six months. So if that’s puffery possibly the entire thing is. Donny says that it is pretty common knowledge, even though those in power will deny it, that Dare County is to be denied help from any North Carolina government agency until further notice. We got too much for way too long. Now we must pay our wait your turn dues. Like we really got too much. Please. Amending this paragraph in case you are just now reading this post. Actual right of way acquisition is due to begin November 2016 not 2017. Still ambitious but doable if everything goes well.

Anyway while we are a real grassroots organization in that we have no formal committee, no bank account and no plan we do have Dare County Board of Commissions support, Town of Kill Devil Hills support, Colington Harbour Association support. And Dare County Planning support. In the summer of 2011 Donna assigns her intern the task of documenting every parcel along Colington Road with plotted right of way. Derek does an amazing job. He puts contact information and a photo of each parcel on an individual sheet and organizes all by which side of the road the property sits on. Donna also prints us a huge overview map of the both islands and parcel property lines.

Donny & I used that invaluable information and money from our own pocket to mail a letter explaining the need for a safe pathway to every property owner whose land fronts on Colington Road. Over two hundred. We included a stamped reply postcard with a check box in favor of or opposed to a pedestrian pathway. Of the returns we got, which were well over half, the numbers ran about 3 to 1 in favor. Several of the nay sayers want to see a plan before committing. Fair enough.

In the spring of 2012 Steve Lambert then of Albemarle Rural Planning Organization approves a mailing to every tax payer on the two islands suggesting the need for a safe non-vehicular pathway. He funds. We label (thanks again to Donna who prints labels for us) and organize by zip code over 5000 letters (envelopes thankfully stuffed by the printing company).

And now we wait and nudge NCDOT. And hope that the plan Gary outlined is real and thank NCDOT for listening to concerned citizens. We are not talking about recreational folks, although those will use a safe path in abundance. We are talking about folks that have no other means of ingress and egress to their homes on the islands.

Notice how Neil has crossed the road from where he was in the first video to be as safe as possible. He told me he does everything possible to be safe.

Notice how Neil has crossed the road from where he was in the first video to be as safe as possible. He told me that he does everything he can to minimize the dangers.

Yes, I did give Neil and Hope a ride to the beach. He says that he usually rides his bicycle but knew that Hope needed a day at the beach. He was not actively hitching as you can see by the video. He likes the walk. It’s just five miles along a dicey curving road that even at the 35 miles per hour speed limit is unsafe.

I leave you with one to the point statistic. The counter at the gate of Colington Harbour registered in 2011 over 100,000 vehicles entering the harbour monthly in the summer. That’s over 3,000 vehicles a day and only going one way. And that was in 2011.

If you have any thoughts, influence or ideas contact NCDOT and let your voice be heard. Phone numbers and email addresses are on the website.

 

 

 

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If We Could TURN Back Time

time turner

Lydia demonstrating Hermione’s Time-Turner at Harry Potter World Universal Orlando 2013

The arc of this story is two decades long. Seriously. Actually two decades plus. It’s a l-o-n-g arc. And a fun story. In the end.

Donny & I are at Duke Park for one of our grand grandsons birthday. The park is a nice size, not big, not small, Goldilocks just right.

At the picnic table beside ours I see another birthday party in progress. There’s yet another party down the hill alongside a smaller playground. There may have been even more because it’s a perfect party place and a perfect party day. I notice the party next to us because the tables, while not close enough to impose, are pretty close. They’re having fun too.

Our party comes to a close, we make plans to meet SSE&M for ice cream in downtown Durham. We are in the car preparing to leave. We have parked down the hill near the smaller playground in the pull in spaces. These parking places are not as close to our party table but not that far away. Most folks do the same but many park up the hill along the quiet roadway which is closer to the big play area and most tables. There are parking options. I’ve buckled up. Donny is adjusting things. I notice a dad holding his child waiting for us to leave so he can more easily get into his vehicle parked next to ours on Donny’s side. I suggest that we pull out a bit so the dad can have more room.

Donny has not noticed the dad but agrees and starts to back out. I look up and just beyond the dad is a friend I recognize. “Stop!” Donny stops, a puzzled look on his face. “There’s Lucille. I need to say hi to her.” She’s a casual friend from the Outer Banks. We are such that running into each other at an event or party and having a hey, how are you conversation is the extent of our relationship. But this relationship has longevity. And more.

I leap out of the car. “Lucille!” She looks up in surprise. We hug. She asks what we’re doing here. I do the same. We both laugh over the fact that two of our sons (we both have five children) have birthday parties for their sons on the same day. At the same time. In the same park. Right next to each other (that other party right beside ours). Lucille lives on the Outer Banks too and has been there with her husband and family almost as long as we have. Decades. They migrated from Louisiana because of off shore oil drilling. But that’s another story for another time.

Years ago when our kids, who now have kids of their own, were in public school together and Lucille and family were new to the Outer Banks a common friend suggested to me that Lucille and I had a lot in common. We should meet she urges. We both have five bright over achiever well-mannered children. We both like things slightly off the grid. We both advocate for minimal impact on Mother Earth.

To this day I don’t actually remember calling Lucille and arranging a meeting but I don’t not remember it either. At any rate it didn’t happen and here is where the story gets interesting.

Back at Duke Park, Lucille grabs me by the shoulders and beams, “I’m so glad to see you!” She rushes on. Here in the parking area of Duke Park. “I spent a lot of time in New Mexico this winter on a job and had lots of spare time to hang out with Janice.” Janice is a common friend who recently by choice relocated to New Mexico. Lucille is well into her story by now but she suddenly pauses, “Do you have time?” I nod. She tells me about admiring a painting in Janice’s house. Janice tells her that it is one of my pieces and how she came to get it.

Tulips & Bleu Bowl

Tulips & Bleu Bowl

(It with others was on loan from me to decorate Janice’s Outer Banks office. When she decided to move to Santa Fe I told her that she could have any or all of the art but if she did not feel like adding to the moving pile just say. She returned a couple of pieces the painting being one of them. She loved it. But it was big. I donated it to the Festival of Trees. Janice sees it online and sighs. She really did love it and says so in a thread. Gail Hutchison, another common friend, asks me to proxy bid on it for her as she will be out of town auction night. She wants to win it as a gift for Janice. So I end up bidding on my own piece and win. Donny & I offer to do the mailing part because we are mailing gurus. It surprises Janice to the point of tears and makes an even better story than if she had just taken it along on the move).

Okay back to the story at hand. After the painting story emerges, Lucille tells Janice that she has a confession. Confessions and life regrets have been a thread in their many conversations. As Lucille at Duke Park is telling me this I know exactly where she is going with the story. I start to protest. She squeezes my shoulders, “Let me finish.” I do have a bad habit of interrupting.

“Years ago you called me out of the blue, explained our common interests and invited me to dinner. I thought it was a wonderful idea and accepted. Then the day arrived and what with five kids doing five different things I completely forgot. You called and asked me if I was coming. By that time in the day it was too late and I apologized all over myself feeling so rotten but also so exhausted.”

I am listening to this revelation trying not to speak but having a hard time holding my tongue. Lucille goes on. “I have so regretted that day and when I tell this to Janice and ask her what should I do she says to call you up when I get back to Dare County and invite you to coffee and confess. I ask her what you will say. She says that I will probably say that too much time has been wasted on nothing.”

I laugh. Janice is right and I tell Lucille as much. But here’s where the story gets even more interesting. It’s finally my turn to talk. I tell Lucille that I too have regretted that day but for very different reasons. And when that regret popped into my head I always justified it with that was the way things were supposed to turn out and her kids probably never would have been accepted into Choate on full scholarships if we had met that day. (I have yet to tell her that part but I will).

Because I remember it this way. I remember her calling me and asking about home schooling. I remember spending a lot of time preparing to show her how our home school worked. (And maybe I did plan for dinner too but I do not recall this). When she doesn’t show up or call I am extremely disappointed. So disappointed that when she calls later I refuse to answer the phone. I finally let Andrew answer the phone but will not talk to her. She calls more than once. For days I make Andrew answer the phone (he’s usually the kid available). I don’t want to hang up on her but I don’t want to talk to her either. She writes me a beautiful letter apologizing. I never answer it. And so that is the regret that I have carried around. My awful rudeness and unwillingness to give her any room for an apology. Later when we cross paths socially I simply can not bring myself to confess how bad I felt about that day. I actually hope that she has forgotten. The best I can do is chat in a friendly manner because she really is the loveliest of people. (And she’s a midwife too, but that came later)!

The point is of course to let go of regrets. The situation happened as it did for a reason. And to realize anyway that your memory and the memory of anyone else about a particular moment is going to drastically be so different more times than not. You may be regretting something they barely remember. Or remember entirely differently. Sure many times you are more or less on the same memory path as folks around you. But you cannot count on it. What you are regretting, or conversely fondly remembering, might not even be on anyone else’s radar.

Because of that day and how horrified I was at my actions I vowed to put aside anger as a tremendous waste of time and energy. And to give second chances. Few things qualify for just one shot. Of course there are exceptions. There are always exceptions. But not as many as we try to wiggle into that category.

Janice is going to love that the universe put Lucille and I together at Duke Park. At our grandsons’ birthday parties. In the parking lot. As we are both leaving. Universe you are so sly.

 

 

 

 

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The GRADUATE!

hilarey get diplomaShe’s a graduate. With highest honors, summa cum laude with honors in English. That means she maintained a 3.9 grade average or better and wrote and defended a thesis. Her topic is Gender Parity in the Film Industry. She tells me when we chat about the process, that her paper is accepted on the first presentation (one student in the department needs four attempts). The committee is very impressed with Hilarey’s writing, her supporting visuals and the work she put into all of it.

Donny & I want to go to graduation. Hilarey and Lewis want us there but they know all too well that it is a five hour drive. They keep saying not to feel obligated. And we don’t. But we really want to be there. It’s the getting up at 3:30AM that stalls us. We vacillate back and forth for days. Finally Donny decides. We’re going. There are the ceremonies plus the moving. One more car will be a help. We end up with all four vehicles packed full.

As I am taking a picture of Hilarey’s surprise departmental award, she tells me that when her parents drop her off four years ago she decides that if she has to be there for four long years she will make her mark. She will do her best and make it count. And she does.

IMG_3869  graduatedadjusting the mortar board hilarey & lewis

Not only does she graduate summa cum laude with English honors she receives the departmental Outstanding Graduating English Major award. This award is voted on by the entire department faculty. After nominations from faculty members and much discussion, votes are taken and the student with the most wins. It’s not an award sought after because few, if any, even know about it. Hilarey has no clue. She is there to simply make her mark.

Hilarey’s mentor, Hannah Abrams, is determined that Hilarey will receive this prestigious award. She speaks on Hilarey’s behalf. Eloquently, she reports when she meets us as we finish our lunch at Blue Surf. In telling the story, through occasional tears as she is still so passionate about it all, Hannah explains that while set on Hilarey winning , she didn’t want to over sell her nominee so keeps things brief. The professor that follows reads a poem and more for that nominee. “Do over,” she cries. “I need to tell you more.” She is granted more time. She explains how Hilarey is the exemplary student for the award. This bubbly professor has a winning personality and I can just picture her sincere enthusiasm. “We get it,” her colleagues finally say. Hannah wants to be absolutely sure.

She continues her praise. Not only is Hilarey a scholar, she competes (and wins) in SUP races. She has a long time supportive boyfriend (now fiancé). She has a life. Yes, Hannah’s fellow professors really get it. She thanks them and leaves. The committee is seriously considering another candidate but because of Hannah’s empassioned delivery, both students receive the award. That’s our Hilarey. Anyone will go to bat for her because she is just that good. And she deserves every single accolade that comes her way.

And soon she will be our daughter-in-law joining our three other amazing daughters-in-law (and one not to be left our awesome son-in-law) that complete our family. Welcome to the family Hilarey! And congratulations!!

honor graduate

Summa Cum Laude with English Honors May 9, 2015

 

 

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Mother’s Day Mom Musings

truman and his moll

Me and Mom costumed for cousin Jane’s annual party. Truman Capote and his moll.

When I am a youngster Mom reads to me every bed time and sometimes even in between. Maybe I am sick so much because I want her to read to me more. She reads lengthy story books, endless nursery rhymes, pages of poetry. I love it all. She has the smoothest speaking voice. Very melodic and well paced. One of my favorites, and Mom’s too, is this poem by Leigh Hunt. Possibly I love it because the author spells her name like mine. But really I love it because the message is so on point.

Abou Ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
“What writest thou?”—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”
“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,”
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, “I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men.”
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest.
mom and em

Mom and Emily long before yoga was a western world buzz word.

During our reading sessions, I never tire of anything by Robert Lewis Stevenson. His stories and his poetry. And more. Peter Pan. Alice in Wonderland. All the classics. It’s a wonderful part of the day. Mom knows little about parenting. A teen bride and mother she learns everything on the job. Teaching me to love reading is intuitive for her. And I come to treasure hearing the written word but reading it is another matter. My second grade teacher suggests that I am slipping down the proficient reader slope. Mom will have none of that. She makes it a point to listen to me read out loud to her every afternoon for months on end until I am back up to speed. It’s a chore for both of us but she stays on task until she, not the teacher, is satisfied that I am a strong reader.

Thanks Mom for that and every other love caress you gave me.

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If the Load Gets Too Heavy Sit and Rest a Spell

heavy loadRecently we spy an osprey sitting at the top of our swing up ladder. He has a huge fish in his talon. It’s not moving. The hunting has gone well. But the trip home is arduous. This is a big fish, about a good half the size of the bird. I’m sure the catch is easy because those talons are not to be trifled with. But the trip home carrying that heavy load is another matter.

He’s not nibbling or even pecking at it. Occasionally these magnificent birds do sit on our ladder and have a treat. One does that as I write this post. An appetizer size fish. But this big catch. This catch is dinner for the family. After his rest. And rest he does. He just sits there and sits there and sits there. He looks back our way a lot. Probably checking on our cats.

After a long, many minutes long, restorative break this hawk of the sea spreads his wings and he and his mighty load are airborne. Home is just around the corner and I am pretty sure that is enough of a trip with the mother lode he is bearing. If it were a longer trip he would find another quiet haven and rest another spell. He would get it and himself home without undue risk. That is a given. He knows how to handle a load.

Your load might not be as apparently visible as this sea hawk’s. In fact no one may even know that you are carrying a heavy load. It doesn’t matter. It really is fine to sit and rest a spell when your load is too heavy. True friends will not question or judge you. They will discern that you know what you need and deem your plan a wise one.

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This is OUR North Dakota

this is our north dakota darkClicking through my iTunes library I stumble across This is Our North Dakota that daughter-in-law Terri Onstad gives me ages ago when I ask for her cd’s. iTunes and I have a rickety relationship. I add. It subtracts, or so it seems. So when I find this I am so happy to hear it again. I decide to look up internet chatter about her short lived band career. I find the band on Amazon but no conversation.

Then I find a 2003 review on Tiny Mix Tapes.

“There are many irritating occurrences at concerts: tall people, sloshing beers, hippie chick dancers, and screaming fans. An extra annoyance at many shows in The Echo Lounge of Atlanta is the presence of not one, but two opening bands. I first heard No River City as a surprising exception to the “extra-opening-bands-are-annoying” rule when the band opened for Iron and Wine at the Echo.

It’s funny, though, that the very title of the album came from an argument between members Drew de Man and Terri Onstad, who once joked they would aggravate each other when they were on tour in a lonely state, a “North Dakota.” The irritation happened in a recording studio in Nashville, not on a desolate North Dakota highway, and the album title was born when Onstad stated, “this is our North Dakota.” Maybe it was the adrenaline from the conflict that sparked the two’s first full-length release, a 10-song joyride that swings from chill-bump inducing to, well, kind of scary.

De Man and Onstad’s sweet harmonies on the lyrics, “We were born to be wild/ Born to be free/ We seek the horizon/ And head for the sea,” are sweetly convincing, melting skepticism of critics who would scoff at the insincerity of similar lyrics in an Alan Jackson song. Couched in wistfulness and admiration, this track is the centerpiece of the album.

The brevity of the album is disappointing, but then it’s a delight to play it again from the top.”

And another 2003 review from ARTSpaceGallery.

“With comparisons to everything from Neil Young to Palace to Cowboy Junkies, you might think either the band or their fans were Canadian. But No River City’s music is simply an indie folk band with a country soul and a Mexican rock-n-roll guitar hand…. and a cello. They’re not from beautiful, friendly, chilly Canada — Terri is an army brat, who hails from all over, but mainly the southeast. Drew was born and bred in Atlanta, Georgia.

terri no river cityTerri and Drew first started playing together regularly in 2000 with Slim Chance and the Convicts, long one of Atlanta’s few roots-country bands. The addition of Terri on cello and Drew on accordion took the music a twisty way beyond honky-tonk. At the same time No River City was playing their first gigs in Atlanta and Athens. For a while, the band explored Drew’s songs as a five-piece, sicky-tonk band, playing songs about syphilis, death, lost love, death…. Then, in the fall of 2001, Terri came beating down Drew’s door, saying, “You’ve been so blind! You need a cellist.” Drew said, “cool,” and the gigs just started falling in their laps.

The two still appear with the Convicts occasionally, but the release of NRC’s first single and the constant road trips around Georgia and the Carolinas have occupied most of the last six months. The venues have ranged from pool halls and coffee shops to premiere clubs, with diverse audiences happily devouring the music.

Drew de Man — acoustic and electric guitars, vocals, songwriting, accordion, pills, liquor
Terri Onstad — cello, acoustic guitar, vocals, keys, pills, liquor, lipstick”

Your talent is truly amazing, Terri. You surely would have risen higher than most. But we’re all SO glad that you quit the band!

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My Little Sunshine OBX = Success

val

Val beaming as she heads off to the store.

May 1, 2015 marks the grand opening of good friend and soon to be family, Valerie Netsch’s, awesome store, My Little Sunshine OBX. It’s a blend of new and may as well be new off beat items for that youngster everyone has at least one of or knows someone that does.

When she tells me of her plans I am in awe of all the work ahead. I cannot get beyond the thought of hangers and tags by the hundreds. Plus everything else that goes into opening a new store. But she’s done this before so she knows the drill. Val and Robert knock it out in their impressive to witness work ethic mode. All the while smiling. And being cleverly creative as well as economical.

My job is encouragement plus a plethora of little people SLAPBoards I create just for her shop. And some SandyBands for the younger set of course. And lastly, I need to be sure that she is launched properly. I dream that I am her first official paying customer (she is so successful at marketing she has people begging to buy before opening day). And so I set out to make it so.

mls

My Little Sunshine OBX

I arrive a bit before 10AM. I sit a few minutes in the car and then go up to the door. Val and helper Gail are doing last minute things. Like try to figure out just where the key to unlock the iPad is so music can be played. Tiny panic when Val thinks that she has thrown it away. It’s found. Music floats through the air. I select my items and hand Val paper money. Who keeps their first dollar bill anymore but I think it’s a fun tradition and want her to have all the right karma. She takes a picture of it.

Customers are filling the store. A lady checks out. I’m not sure if she uses cash or credit, but I am next with my real purchase using my credit card. Surprise for goddaughter Haley Rea when she graduates. Donny later tells me that he thought of Haley when he saw the item too.

So I may have been first cash and credit customer on opening day. At any rate my job is done. I have brought my dream to fruition. And brought in customers for Val. Not that she needed me for that. But Donny & I are awesome customer magnets. Everywhere we go a shop can be completely empty and sheer moments after we step inside it fills up. We have considered hiring ourselves out. Customer magnet anyone? We are willing to travel.

Congratulations Valerie! You are a ray of sunshine in everyone’s life and your store beams.

 

 

 

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Just BREATHE 4 7 8!

It’s free. Free. FREE!

breathe

SandraBallART SLAPBoard. Available on Etsy and by custom order.

Everyone has complications and slumps right?

Everyone breathes right?

Sooooo…modify your breathing just a smidge and voila those complications will unravel like magic.

What, you say? Nothing can be that easy. Oh, but it is. It really, really, really, really is.

And the best part. You’ll notice how things that used to MATTER don’t matter as much any longer.

Here goes! Follow these complicated directions. It only takes a few seconds. 19 to be exact. And with a five cycle recommended limit we’re talking about a minute and a half of your time. One minute plus 35 seconds. 95 seconds. Tops. And that is if you are counting by seconds. It can be shorter or longer. Just keep the rhythm. My cycle tends to be shorter.

It’s an absolute. And we rarely speak in absolutes around here because well life ain’t absolutely that absolute.

Rest your tongue on the roof of your mouth just behind your teeth. Keep it there throughout.

INHALE quietly for a count of 4.

HOLD your breath for a count of 7.

EXHALE with a whooshing sound for a count of 8.

REPEAT up to five times BUT no more in any one cycle.

Repeat the cycle as often as you like throughout the crappy day. The happy day. The day.

That’s IT. The MORE you do this the more effective it becomes. It’s your own natural drug. Trust me. It works.

Free. And you have the tools with you all the time.

You are going to laugh and say sure something so simple as that is not going to do Anything.

What have you got to lose? But a lot of stress. And 95 seconds that you probably just spent that and more of complaining about how this day is not going like you want it.

4 7 8 who do we appreciate? Ourselves!

Print this page or get a copy of THE book where I list even more good things to do for yourself .

today

Every day is your day. Breathe 4 7 8 and own it!

 

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We TRIP Through Germany

“The suitcase. We left it on the bus!” Stephen rushes up to the bus door pounding on it before the driver can pull away.

We, Mom, middlemost child Stephen and myself, are in Germany only a few hours and already the comedy of errors is in full swing. We have gotten on the bus because the train master advises that our strasse is close by and we can save cab fare by using public transportation. Then when we ask the bus driver where to get off he looks confused (later we find out that Van Sparr Strasse is only three blocks long). A passenger lady tells us to walk, it is that close. More money saved. We exit the bus and in our jet lagged state leave the suitcase behind.

Emily & Lydia are headed to Germany for Lydia’s graduation celebration from 5th grade German emersion school. When the kids got into the German immersion school Emily & Marty decided that upon 5th grade graduation they would each take the respective child on a trip to Germany. Marty & Martin went two years ago. This year it’s the gals turn.

Head back to 2001 and travel with me, Mom & Stephen on our own trip to Germany. Mom has always wanted to go. Heritage on her daddy’s side, Edward Dyott Boschen, is rich in Hannover. Stephen Dyott has talked about going to Munich since he was a tween. I have a German artist friend who has an apartment in Koln. She rents it occasionally. It’s not occupied the month of August. I book it. Donny finds us mostly affordable tickets. We secure our Eurorail passes before we leave the states. Upon advice of Rick Steves whose guide I come to rely on as my bible.

Mom cannot believe that she is actually going. Donny & I pick her up at her home in Reedville Virginia. We head to Dulles where we catch our flight. We meet up with Stephen, who is coming from Raleigh, in Chicago and head across the pond to Koln.

plans

Our three week plan. It is in pencil. And some things do change on literally the spur of the moment.

It is literally on the trip to Dulles that I truly realize that Mom and Stephen will be looking to me to make the specific plans about what we do each day. We could just tool around Koln but no, that is not what our trip is about. Rick Steves has plenty of good suggestions and what I like about his books is that all conversation is centered around the local train station. We will blitz Germany! I begin making notes.

I quickly assess that Mom has too much luggage even for us having a home base apartment. She good naturedly starts pulling things out of this bag and that and consolidates. She’s a veteran traveler. She knows how to power pack.

directions

Our map to the apartment.

Back in Koln we are trudging along a beautiful city street for quite a while and decide that we have gone too far. We turn around and head back where we have come from. All we have to go on is a tiny hand drawn map and occasion advise from the occasion shops we pass on this residential street. We then learn that we have not gone too far and turn again. Mom is about to shoot us and convinced that the strasse and apartment are a myth. We get her some ice cream at a convenience store and sit on a low wall eating our treat. We begin again. Finally we find Von Sparr Strasse 50 and the deli that has the key to let us in the main building. (We have the apartment keys.)

Slightly begrudging us our success but happily so, Mom opts for a nap. We have sorted out sleeping. Mom and I take the bedroom. I pull the top mattress on the floor for myself. The under mattress is very soft and will give Mom more room. Stephen takes the couch in the tiny living room. We are cozy and happy. We are on the third floor. We have an on demand shower. A little kitchenette. And a street view.

I go out to find some help with directions and public transportation. And to get a few groceries. We are in what I call the Brooklyn of Koln. Nice neighborhood. Mix of people and life styles. We are on the other side of the river that dissects the city, not centrally located at all. We have few clues how to get anywhere. Later Mom meets a lovely lady named Gina in the common garden created by the backyards of our several buildings. She says to come to her place on the next block and she will give us her local train/subway schedule. We do. She does. We see that the closet train is a few blocks away. It’s the end of the line. Or the beginning depending on which way you are going. It’s not elevated and above ground. From there we can reach the world. And the rest of Germany!

We are ready for the blitz!! Below just a FEW of the places we visit. More about them and the rest in my next post on our whirl wind generation trip.

Rathaus

The center of Munich. So absolutely beautiful.

glockenspiel

We see the Glockenspiel work its charm.

deutsches

Stephen & I are in love with this museum. I would go to Germany JUST to spend days here.

berlin dom

We go to Berlin. I told you we blitzed!

chocolate museum

The chocolate museum in Koln. Flowing chocolate fountain!

baden baden

We spend a day in THE spa at Baden Baden in the Black Forest.

alps

We visit Bavaria and THE castles.

 

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Filed under Bavaria, family, generation travel, Germany, Koln, travel, Van Sparr Strasse

The Girls of 909 West Franklin St

909

Sandy in front of 909 standing under our balcony room.

Current VCU campus rumor has it that we were hand picked by Mrs Bocock to live at 909. When we are told this at our reunion dinner we all laugh. The unspoken thought that floats through each of our minds is, “Hand picked? Cannot imagine how I got on that list.”

Elisabeth Holmes Bocock is a force of nature. She lives as a widow in her parents antebellum home on W Franklin Street in Richmond. The house was then in the heart of the VCU RPI campus. Good friends with school president, Dr Oliver who resides across the street with his lovely wife in his own mansion, she graciously offers the upstairs front rooms of her house (she lives in the back section) to the school for their use. Dorm space is needed and so the rooms are outfitted for a handful of girls. I am one of the first thirteen girls to live in this mansion. Previously I have been offered a single room in another dorm house on Park Avenue but turn it down as being too cramped and small.

I have already done the cramped room tour with incompatible roommates my freshman year at Miami in Ohio. Never again. Besides, I am living in my grandmother’s home at 6416 Three Chopt Road in the west end. I share a room, a big room, with my 5th grade cousin. We are well suited roomies. I am in no hurry to move. My uncle might have been in a hurry for me to move as I play my Beatles album over and over and over and over again. That was when it and they were new. I still have it.beatles

I learn at the reunion that 909 was closed as a dorm the year after I graduate. Sandy has to move to Monroe Terrace, a high rise old apartment building turned into dorm rooms, and is miserable. She gets an apartment as fast as she can.

Such a small window of time to experience the splendid glory of life at 909. We know we have it good. But we are in college, a lot escapes our radar. During the reunion dinner held in our old dorm, now a school culture center, we marvel at all the beauty we missed or so took for granted that we barely saw it.

When Frances (Bolton Wilkins) calls to suggest gathering at the reunion can be fun, I stall. Could be fun but an entire weekend. Sandy stalls too. Then we chat and agree to go together. We laugh at the fact that her picture is in the middle of the photo montage used for every segment of publicity for the reunion. She is on all the mailing material. She is on the website. She is everywhere. But that is typical Sandy. She never seeks attention. It comes to her.

Frances is delighted that we are committing. She has a bevy of other 909/RPI girls signing up too including Barbara (Buskell Davison) who rooms with Sandy and Alicia after I graduate. That is after we stealthily move all of her belongings from her other dorm to our room because we know that she needs to be a 909 gal. It’ll be a grand party. I email the amazing worker bee Diane Stout-Brown that has put everything together to thank her for all her hard work and add that she will have a contingency of former 909 residents at the dinner. It is a grand evening. Well, until Barbara provides the requisite gal reunion drama by unintentionally leaving her purse in our now locked room upstairs. Chris has left with the only keys. Diane works her magic and the drama is short lived. Just a token 909 antic.

our room door   bathroomwatercloset909 bathroomsandy and chris   balconyfive of usentertainmentdorm dome   purse searchsingserenade

When we arrive at the dinner I introduce myself to Diane and she says to stay put. She has a surprise for me. She comes back with a guy and introduces me/us to him. He is Chris Ritrievi, Senior Associate Vice President for Development and Alumni Relations and has keys to the offices, his included, on the roped off second floor. He begs us to disregard his office mess and leads us upstairs. We are having our own private tour! We are a group of about ten plus a few that get wind of what is happening and join us.

Up the beautiful splint staircase we clamor (there was no carpeting in our day). Chris opens the first door. It’s my original room. It’s much smaller now because when they put in a spiral staircase to the third floor (more rooms for girls) for a fire code second exit it took part of this room. Frances and Maureen live here after I move across the hall. Chris cannot show us the adjoining bathroom (because it it out of commission) where we used to climb out the window and sunbath on the roof. That is until we got in trouble with the Dean of Women. But Mrs Bocock tells her that it is fine and we resume our golden disk worship.

The next room, Chris’ office, is a huge corner affair. None of us spend much time here. The girls are on a different focus from us. All the rooms adjoin via interior doors. Our room is next door through a small inner connecting hall. To one side of the tiny hall is a shared bathroom that we pretty much claim as our own. Those corner girls can share the other bathroom. It’s just as it was then. The water closet. The big tub. Sandy and I both remember it as a claw foot. It’s not but it is deep with one of those tall porcelain shaft stoppers. (My grandmother’s are exactly the same.) “No shower?” someone asks. Nope. “How did you wash your hair?” Probably stuck our head in the running water of the tub.

And then we step through the doorway into our room. We know the French hand painted wall paper went years ago. But the room is just as we recall it. The balcony. The twist and turn secret passage like closet with a door in our room, in the tiny hall and in the adjoining the room we just left. Totally occupied by those corner room girls. We settle for metal free standing things the college gives us. I change to this room that second year because Betsy, the girl already in the balcony room, and I are good friends plus my roommate Jane (Winters Wise) is leaving school at the end of the semester. Mary Ann Sturgis (Nassawadox native ferry ride and all) has already left midterm.

Enter roommate number three, Sandy, a freshman. I get a letter from her that summer naming all the things we have in common including our first and middle names, Sandra Leigh. Our home towns. Rockwell and Rockville. It is a match meant to be. We become instantly Jett and Nash, so decided by me to avoid confusion but also because my Dad and his best friend in college went by Jett and Leggett and I thought it exceedingly cool.

When Betsy gets married on the spur of the moment in early January (I vow in a letter home that if anyone else dares to get married during exams I will shoot them) we quickly turn her bed into a sofa in fervent hopes that the school will not assign another girl to our room. It works, just us for the balance of the year. About that wedding. Betsy is engaged to a guy, Ronnie, from VPI. We talk her into going out on a blind date just to get out of the dorm. With Jack Bruce, Gordon’s (dating Frances and also Sandy’s first cousin) roommate. They fall madly in love and truth told no stretching it (letters home confirm) get married in a church with a posh hotel reception the next weekend. Poor Ronnie. He shows up that first date weekend with roses in hand to surprise Betsy (it was one of their anniversaries). Betsy will not see him. It falls to one of us to break the news. Talk about drama. The next year Alicia who lives in the ballroom on the third floor joins Sandy and myself. Then it’s just one more year and 909 as a dorm is closed forever.

A small window in time when we were The Girls of 909.

A composite I made one winter break when I was the only one in the dorm and bored to tears

A composite I made one winter break when I was the only one in the dorm and bored to tears

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