Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

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Archives for April 2013

Witness: Seen and Unseen

April 25, 2013 by Alison Hodgson 5 Comments

I haven’t told you this: I almost certainly saw the arsonist that morning.

I qualify that because of my own sense of fair play. Our fire was not officially linked to the series of fires set in the summer and fall of 2010. Ours was the first and on a different side of town from the rest, but fit the m.o., exactly. I don’t know why ours was not tied to the others and haven’t had the energy to find out. I didn’t think it mattered as long as he was caught and convicted, but I found it did matter to me when he did not confess to ours.

I’m writing about it privately for now, but I’ll tell you this, he had already set our house on fire when he looked me right in the eye and asked a question. I was busy getting my children to safety and thought he was just a knucklehead, a random gawker. I was running from my burning house but couldn’t really believe it was on fire. I had no idea someone set it; I still can’t believe that.

After the bombings in Boston I read about Jeff Bauman, the young man who lost both his legs and is in the wheelchair in that infamous picture. When he woke up at the hospital he asked for a pen and paper and wrote, “Bag, saw the guy, looked right at me.” One of the backpacks had been dropped at his feet.

While still in the ICU, Bauman helped the FBI identify the suspects.

This week I have found myself thinking about him and wondering what must run through his mind, the image he remembers and how he must feel knowing this man looked right at him and still dropped the bag. It makes it so cold-blooded and strangely personal. I have been thinking about what we look at and do not realize we’re seeing.

I’ve also been thinking about Carlos Arrendondo, the man who helped save Jeff’s life. He’s the man in the cowboy hat in the the picture helping push the wheelchair and pinching shut the artery in Jeff’s right leg. He was in the bleachers near the finish line handing out flags and cheering on members of the National Guard and a suicide prevention group who were running in honor of his two deceased sons, one of whom died in Iraq in 2004. When the bomb went off he ran right towards it to help people and realized right away that Jeff needed him most.

This picture holds so much: violence, loss, terror, compassion, heroism, fearlessness and horror, and that’s only what’s visible.

Arrendondo visited Bauman in the hospital the other day and this is what he said, “The picture that you see, that’s what it is and that’s how it happened, you know, I was just trying to help him in every way I could, and thank God he gave me the opportunity to help this beautiful young man.”

For his part, Bauman has a great attitude and has told his family he’s going to walk again. I pray he will and that he never knows despair. This journey has just begun.

When something terrible happens there is that continuing sense of surreality, even if you have accepted what is and have mourned and healed. Time passes and this deep disbelief mingles with years of hard reality: the endless both and.

Each of us has our sorrows and losses, many of us carry memories of unutterable heartache. Jeff Bauman isn’t ready to walk just yet, his wounds need to heal. Too often we rush this and trauma, physical or mental, slows you down. When you are learning how to walk without legs, a good attitude isn’t everything, but it is so much.

I’ve been so ashamed by how long it has taken me to heal since the fire after starting so strong. It is what it is, though and today I can’t tell you what I should have/could have done differently. I’ll tell you though, Carlos Arrendondo’s behavior before and after the bombing pretty much personifies what I want to do going forward: while everything was peaceful he was handing out flags and cheering for others, but as soon as the bomb went off, he ran right for the wounded, found the person whose need was greatest, did what he could, and afterwards thanked God he had been able to help him.

Filed Under: Be Haven, beauty, Boston Marathon, burn the house down, healing, hope

We Get to Carry Each Other

April 19, 2013 by Alison Hodgson 2 Comments

“I’m almost stopped by your house this morning to cry.” A friend told me the other day as we waited to pick up our daughters after school.

“You should have,” I said without thinking, “what’s going on?”

My friend has another child with a multiplicity of special needs who is struggling to make a big transition at school. My friend had a meeting scheduled that day with the principal, but right before it she discovered something else that concerned her and decided to schedule a meeting with the school counselor too.

After these back-to-back meetings she was exhausted and feeling overwhelmed. Raising a kid with special needs can be so arduous. The school is just around the corner from my house and she thought about stopping by to tell me all about it and have a good cry.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked.

The short story is she talked herself out of it because she wanted to save me for a real emergency. I mean you can’t just show up at your friend’s fixing to cry willy nilly, can you?

The funny thing is, with me you can and I’m really good at it.

Years ago a friend stopped by and I winced when I saw her car because her home is always immaculate and mine is not but I opened the door with a smile and was surprised to see her face wet with tears.

“What’s wrong!” I asked.

“I GAINED TEN POUNDS!” She was in the later days of her first pregnancy and had just been to the O.B.

Without a word I opened my arms wide and she fell into them, sobbing.

I was pregnant too, with our second child, Lydia, and managing to keep my weight gain at the lower end of normal. But with my firstborn, Christopher, I gained more than 50 pounds and had one devastating month towards the end where I gained nine pounds alone. This was the month after I told my midwife I was probably going to have this baby early because I couldn’t imagine getting any bigger.

She just smiled and nodded but now I know she was almost certainly thinking, “You sweet, simple thing.”

I was aghast when I gained nine pounds the next month and my friend remembered this when confronted by her own horrific weigh-in two years later. She knew I would understand. And, of course, I did. Soon I had her laughing and she went back to work feeling so much better.

I don’t want to simplify this: my house may not be perfect, but I’m open and friendly: so there! I’m not always open and I struggle with keeping my house as tidy as I’d like, although it’s not the burden that it was. I have some projects I need to do, but most of the time my house is organized and clean “enough.”

Our new house is beautiful and pretty much in shape, but I’m tired.   Except with family and friends I find the hospitality part of the equation to be the heavier one right now. I’m thinking about this summer and what I want to do. Paul has a lot of travel coming up so that needs to be taken into consideration.

But drive-by crying? Yeah, I’m up for that.

This week on Houzz, I’m talking about not allowing the imperfections of your home hold you back from opening it to others.

Where do you fall on the entertaining/hospitality/good times spectrum?

Filed Under: Be Haven, fun, home

Writers: A Blog You Should Really Read. Please.

April 12, 2013 by Alison Hodgson 4 Comments

Have you ever fallen in love with someone online?

I have. Twice.

My first cyber romance was with a pug named Tonka, a fat and jolly fellow whose picture I saw on the local Pug Rescue and he stole.my.heart. but Paul opposed adopting a second dog. It would take someone burning our house down and our little girl working her heart out  to get Paul to change his mind.

My second online romance was unknowingly match made by Michael Hyatt whom I follow on Twitter and Facebook. He wrote the book Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World which is a helpful guide for aspiring writers as well as those who are already published.

Mr. Hyatt advocates intentional leadership and constructs clear action plans for his readers. He’s very encouraging and upbeat but, for someone whose default action plan is: 1. Make coffee  2. Read  3. Slip into the fetal position, I have found Mr. Hyatt’s information—on occasion—to be the teensiest bit overwhelming.

If you keep up with the publishing industry, the news can be grim. Everything is changing and most will tell you, not for the better. Many blog posts from professionals in book publishing could be illustrated by  Edvard Munch and as much as I want to stay current and keep learning, it becomes disheartening.

Last year Hyatt retweeted  an editor who worked on Platform, Jamie Chavez, with a post titled, “Words I Never Want to See in Your Novel. Please.” It was the “Please.” that got me. Short story: I clicked on the link and fell in love with Jamie’s mix of brilliance, bossiness and fun!


I was expecting a list of 15 impossibles things to do today to make my writing dreams come true…maybe…probably not!—and instead I found language and LOVE. I read and read and then I tracked her down on Facebook—something I never do—and asked her to be my Friend…if she didn’t keep FB private—which I completely understood—not that she was asking for my understanding.

I’m so glad this made her laugh and she said yes because we’ve been having a good time online ever since.


Jamie is a developmental editor, a book doctor, if you will, someone who understands the art, as well as the craft, of writing and the lady knows her stuff. Her blog is full of helpful advice for writers and she’s a voracious reader so there’s so much for anyone who loves language and books.


Do yourself a favor and check out my lovely friend’s blog HERE.

Filed Under: Jamie Chavez, writing

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