Wisp of Christmas spirit

I seemed to have more Christmas spirit a little over a month ago than I do now. Here it is the day before Christmas and I still have not put up any Christmas tree, and I don't even feel like it. The buying of gifts was, at best, a lack-luster exercise this year. And my two sisters that live here are both going to visit other family this Christmas.

But each time I hear this version of "O Holy Night", it sounds like an angel is singing it. (Josh Groban is what I imagine the angel Gabriel to look like too.) And it is a gentle and lovely reminder that all is okay in my world and no matter what is thrown my way, I can always rely on the Lord to lift me up in spirit and mind. No matter what others say or do (or fail to say or do as promised), I have faith in Him to see me through it all. He is who is there whenever you need Him. You just have to learn how to let Him in your heart.

Awards Ceremony 10/18/11

Unbeknownst to myself and my three fellow dispatchers at SP Plattsburgh, two of our supervisors, Sgt Fred Atkinson and Lt Walt Teppo, submitted our names for the Troop B Civilian of the Year award. The ceremony was held that the Malone Golf Course, a very pretty setting.

Here is a picture of us receiving our award. From left to right: Superintendent Joseph D'Amico, Bill Reyell, Kathy Owen, Leigh Olcott, me, Major Richard Smith

Xmas prep

In preparation of the rapidly approaching season of cheer, Kath and I thought a trying on of hats was in order. Personally, I'm for the snowman!





Yes, very goofy, but we had a good laugh.

Day 2 in Quebec City - in progress

We took a taxi to the city this day, so I wouldn't have to find somewhere to park the car.

First, we went to the Citadel. It is the official residence of Le Royal 22e Regiment (the 22nd Royal Regiment). The guide says the name should always be said in French, that the administrative language is French, but if you want to be an officer you must also learn English. It is really an odd mix of French and British heritage there. The guards (of which we missed the official changing, because of the rain it was cancelled) are dressed according to the British style: Red uniform jacket with white belt, black pants, and a large black, fuzzy, q-tip style hat. Even the stone work of some of the buildings show a mix of French and British construction. According to the guide the buildings with the irregularly shaped and placed stones are of French construction and the uniform blocks are of British construction. There's a pic I took of it that I'll include in the pictures below.



We got the idea to grab a couple of rain ponchos the first night since it began to rain when we were sitting out on a terrace having dinner. Luckily we were covered by an awning. The ponchos look goofy but they beat having to carry umbrellas.


This is part of the display of the regiment's deployment to Afghanistan. I thought the burka was the only thing worth looking at in it. The rest were bombs. And they were all set up under a tent.


The first building you enter on the tour had displays of the regiments involvement with UN peace-keeping missions around the world (of which the tent display was supposed to be a part)






Third from the left in this photo is Theodore Roosevelt. Third from the right is Winston Churchill and second from the right is Eleanor Roosevelt. (I liked this picture because I recently read Franlin and Eleanor: An Extraordinary Marriage, which I thoroughly enjoyed.)




The wind and rain had picked up. And the wind kept getting up and under the ponchos inflating them like balloons. It was a good laugh.


The Chateau Frontenac. There is a screen print on the foremost face of the roof because they are replacing it.


Some of the views from the wall of the Citadel




All the cannons were on stands that could be wheeled in arcs so that they had a wider area they could protect.

A few days in Quebec City - Day One 8/1

So a new friend of mine, Isa (short for Isabel) Mengual Luna, who is from Murcia, Spain, and I went to Quebec City for 3 days (8/1-8/3).

At first when we arrived at the Hotel and Suites Monte Cristo, we thought that we had rented a room in some shady hotel. As it turned out the room was spacious, and clean and the beds comfortable (though I still didn't sleep well).

We arrived there not long after 2pm and checked in at the hotel. (Did I say how much I love my TomTom yet? It brought is right to the hotel with no problems.) The receptionist told us how to get to the old part of the city without having to use the TomTom. It was very easy. We had dinner there the first night at a place called Les Frere de la Cote. I had delicious lamb chops for supper that night.

Cheers to arriving safely and to an interesting stay in Quebec.



(sorry it's blurry)

Here are some street scenes









I love the flowers hanging from the windows...


and the winding streets and old architecture.

Around the old part of Quebec City are ruins from what they called the old Artillery. These are the arches and spires and cannons you'll see in these next pictures. And, there is a great view of the city from atop the walls.




Nice picture of Isa




another blurry one


neat shot, even if I do say so myself







You could take a carriage ride or ride on a trolley like conveyance pulled by horses too. The carriage ride was very costly. $80 for a half hour. I would have paid for one the following day, but I didn't want to use the cash I had for that and they didn't take credit cards. Still, someday I would like to take one. I think they could be very romantic with the right person and you get to see more of the city that way. Since it sits up on a steep hill, it is rough on the feet and legs to walk it all. And all around the city you see these big green water fountains. They are for the horses to drink from.

A visit to Rutland, Vermont

The day after my niece's wedding, Natelle, Debbie, Morigan, Karen, Chantelle and I went on a road trip to visit some family members: an aunt, an uncle and a cousin (and her family).

Here are a couple of photos of the day:

Debbie, Morigan, Chantelle, Brock Blanchard (my cousin's son), the little boy's name escapes me just now but he is the son of my cousin's other son Dustin, Natelle, Karen, Aunt Eileen Colarell(my dad's youngest sister), Uncle David Scott (my father's late sister Pat's husband) behind, the little girl is the sister to the little boy (her name escapes me too), my cousin Pam Blanchard, her son Dustin Blanchard (and father of the two kids) behind


All the same, except I'm in this between Natelle and Karen. And, my cousin's husband Jay Blanchard has the little girl on his shoulders.

Friday Night Spanish Conversation Group

Nearly every Friday evening between 5p and 7p, I meet with a group of people at the Koffee Kat on Margaret Street in Plattsburgh to practice Spanish. Thanks to Mary Lou Leavitt, the organizer of this group, it has become a highlight of my week. Since I am not much into the bar scene, it is perfect for me. I can socialize and not have to think about the motives of the other persons with which I interact. We are all there for the same purpose: to have lively conversation in Spanish.

And, boy, do I need it! I have lost a lot of what little fluency I had acquired. But it is slowly returning. It is amazing how quickly your memory discards things your brain thinks it doesn't need anymore. LOL. But this was no sudden decline. In fact, it has been a long and disheartening process. In retrospect, it is clear that the most fluency I had was during my undergraduate time at Plattsburgh State. During those years I would meet for Spanish class normally 3 times per week. And if I met with my various professors outside of class, that time was normally spent interacting in Spanish. But once I graduated, that all changed.

I began going to Albany to pursue my Master's and only met once or twice a week depending on which days my classes fell. And, I thought I was hot stuff, at the top of my game, until I realized that the majority of the native English speakers all spoke much more fluently than me, not to mention, of course, the native Spanish speakers who were (expectedly) in a whole other league. I began to feel more and more that my Spanish-speaking skills were less and less adequate for a scholarly setting and I began to clam up, and not even really try to participate in the class discussions. That only worsened things for me to the point that whenever I had to speak Spanish in any setting of more than one other person besides myself I became panic-stricken. That, in turn, started a cycle of self-doubt in my ability to achieve what I had entered that program to obtain, to the point that it became a self-fulfilled prophesy and I left the program. In all fairness to myself, I was not in good health and the straw that broke the camel's back was a backward fall down my attic stairs (Sept 09) in which I snapped the tip of my left should bone (the acromion process, if anyone cares to look it up), unbeknownst to me for a month, when I then had it x-rayed because it was not healing like the rest of my aches and pains did from the fall. That was rock bottom for me and I gave up my studies. As it was, it took nearly a year to get to the point where it didn't hurt to carry my bookbag on that side or drive with my left hand steering, like I normally did, back and forth to Albany. I even had to learn to sleep on my right side because I could no longer do so on the left. But eventually I regained my full range of motion.

However, I have yet to return to complete my Master's and now I am not sure that I will at all. Maybe at some point down the road, but somehow during all that went on I kind of lost my drive. I did discover though that staying home in my panel-lined apartment was NOT the answer. After the following academic year began in which I did not return, I began to feel myself a failure and was spiraling toward a depression in the winter of 2009-2010 the likes of which I had never experienced. I needed to do something. For a long time the idea of being a tutor for Literacy Volunteers had appealed to me. I am a huge proponent of learning and I think it is essential to be able to read and read well. I had to join LV, for my own health. And it did for me what I needed. It gave me a sense of purpose again, outside of myself, to get myself motivated and interacting with people in a positive way. My LV students think I have done so much for them, but they do not realize what they have done for ME. I cannot thank them enough. Because of that one step, I have become more integrated in life again.

The next step in that reintergration was joining the Friday Night Spanish Conversation Group. (There's even a Facebook page now!) My brother Tim had called me and asked if I was planning on going because he had seen an advertisement in the paper and he and a friend were considering going. I jumped at the opportunity and am SO grateful I did. Slowly I am regaining my passion for language (still not sure about taking up the completion of the Master's yet). I had lost sight of all the things that gave me pleasure for too long. It was time to reinvigorate myself. And the group has been just the thing to give me that impetus.

The group fluctuates in size. We started out in late January of this year and slowly participants began to drop off. There have been evenings in which only 3 of us have shown up. But we are seeing a bit of growth for the moment. There is one young woman who is a summer PhD student here from Murcia, Spain and just last Friday some others from Pamplona, Spain (here for July) and from Mexico have joined in. Friday was the first time in which there were more native Spanish speakers present than native English speakers. The conversation was interesting, lively and we laughed a great deal. It is medicine for my soul to have this kind of interchange. Languages are such a part of my passion in life that I see how the lack of them affected me so adversely.

And as for my panic I mentioned above, well it is still there but slowly it is dissipating. I think one reason why is because recently a friend of mine, Margarita Garcia Notario, and I had breakfast at her home. She is from Spain and was one of my professors at Plattsburgh State, practically the only one I have any contact with anymore. I am glad we have remained friends all this time. Anyway, part of our discussion included my studies and leaving them and my severe lack of confidence in uttering the Spanish language and she said something that struck home for me. She said the reason she thinks the lack of confidence is such strong factor in my struggle with conversing is because I am too much of a perfectionist. (Has she seen my housekeeping? She might think otherwise....HAHAHAHA!). When I make a mistake while speaking, I recognize it immediately and it starts a snowball effect with each utterance I make, so I make MORE mistakes, which then makes me more nervous and the vicious cycle just spins out of control. She thinks I do not give myself permission to make mistakes and she's right. Ever since she mentioned it I have thought deeply about what she said and how it has played such a gigantic role in my life. Yet something else it has forced me to realize is to look at my reasons for pursuing a Master's. If I finish, it will be for self-improvement and perhaps to enable me to use my Spanish in a professional setting. Before all of this my drive was different. My perception was that if I didn't pursue and finish a Master's, then I would be unsuccessful. But I was rating myself on other people's perceptions of reality. I think I HAVE obtained a level of success in my life. I have a good job, my kids are health and love me and know I love them, as do others in my life with whom I have relationships. To me it isn't about a title or a document that says I am "somebody", or about who I know and whose name I can drop to impress others. I missed my kids, I was not in good health and I needed to regroup and reprioritze. Maybe I am not a perfect mom, a perfect scholar or a perfect individual, but it is that very imperfection that makes one realize how important it is to enjoy life and not feel that after all is said and done you have regrets. Nor is it about what prestige you acquire or how much money you make. All of that is not worth squat if you do not have love and you do not have passion for something greater than yourself and your own little circle of people.

So, it is long overdue that I give myself persmission to be as fallible and imperfect as I am and embrace the clumsiness that ALL of us humans struggle with (don't any of you lie to yourselves about this). :) Besides, I know one learns from mistakes, so I say "Give me another serving!".

Below are some photos of some of the folks I meet with in the group (which has been a therapy group for me in some respect), which I "borrowed" from Karen and Isa who posted them on the Facebook page:

Gail (Wilson?), me, Karen O'Brien, Isabel (Isa) Mengual, Mary Lou Leavitt, Ally (Vanderthalen?)


Me, (don't remember this lady's name), Karen, Alberto (don't know last name), Mary Lou and Ally


Isa and me


Nancy, me and Karen


Not quite ready for a picture

25 Years of Crime-busting

Next January 8th will mark the 25th year of my service as a dispatcher with the New York State Police. All around the world there are people who look only at the bad that is perpetrated by police (and military), and justifiable is their view in many circumstances. But there is a side that most do not see, a quiet, unpublicized side. Every day there are police officers, and I know many personally, who do very good things unbidden. They get little thanks for the things they do that are not strickly part of their duties, yet they do them just the same, without any expectation of gain or return for themselves. There are good and bad people in EVERY walk of life. Not all police members are corrupt or without ethical restrain, neither are they all model citizens. But, there ARE some very caring and conscientious individuals out there who have donned the uniform and truly mean to fulfill the mission they have sworn to uphold. I've seen the good and the bad in my co-workers, who have, in turn, seen both in me. And each day, amidst those fluctuations, is a proving ground and a chance to grow and better oneself.

All in all, I would say that my time in the NYSP has been the greatest catalyst in encouraging an objective and critical consideration of myself, my conduct toward others and my personal integrity. Have I faltered? Oh, yes! More times than I can count and in ways I admit are not ones I am proud to acknowledge. But acknowledge them I do, for two reasons. First, because everyone learns from mistakes that they have made and for which they take responsibility. No one can escape the human condition: fallable, inconsistent, contradictory. Second, because others see how you conduct yourself. You have the power to influence others when they see with what level of integrity you handle matters you are faced with. And integrity is really only being honest with oneself, which, if you are, prompts you to be honest with others. One is synonymous with the other if true honesty is what is in play. And truth leads to growth.

I feel I have "grown-up" in this organization, from naive to aware (and sometimes even savvy and wise), from meek to more ascertive, from undisciplined to a person with direction and who takes on responsibility for her own words and actions. There is no hint of perfection or self-importance I wish to portray myself as having. What I do wish others to consider me as is a person who makes mistakes but who is also ready to take responsiblity for them and as someone who does her work well, overall. Another motivation to be the best I can be is that I loathe getting crappy customer service. Trying to do to others what I would have done to me is a strong impetus to try to provide better than average customer service. (Especially since I know that the public perception of civil service workers is very poor. They expect poor service and get it frequently enough; I try to contribute as little to that stigma as I can. Some days I am successful, others no.)

Early on in my career, I did not have the feeling of connectedness and competence with my work that I feel now. For many years, it was just a job and a certain influence in my life made me feel that I was a contradiction: wanting to be a good person but working for a police agency (because that influence considered only the negative perception of such entities). I can finally say that I have come to love my job, truly, and am proud to be a part of the NYSP. Do I have shitty days? How could I not? Some days it is rough seeing the purpose in all of the activites that seem mostly to occur in circular pattern (day in and day out...the same kinds of complaints, the same complainants or their subsequent generation, the same bureaucracy to deal with within the agency, etc).

Finally, I'd like to say thank you to the folks I work with, because it is through interacting with them, especially, that I have come to see a reflection of my flaws and my virtues not only as an effective dispatcher, but as one who is still and constantly learning ways to be a better one.

Day in Burlington

About a month ago I went with two and "a half" friends (you'll see) to Burlington. I have no idea why I didn't take more pictures than those I did, but below are the nicest of the lot. We had gone over to see one of my friend's sons, who is a political activist in that area and was celebrating Earth Day with a protest of Lockheed Martin in front of the Peace and Justice center at the corner of College and Lake Sts, next to the Skinny Pancake. Here is a link to an article written for the New York Times about it. (Her son is playing the guitar.)

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/12/us/12burlington.html

We visited the Peace and Justice Center's shop that has a wonderful assortment of goods made with recycled materials (like necklaces made out of beads made from long thin strips of colored paper and given a shiny varnish, and a wall clock whose face was made entirely out of rolled and coiled old newspaper). They also promote goods made by women in countries where they are oppressed (take your pick there are several). There some of the most unique gifts there, if ever you find yourself in the area. (It is a block east of the Echo Lake Aquarium.)

We had lunch at the Skinny Pancake (aka a crepe), which I thought to be a bit on the pricey side for what you were served, but nevertheless quite tasty. I had a crepe filled with mushrooms and chicken and assorted other vegies. I would go again; it was sufficiently tasty to.

Here are the photos.

I think this was in Battery Park, though I'd have to check on that. I thought it looked interesting.


My friends Mary Lou Leavitt and Nancy Crouse. It is Mary Lou's son pictured in the Times article.


I thought this was whimsical. Hope he had a relaxing rest.


My "half" friend Mateo Crouse. He normally has such a sober and contemplative disposition, but that day he was full of smiles.


This picture makes me laugh. The bigger the smile, the more he squints. lol


I think Mary Lou took a picture of me and Nancy, but I don't have it. If i get it, I'll include it in this post.