Pictures from the Road

Surge

Note: Click on any of the pictures in this blog to display the image at full size. 

Today we crossed the border into Canada to see the other side of the glorious Falls, admittedly the better view, as everyone will tell you... 

Words cannot do justice to the experience of being in the presence of such massive power and beauty and surge, and so we leave you with our pixelated visuals, which come just the eensiest bit closer.

And well, the other Surge...  The one that when far away from these gorgeous Falls, when sitting at home in my pj's with a heart that's happy or sad or panicked or frantic about something or other.  This source of beauty and comfort was designed by Alice Stamm, a wizard of computer technology even when it was in its infancy.  Alice began the site that has been a lifeline to women around the world - a place of beauty and sustenance that has seen women arrive like weary soldiers returning from battle.  Shell-shocked, frightened, lonely, and very far from home...

You think I'm exaggerating?  I am NOT.  Although in modern media for women it remains a Big Hush-Hush, as though we must still be living in Victorian times, the truth is that for thousands of women, menopause is profoundly unsettling.  My own was hell.  HELL.  And so one day five years ago, I weepily typed a list of frightening symptoms into google, and well, it brought me home.

Home is Power-surge.com.  Begun by Alice in the 1990's, it's gone through (and continues to go through) numerous configurations determined by current computer technology, but the heart of this home does not change.  It is a place of welcome, and one is met at the door by Alice's big wide-open arms, and yes, we fall into them.   Alice's site represents hours of research she gathered and organized into categories user-friendly to women who aren't particularly computer-savvy.  One can look up "internal shaking," or "numbness," for example, and I'm betting you had no idea these are not uncommon symptoms of menopause...

For years Alice conducted Guest Chats with some of the most prominent doctors, researchers, nutritionists, etc., in the field of women's health.  These are still archived, and although Alice for personal reasons has not been able to offer the chats for awhile, their information remains current and relevant.

And then, there are the Message Boards.  And here, I wish typepad offered smiley-face icons, or hearts, or some other way I could convey the smile that is present on my face.  I have met amazing women on these boards, women from cities and hamlets and European countries and Australia, for heavens sake.  I have laughed and cried and wept and raged with them, and far from inhabiting a virtual world, they are Friends.  We share news of grandchildren, our cats, the breakdown of our cars, or of our hearts.  

One of the joys of traveling (and yes, this is a travel blog!) is meeting some of these Sisters, the "Sisters of Da Surge," as one of the girls puts it, in person.  Our trek to Texas last year brought me to a dinner table with Boyzmom; I've met Chriscarol in Connecticut, and Joline and 1Shopper, right in Maine.

Last night I met Arla, up here in Niagara-on-the-Lake.  Arla and I have been exchanging news and support in a particular Power-Surge thread (along with lots of other threads, and amidst lots of other beautiful Sisters) for a few years now, and it was a THRILL to meet her!  We had a beautiful dinner, and barely stopped talking long enough to actually get the food into our mouths.  In fact, it was easy to ignore my dessert (white chocolate and lemon cake even!) while looking at the pics of her adorable little grandbabies.  We had a beautiful midnight walk in this lovely village, and I savored every moment of it.

Our husbands, who've now been given the moniker of "Surge Brothers," also had lots to chat about, leaving Arla and me to share so many of our feelings about Power-Surge, the ultimate one being that it has brought us hope at the lowest point of our lives.

Tomorrow, David and I drive to Toronto, where we will meet yet another Power-surge Sister, Dotcalm, and I'm beside myself, truly.  Arla and her husband will join us, and it will be a Surge Session to beat all!  

And I end with a dedication to Alice Stamm, a most extraordinary woman.  Alice, I don't think you truly know what you have done.  Women come to your site and express that you've saved their lives.  You saved mine.  I thank you, Dearest, with all of my heart.  The voyage that brought me Home to Power-surge was the most important one I've ever taken. 

Thank you.

Thar She Flows!

After a day of driving with a couple of fun side-treks I'll mention in a moment, we reached our ultimate goal early in the evening, making our acquaintance at last with the Mighty Waters. They are beautiful, and sooooo powerful! Back at home, looking at pictures of the gorgeous Niagara Falls, it doesn't dawn on a person that (duh) this much water would create a WALL of noise, or that the river leading to the falls might be impressive in itself, thrashing and barreling along the banks and over rocks and giant wedged logs. Everything about the Falls is massive! And misty. And breathtaking. After an initial walk to take in as much of the beauty of the place as possible, we were fortunate to be seated at a restaurant's outdoor patio with a great view of the upcoming Fourth-of-July fireworks - a very nice way to watch fireworks, indeed, with a comfy seat and sips of wine between the ooooohs and ahhhhs! When the display (and dinner) ended, we walked to the viewing tower to see the Falls washed in colored lights beamed from the Canadian shore - gorgeous.

The area was packed with people who'd come to see the fireworks, and the "press of humanity," as they say, was daunting, given the propensity to yell to make oneself heard over the crashing of the Falls. The water sounds were natural and fine; not so the shouts and exclamations of hundreds of people. So, with a final walk up along the river rapids, we left the cacophony behind and made our way back to the hotel.

I have to say something about the day's drive from Cazedonia to Buffalo. We'd never realized that there is such beautiful farm country in New York. A truly quilted landscape of hills dotted with crops and outbuildings, those old silos we so love to see. It's heartening to witnessworking farms so well-tended, reminiscent of an earlier Maine we once knew, even in the southern parts of the state, where we live. So many gone now!

Our first stop of the day was in Seneca Falls, site of the original "Sisters-of-Da-Surge!" (A private joke for the beloved P-S friends.) TheWomens Rights National Historic Park should be a required field trip for all young girls, and boys, for that matter. I've read so often about this 19th century group of women, who faced ridicule and even violence in the early days of seeking rights for women.

Their first Women's Conference took place here at the Wesleyan Chapel, in July, 1848. A small group of women including the infamous Lucy Mott and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, had drafted a Declaration of Sentiments based on the U.S. Declaration of Independence, in which they stated that all men and women are created equal.

Women of the day could not vote, work outside their homes, own property - even speak in public, and in the event their husbands chose to divorce them, they generally had to leave their houses, and lost custody of their children. Every woman was one man away from destitution. Three hundred people attended the conference, but fewer than 70 women were willing to sign the Declaration, a sign of how controversial these "new notions" of equality were perceived to be.

And because they persisted, and other Sisters took up the cause despite struggles and persecution, we've found ourselves 160 years later with a woman candidate for President of the United States. Bless those early social pioneers!

Our next trek was a shot up to Rochester, where we visited the George Eastman House and Museum of Photography, where my own "FilmGuy" was soon in his glory...
Not only is there an extensive array of early cameras in the museum, which David chirped about with the glad enthusiasm of a kid in a toy shop, but there are original photographs from the likes of Margaret Bourke-White, Dorothea Lang, and W. Eugene Smith, along with intriguing and beautiful photos from their current themed collections.

The Eastman House is pretty darned impressive on its own, and the gardens even more so. He was a man who new how to transform a fortune into a beautiful lifestyle.
The irony of our visit is that if it were not for Eastman, we couldn't have MADE the visit. David's business is in film and video, working in his early years (and to a much lesser degree now) with the celluloid film developed by Eastman.

Film Guys then and now; Strong Sisters then and now. Amazing the connections threaded across years and by strangers. They're everywhere.

MINI-Bug

....as opposed to the "Silver Bug," our beloved Airstream, still at the RV repair place that's had it since the first week of May, where it sits untrussed now, and as skeletal as if picked over by buzzards. We miss it so!

Since that demoralizing day in February, when a huge block of ice came crashing off the garage roof - as if this past winter in Maine hadn't already been horrid enough! - and gave our poor 'Stream a massive concussion along with serious internal injuries, we've been feeling quite sadly stuck at home... With the 4th of July holiday approaching (and the cost of gas approaching $4.50 a gallon..... okay, stop snickering, my British buds!), we've decided to take an impromptu trek in the Mini Cooper. We're headed to Toronto, Canada, by way of Niagara Falls. Quite a different ride!  But it's very nice to be on the road again.

It was a beautiful morning to start on a journey: high 70's, briskish, and dry. Perfect driving weather.  Our first stop was in Brattleboro, Vermont, where, while seeking some lunch, we blew past what looked like a charming old-fashioned country store. Screeeechhhh!  And it was just that, full of the requisite local jams, cheeses, and maply products, but with the addition of a most heartening line-up of Starbucks thermal pots and a menu featuring numerous creative deli sandwich combinations. Perfection!  We filled a basket, and went off in search of a place for picnicking.

Which we found about an hour up the road, in Bennington, home of the famous Bennington Battlefield Monument. We've been here before, years ago when our daughter was a pre-teen. It must have been around the 4th of July back then, too, as in family pictures she's waving a little American flag. What were we doing in Bennington back then? Where would we have visited, to stop with Jessie in Bennington? Think as we might, we haven't a clue.

The elevator ride to the upper parts of the monument was daunting enough (for those of us who are claustrophobic in the passenger seats of Mini-Coopers, never mind small steel elevators).  The views of the Vermont countryside were beautiful, or appeared so fleetingly when I could gather the courage to actually leave the safe grounding of the benches they've set up there for the benefit of the world's wusses, and manage a quick glance out of one of the little slitted windows. I am so, so, not brave...

The clouds were thickening, but David merrily shot pictures anyway, halfway hanging out the slits, and if he'd been able to scale the Monument's sides with nothing more than a single toehold, he'd have been even happier with the quality of the shots.

Interestingly, the battle commemorated at the Bennington  Monument didn't take place here. It is, however, the original site of a storehouse owned by the Colonial Army during the Revolutionary War, and it's because of this storehouse that a battle took place. The British Army, desperately in need of supplies, were in the area, attempting with a serious of attacks  (they'd just re-taken Fort Ticonderoga) to cut off New England from the other colonies. They expected to be able to gain access to the storehouse easily, as they believed it to be guarded by only a small regiment of soldiers. The American forces were led by General John Stark, who'd fought alongside George Washington. He'd come from the area of New Hampshire to assist those in the new "Republic of Vermont," bringing along a large number of militiamen. He led an attack on the British army about 5 miles from where the storehouse stood (now Willomsac, NY), and although it initially looked as though he'd successfully routed the British, a later rally on their part put him and his men in a weakened and precarious position. It was only the arrival of the "Green Mountain Boys." that helped the Colonial Army reclaim the victory.

One needn't be a Vermonter to lay claim to the Green Mountain Boys. Their story is inspirational to many Americans - this group of militiamen whose hearts so sought independence from the British Crown, they were willing to pay the ultimate price for such freedom. Ragtag and untrained, they could fight like hell.
Back on the road on this 4th of July weekend, it was pleasantly surprising to sense some resonance of the dedication and sacrifices of our earliest American ancestors. It's a feeling that those of us who more often think of ourselves as "citizens of the World," are often removed from. Patriotism. A word that makes us shuffle a bit, nudge our toes against the stony haughtiness it can imply.

We determined to wrap up the day by driving as directly toward Niagara Falls as possible,  stopping when the obvious signs of crankiness appeared. At suppertime, we pulled into a Scottish Inn in the quiet, mid-state New York town of Cazenovia. There, David was offered a pretty snifter of single-malt Scotch as we checked in, and we headed up to our room.

Lining the walls were illustrations representing the Scottish clans, and as fate would have it, the one right next to our door was the MacKinnon, the clan David's grandmother Fuller was descended from.

We untethered ourselves from the suitcases, and went downstairs for dinner, served on the premises. Not magnificent food, but satisfying enough. 

So with Grandmother Fuller's clan watching at the door, we end a good day on the road, served well by the Mini-Bug.