Laura was greeted by Kelly, the receptionist who was young, friendly, casually dressed. Kelly was lovely with long, flowing black hair and a bright smile.

“Hi Laura. Your folks are ready for you. I think they’re as interested in your stories as the class itself. You’ve been getting great reviews!”

Laura’s forehead wrinkled in a surprised reaction, as she laughed, “Oh my, I hope I’m not creating a drama!”

“No, you’re fascinating, and it’s fun to find out how other people have lived.”

Laura smiled and shrugged as she turned, seeming to glide down the hallway in yellow yoga pants and flowing turquoise top, with her long silver hair, neatly braided down her back.  She wanted to present the group with some yogic self-massage techniques she found therapeutic and soothing. Laura proceeded to the exercise room and her enthusiastic class.

“Hi folks. I see you have the room set up and ready to go.”

Peggy waved and called, “We’re always eager to see you. We hope you have a good story for us today, too!”

Laura proceeded to survey her students: Peggy, dressed in red and white tights with a bright red shirt; Shirley, with her loud laugh; Iona, outfitted in a demure pink and lavender knit pantsuit; Lorraine, with bright eyes and smile, accented by a beautiful ornate hair weave; Eugene, tall and thin in worn jeans and unpressed shirt; and his friend, Bill, wearing a tee shirt and sweatpants. As Laura’s gaze connected with and silently greeted each of her participants, she talked with them about her plans for completing gentle stretches and then moving into self-massage techniques for hands and feet, that could be shared with a partner. There was some eye-rolling from a few jokesters in the group, but Laura proceeded to describe their final segment of class, slow, gentle deep-breathing for relaxation. 

The students were attentive as they competently followed Laura’s direction and modeling of seated gentle stretches. Laura noticed Bill, the newest student, moving tentatively at first with some frowns and hesitation. He seemed to have some stiffness in his back. As he proceeded through a few movements, his face relaxed, and a smile formed. “This feels better!” he said. 

“See, I told you that you needed this!” Eugene said enthusiastically.

Laura directed, “Move within your comfort range. Breathe deeply to guide oxygen to your muscles, and relax into each pose, loosening discomfort in your stiff areas.”

“It’s definitely easier as you get used to consciously breathing and relaxing when you hold a pose,” Lorraine mentioned to Bill. “You can feel your muscles let go eventually,” Lorraine said. Other members shook their heads in agreement, while Shirley gave a thumb’s-up.

When the group got to the hand massages, which had several directions for massaging each finger, Iona clarified the directions as if trying to memorize exact details, saying, “My mother, who is ninety now would enjoy this.”

Laura nodded, “I hope you’ll share it with her or other family members you care for. Our hands take quite a beating during a lifetime.”

Finishing with their hands, the group learned a simple foot massage, that seemed to soothe them. Laura then encouraged them to place their feet on their yoga blocks, which Shirley had thoughtfully stored under each chair. 

Laura closed the class with several breathing techniques and a final relaxation to restore calm, then finished with a positive affirmation for the day. She was met with a chorus of “aahs” as the group stretched and rose to move on to the kitchenette.

With the class on the move, Eugene announced that he and his friend, Bill, had purchased donuts from the local bakery to share with the group for “story time.” The comment brought a chorus of laughter and grins as the members moved their chairs around to see and hear Laura as they passed napkins and donuts, while Iona and Lorraine poured coffee.

Laura noticed Kelly joining for the story, standing by the door so as not to miss any visitors to the center while she listened.

“What are you going to tell us about today, Laura?” Peggy asked.

“I thought I would describe what it was like being in the southwest and learning about some of the health techniques and artwork while I was there, and how I ended up with what my granddaughter and her friends call the “Gram Van.”

“That sounds good,” Bill said. “We’ve been wondering about that amazing van.” 

“I studied at the New Mexico Center of Healing Arts in Sante Fe, learning therapeutic massage and other complementary health techniques. The school provided services by supervised students to low-income people who often did not have health insurance and/or didn’t believe in organized medicine. 

That was good experience practicing new techniques and learning about the lives and some of the beliefs of some of the Native Americans from the area. Because of my work and my interest, I was invited a few times to observe or be a part of healing ceremonies conducted by healers at nearby pueblo reservations.”

Lorraine leaned forward on the table, looking enchanted, “That must have been so interesting, and obviously your clients and acquaintances must have trusted and cared for you.”

“I felt extremely honored. It struck me at the time and still fascinates me that healing beliefs and techniques from many ancient cultures across the world have great similarities,” Laura said. 

She continued, “Through quantum physics in particular, scientists are finding that many of the practices and beliefs have a factual, scientific basis. Through my experiences I have a strong sense that the universe provides us with tremendous wisdom if we pay attention.”

Iona nodded, saying, “I agree and think often as people age, they take the time to consider the best approaches to problems, rather than jumping in blindly.” Other members nodded in agreement.

“The Eastern Wisdom Institute in Colorado was offering Ayurveda training I was interested in. It linked Western health approaches with health techniques based on ancient practices developed in India. I, along with another student, Julie, signed up for an intense three-week residence there and we were excited to go.  It was a powerful experience!”

“What about Sam? Were you willing to leave that luscious man who was devoted to you? Weren’t you worried about all his other committed students?” Shirley said.

Laura was thoughtful for a moment as she considered her response. “At that time in my life, I was smitten with Sam, but I was also focused on my future life. I needed to become my adult self, Laura Marsh, not Sam Devane’s student or girlfriend. This outlook was initially not a popular one with Sam. He was protective and I remember him saying, “I’m worried you’re going to go to Colorado and not return. You’ll probably find some handsome rich hippie your age and that’ll be the end of us.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows as she nodded understanding, “That made your decision pretty serious.”

“Yes, but necessary. I needed to learn and not to be mollycoddled by someone who was afraid I would change or leave him.”

Bill mumbled, “But men like to be protective of women.”

Before Laura could respond, Eugene asked, “Speaking of hippies and herbs and New Age stuff, did you get into the drug culture during that time?”

“I observed it around me, as well as the destruction of alcohol abuse in the low-income areas where I interned. Growing up in a healthy, and health-oriented environment, that way of life wasn’t for me. I had things I wanted to learn and accomplish and fortunately the confidence to continue. I was lucky in that way.”

“So, as you know I followed through with the Ayurveda training and returned to Sam and Sante Fe. Sam told me later he was proud of me for following through on my plans. I admitted to him that I was aware of the older, more sophisticated and experienced women who were certainly available and interested in him, and that I felt he needed an opportunity to be sure of his decisions.”

“How did he react to that?” Shirley questioned. 

“His eyes widened and he looked astounded, then roared with laughter.”

“There’s no going back. I’m smitten. Get used to it!” he said. 

Some members of the group guffawed, while others smiled warmly. Bill called out, “Now, tell us about the van painting.”

“I promised, didn’t I? Do we have enough time?” There were nods of affirmation.

“The man I was taking tai chi lessons from raised and did basic training of Belgian Malinois dogs for security firms, private owners, police, and search and rescue units. He transported these beautiful, large dogs to their buyers in a VW van, which he wanted to replace. He was willing to sell it to me for a good price, and I was interested. It ran well and had new tires. It had some dents and frankly was an ugly thing, but I could afford it and needed my own transportation.”

“Meanwhile, one of my clients was a man living on the Pojoaque Pueblo Reservation, not far from Sante Fe. Sam and I had painted near there at White Rock Overlook Park, with beautiful views of the Rio Grande Valley and Black Mesa. Juan was a talented artist interested in developing a vehicle painting business. He was painting striking emblems and logos on motorcycles, including Sam’s Harley, that sported an eagle cresting the top of a mountain range. Juan wanted to try his hand at painting larger scenes on vans to expand his business to commercial vehicles. He offered to use my ugly van as a “learning” experience, if I agreed to provide the basic scenes, plus work on the stencils for converting the scene to the sides of the van for the painting process.

As Laura introduced the story of Juan, she remembered his wiry, strong body, dark brown skin and eyes, and his fierce pride in his Mexican, and Native American heritage. She described her desire to have a desert sunrise scene on one side of the van, and a Virginia sunset along the other side of the van, reminiscent of the two areas she felt were home.

Lorraine questioned, “When I’ve seen Native American artwork I always think of the traditional work in museums of the native figures, symbols and ceremonies without any background or foreground. That’s not at all like your van.”

“You’re right, Lorraine. I made a mistake in questioning Juan about what you described, the Santa Fe studio style of abstract paintings, and whether that was his favored style of work.”

“What happened?” Lorraine asked.

“Juan’s eyes squinted slightly as his jaw tightened before he responded, ‘Now, you’re obviously not Native American and seem like a nice person, so I’ll cut you some slack. That style of painting was taught to Native American students by a white woman. You can look it up in the history books. I’m perfectly capable of painting beautiful scenic sunrises and sunsets!’”

“I remembered being speechless, perplexed, and embarrassed. As I tried to explain that I wasn’t trying to be insulting but sensitive to Juan’s culture, he gave me a wide, sparkling smile and shook my hand.”

“Now, you paint the scenes in general you would like on your van. I will do the body and surface preparation and then we will need to prepare a stencil for where the features and colors for the paintings will go on the vehicle. I will complete the finished product.  It will be our project.”

Laura gave a general account to her audience of her discussions with Juan. She then added, “This was a lengthy process, and I didn’t have the van available to drive during that time. Juan was meticulous in the finish of the paint job and schooled me in the importance of washing and waxing frequently to preserve the artwork, including storing the van in the garage as often as possible. I’ve done that over the years, and I drive my VW Beetle most of the time, especially in bad weather.”

“That’s an interesting story, Laura. Your van is amazing, and it sounds like you had quite a growth experience in New Mexico as a young woman,” Iona said.

“I certainly did. Some of it was very challenging, but I wouldn’t trade it.”

Laura chatted with group members for a few more minutes before making her way to the parking lot with a quiet trip planned to the supermarket. She needed a few minutes for her memories to quiet.

A Note: Thanks to Magai for the fun images of Gram and the "Gram Van"

For My Dog Lovers!

Did You Just See a German Shepherd or a Belgian Malinois?

The Belgian Shepherd with short fawn-colored hair and dark muzzle is often mistaken for a German Shepherd which is a larger, heavier breed. Why am I writing about this breed?  It will figure in a coming episode of Gram’s story. 

Belgian Malinois Shepherds are active, intelligent, athletic, friendly, protective, and hard-working. The breed is popular in police, military, and search and rescue work. These dogs have intense drive and energy, and are considered to be sensitive and in need of an experienced dedicated trainer. They were originally bred for herding and farm work. The breed is considered to be of medium size, with males weighing around 55-65 pounds and growing to 24-26 inches in height at their withers.

The Mals, as they are called, have been trained for heroic feats in police and military work, including parachuting. What an extraordinary breed!

Just a Reminder

Book Signing for Disappearance at Sycamore Grove: A Journey of Courage, Forgiveness, and Acceptance at Main Street Books, Frostburg, MD, October 4, 2025, from 11-2:00 pm.  

If you’re in the area for leaf peeping, or Frostburg State’s Homecoming Weekend, please stop by and see me.  I’ll be there with plenty of drawings for gift certificates from several delightful Main Street retailers. Stop by for a chat and check out my books!

Take care, my friends,

Suanne