HOMELINDSAY RUSSO

HOMELINDSAY RUSSO

INTRODUCTION

ST. JAMES AVE.

HUNNEWELL RD.

EAST STREET

CANAL DRIVE

WILDFLOWER

GEORGETOWN

GRANVILLE

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It was March of 2008; I was 26 and working at a

boarding school in Cheshire, Connecticut. In the midst

of celebrating my return from a recent school trip at a

bar with a close friend, my mother called. In those days,

calls from home were usually bad news and I braced

myself for the update. She told me that they lost the

house. My father had let the mortgage payment elapse

and it had ballooned into a large payment that they

could not afford to pay. It was Friday and they had until

Monday morning to get what they wanted out of the

house. While it was sad to hear, it was not shocking.

Years earlier, during the summer before I started

college, my father sold his hydroelectric dams to a

large Canadian company for a hefty sum. He used

the money to start a hedge fund company. We moved

from the small cape style house that we had lived in

my whole life to a large, new house in the suburbs.

The house, although big, was a good size for a large

family with growing teenagers. I went away to school

and each time I came home there were new additions

- a large flat screen TV, new furniture, a quad, and

unfortunately, a kegerator. When I came home in the

summers, the house was in full swing. We lived in our

large heated pool, had huge parties, and the beer

flowed like water.

The summer after college I moved back home. The

lavish life continued, and for my father, the beer was

replaced with glasses of scotch. We found them

scattered all over the house and grew more and more

aware of a problem. Soon after, we discovered that

his drinking was not celebrating the good times, but

dealing with the bad times. A bad trade froze all the

hedge fund’s money, which, in fact, was all his money

too. The fortune that he had made was now gone.

One day during the summer, I went into our liquor

cabinet and marked the level on the bottle. I remember

the sinking feeling when I checked it later that day.

We had a family meeting and confronted my father. He

brushed it off, denying the problem. Again and again,

we would confront him and he continued to deny it. My

family rallied together and pushed him - even driving

him to AA meetings.

I accepted a job as a Communications Director at a

private school in Litchfield, CT. On the weekends, I

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INTRODUCTION

would come home to help. My mother went back to

work to bring in an income. Months went by and the

situation became worse. He tried to stop and went

through withdrawal at home.

During this time my father asked me to photograph

him. He wanted the images to remind him about how

he felt at that moment in hopes that he would not

relapse. I recall him bundled up in bed with a hat on

and the window open. I realized in that moment that

photographing what was happening to my family was

important.

I began to document our house during those days. I

photographed signs that my younger sister created

and plastered around the house. “Dad we love you,

please stop drinking.” I photographed empty bottles of

vodka that we would find in the garden or hidden in the

garage and my father passed out in various places. It

is difficult to look back at these images, recalling how

hard and uncertain our lives were. I still have one roll

of film that I never developed. These were the most

difficult images.

My father finally hit rock bottom in the fall of 2005. He

was admitted to the Carlson Detox Center and given

drugs that lessened the withdrawal symptoms. To this

day, he remains sober. The money problems continued

at home. The house was often very cold to reduce

the monthly gas prices. My mother’s income was not

enough to carry the household and they lost the house.

We emptied Wildflower in one weekend. We sorted

through years of items and kept only a small amount

of what was there. It happened so fast we didn’t have

time stop and think about it as we worked day and

night moving and packing. My father stayed up in his

office the entire weekend, too depressed to come out.

Important items were put into storage and my parents

moved in with my sister and her husband. Tension

quickly grew between my sister and my parents. There

was a tight line between what you would do for family

and the continuous streak of need. They did not stay

very long and moved into a condo near my mother’s

work.

My father started day trading and was placed in charge

of the monthly rent. Often times he wouldn’t have the

money to pay and my mother would come home to

eviction notices on the door. His financial errors would

continue for years and perhaps they will span his entire

life. His desire to provide for his family and please my

mother surpasses everything for him - even the truth.

My parents felt confined to the small condo and after

two years moved into their current house in Granville,

MA. My mother had always wanted to live in an old

house. Growing up, she decorated our house with

antiques and we often went for rides up in the country

to view old homes. This appreciation for the beauty

in things from a bygone era grew in me. I started

experimenting with historical processes as a darkroom

photography teacher. These processes fascinated me

and I studied the work of Sally Mann, Ansel Adams,

Mathew Brady, among others. I took alternative

photography workshops and started photographing my

parents at their Granville house with a 7 x 11 inch field

camera from 1914.

During weekend visits to Granville, I now pack my car

with the camera and equipment and head up north. I

set up a darkroom in the butler’s pantry. Using black

fabric, I am able to keep the room completely dark.

The feeling of being enclosed in the darkroom with

the red light emanating and the smell of chemicals

is completely comforting to me. I am in my creative

element.

Taking these images changed the way that I

photograph. The physical requirements of the large

format camera and long shutter time force me to think

about each photograph in depth. To carefully construct

each image, I often sketch it before I take it. I am able

to contemplate what the photograph will express and

whether it will be an accurate visual description.

My photographs convey my parent’s troubled history

and unwavering loyalty to each other, while still

maintaining their individuality. I recreate moments that I

have witnessed and also form new images that convey

specific emotions or a sense of tension.

My parents have made mistakes in the past and will

continue to make them. They are human. Despite their

faults, they are remarkable people. I am constantly

impressed by their unconditional love for each other

and their children.

I have photographed my parents the entire time they

rented the house in Granville. They had not owned a

house since Wildflower and renting caused insecurity

- a constant worry to my mother. Having been forced

from their house once before and understanding the

meaning of being homeless, she was always on edge.

This year, they were finally able to purchase the house

in Granville from the owner.

I look back on those months when my parents did

not have a house. Although it was a difficult time, we

remained a family. It doesn’t matter where you live or

what you live in - you are still a family. No one can take

that away from you. However, every family yearns to

have a place to live, a place to call home.

This book follows the lives of John and Ellen Furman

from their childhood homes to present day. It is divided

into chapters by the homes in which they lived. I

selected the photographs from family albums or took

them myself. The personal reflections of John and Ellen

are in response to the photographs that accompany

them.

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ST. JAMES AVE.CHICOPEE, MA

1956 - 1979

HIM:We grew and canned our own fruit and vegetables. We fertilized our lawn with wood ashes from the fireplace. We had a huge garden and a raspberry patch.We made lye soap from wood ashes. We bottled our own root beer soda and made and smoked our own kielbasa.

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My father immigrated to the United States and his family remained in Poland. My mother’s family lived nearby. Over time the imbalance created tension between them.

My mother was ill from my earliest memory, getting progressively more ill as I approached age ten. She passed away in the fall of 1968 shortly after I turned twelve. I can remember quite clearly working on a woodworking project with her. I wanted to build a birdhouse in the worst way and she worked with me in the garage using some boards from our kindling woodpile. I vividly remember cutting the wood, planing it flat with an old wooden block plane and then nailing it together. It was the first and only time that kind of thing ever occurred.

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HUNNEWELL RD.WORCESTER, MA

1955 - 1979

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HER:My father built our house on a shoestring budget a few years before I was born. The house was a source of pride for the most part since it was a quaint, stone-front house in a nice neighborhood. The house was never quite finished as there was always a plan to complete things like the shower in the upstairs bathroom, which became a makeshift storage closet, or the stonewalls that terraced the yard. I was often ashamed of the yard, which was generally unkempt. Perhaps this is why I like gardening so much now.

Our pool was the center of all we did in the summers. We didn’t really go on vacation so it was our vacation at home. We had a fifteen foot above ground but once we outgrew that my father bought the parts and built an in ground pool himself. We would have a 4th of July cookout each summer and would have lobster. My father saved his change all year to pay for the lobsters. It was at one of the 4th of July cookouts that I introduced John to the family.

My early childhood seemed relatively carefree and “normal”. Days were spent going to school and playing outside. However, as I grew up I realized that there was a lot of dysfunction occurring in my family. My father was an alcoholic. He was both physically and emotionally abusive. As a youngster, I tried to avoid it, and as an adult, I provided support and encouragement toward my husband’s recovery. Despite the fact that the family was quite dysfunctional, my childhood house was a safe haven or the closest thing I had to one.

EAST STREETCHICOPEE, MA

1979 - 1982

HER:We bought our East Street home in 1979 a couple days after we returned from our honeymoon in Bermuda. We paid $35,000 for this little Cape Cod house. It represented our start in life and we were very young, just twenty-three years old. We were always very proud of the fact that we never had to rent; we just went right into home ownership. We loved our first home, working on expanding the kitchen - installing a wood stove to help with the heating.

On the occasion of Allison’s Christening, we held a huge party with all of our young friends and family. As Allison grew, we realized that the busy street was no place to raise children, so we put the house on the market in the spring of 1982 with the idea to move somewhere in the area with the only requirement being that it must be a quiet street.

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CANAL DRIVEWESTFIELD, MA

1982 - 2000

HIM:The pool at Canal Drive was important to us. We worked very hard to set up an environment at home that would serve as ‘family glue.’ By design, all our activity from Memorial Day thru Labor Day centered around our pool. There were races, chicken fights, diving contests, submerged colored rings, as well as many cookouts, parties and great times by the pool.

My first hydro project, Watershops Pond, ended up very successful, as I was able to sell the generating equipment for a huge profit. With

part of that gain we installed the pool during the week after Columbus Day 1987. It took just 4 days to install the pool; they started Tuesday morning and were done Friday afternoon. I was working at Hamilton Standard then and used to call home to find out how it was going.

There is no better gift in life than to be happy in the moment. Children don’t regret the past nor do they plan for the future, that’s an adult responsibility. Excess serves to rob an individual of the present moment.

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WILDFLOWERWESTFIELD, MA

2000 - 2008

HIM:During all the time that we lived at Canal Drive, we used to drive down Pontoosic Road and I would see the beautiful bright orange Carolinia bushes in full bloom and say that someday we’ll get one. We bought the house on Wildflower in mid-August, so that bush had already flowered. We didn’t know what it was until the following spring. The blossoms swelled and it finally bloomed in brilliant orange.

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I wish that I could have known then what I know now. But, that is not how it works - the only way I can be who I am in the here-and-now was to go through everything I have gone through in the past. Everything.

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I tried to stop on my own many, many times, but couldn’t, as it was so very powerful, both physically and mentally - unbelievably powerful. I finally had to check into the Carlson Detox Center and spent a week there. Unfortunately I picked up again thinking that I just won’t let it get as bad as before. Within a week or so, I was just as bad as before. It happened so quickly, just like AA and Carlson said it would. I knew I would have to go through Carlson again, so I reached out to two close AA friends, Paul and Charles. On the 15th and 16th of September, they met with me all day on both days. We read the AA Big Book together which kept me focused on AA and away from a drink. They were there at the Monday night meeting when I received my 24-hour medallion. I see them both at meetings throughout the year now and each September I call them to sincerely thank them for what they did for me.

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HER:I was really only aware that my last days at Wildflower were my last days when I heard the devastating news one Friday evening on my way home from work. John called and told me that the house was being foreclosed on and we had until Monday morning to vacate. I did not know where to begin, what to do, how to do it, and where to go. I got home and called the kids since I knew that packing to leave in two days would be near impossible.

I did not know where our belongings would go or if I could afford storage units. We tried to pack everything, but we didn’t have boxes. So, we saved only the essentials and threw the non-essentials in the garage or basement. We all worked until exhaustion.

The last morning as I left with my textbooks in the trunk, I was not sad about the house (it had become an albatross), but rather sad that things happened the way they did. I was numb. Thankfully, we had a place to go, but I learned the meaning and felt the reality of being homeless.

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GEORGETOWNSPRINGFIELD, MA

2008 - 2010

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HIM:The spring of 2008 was marked with the Wildflower Circle chapter closing, all court appeals and stays were exhausted. That weekend was it - we could no longer call it home. The sad part was that we could have bought the house for cash three times over prior to the hedge fund collapse, but chose not to. From there, we headed to Allison’s house for which we were very thankful to have. However, parents aren’t supposed to move into their child’s home.

We began looking for an apartment, but our credit was tarnished and getting approved was not possible. We heard about the Georgetown Condos and contacted a realtor to see a few units. One unit that was just going up for rent

was exactly what we were looking for. During our visit with the realtor, the owner of the apartment happened to be there. Since he met us, he did not check our credit. It was meant to be.

Georgetown was a learning experience. It was a condo - the place folks go to live when they retire. We learned quickly that a condo was not for us. After a year at Georgetown, Ellen used her computer each evening to look up homes for sale. In the late fall, we drove up to Granville to see the historical houses, including our future house. Over the next month, I figured out who owned it, met with him, and began to structure a deal to rent beginning on April 15, 2010.

GRANVILLEGRANVILLE, MA2010 - PRESENT

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HIM:This was the first official step of our journey back from the catastrophic financial events of 2005 thru 2008. By officially announcing this was where we were going to live to our immediate family, we were taking the first step to getting on with our life.

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HER:The tractor was a total surprise and, supposedly, an anniversary gift. When I got home and out of the car, John mentioned he had a surprise for me, opened the garage door, and there was a John Deere tractor. I was so exasperated that I immediately went into the house. Knowing our financial situation, I felt it was a frivolous waste of money.

While it was used in the yard a few times, it was not the type of equipment we needed; it couldn’t cut the grass or plow the driveway. A year later, the tractor disappeared. I was told a friend was borrowing it. Ultimately, it was sold at a fraction of its worth.

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HIM:On August 6, 2014, 692 Main Road in Granville, Massachusetts became our family home. The feeling of finally having a home again gave us a great sense of peace. Very quickly though the reality set in that we were in charge of everything from a leaky roof to mowing the lawn to broken windows. It was scary and exciting at the same time.

Our house has central, hot-air furnace heat, but the furnace was removed before we got the house. It was our task to install another one. Not understanding how quickly the cold weather arrives at our elevation, we delayed installing the furnace until October. September was very cold and caught us by surprise. We burned wood in the west parlor fireplace all-night, each night and slept on the couch for that month. We had to buy six cords of

wood. We put three inside the cellar and stacked the other three outside near the dining room.

It was at that point that we started to understand this place is very different from any other place we had ever lived. The north wind was something we quickly started to respect.

That winter saw heavy snowfall, and by mid-winter, our outside woodpile was covered by six feet of snow. The wood has been stored in our house every winter since then. Having our winter’s firewood in the cellar before the start of winter gives us a very secure feeling. No matter what the season subjects us to, it is great to know we are self-sufficient. When spring arrives, there is a great sense of “we made it!” - a relief that we can actually do this.

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Lindsay Russo was born in 1982 in Springfield, Massachusetts. She currently lives in Bridgeport, Connecticut and is the Assistant Director of Communications at Greens Farms Academy - a private school in Westport, CT.

She earned a Bachelor of Science Degree in Cinema and Photography from Ithaca College. After college, she worked as a photography teacher for 6 years before arriving at Greens Farms Academy.

While teaching, she enrolled in Wesleyan University’s Graduate Liberal Studies Program. This is the thesis for her graduate degree. It was created out of love and admiration for her parents, John and Ellen Furman. It will be ongoing project.

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