My friend, Frances Day, God rest her soul, named her big beautiful Hereshoff sailboat "Desperate Lark". I loved that name. She, (the boat) has been rebuilt and is now in the water again. That makes me happy.
Years ago, about 27 years ago, I took my two youngest kids out of school and we headed off to Central and South America on our "desperate lark". There were many reasons for this trip. I had been divorced and sold my house in the woods of New Hampshire after an heroic stay there when we survived against blistering odds.
The house had been built by Frances Day and her husband Fritz Day. It was a little log cabin deep in the woods. The part of the cabin that wasn't logs was sided with bark. It had been built around two trees, on of which was still alive 50 years after the Great Room was made. I used to say that the house had all the luxuries and none of the necessities. We had a six foot absolutely fabulous bath tub, but often had to resort to a hand pump in the woods. It had a wonderful dining room and almost no kitchen. The driveway ended long before the cabin and we had to walk over a little stone bridge over a quarry pond to get in the house.
It had quartz crystals breaking through the granite ledges. It had some studio buildings and a tiny log cabin on a hill. If you left the lights on very long, the walls got hot. It had no heating system. It had been built as an getaway for a few weeks in the summer for Greenwich Village artists. It was a dream. It was also a bit of a nightmare. Because of the live tree and because the house had sat empty for so many months each year, it was inhabited. You could hear chewing all the time.
We had wonderful Yankee neighbors. Yankees are often looked upon as aloof, minding their own business, twenty-five years minimum to get to know you kind of people. But they are often sturdy, reliable, practical and very generous. We weren't a charity case, but winter was coming and we were in a house with no heat, crooked windows warped by time, a mile long dirt driveway, filled with holes... It was often an adventure to come home. We found a few cords of stacked wood by the door. We found bushels of apples, piles of squash. The town (611 souls) grated the drive. All these things happened quietly, without signature. Yankees at their best.
An old friend gave my 12 year old son a chain saw and we installed a wood stove and new windows. Then a miracle happened. The teacher-principle of the local three room school told me he had a job for me. He had started a little project which he ran himself. I had heard hints of his work around town. Basically, if he saw a need, he found someone who could fill the need. His job for me was that I would be the Publishers Sweepstakes person who would deliver the million dollar check.
I was depressed about my divorce. I was having to revision my future and that of my kids. This 'job' was to go to a person's house and tell them that someone had fixed a problem that they were finding insurmountable. He started me out with a few easy jobs. I went to the house of an older woman who had been getting threatening letters about her electricity being shut off. I knocked on the door, introduced myself and told her that all her past due bills had been paid and there was an advance payment made for the next 4 months.
She cried and kissed me and said thank you over and over. I told her the truth. I didn't know who had paid the money and I was just the messenger. I got many more thanks, a few hugs and a piece of cake and was on my way. The next house was a young family. I had to tell them that on Saturday morning, a washer and dryer and a plumber and an electrician would be arriving at their house. A gift from ...I don't know where. I had to endure thanks, and kisses and coffee and coffee cake and disclaim any responsibility. I loved my new job!!!!! I was feeling better and better.
The job got better and better. Jim Grant, the man behind this, was a simple man in this project. We lived in a beautiful New Hampshire town, Temple. There was a great deal of money around and there were many families who were struggling very hard. Through his position at school, he had been witness to kids with dirty clothes, kids who couldn't go on field trips because their parents didn't have the money, old people who couldn't get the firewood in or rake their leaves. He had propositioned a few of the wealthy (Mr. Banks!) and was told to get people what they needed, but they wanted to stay behind the scenes.
More and more people heard about this and offered their work or money or goods. Merchants in nearby towns contributed mightily over the years. The giving and the getting stayed quiet and this project went on for years. My job gave me wonderful contact with people who were being helped and beamed that at me for lack of knowing who else to thank. I was so helped and I turned out to be very good at being another connector person in the chain. We never had a name. We never had papers. We just did what needed to be done. The Yankee way.
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