Web Feature

One of my pieces was recently featured in this seasonal treasury, enjoy!

Back in Action!

I have re-opened my studio and my etsy shop! Please come on by and take a gander!

Helping Hands

Please check out this vimeo compilation I made from my time spent this year with Helping Hands India.

Helping Hands from Baby Ruth on Vimeo.

(Photos by Nina and myself)

Trying to....

The NeverEnding Story....Sans Falcor

I've realized

that there really is no end result.

As far as making goes

I find it's all about the process.

As far as life goes

I've realized it's just the same.

If it were all about an outcome,

then what?

Do you take a photograph

of what it looks like when you get there

hang it over the mantel

and sink back into your chair?

If you could be completely fulfilled

before the end of your human life

what would you do?

A life of constant goals and aspirations

of journeys climbing mountains

and crossing valleys

never has a finish line.

Even the old folks rocking on their porch chairs know this.

They still travel in their minds

or live vicariously through the youth.

Their hearts are still in the game.

There are no endings

only beginnings

only treasure to seek

and souls to rescue.

There is no stopping point

but there are plenty of vistas.

The pauses are imperative;

one cannot eat and eat

without taking a minute to digest.

You stop -- not stopped

your particles are buzzing --

and digest the peaks

digest the canyons and the pastures

digest the lives you've witnessed

and the marks they've left on your own

make sense of the directions you went

realize the necessity in the roads you chose

even if they were filled with potholes.

But you never stop at the goal.

There are moments to take action

and their are moments to absorb.

One is equally as important as the other.

I used to be afraid of change

now I fear the redundant.

Change is the heartbeat of life

the current that propels vitality through the body

the repetition that keeps things flowing.

Even the swallows thirst for change.

They'll fly south

but they always come back home.

Keep moving, keep moving

because the breeze is blowing the minutes away

and the times are changing quickly.

Ready or not

the docks are full

and the ships are sailing

and nobody likes to be left behind.

They're sailing in a circle

because that's all we've got for now

It's all new and it's changing

but it's the same and repeating.

Keep all your clothes

because you'll be wearing them again.

Time is an illusion

I'm motion

you're motion

and we're all getting dizzy

trying to balance on the same spinning globe.

We have our goals

set, accomplish, repeat.

set, accomplish, repeat.

and I've realized

that there really is no end result.

-h-

Losing a Brother and Sister

Sometimes it seems like all I do is say goodbyes. Just this time it wasn't me leaving. Last year my family hosted a sister and brother from Latvia, Santa (now 14) and Olegs (now 10), for the summer. It was through this hosting program that I came to know of Helping Hands India, and what led me in the direction of my latest journey, but that's another story for another time. Santa and Olegs quickly became a part of our family and connected with each of us. Not to mention physically they fit right in! The end of summer goodbye was rough to say the least, and just speaking about them over the past year always made me a little weepy. I spoke to them a few times via middle of the night international calls to my cell phone, but other than that communication was minimal. We were told that because we weren't adopting them, we wouldn't be able to host them again, so that they could be hosted by other potential adoptive families, which they were over the past Christmas.

Olegs, me, and Santa

The family of ten that hosted them after us were very interested in adopting Santa and Olegs, but the two declined the offer, apparently they didn't feel it wasn't a good fit. They were picked up by a new hosting agency and I was elated to find out we would foster them again this summer. Upon my return from India, there they were splashing around in the pool, my long lost brother and sister!

Olegs, Violet, Santa, Clementine, and Otto

I have always been the baby of the family, so getting the opportunity to be a big sister was an exciting (and at times, exhausting) change of pace. Santa is a sweet girl, a beautiful, blossoming teenager who swoons at the sight of Justin Bieber. It was fun to do big sister things like take her shopping, listen to music, play cards, paint our nails, and talk about girl things with her. Olegs is a little rough around the edges, but he cottoned to me from the get-go. The youngest of the family, I tend to have the most patience, letting him hang on me and follow me around, not to mention beat me up on a daily basis with his karate moves. At night though, after the witching hour when he ran up and down the stairs, from one end of the house to the other making noise and jumping on every piece of furniture, he would settle down and we would head upstairs for our nightly routine. We would snuggle up in his bed, him with his head on my shoulder (any type of affection from him was extremely rare) and read from a book of Curious George stories. This was the most special part of my day.

My parents Dovey and Beard with Santa and Olegs

A few days ago we had to say our goodbyes once again. The hardest part about this is not knowing if we will ever see them again. There's no way to know if we will be able to host them again, or if they will even be in the program again now that they have declined an adoption from a another family.

The farm has been pretty quiet the last few days. Three kids (my nieces and nephew) instead of five, is a big change, and without Olegs, the whole bunch has settled down quite a bit. Though it's been a little more relaxing around here, I can't explain the void here without them. I'll miss the way Olegs would chime in while I was reading, 'George was a good little monkey....'and always very curious!'', that he would only show affection when no one was looking, or how when he walked behind me I knew to brace myself because he'd be riding on my back within seconds. I'll miss the way Santa sang Justin Bieber quietly as she bounced around the house, asked me to do her hair, shouted 'Love ya!' every time I said goodnight or left the house, and appointed herself as best friend and caretaker of my two-year-old niece Clementine.

My Sister Jane with the whole brood (they could easily all be hers!)

It breaks my heart to think of Olegs, a vulnerable little boy who has been tossed around from family to family, or orphanage to orphanage, who has a hard time keeping his anger in check. He just wants to be loved and wants to show love but has a hard time allowing himself, but finally began to open up and feel like a part of a real family this time around. When he left, he not only threw his arms around me, but whispered 'I love you' in my ear. How can you say goodbye to that?? I didn't go to the airport this time, but my parents said he cried all the way through security. This from the little boy I have never seen shed a tear. I imagine him back at 'home' in Latvia, living with the 'mean old woman' as they call her, missing us and feeling angry and alone, just wanting someone to read him Curious George. I have never had a brother, but I loved every second of it when I was given this opportunity.

I don't know if I will see Santa and Olegs again, but I pray that I will, whether it be next year, or thirty years from now. I hope that we have affected their lives as much as they have affected ours, and that they will be a part of the change that their society needs, and become the parents that theirs never were.

More Support from TOMS!

A little over a month ago, I had written to TOMS Shoes in hopes to tell the story of Helping Hands and gain awareness for orphan children of India. They posted my bit on their community wall and it has received over 2,000 facebook 'likes'! I just received an email from TOMS announcing that they have now posted my story with additional photos from my time in India on their administrators blog. I'm really hoping that this exposure will help to get more children sponsored and spread the word so that there can be more Helping Hands all over the world! Please check out the post!

A Belated Tribute

Unfortunately I was unable to post this on Father's Day as I couldn't get to an internet source in time, so I apologize that this tribute is a few days late.

My Dad is the greatest. There were times when I didn't like to admit how much I'm like my Dad, but I am now proud to say that this apple didn't fall far from the tree (pun intended). From the day I was welcomed into this world my Dad has been a hero of mine, though I haven't always expressed it. As a child I was a mini Winston, a toe headed toddler with his identical invisible eyebrows and lashes; I think I was born with the beginnings of a farmer's crow's feet and his trademark forehead lines. Growing up, I enjoyed trying to show him how brave I was every chance I got, though many times his encouragement got us both into trouble....'Hey Hann, I dare you to do a front flip off that high dive!' or 'Why don't you hold up this picnic table while I mow underneath?' or 'Here's a jackknife and a bar of soap.'

Beard showing me around Roger's Lake and telling me stories of his childhood there

While my Mom sat wringing her hands over my adventurous activities, my Dad would walk by and wave to me as I played on the roof, or talk to me through the window as I balanced in the bed of the pickup truck next to the carcass of a dead deer. He had me driving a stick shift by the age of 10, illegally on the road by 14, taught me how to spin donuts on snow days, and I can proudly say that these days I change a tire like I'm in a NASCAR pit crew. We spent Sunday afternoons watching the races, eating salted hamburger meat while he quizzed me on drivers names and car numbers. We argued over our favorites, but he ended up buying me a cap sporting the logo of a driver he didn't prefer at my first Daytona 500 anyway. He taught me how to throw and catch, never missed a softball game, and beamed when my coach nicknamed me 'Slugger.'

Rhode Island College Gymnastics #1 Fans

Even after I abandoned softball in pursuit of my gymnastics career, he sat in the stands, giant video camera perched on his shoulder, my routines memorized, saying I was robbed when I received what he thought was an unfair score. In college he remained my number one fan, attending every meet, the only father that knew the names of all of our tricks and skills, his voice the one I could hear above all the rest cheering me on, proud no matter what the outcome. Though we are farmers by trade, he supported me wholeheartedly when I decided to follow my passions and become a metalsmith. We enjoy sitting together in my studio (though we argued over the space) discussing process, materials, and techniques, and he even bought me my first torch.

My Dad, Mom, and I on the Blue Ridge Parkway

A manly laboring man, my Dad is still quite sensitive, compassionate, and loving. He has been married to his sweetheart since the age of 19, and together they have shown my sisters and I how hard work and perseverance pay off. They bought our farm when they were younger than I am and basically re-rooted it, struggling for a long time to build what is now a haven of a home for our family and its future generations. They taught us how to work the land, to provide for our community, and work hard to accomplish our goals. Together my parents have shared plenty of hardships, building our lives from the ground up, and I can proudly say that after 39 years, my Mom and Dad are more in love than they have ever been. They've given me hope for new beginnings, shown me that I can do anything I set my mind to, and above all else, instilled in me the importance of a strong family. My Dad's best friends are his siblings, his life revolves around his family, and he has taught me what it takes to be a strong member of that team, that no matter what you never give up on your family, you must always support them. He is a great father, caring foster parent, and an amazing 'Beard' who's grandchildren think the world of him.

My beautifully eccentric family

I have to hand it to my Dad, he survived 30 years as the only man in a house filled with strong willed females. Though he's grateful for my brother-in-law and he celebrated the day his grandson was finally born, I think he secretly enjoyed the days when he was the only male, and he raised his daughters to be as strong and self-reliant as any sons would be.


Though we have experienced our fare share of arguments -- during my teenage years we constantly knocked our hard heads together -- my Dad is someone that I am very proud of, and feel so blessed to have in my life. So Daddy Loaf, I miss you more than I ever have and I can't wait to see you soon. Thank you for everything, you are the best Dad I could ever ask for. Happy Father's Day! I love you.

My father, he taught me how to sow, told me that the land could teach me how to grow. If I could keep open my heart, never be apart from the ebb and flow of life.
-Chris Dorman