What better way to celebrate another breathtaking summer on Buzzards Bay than a walking tour of some of the most exquisite local gardens? On Friday, July 11 from 10:30 am to 4:30 pm, St. Gabriel’s Episcopal Church and the Garden Club of Marion, Massachusetts will present the ‘Gardens by the Sea’ at a gathering that kicks off at the Captain Hadley House at 345 Front Street, Marion MA, on the corner of Route 6 and Front Street.

Each year, the tour attracts many Marion residents, including some aspiring gardeners who hope to gain inspiration from the beautiful sights. This year’s event, entitled ‘Gardens by the Sea’ will feature private gardens generously offered for viewing by several local families. This year, St. Gabriel’s expects a turnout of at least three hundred and fifty people!

According to Garden Club members, this year will mark the 12^th official Garden Tour, an occasion held annually during the summer months. Each year, the Garden Tour pulls together the best of all that is Marion: supportive attendees, welcoming homeowners, incredible landscaping, panoramic views of the ocean, and volunteers willing to dedicate their time to make this event a reality.

As the event approaches, attendees, Garden Club Members, and local Marion residents are anxious to see what stops are on this year’s tour. The locations are generally kept hushed until the day of the tour so that attendees can be surprised by the gardens that they get the chance to see. Each year, the Garden Club discusses volunteers and nominees to create the ideal route for the Garden Tour.

In past years, the Marion Garden Tour has featured several beautiful gardens on Allen’s Point Road, just past the Little Marion Golf Course. The Garden Tour of Marion has often featured landscapes ranging from waterfront properties to village homes closer to the heart of town.

For the upcoming event, it has been confirmed that at least seven gardens will be featured along the tour. Attendees have expressed that they are most excited about “an Estate overlooking the Weweantic. One garden facing east at the outer Harbor, one at the mouth of Wings Cove, and in between a few ‘Mom and Papa’ gardens, maintained by the owners,” said tour organizer Hanna Milhench of Marion, MA.

Next Friday, the tour will come to a close with a walk of one spectacular site with views of Sippican Harbor and Buzzards Bay. The final stop will include a display of a Garden Club member’s formal rose garden, exhibiting a life-sized chessboard inspired by J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter. A hedged entryway leads around to the back of the estate, where the lawn slopes down to a hidden seaside grove. As you follow the stepping-stones inside, you find yourself enclosed by evergreens around a stone fire-pit. The campfire feel of this hidden treasure makes you forget for a moment that you are mere steps from the ocean.

Needless to say, this year’s list of properties left Garden Club members practically speechless. As they pondered the diverse flora, grounds, and vegetation to be seen on the coming tour, this dedicated group could not contain their excitement. An anonymous member had only one word to describe her awe: “Wow!”

Tickets may be purchased in Marion at The Bookstall, The General Store, and the church office at South Street. Profits from this event will be divided to support both local and global organizations in need. There will also be a combined bake sale to benefit the Community Resources Network and Turning Point. Come out for the love of beauty and a great cause!

By Jacqueline Hatch

After seeing a commercial back in May featuring orphans who had no shoes on their feet, ten-year old Emma Levasseur was inspired to collect new pairs of shoes for orphans around the world who have never known the feeling of putting their feet into a brand new pair of sneakers.

She started by placing a drop box in the lobby of her school at Rochester Memorial School, and with the help of her mom and dad, they expanded by placing drop-off boxes for new shoes and socks donations at the Plumb Library, at Emma’s mother Wendy Levasseur’s workplace, and in front of the Levasseur house in Rochester.

            The Wanderer first introduced you to Emma and her family in the May 29 issue when Emma, her fourth-grade teacher Ms. Griffin, and her family reached out to the community to help Emma reach her goal of collecting 50 pairs of shoes by the time the school year ended on June 18. Since then, Wendy Levasseur said the donations started to trickle in from the school and from the other drop boxes until Emma surpassed her goal, collecting exactly 67 pairs of shoes and 152 pairs on new socks.

“We did awesome!” said Levasseur on July 8. She said Emma was thrilled with the results and was excited that the community responded with such generosity.

As the shoe drive gained momentum, one part-time resident of Marion read the article in The Wanderer about Emma’s shoes for orphans campaign, and he felt compelled to reach out to the Levasseur family to help out.

“He read the article and it touched his heart,” said Levasseur. “So they are taking care of the cost of the shipping for us.”

Ken Parsons lives in Texas and owns a summer home in Marion. In a phone interview from his Marion cottage, Parsons said he regularly reads The Wanderer online while he is away from Tri-Town, and during the first week of June, while having morning coffee in Texas and reading the May 28 issue, he read about Emma and her efforts to collect shoes for orphans around the world. Parsons said he and his wife recently became involved in a similar organization collecting shoes for children in Jamaica, so the story resonated with him and his own experience.

“So that’s why the article caught my eye,” said Parsons.

Parsons, a pilot for the United Postal Service, contacted his union, which has a charitable foundation that raises millions of dollars for charity each year. He also reached out to his fellow UPS pilots and, with a little luck, one of them had a connection to Mike Julian, the international director of Buckner Shoes for Orphan Soles in Dallas, Texas.

Parsons contacted the Levasseurs and offered to ship the shoes to Dallas using what he called a “crew mail system” at no cost to the Levasseurs, who would otherwise be responsible for coming up with the funds to cover the cost of shipping the shoe donations to the organization in Dallas that distributes the shoes abroad.

“There is no cost to ship the shoes,” said Parsons. “This is just a bunch of people taking some time to help out.”

Parsons will deliver the shoes straight to Logan Airport for a direct flight with one of his fellow UPS pilots to Dallas. From there, Parson’s colleague will pick up the shoes and deliver them to Buckner in Dallas himself.

“I think it’s wonderful,” said Parsons about Emma’s efforts to make a difference for the orphans. “We always worry about the next generation … and how much they’re going to care or give back.” Parsons described reading Emma’s story as “heart-warming.”

“We’re very proud of Emma,” said Levasseur. “It was definitely a success, and we’re happy with the outcome.

By Jean Perry

The weather threatened a hurricane off the coast. It circled oppressively and storm fog rolled in from the brewing sea. But, forecasters had promised the worst would hold off until later in the afternoon – the race was on.

About 13 years ago, I made my second attempt at Mattapoisett’s 4th of July Road Race. I do not run and even back then I barely jogged, but I could and did walk pretty fast. Have you ever seen a speed walking race? The racers look rather funny and awkward in their movements. Well, that is what I sort of looked like.

Then the years went by. The demands of industry and commerce – aka, making a living with frequent multi-state travel, overseeing my Father’s care, being Gramma’s taxi and loving childcare service, running a home, and not least of all being a wife – just didn’t leave much time for exercise. Walking about three times a week and/or mounting the NordicTrack (remember those – do you need one?) was the only physical movement I really got for quite some time.

When I retired, exercise was at the top of my to-do list. I was a little slow in actually committing myself to this cause, but I have a rather compelling reason to stay moving – osteoporosis. The progression of this silent, debilitating disease I could no longer deny.

Decades earlier, I had taken my Mother for a bone density scan and our doctor ordered one for me as well. Both my Mother and her only sister, Margaret, had already been diagnosed with osteoporosis, so it was necessary that I get tested. When the results came back, I thought the clinic had made a mistake and mixed up the results. But that hope was quickly dispelled by the doctor who plainly said, “You have osteopenia; we have to deal with this.” I was only 40.

For the next twenty years, I more or less faithfully took the once-weekly medication and continued with my wimpy exercise regimen. When you don’t feel the impact of a disease that is slowly robbing your bones of their ability to regenerate, denial is easy and very stupid. But deny I did, and stupid I was.

In the meantime, my aunt’s spine became a tortured bent hook and my Mother began her long descent into an altered medical universe. She fell many times, breaking both ankles and her collarbone, suffering multiple bruises and chronic unrelenting pain from small fractures in her spine. These sisters weren’t physically able to exercise sufficiently to make much of a difference in their quality of life. By then, they had spent a lifetime being overweight and fairly inactive. Now in the hour of their need, and in spite of an expressed desire to lose weight and move more, neither of them seemed able to do so. As more research and information on ways to cope and improve ones chances after developing osteoporosis became available, I sat up taller and started to take notice. It was time to get real with myself.

Every chance I got, I walked my flat feet in a quest to keep my bones alive. I know every nook and cranny of North Street between my house and Crystal Spring Road. Walking this gauntlet of speeding vehicles can be a death-defying experience, but I take my chances. We also invested in a treadmill that I faithfully use when the weather doesn’t permit outdoor activities.

My doctor recently changed my medication from a once-a-week pill to a twice-a-year shot, and three months ago I added more movement to my walking schedule. The disease has progressed from the less scary osteopenia to osteoporosis. I simply don’t have a choice any longer. I must keep moving.

Today, I’m actively engaging my body through the paces of ZumbaÒ Gold for seniors (yeah, right, you try keeping up, it ain’t so easy), cardio-fit exercises at the local council on aging, and walking my faithful pup, Harry. Oh yeah, “I like to move it, move it.”

So as the annual 4th of July Road Race got closer this year, I remembered those glory days when I could walk the course in 63 minutes, besting others who were jogging. It was game on. Me against Me – a true win, win. I didn’t even really mind that the category I fell into on the race form was that of “Super Senior” – ugh.

The hurricane became a blessing to all those who participated in the race. Not too hot, and with a fine mist to cool the skin, Mother Nature provided a pleasant backdrop. In previous years, I had made the mistake of inserting myself in the middle of the pack where the real jocks jockey for position. Not this time. It was the back of the pack for yours truly, and I was proud of it.

Around my neck, I wore a small pendent I’d received in 1979. My friend, Ilene Pasillas, had given it to me as a going away gift when I left California and returned home after a failed wanderlust adventure. She fought a brave battle against cancer that she lost in 1985, but on this day she was with me. So were Ma and Dad and a few others whose passings have left holes in my universe. They were all there inspiring me.

But my greatest inspiration came from the living. I walked because I can and to honor those who can’t – those friends and a couple of relatives whose health challenges render such activities outside their reach. I did it for them. I did it to remind my granddaughters that sometimes simply believing you can do something makes it possible. Not easy, but possible. I did it to prove to myself I could.

The excitement is palpable at such times; it electrifies the soul. So I walked to my 1-2-3-4 peppy beat in my head and the sound of the ambulance engine in my right ear.

As I reached the corner of North and Church for the first time early in the course, there arose a sound so sweet as to draw tears to my eyes. There was my 15-year old granddaughter and her friends, race volunteers, passing out water and cheering me on saying, “You go, Gramma!!!” A dearer sound I could not have imagined. I didn’t have a partner in this event, yet I had visible and invisible loving supporters.

As a member of the back of the pack club, you find yourself with folks who are in the same boat as you, just wanting to prove they can finish this race. The people along the course were all very encouraging, clapping and smiling and saying they were proud of us: the slow, old, weak, wounded, and brave. A noble bunch were we, even if I do say so myself.

Heading back from Ned’s Point to that North and Church intersection for the second time, I knew I was going to make it. My body had found its rhythm and my brain wasn’t revolting. It was all systems go to the finish line. And there were the girls screaming their approval with hoots of joy. They knew, too; it was going to be OK.

As I pulled away from them and headed towards the corner of North and Water, my granddaughter called to me, “I’m joining you, Gramma” as she and a friend ran to catch-up. I said, “See that lady in the white shorts? I’ve been behind her the whole way. I’m going to pass her.” They said, “Go For It!” At the last possible moment, I did jog past the unknown walker with a spring in my step. I’d done it, and it felt so good. Seventy-three minutes was five minutes better than I had predicted when my loving husband dropped me off earlier. I placed 999 out of 1026. I wasn’t the last, and that’s good enough for me.

I’m still riding the cloud of endorphins produced from the effort and now plan on doing the race every year that I’m physically able to do so. And maybe, just maybe, next year I’ll have a partner or two, but I know I’ll always have those who I remember by my side. As the song says, “I’m not as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was….” Amen, and can I get a witness!

Before I forget, here’s a special shout out to the two soldiers who ran in full gear and packs – I salute you and thank you for your service.

PS: Dear Race Officials, you folks did a wonderful job making sure there was plenty of water and directions along the course. And who doesn’t love fresh fruit? That’s a real treat after a race. One question/suggestion: Could the dismantling of the finish line equipment wait until all participants have had a chance to cross the finish-line? As a member of the ‘back of the pack club,’ our personal best may be very different from the front of the pack, but it is just as important nonetheless.

By Marilou Newell