A Life Well Lived

September

September is bright orange in my mind; my favourite month, Mother always said the the first two weeks in September were “the best- an Indian summer”, and for that reason, until the days of being hostage to fortune – school aged children, I always elected to take my annual holiday in those two precious weeks.

I was probably nine when, a couple of weeks after the ‘big holiday’ we were back at school, Pat a newbie at Pudsey Grammar School, myself at my primary school, when all the classes were unexpectedly called to the playground. “Oh good, a fire drill “ was the cry as we pushed and shoved our way outside into the sunshine. But no, no fire drill. We were assembled around a wooden cube, a real square yard, shouted at to be quiet while some lackey (where did this man come from) crow barred the box open. Quelle surprise!  It was full of shiny red apples, huge shiny red apples; so big we could only hold them using both hands!  Even the teachers had trouble to grab hold of them.  The fruits were distributed to the children and we were assembled back inside to hear the details of this wonderful bounty. Apparently, the apples had been sent by an expat in South Africa, who , knowing of our village school and having been made aware of the still imposed food rationing, had decided to send a crate of his farm’s produce for the post war stricken children of his home town.  How wonderful!  Not only an apple each but a huge shiny red apple for each and every child; no sharing, no need to slice up these wonderful globes, just shear indulgence for us all.  A wonderful memory, although in these days of Megan Markle’s infamous  dish soap letter, I have no recollection of we children ever thanking anyone for this wonderful bounty.  Did the school simply send a letter of thanks on headed paper??  I’ll never know, but what a shame that this generous person was not inundated with scores of grubby letters from us grateful children.

It was a sunny September day in 1987 when I boarded a 747 at Heathrow Airport to travel to Boston, Mass. to start my Winston Churchill Travel Fellowship. Two months of experiencing the deaf world of New England and a scheme between The Horace Mann School for the Deaf  (HMSD)and Honeywell Bull.(HB)  I had applied for, and won, an all expenses paid, and most importantly, some  introductions to some highly regarded institutions of the New World.  I had a letter of introduction to The Perkins School for the Blind plus a work experience booked at The Horace Mann School for the Deaf and, a liaison arranged with myself and the President of Honeywell Bull.  The excellent schools  made famous by their most well known alumni, Helen Keller, a deaf blind student educated at these centres.  I travelled in a shocking pink dress: a colour I usually wore when public speaking ( I’d done several by this time and found wearing a bright colour gave me confidence!) Anyway, this proved problematic on arrival at ……. as there was no one to meet me! I had been detained at customs for almost an hour as I had no address of residence upon me, I’d been interviewed by various officials and it wasn’t until I could open my suitcase to access my stack of paperwork that they agreed I was a welcome visitor.  By the time I got through customs the concourse was empty, not a person in sight.  I wandered round until I found an information desk and requested a call out for Claudia Chaffee.   At once a welcome party arrived; half a dozen teachers from HMSD and most importantly, my host, Claudia.  Phew!  These dear people had spotted me several times as I had been shifted , accompanied by customs officers, through the airport but had dismissed me as being “ too Italian”  I was berry brown following a Spanish holiday and wearing a Schiaparelli pink dress, so obviously not the drab middle aged woman they were expecting!

A tough start but the following two months were glorious.  Wonderful people, so warm, welcoming and inclusive; keen to share their knowledge, their country their friends even their neighbours wanted a share of me.  So overwhelming, but such fun!  The work was hard, communicating in a new language ( American Sign Language bears no resemblance to British SignLanguage) was tiring and I was also burning the candle at both ends as my diary was full of social events hosted by Claudia or later when I moved to Lowell, Patti Mc Dowell, my Greek host.  During my time in New England I not only enjoyed social events but attended weddings, christenings and even a wake! I visited Vermont, Maine, New Hampshire and Rhode Island along with the usual forays into Massachusetts.  I learned how to eat lobster ” from scratch”, had lunch atop The Hancock Tower, was interviewed on TV and radio and at the end wined and dined by the President of Honeywell Bull at the famous Pier 4 restraunt. ( to the delight of those at HMSD, my host invited me to bring ten colleagues along, none of whom ever dreamed of being lucky enough to get a seat at a table of this 5* eatery!  Just prior to my attending this event, Michael phoned me to say he’d been made redundant from his managerial post at Honeywell, the sister company of HB; this made several conversations quite difficult during the evening …..

Nevertheless my ever enduring memories of this magic experience are of blue, blue skies, almost cobalt blue, against the fluescent reds and oranges of the trees during the leaf- peeping season that is The Fall.

My return to the UK was full of angst; children who’d  had a really tough time, motherless and traumatised by the neverending trail of people coming and going following their father’s demise and with the added worry that a geographical move was looming: loss of friends, change of schools with all the attendant problems.  It was not a good time.