Unexpected Words Sustain - Smokestack and Brooklyn Friends School

When your own well runs dry, replenishment often needs to come from a source outside of yourself. So many times, Scott and I have hit that place in our four years in Dubuque. Thankfully, people unexpectedly appear with words and actions that sustain us every time at Smokestack, something I experienced with uncanny regularity in my former work as director of alumni and school historian at Brooklyn Friends School. Affirmation, community and external encouragement is the theme of the third Q&A from Dominic Velando's 2016 unpublished interview with Scott and me. And after? I've got too much to say today...

The Dubuque County Courthouse at night, from inside
the dome on Smokestack's 3rd level rooftop terrace

Dominic Velando
What’s a memorable moment that affirmed the significance of the Smokestack to this community?

Scott & Susan
An insightful young man saying that in all the times he’d driven down Central Avenue, he’d never understood how beautiful the Dubuque County Courthouse was until he stood on Smokestack’s rooftop and truly saw it for the first time.

A man we greatly respect whose desire for positive change and resulting involvement in Inclusive Dubuque is so much deeper than ours, seeing how close we were to giving up this summer [of 2016], forcefully telling Susan, “You have no idea, but you are making a huge difference and positive impact in this community!”

One person after another - who we did not know - thanking us for “being here and doing this” the night of Co Dubuque’s Night of Pride in June, just after the horrific Orlando nightclub shooting.

Long after this interview, I can write this now, that those words said to us during Co Dubuque's Night of Pride were meaningful for a deeper reason. We had been standing outside much of the evening, working the door, checking IDs, concerned by the possibility of copycat negativity, observing two protesters across the street (yup, that's right), yet we were confident that it would be a beautiful night and it was. At one brief moment when we were alone, after being thanked by yet another person, Scott turned to me and remarked with incredulity, "Can you imagine? Being thanked for doing this? These people are wonderful. How could we not do this?" Not that NYC is some utopia or that I was so sheltered in 45 years of living there, but this moment made me realize that there really are people who consider themselves [insert whatever you want here] who do not recognize that people different from themselves are also human beings deserving of kindness and respect and all good things in this world. 

"I'm bored. Put me to work." said Alice.
All children know the awful truth of a-dull-t parties.

Scott and I are fortunate to be able to turn a crazy vision into reality, but we're most fortunate to connect with many people in Dubuque, typically those who are open enough to let us in to their lives a bit, something we know does not happen for everyone here or in other communities, for that matter. We are open to others ourselves, and we want people to know they will be accepted at Smokestack - be fearless and do your thing! I know some in my life have thought I'm a harsh judge, but that appearance is a defensive coping mechanism because the reality is that my harsh judgment is only reserved for myself and, like Scott, I know things go awry for many reasons so I give near-endless chances and forgiveness to people (there is one exception, he's in NYC). Scott and I have both been given near-endless chances and forgiveness in our life and want to do the same for others. Chances and forgiveness often happened for me as a student at Brooklyn Friends School and through my whole life. I also don't judge people by who they were at the age of 14 because people grow up. Besides, who wants to be judged for their 14 year old self for the rest of their lives, not me, so why would I do that to someone else? People are who they are in front of me at that very moment in both of our lives, and that is a direct result of my adult work with alumni at Brooklyn Friends School. 

Annie - I think of the real Ann near-daily

Scott with Annie, Sweethook gig in NYC

A large part of my life immediately before Dubuque and Smokestack was working with alumni at my K-12 alma mater, Brooklyn Friends School, a place that has profoundly influenced who I am. It was an honor and a privilege to return as an adult and work for my school and for my fellow alumni. Like everything and everyone, my school is imperfect, yet it is still an incredible place. BFS alumni are so amazing, so inspiring, and they do incredible work in our world, I had no idea how awestruck I would become by them on a daily basis. And then to realize how much we shared due to our school's influence regardless of our graduation year, eventually understanding some of the how, who, what, and why of it all. Quaker schools do not practice indoctrination, yet I feel the schools are the most important form of community outreach in Quakerism's history. In my eight years as director of alumni I worked with 85 years of living graduates, and my work caused me to sacrifice my personal BFS student experience to better connect with my school, its history, Quakers and Quakerism, and, most importantly, my fellow alumni. It was unbelievably challenging, yet equally rewarding, and I will always love my school and "my alumni" (yes, I still call them "my alumni"). BFS and BFS alumni are still in my head, still positively affecting me daily, and it's far beyond seeing activity in my Facebook newsfeed. I actually had Scott name the 8-string electric banjo he built for himself in memory of one late alumna I dearly loved as she told her daughter that, if reincarnation were real, she hoped to return as a seagull, and that was the bird Scott inlaid in abalone on that banjo's headstock. As soon as he said "seagull," I told him I needed to choose the name for this banjo, which is my favorite. I sent a photo of the finished banjo to her daughter one day when I thought to do it, and her daughter wrote me back, "Did you know it was her birthday today?" I hadn't known. Perhaps her daughter, who I also adore, needed a little encouragement, and it came from her mother that day.

BFS alumni unexpectedly encouraged me when I needed it most with the words that would allow me to dig deep and find path and purpose in what I was doing. How did they know I needed this from them at specific moments when I didn't know it myself? I like to think something spoke to them, they acted on it, and they changed everything for me in one moment, and it happened so often. An alum two years younger than me did this uncannily on several occasions, the first time telling me on Facebook that I was doing a great job when I was so close to giving up entirely, yet he hadn't known my feelings. After another low point of a more personal nature, I thanked a woman I'd never met in person, an alumna 30 years my senior - after a very brief cryptic something I'd posted on Facebook, she immediately responded with four words that simultaneously shattered me and built me back up: "Your world needs you."

2011, BFS Alumni Reunion Day
Two of my unforgettable life teachers: the BFS alumna who introduced
 our honoree, and one of our fave BFS teachers, our 2011 honoree, 
a man who encouraged so many, so deeply including me. 
Wow, my love for BFS and its people...

This January-February marks the sixth anniversary of the bittersweet announcement that I was stepping out of my position as director of alumni to become the school's first historian, helping to lay groundwork for our school's 150th anniversary, a celebration that is happening at BFS this year. Two years later, I ceased my work as school historian working remotely on the online archives and historical blog from our new home in Downtown Dubuque because my work with Scott and Smokestack and Dubuque needed me more which also means we're now at the third anniversary of Scott and I living without meaningful income. Happily, I was in Brooklyn last week, but I had to return to Dubuque, so I missed Monday night's gathering with BFS, when they released the commemorative book, 150 Years of Light. I'd have loved to be there, among my people, celebrating our school, but I trust they know how happy I am for them and, like my daughter and my sister also back in Brooklyn, that I have to do what I'm doing in Dubuque, I must fulfill my calling here.

My joy for this BFS anniversary is unusual as anniversaries are generally painful for me the older I get, perhaps for Scott as well. I become very sad, seemingly without reason, and then I'll remember it's another anniversary, saying things like, "Oh, of course. My mother died 22 years ago tomorrow. No wonder I'm so down." We recently passed the fourth anniversary of our move to Dubuque, and I had a minor depressive crisis, though nothing is as bad as what began in Dubuque for me in September, 2015 and climaxed in December, 2016 with the third anniversary of our move to Dubuque. So bad was that period that this month is the first anniversary of my getting myself external encouragement in Dubuque by going into therapy for the first time in my adult life and going on related medication for the first time in my entire life. That's one reason Scott and I personally survived 2017, but the encouragement we received throughout from Dubuque's residents and visitors is a big reason for why we are grateful to them and why we are able to continue on our path here. 

Prepare yourself for Smokestack Q&A 4: "People who know you and frequent your business know that you’re engaged in a challenging struggle to realize these projects. What exactly do you need to achieve your goals?" 


Related posts: Smokestack Q&A 1, Smokestack Q&A 2