Tag: Vermont Photographer

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Quarantine

Stay-School Adventures: Memorial Day Parade, Quarantine Day 73

girl whispers to another girl during Memorial Day parade

STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Memorial Day, Quarantine Day 73 from Cat Cutillo on Vimeo.

Watching the Vergennes Memorial Day Parade every spring is one of our family traditions. When we lived in Vergennes, we would walk to the parade with my daughter Remy’s toy ride-on tractor in hand so she could watch the giant tractors roll by while sitting on her own mini version. Last year, my son, Bo, sat on that same tractor during the parade. We have both created memories and also started to relive similar experiences every year at this parade — which is held to remember and honor those we’ve lost.

This Memorial Day, the parade was canceled. We decided to fill the void by doing something new.

Bo on his mini tractor at the Vergennes Memorial Day Parade 2019

Our family created our own mobile parade, riding our bikes and rollerblades on the Burlington Bike Path. It was the first week since mid-March we ventured into a more public arena. We went early and the path it was mostly empty. The beat of the parade was replaced this year by the sound of wheels on pavement. We pulled over at North Beach to look at the lake, staring out at the infinite space of possibility.

We have wandered off the map of predictability. With a calendar of cancellations this summer, there are no go-to events for us to fall back on. Autopilot is out of order. There is both sadness from that loss and relief that there is space now for something new.

Remy on her rollerblades on the Burlington Bike Path this Memorial Day 2020
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Quarantine

STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Drive-By Parties, Quarantine Week 8

a drive-by birthday sign

STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Drive-By Parties, Quarantine Week 8 from Cat Cutillo on Vimeo.

I once did a project called “Passenger-Side Stories” — a collection of drive-by photos I took while riding shotgun. The images include oddities, like a mannequin on a bicycle, and slice-of-life moments, like four-wheelers racing alongside the road. It’s amazing what you can capture and connect with in the blink of an eye from the car window.

This week — the eighth in quarantine — I was reminded of this project. The week began with the distant sounds of sirens. My heart skipped a beat as they quickly grew louder. I worried something had happened to one of our neighbors. We opened the front door to see fire trucks and police cars streaming by, waving and yelling Happy Thursday! to our neighborhood. Relief and tremendous gratitude washed over us, and we joined the chorus of cheers. The sounds of sirens and honking brought reassurance this week.

My daughter’s good friend, Matilda, turned 7 and her mom planned a drive-by birthday party. She drove Matilda to friends’ homes, where they held up signs, waved and cheered. We live across from Matilda’s aunt, uncle and cousins, so there was a surround-sound celebration at our stop with handmade signs, bells and presents that we slipped into her trunk. Still, I know my 7-year-old, Remy, and 3-year-old, Bo, wanted to run up and give her a hug. It felt strange keeping our distance.

The next day we met up at a parking lot for a birthday parade for Remy’s classmate, Adara. We held handmade signs out the window and cheered and honked as we drove by Adara and her family, who were standing on the sidewalk with balloons. Then we returned home and just the four of us had a festive marshmallow roast in our backyard.

The week ended with a parade of teachers and administrators from Remy’s school, Chamberlin Elementary. Dozens of them drove the length of the entire school bus route, honking and yelling students’ names out their windows. My kids stood on the lawn, waving.

These drive-by parties and parades made a big difference this week. It was amazing how connected we felt, in the blink of an eye, to friends, classmates and teachers. All it took was seeing them in person — albeit 15 feet away and through a car window — instead of just online.

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Quarantine

STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Time Capsule, Quarantine Day 36

STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Time Capsule, Quarantine Day 36 from Cat Cutillo on Vimeo.

We’ve been circling the block a lot, going on neighborhood walks. This seems fitting because time itself has started to feel circular. Our mornings often begin where our nights left off, and sometimes I’m pretty sure I spent the day running in circles around the kids. This weekend we took a shortcut through a tunnel of trees. The lighting was just right and created a perfect shadow reflection of the trees’ long slender branches. We started talking about how trees grow from the inside and track time through growth rings that are permanently logged into their layers. The harder the tree’s winter, the tighter the growth ring.

“It’s a trunk full of history in there,” I told my kids.

When we got home I pointed to the coffee table my father-in-law had made when he was a teenager from the found cross-section of an enormous ponderosa pine tree trunk. We tried to count the rings on it but couldn’t make it past 58.

Having lapped past a full month at home, we started thinking about ways we could record our time. I brought up the idea of creating a quarantine time capsule to dig up in exactly one year that included each of our favorite memories over the past month. We presented the kids with a glass jar — like we were literally trying to preserve the memories like pickles — and told them to collect something for the time capsule.

My 7-year-old, Remy, brought out a toy rabbit in honor of Easter and swapped out the jar for a handmade, wooden treasure chest. My husband, Ross, put in a pencil and sharpener to remember working on art and school assignments with Remy. I put in my birthday candles, having recently added another year to my age. And my 3-year-old, Bo, put in a toy figure of Batman’s sidekick Robin and his socks.

I’m hopeful in a year he’ll be able to tell me why.

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Quarantine

Stay-School Adventures: Spring Cleaning, Quarantine Days 25-28

Stay-School Adventures: Spring Cleaning, Quarantine Days 25-28 from Cat Cutillo on Vimeo.

The swamp next door has become my spirit animal. It takes in toxins, churning them over like a giant strainer and purifying the water. It squeezes the best parts out of bad things — a perfect example of what to do when life gives you lemons.

On Saturday, I was staring out the window, looking at the swamp, when my friend called from Brooklyn to tell me her father had died that morning of COVID-19. I looked at the swamp, trying to churn out something to say.

Earlier in the week, my kids had announced they were “moving out.” They spent the week spring-cleaning their play fort in the backyard revamping it into a “permanent” residence. My daughter got the idea from an episode of Fancy Nancy.

The play fort was like a clown car, filled with old balls, bats and baskets overflowing down the slide. I couldn’t believe how much had been crammed in there. We finally had our answers for where all the lost items had been hiding.

I watched my kids hand off piggy banks and miniature furniture to each other, beautifying their 9-square-foot space with a small stool, a tea set and a handcrafted chandelier made from pipe cleaners, tape and ribbon. They asked my husband to wood burn a “Welcome” sign, then secure it over their front door with a drill.

With every passing week of isolation, my kids’ imaginations flourish and they connect more with their internal worlds. It’s as if the daily costumes are shields, enabling them to create their own realities.

The trash has become their treasure. They even intercepted a tattered rainbow tablecloth on its way to the garbage can. It’s become the portal to their new life.

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Quarantine

STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Quarantine Costumes, Day 19

Stay-School Adventures, Quarantine Costumes + Kites, Day 19 from Cat Cutillo on Vimeo.

My family has entered into a new realm of quarantine. My 7-year-old, Remy, wears a pink tutu and crown daily. My 3-year-old, Bo, wears a cape with or without his Batman mask. My husband, Ross, has even unearthed an Irish cap from the closet’s darkest corner–and he’s been in a great mood ever since.

I don’t have a costume yet but I did dig up my rollerblades from 1998 and rolled through the neighborhood with Remy.

“When did you get those!?” Remy asked me, next-level excited.

“Remy, these blades are old enough to be your mother,” I told her.

And as I gained speed, swerving in and out of a neighborhood of empty driveways, I thought, “Why did I ever give this up? I am really good.”

Then I swung out of control and did a crash landing on the neighbor’s lawn.

We spent April Fools’ Day trying to fly a kite in the backyard. Ross mostly dive-bombed our kids with it, but there were a few good moments where the kite really took flight and soared.

Its not all capes and kites over here. At least once everyday, I nose-dive into feelings of doom, grief and dread about what might happen and what is already happening– happening to people that I love.

But I think the kids–and Ross–are onto something with the dress-up. Those things we haven’t done or worn in years that used to bring us joy, those things can still bring us joy. It’s been well-worth the trip to the back of the closet.

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