This morning the thermometer in the front window read minus 12. The sun was not yet up, but already the cardinals were searching in the snow for left over seeds from the day before. The red birds are always my first visitors. Soon, the blue jays, sparrows, chickadees and more were arriving and I pulled on my boots, jipped up my coat, wrapped a scarf around my face, put on Aunt Lillian's hat and went out to feed the birds. My glasses actually frosted up, not steamed, but iced and my eyelids stuck together with frost. I filled the feeders, threw corn on the ground and hurried back inside. Sitting in the rocker in the window, thankfully holding my hot cup of coffee, I saw something I had never seen before. The sun was coming up, it lit up the trees, made the cardinals look even redder and the snow turned a golden color. Years back we had a nest of baby blue jays in the front tree and the babies were adorable, fluffy and fat, noisy and bratty, a handful for their poor parents. Anyway, these grown blue jays outside today were all fluffy, like baby blue jays, using this technique to keep warm. The rising sun had a strange affect on the blue jays, I swear they became religious. As the sun rose, they quieted down completely, left the food, found a branch and faced the sun...each of them did this. They were probably just trying to use the first sun for warmth, but I swear to God, it looked like they were praying. And they probably were in their own bird way, saying "look the sun, we survived that long, God awful night. Hallelujia". So I looked at the fluffy, for once quiet blue jays, thanking the sun or maybe just using the sun and I smiled. The news this morning was filled with pictures of the plane down in the Hudson River, people lining the wings, crowded together, having survived the crash while the plane slowly sank. One woman interviewed said it gave her a lot to think about, why did 155 people survive an almost certain death. She was quoted as saying, "There must be a reason we lived, something we must do before we do die". Like the birds, she was just thankful to be here another day. You can learn an awful lot from the birds.

Well, it's almost Christmas, the doubloon has been found, I might get to hibernate after all. Team Ria has been such a plus in our lives....the well wishers from afar have filled my heart. But, what a difference a year makes. Last year on this blog I wrote about our first Christmas on Clay Hill Road, when Maria was five and sick with a fever and she and I stayed up on Christmas Eve, surprising a mouse and laughing about it. Maria wrote on that blog..."one of my favorite memories..because I liked having you to myself on Christmas Eve." That was Maria. Years ago she had a bumper sticker on her car that read "Practice Random Acts of Kindness" and Ria intuitively knew how to do that. Her cards were always perfectly selected and she added the right words, whether in humor or in love. At her funeral my brother pulled out a birthday card she had sent him of an old man holding up an ugly animal, a giant possum, and inside she had written, "The critter on the front is probably the only animal that doesn't live on our third floor." We laughed at that together. Two years ago she gave me a prayer book for Christmas, and had inscribed to "Mom, A copy of Aunt Lillian's prayer book for you with all my Love, Maria" and that was Ria, not just love, but ALL my love. Since her death so many people have sent me cards with her words, always so appropriate and loving or told me of the little things she had sent to them at dark times of their lives. Last night I thought of her before going to sleep, as I usually do, but this time I said in my head, "Good night, Maria, wherever you are" and I had to smile because I remembered Jimmy Durante saying "Good Night Mrs Calabash, wherever you are" at the end of each of his performances. I looked it up today because I thought it must have been someone very dear to him to acknowledge her that way and was surprised at the story. Mrs. Calabash owned a restaurant that he stopped at in Calabash, South Carolina at an early stage in his career. He was impressed with her kindness and as he left he said he would make her famous one day. Her daughter said she didn't even know that she was talking with Jimmy Durante. And so it was that Lucy Coleman became the famous Mrs. Calabash announced in his routine sign off. I guess that just goes to show you that kindness can be repaid, and repaid in a dramatic way. Team Ria's crown will be used in a way that commemorates Maria's spirit of kindness and giving. So this eve of Christmas Eve, I say Merry Christmas and God Bless and Merry Christmas Maria, wherever you are.

Very exciting news...the doubloon has been found and Team Ria will soon be wearing the crown. Sabra has made a website http://www.teamria.blogspot.com where we will be posting information, pictures, etc. and more details of the actual finding of the doubloon by Michael, Laura's husband. Check out the blog for a video of Timmy, Michael and Tony searching the low tide at Catskill.

I've been thinking about hibernation. Last week's paper had a review of a book written by a New Paltz professor about a woman being put into a coma for two weeks to lose weight. It's fiction, but this is entirely possible today with medically induced comas. I'd rather hibernate. Last year the New York Times had an article about human hiberation that was known about in Russia (the people said 7 months of winter, 5 months of hell, so that tells you something about their lives). But the one I was interested in was a town in France which produced wine where the peasants would hibernate once the grapes were harvested and the wine was made. Their work was done for the year and there was no reason to wake up each day. It showed a picture of a family sleeping with their arms around their animals - a cow, sheep and pigs. Rotating, one member of the family would stay awake to tend the fire and the family would wake to eat a piece of stale bread every now and then. A long winter's nap. This appealed to me and I've been drawn to that thought now that the days are gray, darkness comes so early and even the mornings take a while to arrive. Just get under the covers and like Sleeping Beauty, wait until a prince comes to wake you up, a well rested, 30 pounds thinner you, get rid of the animals and get on with life. But, there is Christmas coming faster each day, Team Ria searching for the lost doubloon (our new member, Rob, has been coming up with the greatest ideas - he's found a shipwreck, numerous places to search including a sewer plant, can't miss that) and they called to tell us Maria's stone has come to Red Hook, to be put in place by next week. Sabra asked what does it look like, and the man said it hasn't been uncrated yet....too much going on. I'll hibernate next month.

We've been busy, searching for the lost crown of Captain Kidd. Actually, this was a plan 17 years ago to drum up tourism in Catskill, but failed miserably when a tv show that was featuring the hidden treasure was pulled and never shown. Anyway, for the last month we, Team Ria, have been studying the story and the map, looking for clues. The story goes something like this:

Captain Kidd and his crew of 185, 75 from the city of New York, are sitting in their worm filled boat waiting to find pirates. Instead they see the Quahog Merchant, and decide to become pirates. The ship is full of treasures, gold, fabrics and a diamond filled crown, and a beautiful young girl bound to be married to a rich king. Kidd's second mate, Lad Widerear, falls in love with the girl, who sits around in pantaloons and a camisole and gives him the eye. The rest of the men dress in the fancy clothes and pretend to lay golden eggs. Kidd sees Widerear's interest and gets rid of the girl, takes over the ship, goes back to New York and hides the crown with Lad Widerear 87 miles north of the Statue of Liberty and 36 miles down from Albany. Back in New York Kidd, who has been summoned about his actions, puts on his best dress and tells his first mate Dolton, if you see me drop my hanky, get the hell out of there. When he drops his hanky, Dolton and the crew head back up the Hudson to hide Kidd's share of the booty, before he goes to the brink. They hide the chests of gold doubloons in the same place as the crown, and Dolton asks for a straw from a haystack, takes a needle, puts it in the straw and a small bowl of river water, and laughs as the needle turns north. Then he takes a cross staff and shoots a light at Widerear's end. Perfect he smiles, half of Widerear's age. Aha...now he tells Widerear that he has to stay here with these directions in case Kidd ever comes back. Then the story jumps to the 1900's and a girl name Hannah, escaping the boredom of Catskill finds the crown. Now go and find it. That's all you get.

308 years later Team Ria is in action. Maria and Sam Bellamy, the pirate from the Whydah are sharing a rum coke and are watching from above. "Look at that", Sam says to Maria pointing at the bunch of them running around St. Anthony Friary, "They think they're on to it. Who's the one holding the girl up to the statue of the Blessed Mother, and what is she trying to do?" "Oh, laughed Maria, "That's my brother with Atticus my niece on his shoulders. I think they think the blessed Mother's crown is the doubloon. Oh, wow, Shane is trying to knock the statue down with a big stick. This is getting good." Pirate Sam, interrupted Maria, and pointed in the opposite direction, "And who are those three nuts in the Hudson River in November and what are they trying to do?" Maria turned and laughed out loud. That's my brothers-in-law, Tony and Michael and the white haired guy wearing shorts and no socks, is my mother's fiance. They've been engaged for 22 years now." "And, asked Sam, "What are they doing in the mucky low tides of the river in below freezing weather, in the water?" "Well" explained Maria, "Tim thinks that little piece of land that shows up in the map is Madagascar and he thinks that tidal land is where the treasure is." Sam laughed a hearty laugh, and pointed to a woman on the shore. Maria told him that was her sister Sabra and she was video taping the whole search. And that's my mother and sister Laura in the car watching with the binoculars. Sam turned to Maria, gave her a hug, and said, "You know you're family is nuts, but I am cheering for them." Maria and Black Sam lifted their glass, "Go team Ria, Go."

When Timmy and I are on a long drive, and he's behind the wheel, he likes to find a "happy place", a place on a major three lane highway, that suddenly has no cars in front of you and no cars in back. You relax, look at the scenery, slow down to the speed limit and enjoy the drive. Without the rush of cars passing on either side you are suddenly tension free, if only for a few minutes or even seconds. I have been kind of in a "happy place" since Cape Cod. It started one morning, early about 7:30 I was on Mayo Beach drinking a hot cup of offee, watching the shellmen about their job. Wellfleet Harbor stretched in front of me like a cinematic screen, land, water, Jeremy Point, more water and vast amounts of blue sky. The moon had been full the night before, so it was a very low tide and the men were so far off they looked like toy soldiers, their trucks pulled to the end of the water looked like Matchbox trucks. They moved slowly, some raking their oyster beds, some pulling rowboats filled with burlap bags of oysters and suddenly I felt a peace, a good feeling watching these workers doing a tedious job in slow motion, in cold water. A happy place. Then last week in my writing class at Bard I read my piece on "I knew I grew up when..." a piece that ended with even Maria's death not accomplishing my growing up. The class applauded me, the teacher said excellent and I went out of the room feeling a "happy place". I hate to read in front of people, I inherited the Murphy shyness and this was something hard for me to do and I thought I would cry, but I wore the scarf Maria had made for me, and I think that helped. My happy place continued.

Right now our country is not in a happy place and the result of next Tuesday is all important. Sabra e-mailed me an essay David Sedaris wrote for the New Yorker on voting. He mentions the voters who are undecided and likens it to being on an airplance. The stewardess approaches with the food cart and asks, do you want the chicken or a platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it and the undecided voter asks "How's the chicken cooked?" Funny, but sad too. We need to get into a happy place and Tuesday means the difference of an over crowded dangerous highway of crazy drivers or a long stretch of calm road ahead. Please, give us the calm road.

Back from a week at the Cape - beaches, Oysterfest and a memorial for a schooltime friend. Something for everyone there. I spoke a few words at Jackie's memorial, about our long time friendship. After the speakers, there was food, snack food and a small boat decoration filled with raw oysters. Her younger sister Sandy told me how she was so angry when Jackie died too early, Sandy thought they would have so many more years to be together. A few days before I had been to a funeral for a friend in Tivoli, who died at 69. The pastor there also kept saying, too young, she died too young. Made me think of Maria at 45 but then I guess they always say too young. Not my Uncle Ed Murphy, he was 96. There they said, "Doesn't he look good?" and he did. I went to Oma's 100 birthday, but was away for her funeral, but they probably didn't say she died too young either.

Anyway, something happened to me at the Cape, something broke free and I can once again do embrodery. I haven't been able to do that since Maria died. Instead I replaced it with Sudoku, the numbers game, placing numbers 1 through 9 in blocks, filling books and books of Sudoku. I even did the ones in the newspaper each day and the one in the AARP magazine, any Sudoku I could get my hands on. I realized in Cape Cod that was because when I embroider, I think. When I do Sudoku, I have to concentrate on the numbers, nothing else, no thinking. I had my bag of assorted projects to embroider and I picked up an apron I had started before Christmas. The needle went in and out and the brain started to wander. But my thoughts weren't scarey thoughts, they weren't awful thoughts, they were just thoughts and the needle kept going until I ran out of thread and then I picked another color and it was like I had never stopped for seven months. One small step.....

I've changed in many ways, I know it. Not long ago Caleb Potter's mother wrote in her blog that Caleb had asked her, "Where's my real Mom?" She was upset and hurt, but Laura wrote to her blog, saying something like "since my sister died, I lost my real mother, the one I had before" and I know what she meant. Tragedy changes you. I told Timmy the above, and he simply said, "I lost my old girlfriend too". I know I am less tolerant, less patient. At the Cape we were in line outside waiting to eat at Moby Dick's the last night of the season it was to be open. A big van drove up and parked next to the line of waiting customers with a bumper sticker NOBAMA. "Where did you get that sticker?" asked the man in front of us."I want to get one". The people behind us piped in, "We want to get one to," That's it, I told Timmy. Let's go. I'm not eating with people that think like that and we left, with the hostess saying, "Won't you reconsider?" I wanted to yell, "You assholes want McCain. Stand in line then, like sheep, waiting to go into a restaurant" , but Timmy (who is never the conservative) said to me, "I wouldn't say anything to that group if I were you" and I didn't. But that's just an example. No patience. I can't even wait for the next two weeks to go by so we don't have to see and hear all the politicians pointing fingers and telling us how much money they are going to save us. Well, I may be impatient now, but I can once again do my embordery.