The Beginning (in a Twinkle)
September 9th has become my favorite day of the year. Even now I want to celebrate the day. September 9th, 2008 was a day when my life was impacted forever. In a good way.
2008 had been a year of change. My dad had passed away on New Year’s Eve and in April Brian and I moved in with my mother. I was in graduate school working towards my MLIS and struggling (not successfully) to make ends meet. I was applying for library positions throughout New England but was turned down because I was either too qualified or didn’t yet have my Masters Degree. I was between meaningful relationships and feeling quite alone. I returned to work as a guide at Shelburne Museum. At Katy’s suggestion I signed up to work in the Print Shop, learning to run the letter presses. Good advice Katy, very good advice!
Despite the worries, I spent that summer feeling hopeful. There was an overwhelming sense of anticipation that seemed to accompany me as I went to work. This was certainly true on that Tuesday morning. I was elated as I had just had an interview for the technology position at the museum. The position had opened up unexpectedly and it looked like I had a good shot at the job. I changed into my printing clothes; a denim skirt and black t-shirt and headed to my post for the day.
As I appoached the Print Shop, I saw a small pickup truck and the Protection Services golf cart parked outside the building, signaling that a contractor was working in the building. I was more intrigued by the fact that the truck had the name NORRIS on the side. Norris was a name passed down through my former husband’s family and the middle name of my son, Brian. So, being me, I marched inside the building, introduced myself to the technician working on the alarm system, and started to grill him about the origin of the company name. I found out that the company name was the surname of the owners of the company, based in Maine. No possible relation to the LaClair family in Vermont. But I also found out that the name of the technician was Scott Carlson and he lived in Moretown. I sensed that he was a bit overwhelmed by my ‘interogation’ so I backed off a bit and concentrated on my work.
The morning passed quickly as I chatted with the visitors coming in, and the other staff members who were in and out of the building. Scott joined in conversations from time to time and I realized he wasn’t shy like I first thought. There was a moment when he was leaving the building to take a break, coffee in hand. I had just responded with a humorous comment to fellow staff member. Scott turned, held up his index finger to signal that he had something to interject. I don’t remember his witty comment but I do remember the smile that was on his face and the amazing twinkle that lit up his eyes as he delivered the line. At that moment I knew Scott was one of the good guys; honest, fierce and loyal.
It was several months before I had any inkling that Scott become a permanent part of my life but the memory of that twinkle was so strong that I never forgot meeting him that day.
And I got the job too.