Phase 1 of the coronavirus reopening began in Upstate New York around May 21st. My family and I packed our car with all of our needs for school and work and got away from NYC. NYC was difficult and we needed to retreat to our favorite place, The Farm.
The Farm is a home that has been in my husbands family for about 40 years and is a second home shared by my father-in-law and his sister. The home is well appointed as a vacation spot and we visit year round. It has always been a retreat for us. We spent time there as a new couple. We visited the house very soon after I healed from giving birth to Jonah. We visit there to ski on Christmas. We retreat for winter break, to celebrate our anniversary, the Garlic Festival on Labor Day weekend. The Farm has become an intricate part of our lives. It brings us calm and comfort. It was the logical place to retreat during Coronavirus restrictions. That being said, we didn’t feel comfortable going there until they had reached the Phase 1 milestone for reopening. We love and respect this place.
We came up and stayed in the house and property only a the full 2 weeks of quarantine, except for essential trips to the grocery store. We were delighted and relieved to see everyone masked and distanced in the stores we use that are in Vermont. One Saturday morning we went for a bike ride and saw that people were ‘setting up’ along our rural street with chairs next to their cars and on their pick up truck tailgates. We asked what was happening and we learned that a beloved member of the community had died and they were doing a tractor parade in his memory.
The parade of tractors began around 2:00PM and went on for over 45 minutes. There were old tractors, new tractors, small ride on lawn mowers, tractors with tires that were bigger than if I could stand on my own shoulders, blue ones, red ones, loud ones, quiet ones, pick up trucks, fire engines, ambulances, big rigs, dune buggies and motor cycles. There were babies to old folks. Most vehicles had signs “#crikstrong”, “We’ll miss you Lenny.” “Heaven gained a farmer” and messages of love to his family.
As the hundreds of people and vehicles go passing by, one vehicle in particular had me wake up. It was a pick up truck with a huge cross. A man standing next to it dressed in a black hooded cloak with a white spot on his neck and his face barely peeking through. It occurred to me, this is isn’t just a memorial parade, this is the funeral. Covid-19 has taken so much from people and this includes people’s opportunity to support their loved ones, friends and community when experiencing loss.
I felt so sad for this community. I also had no idea how big of a community this really was. I’d never really spent time IN the community. I am now a part of a few Facebook groups about the community and having spent so much time up there, more connected.
Where Does That Red Hair Come From? 