Kelly Salasin
I look away. I look back.
Kelly Salasin, a longtime prolific blogger, is currently in the throes of writing a memoir. She originally posted this piece, a work in progress, on Facebook.
The Titan tragedy and our shared humanity
How many of us respond to the sensational crisis of the day or donate to those who experience a tragedy while simultaneously ignoring the slow, erosive suffering all around us?
I was late to news of the submersible. And even later to write about it. Words felt too painful, like a trespass on tragedy. But to ignore the words written by others, especially those who mocked the lives needing oxygen, seemed an even greater disregard of our shared humanity.
Abortion is not the opposite of motherhood — it’s part of it
‘If not for my abortions, I would have followed in my mother’s, my grandmother’s, and my great-grandmother’s footsteps, each woman denied the choice of how her future would unfold, the first two born before women could vote’
If not for my abortions, my partnership of 35 years with Casey would not exist. He would not have become a teacher. He would not influence the lives, paths, futures of hundreds and hundreds of teenagers. If not for my abortions, our two sons would not exist. Lloyd would...
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‘Nine step-grandchildren’
I was surprised to find myself referenced in the lines of the obituary. Somebody was mindful - maybe the parent of the other three step-grandchildren, though I'm not sure who they are. When the deceased and I first met, I was already a young adult, so I don't know that I ever considered her a step-grandmother, though perhaps some if not all of my younger sisters did. I find myself touched to be included all these years later, to be...
Ambassador of hope
I recently volunteered as a host. Was that what it was called? No, that wasn't it. Ambassador? Yes! I was an Ambassador at the May Gallery Walk - “The Art Party”! I had a clipboard and a three-quarter-length-sleeve baseball tee that read, “I Love Brattleboro.” I felt like I was on a team. I was positioned with my husband at Pliny Park beside the Friday night justice seekers on the corner of High and Main. It was loud and overwhelming...
What does it take to wake up?
We were living on the base at West Point when my father sat us down to watch the new mini-series, Roots. The nation had just celebrated its 200th anniversary (“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men...”). The first female cadets were admitted to the U.S. Military Academy. I watched with my father from our car as women arrived at the barracks. I was 13. The previous year, rape had been deemed illegal, at least on the books...
Reshaping the nest
I left home on Sept. 1. It wasn't a divorce or even a trial separation, but it was time. Time for she who so dutifully tended the nest over the course of 25 years to fly. I left my younger son behind. I thought my flight might lend itself to his. It did. On the very same mid-October weekend that he spread his wings, however, his older brother returned home, taking up residence here alongside his partner. By Christmas, we...
A heart for children
I never thought about David Tasgal's age before, but if I had to guess, I would have said early 60s, which is why I had originally dismissed the news that a 72-year-old man was struck on his bike in Greenfield on the afternoon of Oct. 12. David has been a part of the Marlboro Elementary School family in southern Vermont as a violin teacher for more than a decade. His quirky, fun-loving approach makes this classical instrument accessible to all...