“I’d just moved back to town after an almost 30 year hiatus. Well, okay, what exactly is a hiatus? “A temporary gap, pause, break, or absence can be called a hiatus”, says the dictionary. But however long I was away, I still knew Saturday was dump day, and I remember driving in, spring of 2021, and seeing her there, unloading her trash. I was thrilled. I assumed she would be equally thrilled, to see me. I’m sure I busied myself, unloading my truck bed, while glancing her way, with a shy smile on my face, waiting for a sign from her. It’s hard to describe the disjointed symmetry, of realizing an old friend has dementia. I suddenly got it, that she didn’t recognize me at all. Today, I drove to Kingsland Bay Park, a timeless, off-the-beaten-track state park on the shores of Lake Champlain, to celebrate her passing. As fate would have it, in a borrowed car. I might say that I was flanked by two of my best friends: a vintage Gibson guitar, and a custom made K-style acoustic. I’m not proud of being anti-social, but there are ways I prefer to relate to groups, and holding instruments is one of them. The day proved classic, in the Vermont tradition of moderation. Partly sunny, not too hot. It was hard in any case, to gather my wits, and walk into a scene of mourning. And feel that my bit part, was such a small sliver, in an enormous pie. Carol was my midwife, half of a team that knocked the socks off the medical establishment, with their willingness to collaborate, and serve women at the highest level. But, who was she to me, exactly? A warrior, a jolly Buddha. She knew when to dish out straight talk, and when to laugh. I had the good fortune to be somewhat on her inner circle. I was a local, and we shared local ties. We sat at the same dinner tables, and played loud, raw music on our sound systems, in some kind of spiritual solidarity. The last thing I remember was only a story I heard, because I wasn’t there. Carol supported many abused women, and didn’t just talk about it. She confronted abusers. And she confronted my abuser, in a public place, in front of customers in his store. I can count on one hand, the times anyone has stood up for me, putting this much on the line. Honestly, it’s rare for any of us to receive this kind of consideration. And so, I would like to reinforce the legacy of Carol Warnock’s powerful advocacy for victims, her courage, which was deep and mysterious. I send you the message from a local stone: “Laugh with me, hold my hand, say goodbye: we meet at the source every moment”. I love you, Carol. Godspeed, which only means: may god make you. ”
