Sylvia Crawford: The final ‘Folks from Glen Ellen' column
Hello dear readers, friends of the Glen Ellen column. I've been writing these tidbits of local news of folks in our village for 29 years. I began working at the Sonoma Index-Tribune way back in 1979 (that's 37 years) in the far back reaches and realms of machinery. Bill Lynch hired me to do ad paste-up two evenings a week. That suited this new Mama of a 6-month-old just fine. It got me out of the house, during hours when the sweet babe mostly slept and could be looked over by his loving Papa. All was well.
I deliberated over the accepting the job. Our Glen Ellen Postmaster of the day had also offered me the rural mail delivery route job as Barbara Nuss was taking a break from that.
After discussing it with Barbara and thinking it over, I decided that I loved newspapers even more than I loved delivering mail. Hence, the I-T won that round.
Mr. Robert Lynch
After several years at that job, Mr. Robert Lynch (whom I never referred to by any other name than Mr. Lynch) invited me to try writing the column. Sandy Zimmermann was “retiring” from that duty and Mr. Lynch had heard that I was one of her stalwart providers of good news.
I was thrilled to take on that duty, as I was by now the Mama of two little boys, rambunctious and enthusiastic. Sweetheart Papa Crawford would have even more opportunities to read them to dreamland.
For a time the column was twice a week and Mr. Lynch had me writing plenty of feature articles as well. I loved the challenge and enjoyed meeting the folks that I featured in the stories. The writing duties expanded my world in ways I never expected.
From the outset I followed Mr. Lynch's guidance to keep the news upbeat, to honor the people I wrote about, and to help promote a sense of community in our small village.
And so it has been. Writing the Glen Ellen column was a continuing duty that I relished and enjoyed all along the way. Like the old marriage vows, I continued the column, “in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer” . . . hmm, doesn't that little ditty end with “until death do us part?” Well, I am not dead yet. However I am departing. This is my final column.
Disappearing act
I will miss all of you, my dear loyal and occasional readers. The stories you have shared with me remain as a small town history that tells of true good, occasional deep sadness, and a fine sense of community.
Other regions, other climes
Meanwhile I'm off to other climes, other regions. Portland, Oregon. The call of our cute grandsons inspired me to move closer. We'll be living just down the street from 2-1/2 year old Shiloh Robert Crawford, and an easier plane ride away from 1-1/2 year old Martin Raphael Crawford Holbrow. I intend to spend my declining golden days with those boys. Just the thought makes me happy.
Yet. And yet, oh yet, just the thought of leaving the village I love, the people I love, the places I love makes me sad. Three dear and generous friends B.J. Blanchard, Margie Foster, and Dawn Mittleman Longoria insisted on throwing a good-bye party for me. I agreed. However, as I began compling the list of all the folks I dearly loved in this village, in this valley, I lost my courage. How could I say good-bye to these fine folks. I knew I couldn't without breaking into tears, flooding the Fosters gardens and embarrassing myself. Yes, I am sad to leave all of you, and those tears are honest. Yet, their very volume belies the excitement and joy I feel at being closer to my grandsons. I was sad to cancel the party, but I knew I must. Margie, Dawn and B.J. were understanding. So were the dear folks I had told of the plans and then told of their cancellation.
Farewell instead
Unfortunately, I fear there are a few folks out there who were told of the plans but not of their cancellation, folks who may have expected an invitation to a fine garden soiree . . . and yet no invitation appeared. I regret that misunderstanding. I love you all. I just couldn't face a round of tearful goodbyes. In fact, good neighbor, dear fellow Gary D'Acquisto cautioned me to never say good-bye. Tell them Farewell, instead. Yes, Gary, I agree. And I do hope you all, my dear readers, will fare well, today, tomorrow and into the far blown future that none of us can predict. I carry your good stories within my heart, holding them close. Someone once wisely said, “People who are with us at critical times in our lives remain important. Whether we stay in touch or not, we always have that history.” And so I do. You, too, I pray.
Special last few days
Our last few days in the Sonoma Valley were very special, intentionally planned. On the last Monday, I meditated in the afternoon with my dear spiritual companions, we five recovering Catholics. We gather every other week at Babaji's Ashram and blend our hearts together to pray for each other, our families and for the world, and then, sitting in silence, we invoke the peace of our mutual dreams.
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