Fight abuse with a dancing Lawyer!

When we moved to Virginia, I was thrilled to see a Bollywood dance class being offered at a local gym. It is called BollyX and is an interval dance-fitness class. One of the teacher's names is Susheela Varky. Subconsciously, I categorized her to be a traditional Indian woman-very fair, long hair, delicate build, conservatively dressed. That Saturday, I was in for a surprise. I saw a lovely, short-haired, dark-skinned lady with a lean, muscular build, so comfortable with her body, dancing and working out like no tomorrow. It was completely different than what I had imagined, and I was pleased and proud to see this version of an Indian woman that had only existed in my mind. Don't get me wrong, I love traditional Indian women and their demeanor, but it is common to have a girl-child raised self-consciously about her body, to remain or try to become fair-skinned, to stay slim (instead of strong and healthy). It is hard to break these stereotypes and figure out that a "healthy body" is more important than a "fair and lovely" image; that you recognize the image that you truly like versus the image placed on you by the society. It ain't easy to break out of a mold, and she did it. Even if she was not doing it on purpose, she inspired me. 

Over to the real deal:
The article that follows is not about Susheela’s BollyX class, but a more serious passion of hers-to help and support abused victims. As much as I write mostly about strong women in my blogs, abuse can happen to anybody – men, women or children. I think it’s important for us to spread the word about these helpers in our midst. 

http://www.richmondjustice.org/susheela

Susheela | August 5, 2016

Susheela Varky is a Staff Attorney focused on Domestic and Sexual Violence Law at the Virginia Poverty Law Center. The organization advocates for the civil legal needs of low-income people and supports local legal aid offices throughout the state.

I’m one of those wack job people who knew exactly what they wanted to do as a kid: I wanted to be a public interest lawyer. It was a vague notion at the time, but I knew I wanted to be able to represent people and help them improve their lives.

After law school, I was working at a national nonprofit organization focusing on federal affordable housing issues when I decided to take on a pro bono case from an organization called Women Empowered Against Violence (WEAVE). My client needed a protective order against an abusive spouse. Around this same time—Thanksgiving 1998—my parents called to tell me that they were getting a protective order against my brother. He was abusing my parents.

I ended up hired as the first staff attorney at WEAVE, and that’s when I first acknowledged that I grew up in a violent home, where my dad abused my mom. It was always something I had hidden. None of my friends knew what happened behind closed doors.

“That’s when I first acknowledged that I grew up in a violent home.”

Since then, I've felt as if it just makes sense for me to do this work. This field is where I’m supposed to be. My personal experiences help me to get it: I get it from the victim’s perspective, from the children’s perspective, and even from the abuser’s perspective. I don’t condone any abusive behavior, but I understand how people end up like this.

If one of my clients goes back to an abuser, I get that, too. My mother was the primary breadwinner—and the only breadwinner—for much of my childhood. She had the financial resources to say, "I want a divorce." The fact that she didn't suggests how difficult and layered all of this is. She loved my dad and he loved her, and she was never going to leave him. She did the best she could under the circumstances, shaped by her cultural background and norms.

I’m reconciled to the fact that because of my family background, I understand this work on a nuanced level and do my best to represent my clients effectively—yet I do not have the ability to do one iota to resolve these problems within my own family. My brother died recently. He and I responded very differently to the abuse we saw growing up. I danced and did activities and focused on the goal of "Get away from this and lead a ‘normal’ life." My brother ended up becoming an abuser—of other people, of drugs, of alcohol. He took a different path, and imploded.

Every day, I talk to people who are victims of abuse or their advocates, and often they're seeking legal advice on how to obtain a protective order. About half of those callers are immigrants. They’re dealing not only with the fact that an abuser can prevent them from getting help; the abuser can also hold the person’s immigration status over their head. He or she might say, "If you report, the police are going to deport you, because you’re the one who’s here illegally."

“These are the kinds of crazy things that victims have to do to protect themselves.”

I met a client several years ago whom I recognized as an employee of a restaurant close to where our office used to be. She and her husband are immigrants. He had a green card; she did not. After they married and moved to the U.S., he made a complete 180-degree turn. He refused to work, and instead made her work under the table. Every day, he would drop her off at the bus stop, and she would have to take two buses to get to work. If she wasn’t on a particular bus at the end of the day, he would accuse her of having affairs and be extra abusive.

With such a controlling partner, we had to find creative ways of working together. He didn’t know how to use the computer very well; so, she was able to e-mail me. She also came by our office during her breaks. If I was available, we’d meet. If not, she’d leave notes in my mailbox, and I’d leave notes for her. We did that over the course of a year. And there were close calls. One time, we lost track of time. When we realized that she'd missed the first bus, we got in my car and I drove like the devil along the bus route to catch the bus so that her husband wouldn’t suspect anything. These are the kinds of crazy things that victims have to do to protect themselves.

We submitted her application for a type of visa that was made available through the federal Violence Against Women Act. It allows domestic and sexual abuse victims to self-petition for legal status. We received notice that the reviewer needed more evidence of abuse. I expected that; many domestic violence victims, whether because of their culture, the trauma that they’re dealing with, or other factors, can’t express the details of what’s happened. It’s very painful to put that on paper. And yet, a very significant part of these visa applications is the affidavit—the personal story of what happened. Because of her immigration status, my client had never called the police; so, there was no official record of abuse.

I understand the perspective of U.S. Citizen and Immigration Services: They can’t automatically grant a visa based on an applicant’s story alone. How would they know whether it's true? Fortunately, my client's sister-in-law had seen some of the violence and wrote an affidavit to accompany my client's own. A few months later, my client’s application was approved: she received her visa. From start to finish, it took two years to get her visa and then another two years to get her green card. Today, she’s a productive member of the community, a mother of two, and a homeowner. If she hadn't reached out, she could still be in an abusive situation. She could be dead. Her kids could be motherless and living with an abusive dad.

“You start to lose perspective of what is appropriate behavior from someone you love, someone with whom you share children.”

She’s the kind of person I talk to every day. People who call me have dealt with so much for so long, and they have kids to care for all the while. They don’t want to see their partners go to jail, even temporarily. They want their partners to be the people they fell in love with. After all, there are good times, too, and abusive people can be very charming. Most victims just want the abuser to get help.

But help is not always available, and counseling is rarely something that an abuser is willing to consider. It's especially difficult if the victim and abuser grew up in environments of abuse and have always been in volatile relationships. The cycle is difficult to break. It’s possible for an abusive person to stop abusing, but not likely. It’s ingrained. It's how they were raised. It’s part of who they are. 

After being on a phone call with a domestic or sexual violence victim, sometimes I feel as if I wasn’t helpful. It's rare that I can secure pro bono legal assistance for someone or take on a client myself. But the people who call are so grateful just to be able to talk about what they’ve been going through with someone who believes them. When you’ve been oppressed for so long, you start to buy into the idea that, Well, maybe I did deserve that. After all, dinner wasn’t on the table at 6:00. You start to lose perspective of what is appropriate behavior from someone you love, someone with whom you share children. So, at the very least, I can have a conversation with them. And it’s the best part of my job—talking to real people and providing even just a bit of guidance and assistance.

— interviewed August 1, 2016

Lifetime of a friendship and travels at a glance - Daphne Part 5

Daphne's Best friend Myra writes their story as a flashback -

A friend like no other

D.& I met at my 22nd birthday party.  She disagrees.  She says we met in the Language Institute studying Spanish.  Since she is better at details than I am, I will not disagree, but I have confidence in my emotional memory, so the meeting for real was on the dance floor in a small apt. in Malaga, Spain. I fancy myself a good, rhythmic dancer (no ballroom steps here), but Daphne did something so different from what I knew.  Her almost 6' frame was ponying up in a most unique and memorable way.  Was this the English style of dance?  I didn't ask, but met her on the dance floor instead, bringing my 60's style learned in black bars to join her English gait.  Little did I know that I would forever be counting my birthdays, along with the date of our meeting, in the same breadth, pretty much forever.

At the end of the Language program, everyone else left and Daphne & I remained.  We had a lot in common, competing with each other on who could live on less a day.  She was matching my $1 a day room with one for 50 cents and eating on less too.

Soon we were hanging out together on a regular basis, becoming fast friends.  I was going to a village where I was spending time with a potter and his family and Daphne came with me to visit.  We must have done a lot of other things together up until the time she was ready to move on.  As I understand now, she had constraints on time and money imposed by her government which I did not.  So, she would return to England and I would stay.  But, we had a plan:  To meet on the post office steps in Seville in April.  Before I could leave to meet her, a telegram arrived.  Daphne had a loss in her immediate family, followed by an asthma attack.  I left Spain soon after and went east to Greece, not expecting to see each other again.

In October 1969, I returned to my parents' home in Yonkers, NY having contracted a serious infection on my leg that left a scar, colorfully referred to as "the rose of Jericho."  Not more than a few days later, already at the height of my misery being home, my father answered the phone and I heard him say, "Well, she's right here."  Very soon after, we were picking Daphne up at Penn Station in NYC.  And as we both looked at each other, then pointed at each other, we burst out laughing.  We were clearly no longer on the $1 a day diet in Spain, but instead had turned into two rather hale, hefty and hearty women!

My next memories are spending time together during the summer of 1970 going to every free event there was in NY, and there were many.  Pete Seeger figures somewhere in there. Daphne and I have always enjoyed foraging for fun and I think we have done a decent job of it over the years.

There were more travels ahead of us.  In the summer of 1971, before I started a new job, Daphne and I took a cross country trip in my VW bug to visit a friend I had traveled with in Yugoslavia.  We went as far as New Mexico together and I returned to work in a drug prevention program while Daphne kept on to So. America.  I remember complaining to Daphne that I would be working with a very straight looking guy, the same one I ended up marrying , but not before Daphne & I with another friend of mine, Jane, had traveled to Bolivia and Peru.  Once again, Daphne kept going and Jane and I returned to NY, where I resumed my work, my relationship and plans for our wedding in the spring.  My happy marriage ended tragically when Bob died two years later of leukemia.  I don't have much memory of anything for awhile, but, at some point, I started visiting Daphne in her communal living quarters and she would visit me at my house in Yonkers.  I was not planning much then in the way of good times, just struggling to stay afloat.

Kids & Grandkids

Bob died in 1976 the same year that a little boy was born who has remained a part of my life.  Of course, things are never that simple and little David came along with a challenging father who gave me a merry run for 20 years.  Daphne was nice enough to witness the betrothal 10 years into the relationship, bringing her kids with her from where they last were in Botswana.  It was probably the first time I had heard about Botswana, but not the last :-)

Daphne and Myra standing at the back - Daphn'es son's wedding in India

During the years of difficult men and their progeny, we did everything people did to support families, raise kids, pursue careers, and just survive.   We visited each other, sometimes with mates, but often alone.  Daphne was without John early on and struggling with asthma and an overwhelming life.  I remember finding her in a condition that worried me.  But, we kept in touch, brought our kids along with us and managed to continue our friendship.  By then, she was living in Vermont and I made sure we visited, first with Artie and the kids, eventually alone, at least once a year.
But, better times were coming.  We just didn't know it then.  I met a very, very nice man.  What better way than to bring him into the fold, welcomed by Daphne, and sleeping together for the first time in the little house in Vermont.  ( I hope you're not blushing!)

Myra and Daphne on Daphne's 70th Birthday

Did this mean our travels were over?  Not quite.  Remember Botswana?  Well, yes, we took a little trek together through So. Africa & Botswana, revisiting some places where Daphne had been when her brother Hugh lived and worked as an Engineer, living there with Pat, his wife.  Hugh was ill at the time of this trip so it was especially meaningful when we met someone quite by chance who had worked with him and told us held Hugh in the highest regard.

Our next rendezvous came after Hugh died and Daphne was spending time in Norfolk with Pat.  I popped up for a visit and got a chance to see Daphne's home territory for the first time.  I told her that I never believed her stories, so needed to see things for myself.  My life changed dramatically after that trip because my daughter, after living 13 years in Vienna, applied for a job in NYC and got it.  So, now I am a happy camper with my son and his family, all within shouting distance (I shout loud). And that is the stage we are at now, enjoying our respective children (usually) and grandchildren (always).  And, even better, they are forcing Daphne and me to spend more time together in the Brooklyn & NY area.  Of course, Daphne made fast friends with Seymour too who provides a B&B for some of her trips to the area.  Coincidentally, as I write this, this weekend is one of those times.  And Cindy & Monika will be visiting here too!

- MYRA.

Power and Love is what we are made of: the woman in Daphne (Part 4)

Daphne had come back to Vermont in the Fall of 1980, after ending her relationship with the kids' father John Flynn. She rented an apartment in Worcester. She did book-keeping for small businesses which paid her more than being a typist, which she'd never learned to do anyway. They muddled their way through, some help from the state and some odd part time jobs. John would visit sometimes, but there was no financial help from him. John was ordered to pay $15 per week for child support. For two kids? Could the mother pay only that? He payed his share for a bumping 5 weeks before he gave up. Daphne went on to manage her own life with her children.
Around summer '82 Daphne went to England for most of the school year. More book-keeping kept her going there. She likes to call it - a non-emotional job with an emotional life at home. Book-keeping was a very mechanical job with numbers. She lived in a small town, rented a house when a school friend living locally gave her deposit money. Daphne came back to Vermont in April of 1983 and rented a house owned by family friends in Worcester; the mother was very supportive of Daphne and their sons have a life-long friendship. They were born 15 hours apart in the same hospital.
Daphne earned a living as a Finance Manager in Waterbury where the company profits increased by 300% in a year. Then she taught Math and Computers at Vermont College for several years as well as a year of Math at Montpelier High School. Her kids went to elementary school in Worcester.
During these years, Daphne met a terrific group of women friends who supported each other tremendously. They were building a strong community under their feathers. Soon it was time was Daphne to buy a permanent roof over their head, which led to the search of a house and the more challenging aspect of financing the house. She has written an amazing story of trials and tribulations she went through and how the universe conspired to get her the deal she got - how the realtor, the lawyer, the banker were three different women but all compassionate of Daphne's situation, and bent the rules to make this happen. On July 30th of 1985, her 40th birthday, Daphne became the home owner of a beautiful cottage in Worcester. What an achievement for the mother hen and her youngsters. That house is where the kids grew up, went to school, had their fights, had their playtimes, certainly loved each other.
It was the year of '92 when the turn of events happened. Daphne received 3 offers in one week. The first was acceptance at a PhD program at UPenn majoring in Financing of Higher Education, the second one was to be Associate Executive Director at Farm and Wilderness Foundation and the third was as Financial Manager at Vermont Housing and Conservation Board, where she'd been contracting for a while.
Any guesses on which job she took? This was her first venture to be a professional into the world of non-profit organizations. She became the Associate Executive Director, which included business management, at the Farm and Wilderness camps in Plymouth. She enjoyed her work, learned a lot, and her kids came too, each in their own appropriate summer camp and her in a cabin. They'd bought another house by winter but kept the Worcester one. She had some amazing experiences and interactions here, with the kids, with the year-round staff, with the summer counselors, with parents and Board members. There were exciting times when the campers were fully engaged in multiple activities, and less interesting times as when the campfire turned into a wildfire that called for emergency measures. Because of the move, Daph's older child was ready to plunge into another world. He was now in 9th grade and had his mind set on a boarding school near Philadelphia which, after somewhat tedious efforts, had offered a half scholarship. In a couple of years, the next one was ready to follow brother's footsteps and wanted admission to the same school. It took some real money but the best Daphne ever spent. She wanted the best for her kids and their efforts were rightly answered. Both children went on to good colleges, later to Grad schools (which they paid for themselves!) and are now professionals in their own lives.

Daphne receiving her US Citizenship (Circa 2012)

For Daphne, she was ready for a new adventure. The kids were out of the house, Daphne was free once again to pursue her world travels. But a new challenging job confronted her. The Intervale Foundation in Burlington, VT had acquired 700 acres of wetland between the Winooski River and Lake Champlain. It was an opportunity to use the land for organic farming, with a subsidy program for beginning farmers and included a commercial composting company to pay most of the non-profits expenses. Daphne worked as the Executive Director of that project from 96 to the end of 2000, when she handed it over to a fellow who she knew would do justice to the mission. In December of 2000, she joined her youngest studying in Pune, India, my home country. She has written some amazing stories and experiences during her visit there. As an Indian, I found them extra-ordinary.
In 2001, with no more college bills coming her way, she moved to Washington DC and got lucky with a small apartment right behind the Supreme Court. After sending out 47 resumes and no interviews, she got a job on submission of her 48th, as a teacher in a small Quaker-styled school for edgy teenagers. There she met a younger handsome British fellow, friend for life, who I've had the privilege of meeting also. He is getting married to his fiance Peter next year, and Daphne is officiating at the ceremony. Oh, and did I mention that Daphne also officiated at my wedding ceremony? Rob and I unanimously agreed to this. On her 70th Birthday, as her friends and family gathered around in a circle introducing themselves, Rob mentioned this fact, to which the witty Daphne cited - Rob is probably the only man I ever married!

Daphne in her kitchen, next to the wood stove, in her cozy Worcester house

Once a mother, always a mother. Even after kids grow older and the parent takes the role of a friend, circumstances revert their role to being a responsible parent and doing the right thing for their kids. Daphne faced those challenges with a bold heart and strong mind also. She retired from her job in 2010. In between years, saw the wedding in India of the older son to a New Yorker of Indian descent. It also saw the gender transition of the younger, now a happier person, though she sometimes still gets the pronoun wrong in conversation! 2010 was also the year when I met Daphne, through Cindy, my then homeshare and now a soul friend. Who would have thought that a 27-year old would be so influenced by the powerful women in Vermont?

the American saga - Daphne (Part 3)

In the year of 1969, famous for the man landing on moon breakthrough, Daphne chose USA to be her land of foray. She had been here before on the summer break, knew her way around, had heard about lots of interesting work going on here from her friends met in Europe. This could be one of her stop overs or this could be forever. At that time, she could not imagine staying forever, but she made sure she had the papers to do so. At that time, each country had a certain quota for people they would let in. The criteria were good qualifications and enough money to get there. Daphne arrived in NYC and went on to Cambridge, Massachusetts to stay with people she knew and find work.

Daphne (in purple): 1969 Summer ball at Bath University,UK

Her first job was as a Science teacher in a Prep school, it payed $5K per year, along with volunteering in some friends' alternative school. Later she worked as a counselor at a Crisis center. Things were not completely different from back home. Women were paid less compared to men, some were fired arbitrarily. She remembers a woman who got fired for being Jewish and fought a case in court against that. The outcome of that case was a settlement and the woman went on to become a principal in a Quaker school. Another instance of bias was when a Harvard engineer interviewed Daphne for a position, gave her the job, then fired her before she started. He had seen her wearing a mini skirt on the weekend.

Things were somewhat stable for Daphne in America that first year but culture shock was all around. She had thought to drive from the east to west coast in a Beetle car to explore more but what she saw was drugs everywhere and the anti-Vietnam movement (with which she she agreed) in full force. She turned back to England in 1970 but found it all too familiar. She went to Spain, then to France, then again took a boat to London. Her brothers came to pick her up at the port and that is when she learned that her mother had died in a car crash. She had been informed, but the letter never caught up with her. After staying in London for a few months, she decided to return, back to the United States.

This time, with a new fate, meeting a new face, in the same Cambridge town. John Flynn was a writer by choice and bartender by need. John was married 2 times earlier, knowing that, Daphne dated him for other reasons. He was smart, witty and impossible. John and Daph had dated for a couple of years when they decided to move to Vermont, in the year 1973. Daphne was an independent and capable woman who unlike most woman did not expect security from John. Her only expectation was that he take his half of the responsibility. The expected was largely unfulfilled, but she stayed, in hopes that things might change. They rented a country house and lived on. John was a very disciplined writer but had no published books yet. Daphne worked directing an alternative high school. Their social life included playing volleyball in Montpelier and watching the classic movie series every Friday (precursor to the good ol' Savoy theater). She and John chose to get pregnant and had their first child after 5 years together.

They circumvented the winter months by traveling to New Orleans and Florida in a VW bus while she was pregnant. John was finishing up a novel that year to be submitted soon. They were back in Vermont by springtime and Daphne broke her water on a Friday. When the hospital asked them to wait until the next day, Daph and John went to the movies that night. John sat down to finish his novel that night and mailed it in the morning, on their way to the hospital. They had the biggest baby born Northern Vermont at the time, in April of  '77. John's novel never got published but it did get him a scholarship to Boston University for a Masters in Creative Writing.
By that time, Daphne and John had had a jobs with CETA (Comprehensive Employment and Training Act). The project was to figure out why Vermont construction companies could not flourish during the winter like Quebec did. Since Daph was great with numbers, she organized all the data coming in from the interviewers and he wrote the report. It probably still sits on some shelf in the Governor's office.
The globetrotter Daphne had not given up on her love for travel. With the money she earned, she and the toddler went to see a brother then in South America. I would wonder how exciting of a trip it would be to travel with your one-year old. Meanwhile, John chose to go on a train trip throughout the States as he wrote a travel journal for Vermont Public Radio.
The year after Daphne had already started thinking of expanding her family. she wanted a sibling for her only child, and she wanted them to have the same father - which they did. Even though Daph and John had their ups and downs, Daphne was pregnant again in the year 1979. They lived in Maple Corners while Daphne worked costing out completed jobs for a Concrete Construction company. Her son was in a cooperative Day Care, started by Ginny, who's been a supportive friend ever since. The baby was born at the end of December, 1979, the year when it did not snow until later so getting to the hospital was easy.
Now Daphne had two children and nothing left to say to John. They stayed in the Woodbury apartment until the end of summer. the income was sparse, the times were hard. Daphne had a lot of headaches and health issues. John wrote all day in their cabin. She had to undergo a hernia operation when the baby was 6 months old. After she came home, she found mice all over the apartment, which meant the house was not looked after in her absence. Daphne knew this had to change.

End of summer, when John went to Boston University, Daphne tagged him along with the kids. But it was not working out. They had worn each other out. No one else was involved. Daphne came back to Vermont for Halloween with the kids and never went back. Although it was always that way, she truly began her journey as a single parent, community built family.

In a warm Worcester cottage, she tells her story - Daphne Part 2

Our blog was on a long hiatus, but finally there is an entry amongst our women beyond success. The prelude has given a small introduction of here life. To quench the rest of your curiosity, here is a brief biography of Daphne Makinson. 

Daphne was born on July 30, 1945, in Brighton, a town on the south coast of England, just 6 weeks after the end of World War II. Food rationing was to last until she was seven.

Her mother's name was Lavinia Jones who influenced her throughout her life, despite dying relatively early. Daphne saw a good marriage between her maternal grandparents who lived 10 miles away, but not among the next generation. Daphne's father was from an emotionally austere family and had lost his sister to TB at 12. He was a cabinet maker and her mom was a nurse and an artist.

Lavinia and Mak married each other at 23 after 5 years of courting. Their first child was stillborn, the next two were boys named Hugh and Colin and third was the baby girl Daphne. In 1948, the family moved back to the east coast to Felixstowe and opened an art shop. The house they lived in was huge, but difficult to maintain, just one fireplace in 15 rooms. Daphne and I tried to find pictures of that house in old photographs and books. She was able to find the street pictures, and one picture of half of the house as it was being demolished in 1969.

With her Father, Mother, Brothers, Grandmother holding baby Daphne 

Daphne and her brothers went to the same school and they loved it. There was a public exam given when each child was 10-11 years of age to determine their academic schooling that they then went to until they were 15, 16 or 18. They either went to Grammar school or the Secondary Modern school depending on their grades. Daphne was into sports as much as she was into academics. She played field hockey and netball (a kind of women's basketball).

Felixstowe had all 4 seasons, but it was wet and rainy for the most part. They mostly swam in the North Sea, worked in the art shop, hung out with friends in coffee shops and as teenagers went to many dances. Religion was not a major part of their childhood, nor later.

Daphne's first memory is being carried on her Uncle's shoulders when they were moving into their new house in Felixstowe. The house had been vacant for 15 years and there was a sink full of spiders. Their parents had to clean and paint the house, starting from the top down. The children had clean new bedrooms that they called Fairyland. The house also had a concrete yard and stables in the back.

Daphne's father was temperamental and was financially stressed. When Daphne was 13, their father took a job as a teacher, 30 miles away from their house. He would come home on the weekends and work all week. Then after one Christmas, he never came back. 

When Daph was 15, their mother had to be operated on due to varicose veins, and that operation landed her a job as a nurse, in that hospital. The art shop was closed and the brothers were in college by that time and helped when they came home. When Daph was 16, her mother suggested she might have to drop out of school. Daphne said No, her brothers got a chance to go to college, so would she. End of conversation.

Her eldest brother, Hugh, used to work as a Mining Engineer but returned to Felixstowe to help their mom financially, then joined the Air Force. Her second brother Colin became a Civil Engineer, She was 18 when she moved out of that house. She found a job in London as a Computer Programmer through newspaper job advertisements and a year later went to the University of East Anglia, just established in Norwich.

Their mother, Lavinia, was offered a job as matron of a group home in the West Country, Somerset, where she later moved her mother also. That year, Daphne and the others left the old house for good.

In the year of 1963, when Daphne worked for Central Electricity Generating Company, when computers were as big as rooms, she met her life long English-Chinese girlfriend - Christine. They celebrated 50 years of friendship not long ago.

Young and sassy Daphne in the big city of London. For fun, they went dancing at the London School of Economics, often with her second brother Colin (who at that time lived down the street) until they closed down the dancehall when JFK was shot. They heard the news on the neighbors' radio, through the walls as they didn't have one of their own.

As a child, Daphne wanted to go to Australia, since the fare only cost around 10 pounds if you stayed for at least 2 years. That changed when she came to London, got State grants that helped her through college and she got her Bachelor's degree in Mathematics. She chose not to be an engineer because in those days they never sent a woman to work on-site. Also as a child she always wanted to travel, that did not change, and every summer during her college years, she traveled far and wide. Summer of 1965, at the end of first year in college, she hitch-hiked in pairs with 3 other girls who met every third day to check-in with each other. They went to Switzerland, Italy, Greece, Yugoslavia and Austria. End of second year in '66 she got a deal, $99 for 99 days on Greyhound buses in America and came to NYC for the first time. By bus, Daphne traveled around 17K miles in 3 months. The third summer was when she graduated and she went to Europe again; France, Spain and Portugal. After that break, she came back to England to work for British Aircraft Corporation - building Concord - the supersonic passenger plane that would fly the Atlantic in 3 hours. Her job was quite thrilling - Daph converted Fortran2 to COBOL Code in a program to test if the wings would fall off when the plane went supersonic. The department was called Mathematical Services for engineers and had 25 men and 1 woman. For some this would be the place to be, but Daphne found it boring - the people there either worked or pretended to when they weren't busy. She was looking for a way out.

In the winter of 1968, she quit to join her brothers (and his friends) on a ski trip. There were 2 women, the other being Patricia, who later married Hugh. I met Pat this summer when she was visiting Daphne in Vermont after Hugh's demise. Pat claims that at that time, Daphne said that she (Daphne) would have 2 children and would not marry. Exactly how it turned out. 

After the ski trip, she went on to live in Spain for that winter. Spain is where she met her second longest running friend Myra, from New York. Also, in her earlier visit to Portugal during summer months, Daphne had met a young man who she returned to this time. She traveled to Morocco then back to Portugal where he was at university. Daph was 23 and he was 27, they had hopes and dreams for the future. They planned to travel, teach and go  to Angola, where his family now lived. The plans fell apart when the Portuguese boyfriend died of a congenital heart problem. Daphne came back to England.

It was a Friday when she came back to Oxford and interviewed for a teaching position that same day. A teacher had left to play cricket for England and on the Monday, she started the job at an all boys Grammar School teaching Physics and Applied Math. With that job, came the idea to get a further degree (equivalent to Master of Arts in Teaching) which allowed you to teach anywhere in the world, which opened her avenues to the land of United States of America.

Prelude - From Daphne (Part 1)

The Past................................Daphne Makinson

       I was raised in a post-War rural England. A sleepy seaside town that cradled poverty with benign neglect and fostered a lack of vision to take with us when, each in turn, we left. No riches, No heavy industrial waste, no crimes, no heat in its houses, no heat in its soul. One coffee house, two traffic lights and a couple of miles of promenade to shiver along as the North Sea interminably pounded its greyness into our lives.

Daphne at the age of 11, first day of academic high school 
(Circa 1956)

       I grew up in a store, open from eight to eight, never a meal interrupted, never a sale large enough to feed us for long. Count the inventory, count the change, count the expenses, and the best of all, count the people. I became a mathematician with an infinite capacity for the variety in people.
       My mother was in love for life with a self-centered, bad tempered, hard working, highly skilled craftsman. His gifts to me were unusual freedom and 800 pages of a well bound 'Wonders of the world", pored over each time I had asthma. I had asthma often. Later I was to go in search of the wonders. My mother came from the oral tradition, knowing intuitively how to peaceably run her home for people with incurable diseases, how to keep village women content in their jobs there, how to live a life of her own. I like to think I learnt a lot from her. I have my father's artifacts around me now, but I carry her always inside my head. 
       Finding the larger world came easily. I hitchhiked, ate oranges, slept in fields, hostels, homes, made friends both fast and fleet. And as the land rolled in through my eyes, it breathed out through my lungs and at long last they relaxed. Europe, North Africa, North, Central and South America ....... a journey through the pages of that book, a journey that I hope will never end, but certainly has ground down at times from exhaustion, economics, babies, even malnutrition.
        I emigrated to the United States in 1969 and settled soon after into small town Vermont. A life of practical skills, of reading incessantly, of learning isolation, of learning the land, of daily contact with people of every kind. A time for creating community, starting a daycare, an after-school program, building playgrounds, finding computers for kids, getting rehab, grants for housing. I had one baby, enormous, and then another, just when their father had flown. That grounded us. It made us step one foot in front of the other, after we'd learned how to crawl. It wasn't his sense of absence that troubled, that silence was silver, but the absence of optimism. There was an economic and emotional poverty enmeshed with delight in the children, a familiarity of circumstance, shadowed on my lungs, improved by strong women and shared by most single parents. We grew, piece by piece, given time, out of diapers and daycare into first grade, out of the old car into two, out of the limited work I could manage into absorbing jobs, out of bare cabins into a house, and away from fears of mortality into joys of life with two kids.

The present ...........................  Daphne Makinson

        At 43, after 9 years of single, parenting in the snows of Vermont, I am probably ready for anything. My survival skills are tried and true. My intellectual curiosity is high. My livelihood is garnered from college teaching, advising youth, problem solving for small businesses and raising sheep. It hasn't always been this way. 
       My "good" British education had its limitations. At age 13 we were required to specialize into arts and sciences, at 15 to drop all pretensions of a well rounded education. Every class for the next seven years was in mathematics or theoretical physics. Travelling and daily life in England became my education in the liberal arts. I am good mathematician, but it was not my passion. People are, and always have been. 
       Twenty years ago, I rejected the computer world for its lack of humanity. It, and hopefully myself, have come a long way since. Had I stayed in England, the prospects seemed only to be head of a Math. department by the time I was 40. In the U.S., I have been able to be a social worker, counselor, teacher, arts administrator, accountant, construction worker and director of an alternative high school. So Far. Now I am ready to be the educator that I have in part been for many years. My particular interests are sociology, people with chronic and terminal diseases, survival characteristics, single parenting, women's learning and rural communities. The stories of my life. 
       I want, and need, to formalize what I do know, in the common language, to qualify and quantify my experience in alternative schools, public school, experimental health center, traditional college, adult degree program, and community organizing. I want to fill in the gaps and build beyond my present experience. I want formal research and evaluation skills, I want advice, collaboration, new information and old fashioned criticism. I want, of course, to change the world.

Daphne, her Worcester house, her majestic truck and the pile of wood she stacked. 
(Circa Oct 2015)

Smile and Be Thankful - Cindy Part 4

So now what remains to achieve Cindy?

“I want to continue traveling, even after my retirement. I plan to rent an RV and travel to all the best places in the country.” She plans to spend 6 months in her travel and rest of the time with her friends and family in Montpelier.

So you see, she can never rest. Ever active Cindy likes to have a glass of her favorite wine in the evening, watch her new, solve the puzzles and chat with friends. She does not like to sit with unhappy people. And with her aura of happiness, I am sure no one can remain gloomy for long. Her divorce and one miscarriage were the most challenging times in her life, but giving birth to two kids and watching them grow were her biggest joys.

Cindy’s words of wisdom –

“You go through many stages in life and whatever stage you are in, ENJOI it.. (widening her eyes) coz its just a phase. It WILL pass away. Don’t worry too much as all hard things happen to make us stronger. Ups or downs, nothing is forever. And there is re-incarnation, live life the best you can and treat people the best you can. And most importantly, happiness is not out there, but in here” (points to her heart)..

And here is a letter from one of her best friends – Kate, describing their friendship and Cindy as a person::

“Cindy and I have been friends for about 30 years. We met at the Unitarian Church; our sons (Keith & Joseph) were/are the same age and became friends and Cindy and I soon found that we shared a friendship, too. A favorite activity of mine was getting together for tea on Sunday evening, often with our friend Jane, too (she had a daughter, Darcy, in our sons' class). That activity was the cement that bonded us together...we could talk about anything and know that it stayed amongst just us as we dealt with the trials and tribulations of being parents, wives, divorcees and "finding" ourselves.

Cindy, Jane and I always enjoyed an annual weekend at Cindy's camp, "Hammock Haven" in Alburgh on Lake Champlain. We nicknamed ourselves, Birdie, Maude and Helen one year. We expect to be getting together over the years as our elderly mentors on a greeting card Birdie, Maude and Helen did. We shared cooking, always went out to eat on Saturday night at a nice restaurant, went kayaking and exploring. Ann Moulton and Marge Zunder also came at different times. When I had a cottage on Lake Woodbury, we continued our tradition of friends' weekend and now Marge has become the hostess at her lodge @ East Long Pond. We love the time to swim, relax, read, share good food and wine, kayak and just enjoy each other's company.

Cindy has always loved to travel. She traveled to Europe and enjoyed the company of her sons at different times on those trips. I remember book marks that she brought us from the Tuscany Valley in Italy, a spot that she loved. She so enjoyed her visit with son Keith to the Isle of Skye in Scotland, where her McCloud ancestors were from. Then, she decided to get her Master's in English as a Second Language at St. Michaels and move to Mexico! With her kayak on top, she drove from Vermont to Mexico and settled in for about 3 years. I visited her when she lived in the beautiful colonial city of Morelia in Michocan. She made many interesting friends there and was so happy living in the warm climate. One day we drove to the mountains and climbed to find the monarch butterfly sanctuary where millions of monarchs migrate to each year...an awesome experience.

When Cindy returned from Mexico, she stayed at my house in Montpelier for a bit until she got a job and settled in St. Albans. Later, she was ready to move back to Montpelier; I happened to see the 155 Main St condo advertised in the World. Not a woman to waste any time, she called immediately, checked it out and made an offer. Soon she was having it painted in bright colors, tearing up the carpets and having the floors refinished to make the place her own. Her job at the Montpelier Senior Center has given her the opportunity to travel extensively. It is a consuming task to make all the plans, but the payoff is both in the interesting day trips and the unforgettable longer trips.

I know that Cindy is looking forward to the next chapter of her life; never one to let the moss grow under her feet, she is looking to travel around the country in her r.v. I expect that she will come to visit Raleigh and I can show her around a bit so that she will not have to be the tour guide. Daphne and I warned her that we will come find her at some national park and do some touring around with her, or just sit around with a cup of tea or glass of wine together. Of course, she will still keep a base in Montpelier so that she can spend some time with those dear grandsons. I expect that she looks forward to the day when Owen and Dean might be in that RV exploring with her.

So, that in a nutshell are some of my memories.

-Kate"