louise on the left (coast)

Brattleboro, Vermont. A town where the word freak no longer exists.  Not much here ever seems odd.  Somehow things seem acceptable here.  No matter what. (Cue music:   Radiohead.  Weird Fishes .) A truly Neptunian depot. There is a central parking lot, named Harmony Lot, where everything, since I first saw it back in 1968, has actually in been in harmony with zen-like acceptance to what chooses to roll through this particular crossroad. I get out of my Boston car rental and hear random notes of music floating around me. I am jet lagged.  As far as I can see from this block-sized parking lot, there are only coffee shops and art galleries. And suggestions of music. And I say to my kid Why do I keep hearing odd music? She says because, there's wind chimes.  Wind chimes in a parking lot? I look up. Indeed, there are wind chimes. Huge ones.  Duct taped way up in a tree in the middle of the parking lot someone has duct-taped a set of enormous low-toned wind chimes. O

Where I first fell in love with movies. The Latchis Movie Theater, on lower Main Street, Brattleboro, Vt.  With it's echoey, magical astrological stars on the rain stained ceiling...and it's roman fantasy side balconies... To the now gone, Paramount Movie Theater, on upper Main Street, Brattleboro, Vt.   Right next to the Woolworths store, which smelled like popcorn and bubble gum and had little green box turtles in the very back.  And it was right across the street from Dunkin' Donuts, on the corner next the the Brooks House, where I got my hair cut on the very tip, top of the building in the gondola room. The Paramount had 75 cent double features on Saturday afternoons.  Two movies and a pop corn for less than a dollar. I remember never being more scared than I was watching The Something of Dracula.  When Dracula drank blood his eyes got bigger and bigger till they exploded.  I was traumatized for life. But, the pop corn...Oh, the pop corn th

I have an odd trajectory through life, I live in Southern California now, but was born in New Orleans and parents moved to Southern Vermont when I was in elementary school.  They live there still. Hurricane season broke my heart with Katrina and this year's season breaks my heart with news of catastrophic damage in Vermont, too, today. Brattleboro Reformer Video of Sunday August 28th Damage Breaking: More video footage of Vermont flooding Substantial link with Southern Vermont damage Here is a link with some extremely heartbreaking images of Irene's damage there. "In Brattleboro, where several businesses along Main Street flooded when the Whetstone Brook overflowed, Carolyn Gregory said people had been shocked by the amount of water on the ground. “ People thought the storm had totally wimped out,” she said, “but then all the flooding started. It was unbelievable .” " Horrible.

...Stay awake after flying into the Manchester, N.H. in after flying the "red eye" from Los Angeles by drinking many cups of ice coffee. ...Set your car radio station WRSI , "The River" found at 93.9 FM or 101.5 FM In fact, anywhere near Southern Vermont or Western Mass. border there is a magic FM station where you can hear precisely what music your subconscious absolute requires hearing at just the right moment. The folks who create these play lists are completely psychic and will read your mind to feed your ears precisely what will become the perfect soundtrack to whatever your personal journey is at that moment. How great is that? I mean, whatever the circumstances. From dropping in unexpectedly for a parent's birthday, to high school reunions to watching cows parade down Main Street. Whatever the reason. It will work. Tune in. Leave it on. Listen. You'll thank me later. When in Brattleboro for 48 hours, you can do any of the following. --

I'm sorry, but childhood buddies are just not supposed to start dying yet. Especially ones as funny and sweet as Scott Langmaid. That's Scott in the photos below. And yes, he would kill me for posting them, they're dreadful. But they were fun times, as well, so I hope all's forgiven when it's my turn. It seems as if every play I ever did at BUHS had Scott in the cast...He was always so supportive and funny and best of all, actually got my jokes -- even the really rude ones. We did a lot of cracking up during this show. Here he is with the 1978 Brattleboro Union High School Stage Crew. Front row, far right. Were we really close? No. Okay, no. I suck at staying in touch with people. But, I always cared about him. And he did come to my wedding. Actually, as I recall, he gave us a great toast on our wedding night, when I so badly needed some levity and some kind of reminder of who I really was. Yesterday my mother phoned to say she'd just seen his

There is snow. Lots of it. As far as the eye can see and still more landing every second. White snow falling thick and silently on the world from every window. So clean and soft and quiet. It's a few days before Christmas. We don't have a tree up, yet. And Santa has yet to drive into NorthPollaboro to stock up on goodies, yet. My parents who we came out to see barely see us in the moments the weather will allow before pulling shut the curtains on sane travel. We stay in a snug, modern, one bedroom wood cabin which now has heat and water and lots of tall windows which look out over the meadows and trees. It is a very lovely, and remote place to be snowbound in. There's not a working television or a cell phone that has service, but a modem, so this is the way I maintain my technological fix with the universe. The quiet is meditative. I sift through my memories of Christmas past and present to reexamine what lasts and what is inconsequential. Like seashells I hold the re

I realize up till recently I've been recounting a strange tale from La La Land, but I need to interrupt that story to announce that my story has been upstaged by a trip to visit my parents for the holidays. They live in Vermont. Right now we are visiting them for Christmas. My kids and I flew the day of the historic ice storm from Southern CA to the other side of the country. We are in the very cold and snowy wilds of New England in the Brattleboro, Vt. area. Newfane, Vermont, to be exact. My husband joined us 5 days later. It's certainly been an adventure. I put all those seasons of watching Survivor to good use when we tried to stay in a cabin without power one night. My parents have lived in the small, very humble town of Guilford, Vt. since 1968 and once or twice a year we are lucky enough to make a pilgrimage "home" to see them. This year's pilgrimage was in time for the end of "the ice storm of 2008." Which having just been through the