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North Adams, Massachusetts
So Chris married Lisa, whom he plucked from the Boston Harbor Hotel. (He
was a chef and she just starting out in H.R.) He was dubious about dating a girl with the same name as his sister, but we
just stopped calling her Liisa and renamed her Elysa, the name on the birth certificate.
Shortly after they met, Chris and Lisa toured the U.S. on a motorcycle, stopping
in Denver twice. What a delight it was to meet her and welcome her to our small family.
They lived in the U.S. Virgin Islands on Water Island outside of St. Thomas
for a year and then bought a wonderful Victorian house in North Adams, MA, which is about three miles south of Vermont and
ten miles east of New York state. All of Lisa's family is in the Pittsfield area.
The only problem I've found with my daughter-in-law is that she likes her mother-in-law.
Poor misguided child.
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Chris fetched me to North Adams just in time for the millenum. Note their house in all its Painted Lady glory in
the picture above. The original idea was to remodel their carriage house for me, so I was the bat in their attic for a while,
and I almost bought a house down the street.
New England can be wonderful, but I soon remembered the Nor'easters, as the snow went on and on.
Carnival in North Adams let me design a wonderful costume for the celebration in below zero weather, and my neighbors
took my picture for the occasion. It was so cold that I was wearing full ski gear underneath. Minus the skis, of course, because
I'd learned my lesson.
I did a total of 15 months there, later living in a quarter of another Victorian house (with about 1700 sq. ft.), but
doggone, arthritis is rampant in New England. My friend Maureen and I visited Denver, and as the plane was touching down amidst
a spectacular sunset over the Rockies, I knew I was home again.
I was still working with the Big Client at the time, which turned out great, thanks to e-mail and the ability to conduct
research on the Internet. Same job, different locale.
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If at first you don't succeed, try again. Then
quit.
There's no use being a damn fool about it.
W. C. Fields
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