Via Con Dios

Jennifer participated in an art show in Littleton, New Hampshire. If mom had not past away Mike and Margie would have been in western New York or perhaps Colorado where they just bought a new home, I would have been on my book tour in the Carolinas, and Dad would have been home with Mom in Saratoga. Instead, Mom brought us together and we converged on Robin’s log home outside of Littleton where we spent the weekend dodging rain drops, watching the leaves turn color, and helping Jennifer sell a few pieces of pottery.

The weather forecast never looked promising, unless you consider that there was never a threat of snow. I prepared for cold weather, digging out my long johns and donning five layers of clothes including my rain gear. However, I did not bring my boots and thought I was going to freeze my toes off. Fortunately, it wasn’t too cold if you consider 50 degrees not too cold (frankly I do), but since the rain wasn’t too heavy and Jennifer’s exhibit was near one of New England’s ubiquitous covered bridges (close enough we could have smelled the trolls living beneath it) I was able to stay dry and warm by crossing the bridge to visit the town where a Dunkin Donuts (of all places) could be found.

It was a long day starting at 4:45 am. I quickly concluded that selling books might be a bit easier. The tent and display racks had to be set up and leveled before boxes and boxes of breakable pottery could be unpack and placed carefully on the tables and shelves. Then there are the other things to consider – wrapping the product for the customer and putting it into a bag. When selling a book, at least for one who is on the road and selling them out of an RV, I sign it and hand it to the customer. A bag-free, wrap-free transaction.

While selling a book I might give the customer a little trip synopsis, share a little behind the scene insight like the captain threatened to sue me or share a few photos of the trip. Selling pottery takes a visual connection and once that is made hook the customer with the "how it was created" stories. For a book it is an curiosity connection. And what hooks them – hell if I have figured that out yet. Imagination maybe. I know some people get goose bumps thinking about ocean sailing.

I tried to entice buyers into Jennifer’s parking lot (she had a poor location), by standing at the far end of the covered bridge and welcoming the crowds who ventured to the bridge to cross on over to the other side (no Doors' music). I gave them a little pitch about the exhibit and handed them a business card. If they made a purchase they could use the card to get 10% off the price. It was more for my amusement than to attract customers.

By the end of the day she made a few sales and had won third place for 3-D art. She can now say she is an award winner artist. That is pronounced “Art-teist.”

I could not help think how proud mom would have been.

Saratoga National Cemetery

Once again I forget my camera. I would have gotten a few shots of clearing skies in the Hudson Valley where fertile farm lands lie in wait of winter. Still green are the pastures where horses and dairy cows graze. Tucked quietly among the rolling hills near the western bank of the Hudson is the National Cemetery. This is where dad wishes to be buried. He wants part of mom’s ashes to be buried with him. We had heard two different stories about how the process works for a veteran’s spouse who passes and is cremated before the veteran who wants to be casketed.

Dad and I spoke with the director and decided on some of the details such as vault or ground interment, inscriptions, style of cross and resolving how to inter mom without inconveniencing the family with an assembly on a weekday. A memorial can be done anytime, but the place is only open weekday 9 am to 3 pm.

When my father’s mother died I heard him say to her via con Dios. He said the same thing to mom the night she died. I thought it would be an appropriate inscription. I told that to dad as we stood in front of the wall. He hugged me and thought that might be a good idea.

Starting Over

I’ll load up the RV, check the tire pressure, make sure I am not caring any mice and leave for Mystic, CT on Friday. Back on the road for the first time since I returned home after mom’s heart attack. I am looking forward to being on the road again, but not looking forward to leaving. I will be packing an extra blanket and a heater. Key West is looking good.