MVLP “Gather 'Round” E-News - Issue #68May 7, 2021

This is the sixty-eighth issue of our E-newsletter, “Gather ‘Round,” to call us together through the internet to share news and needs and stories with each other.  If you have a tale to tell or a perspective to share, please send it on for the next issue!

The Buildings Are Closed;The Church Is Open!

Back issues of “Gather ‘Round” E-news are available on the Moosup Valley Church website, thanks to our webmaster, Pat Safstrom. Go to moosupvalley.church and click on the tab at the top of the page.

Grandmothers: The Foundation of CivilizationSocial scientists are now telling us what indigenous societies have known all along, but we have lost sight of in modern society – that grandmothers make civilization possible. They are the ones who pass on the wisdom of generations, who pass on agricultural knowledge to grandchildren, who counsel their daughters and daughters-in-law in parenting, self-care, and practical tips for success. They are the ones who take care of the grandchildren so their mothers can work. They are the ones who provide extra emotional support for their grandchildren. Evolutionary anthropologists say grandmothers have helped humankind develop an array of social capacities – pair bonding, bigger brains, learning new skills and our tendency for cooperation. Also, according to a study of families in Finland, children lived longer when a grandmother was nearby.

In her book, Grandmothers Counsel the World: Women Elders Offer Their Vision for Our Planet, Carol Schaefer tells the stories of the International Council of Thirteen Indigenous Grandmothers who “believe that [their] ancestral ways of prayer, peacemaking, and healing are vitally needed today … and will light our way through an uncertain future.” In some Native American societies, tribal leaders consulted a council of grandmothers before making any decisions that would affect the whole community.

But we know how important grandmothers are from our own experience, don’t we? See what you think after reading the reflections contributed by many of us, below:

I Remember Grandmother

Evie Hopkins MannI only knew my grandmother, Julia Briggs, a short time, as she passed when I was eight years old, but I saw her every day, as she lived next door to me, and I visited her daily. I learned a lot from her wisdom, especially to be kind to everyone and to make sure that God is part of

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my life.  She was baptized in the Pawtuxet river on a very cold day, and riding home in a wagon her clothing froze to her. When she talked to me about baptism, she said, “Evelyn it will be the most wonderful experience of your life.”

Laila BennettMy mother’s mom is the only one I knew. Her name was Naomi Gray. And she was from England. She moved over to the USA in 1962 before my brother was born.  My dad used to tease her because she was a very slow eater. We always had dessert back in those days. She would say, “Phil, don’t wait for me; have your dessert.” The one thing I remember is that she used to make me sit in the Lincoln rocker (which I still have) for 15 minutes, totally still. No rocking or jiggling my leg. I was in constant motion when I was a little girl. She died in 1965 or 66 while in England visiting extended family.

Patricia Safstrom

My Dad’s mother lived over us in a two-family home. She worked as a nurse’s aide. My most vivid memory of her was on Friday nights when she got out of work; she would stop at our door and bring me upstairs to spend the night with her. At 2:00 a.m. her alarm would go off, and we would listen to a radio station somewhere in the Midwest. The DJ was Lee More who played silly songs. My Nana wrote to him and told him how we got up at 2:00 a.m. to listen to his show. One night he said “Hi” to us on the radio. Hearing our names on the radio was so cool. He even sent me one of his records that I played over and over. My Nana passed when I was 8 years old.

My Mother’s mom was known to me as “Ma.” When my brother was born, he always heard my mother call her Ma so he called her Ma as well. Everyone called her “Ma” or “Ma Wilson”. She too was a nurse’s aide doing home care until into her 80’s. When I was little, my mother and I would visit her, and she would always offer me a glass of buttermilk. Yuck! She drank a glass every day. She also looked at a dessert menu first when we went out to eat. That’s how she chose what she would have for the meal, leaving room for dessert. “Ma” lived to 103 years old, only declining at about 101. Maybe the buttermilk is a good idea.

I feel so fortunate to have known both of my grandmothers, since I did not know either of my grandfathers who both passed before I was able to know them.

Cheryl HawesI have been wracking my brain for something that stood out to me…and all I can think of is that my grandmother (my mom’s mother) took credit for all of us being here…at her 90th birthday party, she told all of our collective family that we were all there because of her…she did it…and we laughed because, actually she was the reason for the get together and that is why we were all there. 

Nope, she would have none of that, she meant that we were all there because of her…my gram was a take charge soul, she took care of so many – not just her girls, but one of her sister’s children would spend summers with her and had so many stories to tell. Gram also at

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one time took care of the men in the boarding house that they all lived in on the farm that my grandpa ran (Lippet Farm). She fed the men, cleaned their rooms and basically took them under her wing to care for as she did anyone in need. 

We laugh in our family, and did so after the Arnold’s memorial service, agreeing that each of us had Rosie-itus, where we each would cook to feel an army, well Rosie got it from her mom, and my mom passed it down to us. When any of us cook, we cook like we are feeding a small army, and our gram had more food at the ready when we would go to see her, whether she knew we were coming or not. 

My grandmother’s mother lived with her when we were growing up. She was a small rotund woman and always wore an apron, not sure why. I don’t remember her cooking or doing much except rocking in her chair.  She had stories that used to have me roaring…but the thing I remember most is that my dad could get that twinkle in her eye going and a little pep to her step, because anytime he was around, and she got up from her rocker, he would be behind her and untie her apron whereupon she would swat at him and give him a piece of her mind while enjoying the attention that he gave her.  My dad called her, ‘Little Eva’ and secretly she loved seeing him come to visit.  I swear she would purposely get up out of the rocker to pretend to do something just so he could untie her apron. 

Both my gram and great gram had a huge impact on my life – they were strong women who survived great hardships throughout their lives, and whom I admired, respected and loved.

Rose DesilusMy grandmother, Marceline Joseph, my mom’s mom, was always with us. She was there when my mom lost her babies, when her children were sick, and when they were suffering from childhood diseases.

When my mom and dad used to travel to the countryside of Haiti for days on end to give shots and medications to those who didn’t have a way down the mountain, my grandma was there. Or when they went simply to open another church, grandma was there. I was about 8 years old when our mom left for the US, three years before that our dad had gone. They left behind four girls and one boy. My brother was 11 years old, three sisters after me, 2, 4, and 6 years old. 

I remember having our grandmother as our “everything.” During the school year, she would pack us up and take us to Port-Au-Prince where we attended school. My parents had a house there, so she would stay home with the two-year-old and the rest of us would walk to school. During the summer, she would pack us back up and take us to our house in the country side, Barrier Brin.

She was our life, we knew where our parents were, but grandma was mom and dad. They would send money for her to take care of us, and we would follow her around. Our mom would visit us in Haiti but never for too long because she had to return to the states. Two years later, all of us, with our grandmother packed up again, this time it was to the U.S.

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Whenever we’d do something wrong, she’d tell our dad, and then she would tell him not to get upset with us. He should get upset with her instead. We never understood that. Our thing was, why tell him if he is not supposed to get upset with us? One day she explained to us that she had to tell him, just in case he found out, so she wouldn’t look like a liar, or a bad person. 

In the US, she continued to take care of us because our parents worked. At times my father would visit Haiti, return with a person, and that person would stay with us for awhile, and then moved out on their own, but grandma was always there.

I remember the time she showed her pain and sadness. In 1977, my parents bought a house in Long Island, NY. The night before we were supposed to move in, they set our house on fire with profanity written on the walls. Thank God we hadn’t moved in yet, because her room was the room that got burned the most. She was heartbroken and didn’t understand why someone would have enough hate in their heart to do something like that.

My parents had two more children, and she continued to take care of us until we were able to take care of ourselves or each other. My grandmother was my mom and my dad. 

Sonja Murray

I knew both of my grandmothers.  My father's mother, Suzie Bassett, originally lived on the farm but when her husband passed, she moved to Providence with my Aunt Mildred who was a professor at Rhode Island College of Education (now RIC).  My father took over the farm and that's where my parents lived when I was born.  However, my grandmother taught at Janglebox School at the junction of Gold Mine Road and Harrington Road when she lived in Foster.  I remember visiting her in Providence, and she would read to me.  I would sit on the arm of an easy chair in the living room with her.  Unfortunately, she passed when I was about 5 or 6 years old.

I remember my grandmother, Minnie Lehto, who ran the farm which is at the northern end of Johnson Road.  She had come to the USA from Finland when she was young, and she and her husband (who passed when my mother and uncle were young) were homesteaders in Ft. Morgan, Colorado.  Of course, I knew her MUCH later in life when she farmed in Foster.  We would visit her regularly and have coffee, often with milk crackers.  Yes, I was given coffee which was highly diluted with milk.  She, my mother and uncle would talk in Finn (her primary language, of course) and I would sit and listen.  I understood a little but have retained virtually none of it.  Grandma Minnie also visited us in our house regularly.  She was an important member of our family and passed when I was in college.

Pastor Bob HollisMy Grandma Hollis was one of the best huggers ever. She kind of just enveloped you with her ample body. Hugging her was like falling into a feather bed. Her hugs and her love for us always was a source of comfort. But one thing about it that made it difficult was that you had to hold your breath because she was pretty heavy with the application of the lilac perfume that she wore!

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Joan LacerdaMy grandmother, Nana Kenney, was very sick, fighting breast cancer from the day I was born until I was 12 yeays old. She was warm, funny, and she made me feel I was the greatest thing that ever happened to her. She could not eat very much because of hercancer treatments and would watch me eat, saying l made it look so good. I miss her to this day. 

Susan OldroydI will tell you a little bit about my grandmother, Ruth Dexter.  As manyof you know, I grew up in the house that was my grandparents directlyacross from the fire station. She was such a kind, hardworking person.Being a farmer’s wife, she did not have a lot, but whatever she had, she was always willing to share. Some of my fondest memories are of the many meals and laughter in her dining room. You didn’t have to be asked to supper, her door was always open and somehow, being a farmer’s wife, she always had enough to go around for any unexpected visitors. She taught me to enjoy the simple things in life, and for that I’m so thankful. 

Tracey Griffing

Born in 1901, my grandmother passed many years ago, and for the last years of her life she was in Florida, so I didn’t see her very much. If I were to talk to my grandmother today, I would say “Thank you, and you were right.” She was not a woman of many words, but she always had a kind thought or time to play with me.

She was an artist, a painter, a teacher at Pratt Art Institute in NJ. She was clear in her faith in God. I have many memories of my father’s parents, spending weekends at their house when I was a kid. At their house I slept in a room that had an amazing Bible, on a stand all by itself. I never saw a bible so thick and ornate, kind of breath taking. I think I was a little afraid of it; I never opened it.

We would play board games like Parcheesi and Sorry, and card games like gin rummy regularly; they would play Canasta with their friends. During my childhood while my grandfather was alive, I had many Sunday dinners at their house. On their dining room wall she painted a mural about 6 feet tall and 10 feet wide of the sea shore with seagulls; the sea shore was her happy place. The Jersey shore was okay, but she loved Sanibel Island in Florida the most. She would collect sea shells and pieces of drift wood wherever she was, and she filled glass jars to decorate her house. She made art pieces with the driftwood with little statues of seagulls on posts. She painted amazing paintings, which hung all over her house, and in the attic she kept the paintings she didn’t feel were good enough to display. I beg to differ with her because some of the discarded ones hang in my house today and the homes of my two brothers.

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I’VE LEARNED THAT PEOPLE WILL FORGET WHAT YOU SAID, PEOPLE WILL FORGET WHAT YOU DID, BUT PEOPLE WILL NEVER FORGET HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

Maya Angelou

When she moved to Florida, my brothers and I cleaned out her house, which is how we discovered the paintings in the attic. The three of us divided the paintings, so I get to think of her everyday as I walk around my house. One of her paintings hanging in my living room, a favorite of mine, she painted looking out the front window of her house in the snow at two boys pulling a sled (a flexible flyer), my brothers.

When I lived in NY, every year at Christmas Karen and I would go to the cemetery in NJ to the family plot with my brother Mark and leave a grave blanket. We would share some thoughts about life past, and I would say a silent prayer.

When I was sixteen, she was so happy I joined a church, accepted Jesus as my Savior, and was baptized in a river in NY state. We didn’t speak much about it, but I felt her presence through her kind heart and words. No matter how many times I moved in the last 40+ years, I still have the leather-bound Bible she gave me. For that and so many other things, I thank her.

Around that time, she said “Tracey, please don’t rush your life; you will see, once you graduate high school, how time will fly by. You will wonder, one day, where the time went. You won’t see it, as it swiftly passes by you.” She told me that over 40 years ago, and all I can say is, “You’re right!”

Reverend BetsyMy maternal grandmother, Ethel Pine, was an important part of our lives. I was the oldest grandchild, and when I began to talk, I called her “Dammie,” and the name stuck. The family calls her Dammie to this day. She would come to our house with her sewing basket and do all the mending, and if I happened to be baking cookies, she would be my “taste tester.” On family picnics, we could count on her bringing a homemade bean bag to toss and a wet washcloth for sticky fingers. She had been raised Baptist and wouldn’t play card games with us kids on Sundays – until we wore her down; what harm can there be in Crazy 8s? Sunday nights, the extended family gathered at her house for waffles with Vermont maple syrup from the farm where my father grew up. When I was studying nursing at URI, she would write to me and enclose a $10 bill, so I had money to buy food on weekends when the cafeteria was closed. As I got older, I discovered how much fun she and her church friends were, how they enjoyed their lives; they, in turn, thought me much too serious. I am older now than she was when she died of complications of hip surgery.

I don’t remember my father’s mother, Sarah Estelle, who, after she was widowed for the second time, became a Methodist minister in Williamsville, Vermont. Although she had studied the Bible, women back then were not ordained in the Methodist Church. As I was growing up, we visited “the Little Brown Church” each October, and when I was accepted at Harvard Divinity School, my father was gratified that I was able to do what his mother had not. And, yes, my daughter, Sarah, was named after her.

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Kim Baker’s Great Grandmother: A Poem I Maccheroni Guariscono Tutto:  Translation: Macaroni Heals Everything       Life is a combination of magic and pasta.    -Federico Fellini

She reigned supreme from her throne in front of the stove,her crown a tiara of gray braid,her scepter a tomato-sauce stained stirrerwielded to remind you she was the matriarch,that spatula a magic wand she tapped on your chest to mend brokennessor make her point that the only spirits allowed herewere crushed from the family grape and served in old jelly jars.I never saw her in the colors of spring or of autumn, only of loss.

Great-Grammom spoke to us in an Italian opera of emotion.But beware the wrist, as if on a hinge,fingers and thumb synched together rocking their collective displeasure.The best, and worst, hello was the pizzico,ouch-pinching both cheeks while pulling your lips to hers,her breath a scent of garlic and onion and grief.

We arrived late morning each Sunday,the men to play cards,the children to suffer noisily until lunch,the women to prepare dough.They made a mini Mount Vesuvius of flourwith eggs placed like lava in the middle.

Kneading, kneading, kneading,three generations prepared the communion of food,cawing the family news in shards of Italian I can still recall: Come stai?  Mezzo mezzo.  Stai zitto!  Stai zitto!  Mamma mia!To make my cousins and me stai zitto until lunch,she would pull from the change purse in her bra a crisp dollar bill,a treasure for each of us to spend at Great-Granpop’s store across the street.His penny candy spoke every language. 

Just before the meal, Great-Granpop would take me outto his swatch of garden guarded by the Virgin Mary,grapes dripping their purple devotion over her statuesque head.We would inhale the fruit of the tomato,pluck the basil and oregano from their placewhere the sun squeezes in to spend the afternooncurled up under the cat, napping.

Later, when the meal began, my great-grandmotherVincenza presented her macaroni and meatballson the platter that travelled from her home town

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Casandrino to that urban New Jersey row housewhere a short, round Italian woman knew howto heal everything with a gesture and a meal.

© Kim M. Baker

Moosup Valley Sunday Service Moosup Valley Church holds Sunday Worship by Zoom, at 10:30 a.m. Liturgy literally means “the work of the people,” and at Moosup Valley we take this to heart. Members of the congregation take part in reading, playing, and singing. This Sunday, May 9, we will hear the Gospel lesson from John 15:9-17, and Rev. Betsy’s Reflection, “Loved Ones.” Watch for the link and the Order of Worship bulletin which will be emailed on Saturday morning and will include everything you need to participate, all in one PDF document.

Rice City Worship Worship at Rice City will be live, in person (with precautions) this Sunday, May 9, at 9:00 a.m. as well as online on the MVLP Facebook page Sunday morning and throughout the week. The Order of Worship will be emailed with Moosup Valley’s on Saturday morning.

Mount Vernon Wednesday EveningsMt. Vernon Baptist Church streams a live service on Wednesday evenings at 7:00 p.m. The link: https://www.facebook.com/MVLPspirit/ ?ref=bookmrks ). The Order of Worship will be emailed with Rev. Betsy’s Order for Evening Prayer that morning.

Evening Prayer Moosup Valley holds Evening Prayer, Vespers, on Wednesdays at 7:30 p.m. by Zoom – a brief (20 minute) time of scripture, song, meditation and prayer, a time to give thanks for the day just past and praise to God. As appropriate, we also reflect on questions for the season. If you wish, please bring a candleto light. Let Rev. Betsy know if you would like to sing an evening hymn. It is acceptable to come in your PJs! The Order of Prayer bulletin is emailed early on Wednesdays, along with the Zoom link.

Special PrayersHumanity is like an enormous spider web, so that if you touch it anywhere, you set the whole thing trembling… As we move around this world and as we act with kindness, perhaps, or with indifference, or with hostility, towardthe people we meet, we too are setting the great spider web a-tremble. The life that I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place and time my touch will be felt. Our lives are linked together. No one is an island. -Frederick BuechnerPlease reach out and touch …

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Jeanne Lavoie and family in the death of her beloved Michael who died early Tuesday morning at RI Hospital in the aftermath of his stroke. And for her son-in-law Ryan who has finished his chemo and radiation and now prepares for surgery.

Jim, who is recovering from knee surgery on Tuesday.

All those who have lost loved ones recently: the family of Frank and Natalie Arnold, Bill McGrath, Phyllis Dexter and so many others….

Rhoda Dexter who is now back in her apartment at Creamery Brook in Brooklyn, recovering from surgery.

Joyce Chase is home and recovering well from open heart surgery.

Rocky Riccio, still in pain from COVID.

Martha’s niece Rev. Mindy Reed as she deals with chronic life-threatening conditions.

Joan and John’s grandson, Christopher, who is experiencing a difficult time.

Barbara’s cousin Judy who is still holding her own with new treatments for tumors.

Baby Wyatt, born prematurely on January 1 at 24 weeks, is now over 7 pounds, and the family hopes to bring him home soon.

Jean Salemi, recovering from back surgery and awaiting the time we can all be physically together again.

Richard Lucky and Jack Greenleaf, both of whom were well enough to celebrate their baptisms at Rice City.

Carol and Bob’s friend, Kathy, back in the hospital in Boston and knows that she will always have some of the pain that she currently is trying to endure.

Chris Crowther’s partner Jen Villinis is still waiting for a liver transplant.

All those killed and mourned across the country in mass shootings. Pray that we can find ways to address mental illness as well as to rein in our love affair with guns!

Our beloved country in the midst of persistent hostility and division.

Gather ‘Round for Bible Study – Temporarily on Thursdays

Rev. Betsy leads Bible Study on Thursdays at 10:00 a.m. by Zoom, now reading the Letter of James, which may have been written or inspired by Jesus’ brother, an early leader in the Jerusalem Church. To receive the Zoom link, contact Betsy.

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A Closing Story: Ohio

By Libby Chaney, as published in Sisters Singing: Blessings, Prayers, Art, Songs, Poetry & Sacred Stories by Women, Carolyn Brigit Flynn, Ed., 2009.

As it turned out, I was the one to volunteer to scatter the ashes. It was a beautiful day in Ohio. The sun was shining, and most of the trees’ leaves were on the ground.

We went to the park where my mother loved to picnic. We walked down a well-traveled trail. Several of us were dressed in black and we were an odd sight walking on a path in the woods. We had walked quite a way when by consensus, as a group, without a word, we all stopped to admire a huge old oak. Across the way, off the path, was another, and it clung like a queen waving from her balcony over a beautiful arroyo. We seemed to wander over there, of one mind, peering over the cliff to admire the view that oak tree had.

This seemed to be the right place and moment and I made a sinuous line of ash with what felt to me like a dance gesture so that the line lay along the edge of the cliff, inside the area delineated by the tree. At the end the line curved back, like my mother waving goodbye from her porch until you rounded the corner of her street.

My brother-in-law, who has never asked me for anything, asked me “Can we cover the ashes?” I asked him, “Would you feel better?” “Yes,” he said, and we covered the ashes with leaves. Brown, dried oak leaves and a few others with brilliant color. Chaney means oak grove, coming from chen in French, oak.

And so we left her there under an oak tree with winter coming. And she was there for me that day in the woods when I felt wild with sadness, she said it was okay, it was all okay. It was okay to leave her there. Leave her there alone in the woods to become part of the land she loved so much. Her Ohio, her central Ohio. (Story abridged.)

St. Paul’s Plans Lancaster TripSt. Paul’s Church plans a three-day trip to the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch Country, October 12-14, 2021, which includes the Sight and Sound Theaters’ Queen Esther, a captivating Biblical tale of beauty and bravery. They have about 10 seats available for those who respond to Brenda Knox quickly. I am attaching the flyer with the itinerary and pricing and the Trip Insurance information to the newsletter email.

Church Offerings may be mailed for: Mt. Vernon to Ron Allen (116 Barbs Hill Road, Greene, RI 02827), Moosup Valley to Pat Safstrom (76 Moosup Valley Road, Foster, RI 02825), or go on the website (moosupvalley.church) and donate through PayPal.Rice City to Robin Petrarca (105 Hopkins Hollow Road, Greene, RI 02827).

Reverend Betsy can be reached at BetsyAldrichGarland@gmail.com or 401-463-8697. Pastor Bob can be reached at revbobh@gmail.com or 401-440-7831.

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