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Spring 2009

HAYDEN’S A quarterly publication of Elf Productions


EROTICA by Duncan Asper

VOL. 1: A Journey Through Time

Aptera: The new concept car

Traveling through Time: H. G. Wells’ Time Machine (1960)

Kosovo: Up Close with Scott Link

Hayden’s explores the creative impulse through stories, articles, interviews, photography, and visual art. We hope to inspire you and encourage creative expression that uplifts and contributes to community.

Old Men in the Park by Scott Link. Gjilan August 2006.

To the real artist in humanity, what are called bad manners are often the most picturesque and significant of all. - Walt Whitman

Cover Art: “Erotica” by Duncan Asper, Mixed Media, Acrylics, Oils & Metal on a 24” x 36” Canvas with Wood Fram 30” x 42”

Editor Contributors

Jan Manon Duncan Asper Scott Link Georgia Pantazopoulos Deborah Murphy Jason Jenkins


Duncan Asper


Scott Link Georgia Pantazopoulos Beau Saunders Vermont Rails



Letter from the Editor


Artwork by Duncan Asper


An Interview with Georgia Pantazopoulos


Outdoors with Beau Saunders


Traveling through Time: H. G. Wells’ Time Machine Kosovo Up Close with Scott Link



The Red Flower by Jan Manon Riding the Rails in Vermont



Aptera: Cool New Concept Car


A Feisty Man About Town: Peter Freyne


A Different Approach


Work We Believe In





from the editor

Welcome to the second issue of our magazine. We

simply for the sake of sharing it. When an artpiece is crafted

with filmmaker Georgia Pantazopoulos; documentary

have given our quarterly a new name, Hayden’s befitting

or a story is written, what do you want? You want someone

photography from Scott Link; stories on Aptera the new

the shape it is now evolving into and recognizing how this

to see it, appreciate it, read it, touch it, interact with it. Well,

concept car and the future for railroads in Vermont; nature

magazine is becoming a force unto itself.

that is what we try to do here in some way.

photography by Beau Saunders; a short story The

At first, we were just happy And now for the name...I to get it out there and there gave the publication the name

Red Flower by Jan Manon (me); a spotlight article on

was a mixture of stories about inspiring people and artwork,

of Hayden because of a character I created about

Causeworth Insurance and USA for UNHCR; and a

with some of our client projects at Elf Productions.

eight years ago called Amos Hayden. Amos is a character

tribute to the late writer Peter Freyne.

Now however, we have refined from the nineteenth century our purpose. Hayden’s is a who lived in New England

We hope you enjoy this issue and that it intrigues

quarterly magazine that provides inspiring art and

and was a writer, an activist, and a quirky, interesting man.

excites, and above all, interests you.

stories about people and communities. Some of the

Perhaps, he is my alter ego. So as he comes to life, we will Enjoy!

features may have a social or environmental message but

have little stories and essays from him to share.

that is not a requisite by any means.

In this issue, our Spring Issue, we have several

We hope to inspire you to produce work that you are

contributors: Duncan Asper with handcrafted canvas and

proud of and to share it,

wood artpieces; an interview

Jan Manon

Featured Artist: Duncan Asper

Spheres in a Field Mixed Media, Acrylic, Oil & Metal on a 24” x 36” Canvas with Wood and Copper Frame 30” x 42”

Blue Tiles Mixed Media, Acrylic, Oil & Metal on a 36” x 24” Canvas with Wood Frame 42” x 30”

Plane Jane Mixed Media, Acrylic, Oil & Metal on a 48” x 24” Canvas with Wood Frame 53” x 30”

Crop Circles Mixed Media, Acrylic, Oil & Metal on a 24” x 36” Canvas with Wood Frame 30” x 42”

Caution Mixed Media, Acrylic, Oil & Metal on a 30” x 40” Canvas with Wood Frame 36” x 46”

Fish 36" X 36" Cast Metal Fish on Unframed Canvas, White

Cool Days, Warm Nights 24" X 36" Limited Edition, Hand Pulled Serigraph Printed On Archival Linen Paper

Red Sun 40" X 30" Mixed Media, Acrylic, Oil & Metal on Canvas Unframed

Cafe Mixed Media, Acrylic, Oil & Metal on a 24” x 36” Canvas with Wood Frame 28” x 40”

Duncan Asper is a native of southern California. Drawing and painting at an early age, Duncan studied both fine and commercial art. With over thirty years of experience in the graphics and design industry, Duncan has returned to fine art in recent years. Known for his masterful and decisive style, Duncan draws inspiration from his environment, experimenting with different textures, foils, metals, paints, and textiles. Email: Website:

An Interview with Georgia Pantazopoulos On the set of “FATHER”, a film by Michael Fisher. Georgia Pantazopoulos is second from left.

Recently graduated from Burlington College, Georgia Pantazopoulos has racked up an impressive list of film credits even while she was finishing her degree. Jumping in enthusiastically and putting in all of her effort and focus are characteristics that draw people to work with this hardworking young woman, in addition to her developing artistic skill and obvious burgeoning talent. What are you excited about these days?

Aspiring Cinematographer Georgia Pantazopoulos shares how she got her first break on a film set and what excites her about shooting movies today. by Jan Manon

My camera! (Laughs) My tax return has been sufficient enough for me to buy a HPX170 – It’s a Panasonic. It’s a great little versatile camera because it shoots well and gives me the look and feel I want. You can add a 35 mm adapter onto it to get a film look with the depth of field. It’s tapeless and shoots on solid state P2 drives, which is much easier for me as I have had trouble with tapes in the past. Being able to import it so fast and so easily onto the computer is great and the amount of information P2 would hold is insane right now. I think everything is going to be tapeless soon and that is the way of the future. Is there a particular look or style you want to learn or are exploring right now? Yes, I love to learn. I am always asking myself how the hell do they do that? (Laughs.) I love the style of Tony Scott’s films. He’s done

the movie Domino and even all the editing. Also, Baz Lurhmann – I love his style. Every film that he does is amazing. Yes, he is very stylized. He puts a lot of thought into using sets to create feelings. I think a lot of people overlook the sets and the set decoration and all that goes into that. It’s disappointing because that’s part of the look as well. A big part of a scene is creating a certain mood that you can get right away. Yes, definitely. I also like a lot of noir lighting. I’d like to experiment with that more. I haven’t had a chance to do much. I want to do all this lighting stuff but it really does require a budget and it’s real hard to find somebody to work with that’s gonna take a chance on somebody who hasn’t lit. It’s like when you’re watching movies or even if you’re on a set where you’re getting to see a cinematographer employing all of these gels and things that you are talking about. It’s real exciting though at that moment, because then you start to dream about what you can do with that.

Left: Gaffer on Local Indie Film SHOUT IT OUT; Right: Shooting for the documentary AGAINST ALL ODDS directed by Mark Covino

A lot of times when we get to locations and I see where the cameras are going, in my head before the DP starts to light or anything goes up, I start to think, “How would I light this?” In my own head I can see how close we are in the way we think. Half of the time, two lights will go up in the same spot that I was thinking. And I was thinking it’s insane. A lot of times I don’t know what the shot is. Most grips and electrics don’t know what the shot is until it is actually happening. Even the camera department doesn’t know what is going on until last minute they just pull in. I just think of the area itself and how they would light it. It’s pretty cool to see how you compare. Like if it’s a two shot, the lights go in closer and you don’t see all this background. But I always think wide because I think they will always start out with a wide establishing shot, so I light in my head for that. I’m not being specific on what type of lighting fixtures – I’m just thinking of placement (because I haven’t gotten that far ahead) and soft light vs. hard light and will they empty those windows in the back. Usually, it’s really cool seeing the comparison at the end. It’s like “Oh wow, this is the light shot but he used that doorway to make it look like you put a light in that doorway to make it a source for an edge light through that doorway for one of the actors.” That’s pretty cool, I didn’t think of that and I make note. That’s awesome and very practical too. You see a direct example right in front of you and you’re like, “How do we get this look right?” Before coming there, you might not actually have that scenario, so then you can walk away with it and know how to do it in the future when someone comes to you. Most of the time I’m thinking about it while I’m running around doing all this other stuff. You are always running around and doing things, whether you are getting the stands or the four-by piece of diffusion. We all have walkies and we have the key grip telling us (in our ears) what to do to put something. A lot of times you can’t even think straight because you are thinking about all of the things that you have to do. It’s usually while they are shooting because you can’t do any work while they’re shooting.

How long is a work day typically on a set? It’s usually never less than a 12-hour day. Usually, depending on the production it can be more than that. It also depends on the budget. I worked on the set of SHUTTER ISLAND, a movie by Martin Scorsese. With directors like him, that have an unlimited amount of video backing. we had a lot of 18-hour days. He can afford to do that. Keeping people longer means paying them double the amount. That’s not only the crew, but you’re keeping the teams for that long. Gaffer crew on the set of THIS SIDE OF THE TRUTH directed by Ricky Gervais.

What are some of the sets you’ve worked on that were just awesome and you wanted to go back there and work again? I’ll list a couple. Most of them are not out yet. My first film that got me to the union was called OH BROADWAY. Maybe that was one I would want to go back to most because it was a small production and the director’s name was Dave McLaughlin. He also directed a local film in the Boston area called SOUTHIE. He got all this people originally from Boston to be in the TV like Amanda Peet, Robert Wahlberg, and Michael Malley. He got them all together to be in this film. My sister told me about it. I was finishing my junior year at Burlington College and she texted me telling me about this film that was shooting somewhere in the Boston area. They were looking for extras. She told me to look and see if they needed a production assistant (PA). I called them when I was on my break from classes and they asked, “Can you be a production assistant?” In my head I did not want to be a production assistant but I would do anything to be on the set at this point. And I just wanted to get on to a real set. She said, “We do need more production assistants but it’s unpaid.” That was fine. I was a PA for about 20 min. They had me moving stuff and they hadn’t really told me exactly what to do. They seemed they were really busy with stuff and they just told me to go help the set-decorating department to help move some stuff. I did that and then I noticed Grips and Electric crew and I recognized all the gear from using it at school. I thought, “That’s exactly what I want to do.” When you’re a film student, you do all that stuff yourself. All the equipment looked familiar. I started mingling with them and by the end of the day one of the PA’s asked me if I wanted to be Grip Electric intern on the call sheet and I said yes. They put me in as a G and E intern. It was a low budget production but they still had all union guys working on it because they had some sort of contract to do that. They were very hesitant towards me because I was a newcomer and non-union. But I showed up everyday at least an hour early with my tools and stuff. I was always just sitting inside the truck. They would get there a couple of minutes beforehand and somebody told them there was this intern who always coming in early and in fact, she’s always here! (Laughs) They were cool but distant, saying, “We know you want to help, but don’t touch anything kind of thing.” That was understandable. I was like, “Okay.” But I was always ready. Slowly they started sauomg you can plug this in and then they called for something and would have me go get it which was cool. It started to get better and better. They took me in and these two guys, Billy Flannigan, a grip and Danny Hutchinson who was on the electric crew, took me under their wing and showed me everything equipment-wise.

They both later sponsored me to get into the union (Grip and Electric Union.) Danny would take me inside and tell me this is how you do this and this is how you do that and this is called this. And don’t do this with it and never do that. It was really cool. I still keep in touch and talk with both of them. Actually I’ve been working with Billy a lot lately because he was the grip on the show and Danny was the electric on that one. Every single time I see both of them, they both ask me how is your Dad doing and the other one says how’s your mother doing and they’re really talking about each other. I call one my Dad and the other my Mom. (Laughs) Billy heard about what I wanted to do and he was very inspirational. He said, “If you really want to be a cinematographer you really need to go out and buy your own camera, so you can shoot and play your own stuff yourself,” and he made it sound possible. He is a young guy and seeing him in charge was inspiring. Even though it wasn’t that big of a budget, it had big name actors in it. That was my first movie. From there I started getting calls. Once you’re in the union you get put on this list and if you’re available they call you and after that I started doing that. Actually a film that came out recently I was on as an electrician called THE EDUCATION OF CHARLIE BAY. I was the set lighting technician. That was a lot of work but cool and a very good feeling. More experience. Then another movie I worked on was FROZEN RIVER. It won at the Sundance Film Festival. My friends were working on it. They called me because they were shooting in upstate New York and any day that I was out from school or whenever I didn’t have class or wasn’t working, I would head over to upstate New York and worked on FROZEN RIVER with them. It was nice to work with friends, knowing what their personalities are like. I also got to work on this independent film as a gaffer for SHOUTED OUT, originally called THE VOICES PROJECT. One of my good friends was the DP. He called me to see if I would be interested in being a gaffer. That was great because I could be in direct communication with the DP and he was a friend of mine and we could go back and forth. At times it was also chaotic however. We had a very low budget and had to do all the lighting equipment. I also did not really have a real crew with any experience. They were all sort of stepping in. It was a lot of trying to teach people as you go. They picked up a lot really fast though. I’m so thankful to them. It was the first time I was sort of the boss in that department. Now I can look back and think about how do you give people orders... After that, I worked as a regular electrician on a film called THE WOMEN. I took a break from being on the set. When you’re the electrician all you do is establish power and run power to where they need it. I would get the set ready before they came. My friend Danny Hutchinson was on that. He called me to work on that. I did that for a while, and then I had to go back to school because I was still in school. I did it as far as I could. Classes started to back up. So I left and went back to school. Then I did a couple of episodes for the Discovery Channel for this show called TIME WARP and an independent film called FOUR SINGLE FATHERS. I did a couple of days on a film called TELL TELL and then went to work on another Ricky Gervais film called THIS SIDE OF THE TROOPS. I think that was my favorite film to work on. I didn’t have to drive very far. I could wake up like 10 minutes before the call and walk over because it was so close to my home in Lowell, Massachusetts. Georgia as AC on the set of FATHER directed by Nate Beaman

With fellow grip on the set of THIS SIDE OF THE TRUTH directed by Ricky Gervais.

Shooting with red camera as AC on the set of the Michael Fisher film FATHER.

I loved working under the director of photography Tim Suhrstedt, one of the coolest and most down to earth guys you will ever meet. He shot a movie called LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE and done a bunch of GREY’S ANATOMY episodes. Watching him work was great. He had a different style of lighting and I loved learning on his set. The way he did things on set was just much more practical. We had 8-hour days, which is unheard of on a set. We’d get out of work so early and still have time to do other things. I was like, “Oh my God I have a life.” Usually when you work on the set, you don’t have a life. Working on a movie is your life and every chance you get, you just sleep. So that movie was really cool, especially shooting in my hometown. I could get out of work and still meet up with friends for drinks. I was never able to do that before. Sounds very organized. It was a balanced day. Yes, a lot had to do with Ricky Gervais. He does not like to shoot over 12 hours. We never had any overnight shoots. Usually, if you’re working on a film you have a week of overnight. You get all your night exteriors but everything we did that was supposed to be night we did day for night. It was pretty awesome. That was also my first time on a film from start to end. Most of the crew were from L.A.. They were very relaxed and not high strung like other sets I had been on. If you were to give advice to a recent film graduate looking to get some experience, what would be some things you would recommend? Everybody wants to be the DP (director of photography.) Learn to be a shooter. Get a hold of the camera. It’s hard to be able to afford one. See what works and what doesn’t work. Develop your own style. That’s definitely one of them. Find the right group of people to work with. I got lucky. Even though a lot of the people I teamed up with had graduated, I somehow got connected to them from another friend. Its just finding people who are just as motivated and wanting an opportunity just as bad as you do. Make those connections. Networking is a lot of it and I'm horrible at it. It really takes a certain person to try to sell yourself. A lot of people are really good at it amd then there's people who don't sell themselves. And like you said earlier, doing something different like showing up a whole hour earlier, always on time. Yes. Then there’s the group of people that think just because they lived in L.A. they know everything. You can shoot anything

these days in either format, film or video and people take it seriously. My favorite low budget movie is DANCING IN THE DARK. They did it on a video but nobody cares. You can tell the sets were great. The most important is the story. If you have a great story everything moves forward. Basically, you’re saying all these things together are what make you really want to watch the movie. Exactly. And stories always first. If you have a good story it will prevail no matter what. A lot of independent filmmakers make these movies that look great but it wont make any sense. But what’s the story? What just happened? You really need the story and if you have the story, everything will come.

FOR MORE INFORMATION: Contact Georgia P. at Watch a recent trailer of AGAINST ALL ODDS at

Outdoors with Beau Saunders


MOUNTAIN DECENT Pu'u Kukui Nature Preserve West Maui, Hawaii

WAILEA SUNSET Wailea Maui, Hawaii

DOWN THE LINE April North Swell Honolua Bay Maui, Hawaii

Beau Saunders is a photographer based in Hawaii. CONTACT: Rainbeau Pictures LLC 27 Hakui Loop Lahaina HI 96761 P: 808.385.9191 email: web:

Traveling through Time: H. G. Wells’ Time Machine

By Jan Manon Recently, I watched again one of my favorite movies as a kid, The Time Machine (1960) directed by George Pal. I found myself once again entranced. The story line was thoroughly compelling; the lines delivered eloquently by Rod Taylor as George, the Time Traveler, were equally mesmerizing and profound. In the first five minutes, George asks, “Can a man control his destiny?” By starting with this powerful question - a question that has haunted, perplexed, and intrigued people of all nations for centuries - H.G. Wells paves the way for a story that will delight, educated, and most thoroughly entertain you. The set design of George’s home was thorough down to the tiniest of details, creating the most authentic feel for the Time Traveler’s abode. Pal’s desire to create a convincing world for George is successful. The acting draws you in and we are compelled right from the first minute

to care quite deeply about the Time Traveler. He is not a distant figure to us with metaphysical questions but rather a warm, compassionate, articulate, imaginative, and above all, curious young man. We are invested. We care about his future. The time-lapse photography is quite beautiful at times. What the movie may lack in effects, it makes up in powerful storytelling, dialogue, and acting. The questions George ask are universal ones. When he is lost in the garden of the future, he is immediately tormented by the fear of being forever alone. He cries, “It would be no paradise if it belonged to me alone.” Original movie poster of the first movie production of H.G.Well’s The Time Machine by George Pal starring Rod Taylor as the Time Traveler and Yvette Mimieux as Weena.

The Time Machine was wildly popular when it was first printed in 1895 and enjoyed a resurgence of interest during the 1960s when the first film production of the book was made. The Time Machine reminds me of why I love stories and movies. This book is so compelling to read that you feel every human motion of curiosity, while you also are able to feel connected to people and to larger questions of life and its meaning. That ability to entertain you while inspiring you, reaching into your head and heart simultaneously, is the gift of good storytelling. O’Henry would be pleased.

Original first-cover edition of the science fiction novel printed in 1895


Kosovo Up Close with Scott Link




GIRLS ON A TRACTOR Outside Gjilan MARCH 2007











The Red Flower By Jan Manon

It was an old factory building on the corner of St. Catherine and a small dead-end street called Rue Floret. No one ever went there. It had been abandoned for more than fifty years and many of the windows were gutted out, and broken glass lay everywhere on the sidewalk, while the walls were streaked with ominous red graffiti. It must have been early in the morning while the birds were still sleeping, that they came. I heard them just seconds before they came crashing through the front door, storming up the stairs, their army boots making loud staccato sounds on the concrete floors. They had surrounded the building a few minutes before, quietly waiting for the order before they could all sweep in. The lights were blinding and I heard a few screams and moans. I had barely moved my head before the makeshift door that separated my cot from the rest, was beaten down and men charged in. “Found one!” an officer announced, and two men grabbed me by the shoulders while a spotlight fell bright on my face. Overwhelmed, I cringed, closing my eyes. The light hurt. “Get up!” I heard the same voice yell. Was it to me? To Jean? I could not tell. My body felt limp; my head was spinning, filled with a thousand images and her face. So many voices yelling and the sounds of boots around me – a lot of noise. I squirmed slightly and then the officer stepping up close to me so I could feel his stinking garlic breath near me, said, “What is your name?” and slapped me. “Ail,” I said, weakly, leaning on one officer and looking at him with a slight defiance.



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He slapped me again. I said nothing. He pushed me down and I fell on my knees. I did not fight back. It was just not worth it now. She was gone, gone forever. They kicked me, hitting me in the shins, in my face, and I fell down. I tried to sit back up and they kept talking, asking me questions. I could not say anything. The words would not even form in my mouth. The officer’s face looked ludicrous to me with his stiff moustache, his tightly fitting black pants, and his white shirt. “Take him away,” he said finally in disgust. * * * “I’m Marie,” she had finally revealed. It had only taken two dinner dates and a meeting at Café Lucca for her to share with me that knowledge. I knew she would tell, among other things. That instant easy smile she had got my attention the first day we met. It was not often that I went up to a girl; most of the time, I honestly did not give a shit. But she was different, just something about her. I loved her sleek, black hair cut in a crazy Goth look, her large brown eyes, and slender physique. She was always laughing and smiling at me, teasing me, and showing up at my door in the morning with coffee and nicely tousled hair that I just wanted to play with. “Marie?” I said, surprised, “I would have thought you would have something more…” “Dahlia,” she interrupted, “that’s my middle name if that’s what you mean. That’s what my family calls me.” “Dahlia?” I repeated. “What?” she said, slightly hurt. “Too much?” “No, I love it. What is it?” I asked. “The name of a flower,” she replied. “A pretty flower,” I said and smiled, opening my arms. She ran into me, as she always did, her slender frame disappearing into my body, as I embraced her. * * *



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There was nothing wrong with the picture; in fact, they were so bloody friendly that I felt sick to my stomach. So healthy and normal, and warm…Ordinary people…yet so warm. I felt intense and conflicting emotions. I was drawn to her family from the instant I met them. They filled the top layer of a hole inside with warm, fuzzy feelings that for a while, helped me forget the gaping abyss below. Her mother with soft curling black hair had hugged me immediately, planting a kiss on both cheeks, saying softly, “William.” Her father had shaken my hand warmly and even her younger brother in his green and white Adidas shirt had offered me a friendly hand. Dahlia took me out to the field to show me the sheep and asparagus; row upon row of bright green spears standing tall out of the harsh, rocky soil. This was what family was, I thought as we sat down to a lovely country meal at a roughly hewn table with candles and wine. I loved that she made no demands of me; I would not have been able to bear it. I just sat there, occasionally grinning with a dumb look on my face, as they took pictures and as we ate. When we left at last, in the early twilight hours, they stood on the porch and waved at us as I pulled my Saab out of the driveway. Dahlia smiled and her mother wiped a tear. It was too much and I had to look away. * * * That night I could not sleep. She lay in bed naked with just a soft silk drape around her waist, the fringe caressing her left breast as the right lay exposed. I got up slowly, pulling on my grey trousers and tiptoed across the floor to my easel. The stark white canvas board that had shocked me with its eerie emptiness, now began to take a shape and form. My terror had been replaced with a curious warm feeling in my chest right by my sternum and now what had felt too large, was now easier. I could begin. It was okay to start. So I drew out a rough outline, and slowly began to fill it with color. Against a dark background, her figure began to emerge. I sipped a glass of wine from the green bottle of Chambord that her father had given us before we left. Stroke after stroke, I painted, although the paintbrush hardly felt different from my hand as the hours progressed; it was just an extension. Her soft supple body in its loveliness turned just as she lay



The Red Flower

now, with her belly exposed, revealing the seductive curve of her abdomen. I watched her as she slept, her stomach gently rising and falling. I sighed, wishing I could capture that undulating motion. The sun had just come up and I sat on the porch, smoking a cigarette. Dahlia, sheathed in my white comforter, walked over to me. Glancing at the empty bottle of Chambord on the side table next to me, she said, “Looks like you had a wild time last night.” I smiled slowly at her. She watched me for a few seconds, her eyes friendly, and then turned, trailing the comforter behind her. I got up and followed her. “I painted you,” I offered and motioned to the canvas. She approached it timidly and stared wideeyed at the canvas. I waited, feeling a knot in my chest. She said nothing but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “Do you like it?” I said quickly, “I can do another. I…I..” Dahlia turned quickly and kissed me on the mouth. “I love it,” she said slowly, tilting her head back and looking at me seriously in the eyes, and pulling my head towards her with both of her hands, she kissed my forehead and my eyes. * * * “Twenty-one days, man!” Lucca yelled, “Twenty one days till graduation! Freedom!” He cavorted around the picnic tables, doing a half-hearted somersault and falling promptly on his back in the bright green grass. I laughed, taking a slow drag. “What are you going to do, man?” he demanded, back up on his feet, “are you going back…?” “To England? No way!” I said forcefully, “No way…nothing for me there.” Lucca nodded his head sagaciously, “Yes…and you do have Dahlia.” I took another long drag, watching the smoke curl up and stared at him without saying a word. “Man, you look intense,” he said, “you know I’m going out with some friends, Jean Genet too, and we’re going to check out that bar over by St. Denis that I was telling you about with the hookahs and the fancy lounge.”



The Red Flower

I nodded. “Art deco lounge,” he added and smirked. He got my interest. “Really? I’d love to see that,” I replied. “Alright then! Ten o’clock my place,” he said. “Fine,” I replied. He jumped off the picnic table, pulling his cargo pants up, and waving at me, ran off. It ended up being a raucous group of eight. We were celebrating our graduation early. We headed up Rue Catherine over to St. Denis. Martin hated taking the metro, saying something about people staring at him. I could not care less but the evening air felt amazing. After months of freezing cold weather, it felt great to be outside again without shivering. The bar had low ceilings and Moroccan wrought-iron hanging fixtures. The place was full of beautiful young women in seductive clothing and the air was thick with the smell of varying hookahs. It was very loud in there and they were playing some awful trance-meditation mix with hip-hop beats. Martin and Lucca instantly sat down on a settee, ordering a hookah for themselves from one of the scantily clad women. I walked around the bar, and noticing a steel gray door on the right hand side, I pushed it open. Jean followed me. Entering, I gasped in amazement. The room was a stark contrast to what we had left. The room did not have a ceiling as the walls gave way to open air and as I looked up, I could just see the faint outline of glass some six stories above. In the center of the room, there was a monolithic statue of a man flanked by two horses, their legs raised in motion, all muscles tightly engaged. He wore his clothing loosely like a Grecian and his eyes were piercing, his expression fierce and fearless. I walked around the statue a few times, admiring the work. “He’s beautiful!” Jean exclaimed. I nodded, agreeing. A woman opening the door, stuck her curly blond head out towards us and asked, “Voulez-vous avoir une boisson ici?” Jean nodded quickly and I replied, “Oui.”



The Red Flower

She brought the hookahs out to us there. We lounged on the grey stone seating with dark velvet cushions in between tall palm trees. Jean got an apple hookah and I had a jasmine tea infused one. Taking a deep inhalation, I slowly let the smoke fill my lungs, and let it out. Jean coughed, his eyes turning red as he sputtered, taking in too much tobacco. Laughing, I offered him a glass of cold water from the tray she had brought us. He drank it quickly. “Slowly,” I said. He took it in slowly. It was better the second time. We laughed together and we sat in silence, slowly breathing in the hookahs at our leisure. It was perfect. I felt a pleasant buzz, much lighter than my cigarettes but penetrating deep into my toes with a slight tingling sensation. The time seemed to fade away; I was oblivious. The woman had returned and refilled our glass hookahs for us while I had some shut-eye. “Will!” I heard loudly beside my ear. Opening my eyes, I saw Lucca sitting next to me. I felt a little disoriented. “Stronger than you thought, eh?” he said, grinning. I leaned back. “I got something much better,” he said mischievously. “Oh yeah?” Jean asked, “what?’ I watched curiously. Lucca pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. I discerned a wad of dark green and brown leaves tightly wound in dark balls. “Weed?” I asked. “No, better,” he said, leaning forward, his blue eyes staring at me intensely, “Petite Pere.” “What?” I asked, confused. He shook his head, realizing that I did not get the reference and said loudly, “Opium!” “Opium!” Jean said. “Ssh!” Lucca said and whispered, “Yes…it’s amazing. You have got to try it,” and looking at me again, said, “all the people you like, all of them, they took it; it made them see, it made them draw better.” I lit a cigarette and smoked again, not replying. Jean however, surprised me, by saying immediately, “I’ll try it.” “But,” I protested slightly.



The Red Flower

“No, I want to,” he said, and he nodded at Lucca. Lucca pulled out a long pipe from his pocket and inserted a black ball into the end, slowly lighting it. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes, and handed the pipe over to Jean. As he exhaled, Jean took in a puff as Lucca lit the pipe again for him. Jean did not cough but he closed his eyes immediately, a pleasurable look filling his soft face. “Jean?” I asked. “Guillaume,” he said slowly, “you must try this. Incredible.” His eyes were still closed. He looked like a sleeping baby, so perfect. I felt irritated on the other hand, my buzz long wore off. Guillaume, he had called me. Mother! Only Mama had ever called me that. And now she was gone, gone forever. And here, I was in her land, with the Quebecois…Lucca watched me. I nodded. He got the pipe ready and I inhaled. That is how it all began. * * * I was lying in bed when I heard a loud knock on the door. Again, another. After three times, the person gave up. I turned over, pulling a pillow over my eyes. The bright afternoon light was flooding the apartment. My head throbbed intensely. A few minutes seemed to have passed but then I heard footsteps again approaching. The knock was very loud and I heard a voice, “C’est moi. It’s me! Open up, William.” She was mad, I could tell. I got up out of bed slowly and put on my pants, and opened the door. She looked at me expectantly and I just nodded my head and walked back into the apartment. It was a mess, compared to my usual tidiness. My paints were all over the floor and the sink was full of dirty dishes. The porch table was littered with beer bottles and cigarette butts exploding out of the glass ashtray. Before she said anything, I turned quickly to her and hugged her, kissing her softly on the head. She pulled my mouth close to her, but I pulled away, gesturing that I needed to brush. I smiled and she reluctantly smiled back, as I entered the bathroom and began to brush. She started to pick up things and put them away. I could hear her emptying my cigarettes into the trashcan and putting the paints away. She adores you, I could hear Lucca saying, You’ve got her wrapped



The Red Flower

around your finger. She’ll do anything you ask, he had said, the look of the devil on his face. I scrubbed away. She cleaned. You’re a lucky bastard, Jean had said unexpectedly, she’s a rose. No, a Dahlia, I said. They looked confused. Marie? That’s her middle name, I explained and regretted it instantly. It was our secret, and now they knew. She had finished tidying up the living room. The kitchen was still a mess. I finished washing my face and came out towards her, stopping her just as she reached for a sponge. “No, no,” I said, pulling her close, wrapping her reluctant arms around my waist. She always had to look up to me. I was a good foot taller than her. “That’s my mess,” I said and looking at her, kissed her. “Mmm,” she said slowly, “much better.” We hugged and then I let her go. She smiled at me, a sparkle in her eyes. “Do you want to hear about my trip? I’ve been gone for more than two weeks! I have so much to tell! And you…looks like you do too,” she gushed. “Ok,” I said and we sat down on the porch. I lit a cigarette. She began to tell me about her trip to Toronto. I listened, but my mind kept wandering away. Images of dark rooms, smiling faces, seductive eyes, wispy smoke, Jean’s white face in the early morning light, Lucca laughing, Martin sleeping, and the beautiful girl Katerina from Moscow filled my mind. Dahlia chattered on. I did not hear or even pretend to hear, taking a slow drag. She nudged my arm. I turned. She said petulantly, “You are not even listening, William!” I interrupted, “Wanna hear a story?” “Ok,” “There’s a girl. Her name is Blanka. She lives in Prague, a tiny slip of a girl with big, determined eyes. She’s an eager film student. She walks down the old square, Staromestske Namesti every day on her way to class,” I said quickly. “Go on,” she said, her eyes keenly watching me. “She walks by a fish merchant on her way home. He has a big orange carp, a good two and a half feet in length in a big fish tank. She stops. She thinks, He is so beautiful. I must rescue him. She buys the fish.



The Red Flower

She carries the big fish, flopping around in a loose plastic bag, cradling it in her small arms. Gasping, she makes her way up to the third floor of her apartment building, and throws open the door. She takes the wiggling fish into the bathroom and turning on the water in the bathtub, she puts the stopper down, and fills the tub with cold water. Blanka plops the fish into the tub. It slowly begins to swim, circling the tub. ‘Now, baby, you can swim,’ she says.” I stopped and slowly took in another drag. “What happens next,” Dahlia asked impatiently. “Well,” I said slowly, “Blanka lies on the floor in her apartment, reading a magazine and watching the telly. It is seven o’clock. She feels hungry. She makes a bowl of rice. She looks in the fridge and nothing looks good in there.” I paused and then said quickly, “She goes into the bathroom, gets her fish-friend out, lays him on the kitchen block, and she kills him. She kills him. And then she eats him.” Dahlia gasped. “W…what?” she whispered, shocked, “but…but it was her friend.” “Dahlia,” I said staring at her unblinking, “that’s how it is. That’s like me. You try something else but in the end, you go back to your nature.” “What?” she said, and abruptly jumped to her feet, demanding, “what do you mean?” She looked angry. I looked away. “I’m like the girl,” I said, “you can’t fight it. I just am.” Shaking her head in disgust, she walked out of the apartment, slamming the door, yelling, “I’ll talk to you later!” “Actually, I’m more like the fish,” I whispered as she left, slowly taking another drag.

* * * Dark silhouettes fluttered in and out. Katerina’s voice was soft and gentle as she got a bong ready for me. Jean lay in a cot nearby, smiling at me, curled in a fetal position, ready to sleep. The building was enormous and empty with an eerie stillness. It was an abandoned factory and once a shoe story, Katerina



The Red Flower

said. Bombed during the war, she had said. What war, I asked. They all laughed. No one had replied. I had not even cared to ask. I was too busy taking a hit. Deep I fell, hard and instantly. A creeping thrill invaded my body, warming and slowly lulling to sleep my entire body as a warm feeling flooded my chest, bursting through my lungs, and into my heart. I felt a dreamy exhilaration and a glowing sensation from the tip of my head down into my toes. I looked at my hands and the blond hairs on my long fingers danced. My body felt exquisite. While I felt entirely relaxed and the stress in between my eyebrows had disappeared, I longed to jump, dance, and sing. I opened my mouth and stood up. Jean turned to look at me. Katerina smiled. “Aah,” I said and then sat down as my head exploded with swirling images. The old walls of the factory had been replaced by shining white Grecian columns and the figure of a magnificent goddess loomed above me, in dark grey and maroon robes of velvet, reaching out her white supple arms to me. They laughed, and Martin lounging on the floor, a blanket wrapped around him, shook his head, saying, “You’re mad, William.” His voice faded away just as my excitement did, instantly like the sudden end to a magnificent orchestral piece. I was awake and yet asleep. My wonderful stage had been replaced, my goddess had faded into white ethereal waves, and in her place, new, strange faces and figures appeared, some modern, some old, walking on sidewalks, out of stores, in their homes. I could see everything and a young child turned to look at me, his blond hair a rakish mess, his eyes magnificent like two sapphires. He grew in front of me, taller and taller, his hair changing to a soft sandy brown, but his face the same. “William,” he said. “Ice caves!” Jean yelled, breaking my reverie, “they lead to the gates of Paradise.” Martin shook his head, now shivering, grasping his knees tightly, his face slightly convulsed, and gasped, “You’re fucking crazy.”



The Red Flower

“No,” I said slowly, looking at him briefly and making stoney eye contact, before it hurt to look and again I returned to my blissful reverie, closing my eyes, “Coleridge, you fool.” Martin got up. “I’m getting outta here. I feel sick…You’re both mad,” he said and stumbled out, the blanket wrapped around him. He did not get very far. Katerina followed him. I could hear him retching. The sound was awful. I closed my ears. I fell on the floor. Jean offered me another hit. “Yes,” I whispered. He got it ready for me and had one first. I was impressed with his tolerance. Jean, the smallest of us all, could outdo every one. “Beer can make you violent,” I said suddenly, “sometimes at least…for some people, but this… this,” I raised my hands up in supplication, “this invigorates and relaxes; my mental faculties are better. I am more composed; I am divine!” Jean nodded his head in agreement, saying admiringly, “and eloquent!” “Thank you,” I said and bowed my head slightly in his direction, “the light is so bright inside, my head is floating.” “And I swim,” Jean offered, “you know me, I love the water…blue, blue…” He began to sing, “Bablue, ba-blue.” I laughed, and leaned back, “Anything you want, baby. Anything.” “Yeah man, we’re not hurting anybody,” Jean said, “no one. What gives?” I nodded, agreeing and inhaled again. * * * A whirring sound of a ceiling fan gave way to white soft fabric as two large eyes stared over me with a look of concern. I blinked. I tried to lift my head but two soft arms clad in white slowly restricted me and a female voice said softly, “No. Repos.” I looked up, blinking hard. Her face was shrouded in white; a loose garment draped in soft folds around the nape of her slender neck.



The Red Flower

“Have I died?” I whispered. “No, mon cheri,” she replied, “You are here with us. You must rest.” “What?” I said, confused. My head throbbed, it ached and screamed. You denied me, it yelled. You deny me! How dare you deny me! The pain was insufferable. I scrunched up my eyes tightly. “Oh…it hurts,” she said with a soft French accent, “mon cheri, you will get better.” “I…I need some,” I begged and looked at her, ashamed, quickly looking away. I could not bear it, the withdrawal was excruciating. Her face was now clear to me; I could see the lines in her face; the creases in her cheeks. She was not young; an older woman. Her white robe was that of a nun. “S’il vous plaît,” I begged again, grasping the folds of her robe tightly with my knuckles. “No, mon fils,” she replied firmly, and took my hand in both of hers. The flesh of her palm felt cool and soft against my burning flesh. I had started to sweat suddenly and now profusely. The pain was agonizing. I could see his face again, condemning me, saying, How could you, William? Why now? “Help me,” I begged, “s’il vous plait, madame…” I clutched her hand tightly, scraping the skin with my fingernail. “Your father is here,” she said quietly.

The Red Flower is the first in a book of short stories written by Jan Manon to be published in the fall of 2009.

Riding the Rails in Vermont


ermont’s railroad history is a complicated one, interspersed with family lines, government ownership, and railroads privately owned and operated by small companies. Just like other parts of the country which once were crisscrossed with railroad lines as the train offered the primary means of transportation, Vermont trains had their heyday back in the late nineteenth century. Even the waterfront city of Burlington was accessible by train and had convenient street cars and trams running through the downtown area. A traveler coming from either Montreal or down from the Hudson, could catch a ride on a boat coming through Burlington, explore town on foot, tram, bicycle, street car, or car, and then take a train right into New York City. It is an interesting fact that a hundred and twenty years later, traveling by public transportation despite significant improvements in technology, has actually worsened. This is of course largely due to the popularity of cars and the emphasis on highways. Vermont has one of the best maintained highway systems in the country. Trains, always popular in Vermont to a few old-timers, locals looking trying something different, and young people wanting to get around without a car for a change, have experienced a revival of sorts in the last decade. One of the companies responsible for this is VRS or the Vermont Rail System at Deborah Murphy, the manager of passenger service for the last three years aboard Vermont Rail, is a passionate advocate for trains in Vermont and the Northeast. As the only full-time employee, Deborah has her hands full, from creating schedules to hiring crews on board, selecting passenger representatives, and creating themed train travel. She says that despite often working seven days a week, she loves her job and has a lot of fun. Vermont Rail’s major hubs include Bellows Falls, White River Junction, and Burlington, VT. Tourist trains and seasonal trains are by far the most popular train schedules. For example, the two-hour Easter train that runs from White River Junction up to Thetford and back, regularly sells out in advance.

Every year, Deborah comes up with themed events to entertain guests. This year one of the upcoming events on National Train Day celebrated by Amtrak on May 9th is dedicated to the historical dog that worked for the postal service. The author of the book on the dog will be signing autographed copies of the book and Danforth Pewter’s has designed dog tags in pewter for the special event. Another special train is the “tiki” train that comes replete with a Polynesian band from Boston and hearty appetizers. Regular events include two-hour round trip trains from Burlington to Charlotte and back, stopping at Shelburne Museum and Magic Hat Brewery; White River Junction to Thetford with a stop at the Montshire Museum; and Bellows Falls to Chester and back, with a stop at Fox Farm. Another upcoming event is the Bonnie and Clyde Train Robbery reenactment on May 23rd. As Deborah explains, most of their passengers are tourists from charters and bus groups as well as local families and senior citizens. The fall is typical the busiest season because of the foliage tourists. On average, a group of fifty will charter a train although only twenty-five passengers are necessary to book a reservation. Most passengers now book online. Some still prefer the old-fashioned method of buying a ticket on the train or getting a phone reservation. A typical train trip for two hours costs between $19 and $21 while special events can range from $24 for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day events and up to $75 for special dinner-themed events. Due to the high quality of VRS services and the beautiful areas their rails operate through, most of their seasonal and themed trains sell out several months in advance. Supply cannot keep up with demand. Seasonally operated, VRS is busiest during the summer when it runs from July 4 through October every day. Amtrak on the other hand, operates all year round but does not offer the convenience for commuter travel. With lines individually owned and tracks leased from the state of Vermont with the sole stipulation that the train company maintain the track in the same condition as they got it, with upgrades the responsibility of the state, train travel through Vermont is sporadic. Three major lines operate through Vermont: Amtrak, NEC, and VRS. Both Amtrak and VRS operate passenger lines while NEC is primarily a freight traffic railroad company. The distinction comes to a head right in Burlington where VRS only operates scenic trains and the area north of College Street is the sole jurisdiction of NEC since they own the trackage. Amtrak does not even offer travel to Burlington, stopping instead in Essex Junction. “One of the best deals available is offered by Amtrak,” Deborah offers, “with a special $12 roundtrip fee from Essex Junction to Bellows Falls and a return trip the following day.” Amtrak operates a busier line along the eastern side of the state with tracks in good condition. The tracks however on the western side of the state require significant repair to bring them up to speed, costing approximately $1 million per mile of track.

Recently, there has been a lot of discussion about extending service into Burlington via Amtrak’s Ethan Allen Express. This of course would require significant rail upgrades but Deborah is hopeful. “My wish list would be that we could offer rail travel through Vermont that actually supported commuter traffic and that our rails connected better with Amtrak North and weekend traffic.” She adds, “I would love to have double trips running from Springfield to White River Junction and run a ski train in the winter from Bellows Falls to Okemo. Basically, I want commuters to be able to just switch from one train to the next without hassles and to get there in a reasonable amount of time.” Deborah might just get her wish. President Barack Obama disclosed plans for a high-speed rail network in April of 2009, saying that this would forever “change the way Americans travel.” Wouldn’t you say that it’s about time.

Passenger Rail Lines Operating in Vermont Vermont Rail System 1-800-707-3530 Amtrak in Vermont 1-800-872-7245

Aptera: Cool New Concept Car

With a fluid exterior form, gull wing doors, and a solar assisted climate control system, the Aptera is

one of the coolest concept cars available. The brain (and love child) of founder Steve Fambro and fellow enthusiast and boat builder Chris Anthony, the Aptera is unlike any other car available today in that it is aerodynamic enough to glide through air with less drag than Lance Armstrong on a bike.

Aptera’s design is sleek, modern, light, and sustainable. It is the car of the future, although most

suitable to warmer climates currently. The 2e model available in 2009 is completely electric and is charged at a standard outlet of 110 v in a little under 8 hours. The new 2h model available in 2010 is a plug-in electric hybrid that also charges at a standard outlet but offers an amazing 300 miles per gallon.

The Aptera’s arrival in the consumer market is the sign of an exciting future to come for personal

travel that is both sustainable and works in tandem with nature.

For more information, visit Aptera online at


A Feisty Man About Town

Peter Freyne

Left: Peter in the Red Room at Seven Days; Top Right: Peter at Speeder and Earl’s; Lower Right: Speeder and Earl’s I remember walking into Speeder and Earl’s downtown and finding myself sitting across from an older gentleman wearing flip flops and a Hawaiian shirt. His hair was all white and his beard looked like it needed a good trim but his blue eyes peering from behind thin glasses were sharp and penetrating. I found myself oddly both discomfited by his presence and also curious. As I took another swig from my coffee cup, I heard a peal of laughter and turned to look. A young woman with short blond hair was giggling hysterically. Peter had gotten up from his perch and wandered over to the barista, whose name I found out later was Paula. They were engaged in a jovial banter. When Peter returned to his seat near him, his eyes were distinctly twinkling. I knew his face from the Seven Days column that he had written and so I told him that. Before long, I was engaged in a long and heated debate about the state of politics in Vermont, of which I sadly knew very little. But Peter got my interest and got me alternately worried and excited about the state of politics in Vermont. I met Peter in the first days of starting my own company Elf Productions. I had just left UVM and it was February and a cold time of the year. Working alone felt quite difficult at times for me especially after being used to a lot of constant social interaction at my previous job. So I started coming in to Speeder’s a few

times a week and then once a day, usually in the afternoon. The familiarity was good. I lingered over my coffee, brainstormed, felt alternately brilliant and depressed, and talked with Peter. He introduced me to all of his various coffee buddies (and there were a lot of them!) every time. He was endearingly sweet and always caring. I noticed how painfully thin he had become but his attitude was even more buoyant. I stopped coming in to Speeder’s as much, realizing that too much coffee was preventing me from sleeping and also as I got more comfortable with my work schedule, I did not feel the need to spend as much time there. So his death came as a big shock to me when it did. I read all the Seven Day stories and many were very good. I discovered what a popular and not-so-popular writer he was and how opinionated he was as well. I found that people had very strong feelings about him either way. I learned how he battled cancer and fought Vermont companies for what he thought was right, while challenging politicians right in their faces. It made me smile to read about him. The man I met had already undergone all these changes. Yet I knew him in a simple way. Yes, he was passionate, feisty, articulate, and opinionated. But he also was a very sweet man. By Jan Manon


A DIFFERENT APPROACH “We believe the world can be a better place for all humanity and are dedicated to improving the human condition through our academy.” - Human Factor Leadership Academy

Causeworth Insurance supporting the causes you believe in One of the most novel ideas to come out of the insurance world is Causeworth Insurance’s offer to support the non-profit organization or charity of your choice. Founder Jason Jenkins is passionate about giving back to community. By offering customers the ability to choose what non-profit they want to support, Jenkins hopes to build community support for needed resources and give the power back to the individual to make a difference directly in the social and environmental issues of their choice. Jason started this organization after a trip to Ghana, Africa. He had been

supporting the building of a new school there and when he visited the area and was able to directly see the effects of investing in a worthy cause, he was awestruck. Determined to share his experience with others, Jason came back home and crafted his own company Causeworth Insurance where subscribers can find and fund the passion they believe in. For more information: Causeworth Insurance

Jason also started his own institute to foster leadership potential through education in Africa. The Human Factor Leadership is a registered 501 (3) non-profit located on a 14,000 square foot property in Akatsi, Ghana Human Factor Leadership


Work We Support: USA for UNHCR The UN Refugee Agency

Protecting People and Restoring Their Dignity providing food, shelter, medical care, and protection We live in trying times. The world has always had its share of dictators, brutalities, and war casualties. Yet the rate of human genocide that is occurring in Darfur, Sudan is unprecedented. In five years, 300,000 innocent people have been killed, while another 2,000,000 people have been forced out of their homes by Janjaweed gunmen. The horrific tales of destruction include throwing children right into bonfires, burning homes, and ruining clean water supplies with corpses, unfortunately is growing. The main organization that has been operating camps to offer basic needs such as food, water, shelter, emergency medical treatment, and education is USA for UNHCR.Operating in 117 countries, USA for UNHCR, the agency for refugees, provides shelter, protection, medical care, and emergency food and water to 32 million people around the world who have lost their homes and livelihoods due to war and persecution. Two-time winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, the UNHCR protects the rights of vulnerable people from being violated and restores their dignity. In Darfur, as violence rages, refugees can no longer return home and now more than 240,000 refugees reside in UN camps.

Support UNHCR by making a donation online For more information on WLT, you can contact them directly at:


1775 K Street NW Suite 290 Washington DC 20006 tel: 800-770-1100


Interested in submitting to Hayden’s online? We welcome your ideas. We are just on our second issue and already the content is pouring in. Most of our content comes from eager and passionate people. Sound familiar? Sound like yourself ? Then do send in your stuff. We will read every submission. GUIDELINES: We do have a few guidelines. If you submit by email or regular mail, please include a description of what your content is: poetry/ fiction/short story/article/photographs/paintings etc. with a brief cover letter or introduction. We are more interested in WHO you are rather than your credentials. Please do say a little about yourself in a bio that we include and send us your contact information so we can get in touch with you. By email: By postal mail: Hayden Magazine, Elf Productions, PO Box 64843, Burlington VT 05406

Hayden's Spring Issue 2009  

This issue features an interview with cinematographer Georgia Pantazoupoulos.

Hayden's Spring Issue 2009  

This issue features an interview with cinematographer Georgia Pantazoupoulos.