Ella

Yesterday began as any Saturday generally would.  David had to work.  Ella and I began our walk.  We've had 4 or 5 days of rain - heavy rain, light rain, intermittent rain, occasional showers, more rain and always overcast.  Yesterday was supposed to be the beginning of a new weather phase.  But here's a photo from our walk a couple of days ago:

It actually looks more threatening than it was on that particular morning. 

So anyway, yesterday we got down to Front Street on the water and I threw the ball for Ella.  If I haven't mentioned that, I usually take a ball and when we get down to the water, we stop by one of the businesses there - a company selling bait to fishermen.  They have a big open grassy area on the north side of their building and somewhat smaller grassy area on the south side.  The south side has a small (2-1/2 foot) concrete wall between the grass and the street, and I like that because I feel Ella is less likely to be distracted by squirrels or dogs and run into the street.  But the north side is bigger with more room for throwing the ball.  So we stopped and I threw the ball for her on the north side.  Because it was the weekend, I thought we could have a longer walk, so we went down by the shipyard and Pro-Steel fabrication shop - which are directly on the water. 

From there we've discovered a very short path through some skimpy woods to the beach.  If the tide is low, or lowering, I can throw the ball on the beach for Ella and she can run around there, sniffy seaweed and other interesting things.  So we went there.

I'm not sure what she ate, but while I turned my back, looking for the ball she hadn't brought back, she must have eaten something or at least licked something ... very very icky.

A few minutes later, as we left, she got that glassy look in her eyes, her gait stiffened and slowed, and she threw up.  Nothing terribly unusual in that.  It's my guess that because Ella lived on the streets of St. Louis for at least weeks if not months before her rescue, she is a creature who wants to lick and if possible eat anything organic that isn't tied down.  It's probably one reason she has such a sensitive stomach.  Anyway, I wasn't terribly worried by her throwing up.  A few moments later she threw up a second time.  Again, not that unusual.  But then she just stopped.  She didn't want to walk up the steep incline from the street that leads to the beach back to the main street.  I had to more or less drag her.  I got her back to the main street and we crossed it to a local restaurant called Hole in the Wall.  There she threw herself down on the grass in front, stretched all the way out, head down.  She didn't want to move.  She didn't lift her head, her tail didn't twitch, her ears didn't perk when I spoke to her.  A very sick puppy.

I finally got her to get up.  She slowly walked up to Cedar Street, from which it is about a 1/3 mile walk back to our house, mostly uphill.  With constant encouragement she made it about a block, and threw herself down right on the pavement of the street.  I was freaking out.  I left her lying in the street and knocked on the door of the house we were near.  I hadn't brought my phone but I thought if someone would let me use their phone I would call my neighbor, Melissa, who along with her son Tobias, loves Ella almost as much as David and I do.  There was no answer to my knocking on the door.

With constant encouragement, I got Ella to get up and we went about another block.  She lay down again, but I got her to do so on the grass.  A woman came by, someone we've often seen on her morning walk while we were on our own.  She stopped and asked what was wrong.  While we were talking, a cab pulled up at a nearby house, picking someone up to take them to work.  The woman offered to ask the cab to take us home.  Which the cab driver did, with the agreement of the passenger.

At home, I called the emergency vet and left a call back request. I then called Melissa - she's a nurse - and asked her to come over.  Meanwhile, once again Ella flopped down on the floor.  Same thing - head down on the floor, no ear or tail twitch or other sign of life - except she still breathed.  I was sure that somehow Ella had eaten poison and was dying right there, right then, in front of me. 

Finally the vet called back - Dr. Lee, Ella's own vet who happened to be on call.  He immediately made me feel somewhat better.  He said there was no poison he knew of that could act so fast.  He told me to give her water, no food for a while, watch her, let her rest.  If she showed signs of distress - panting even while resting, or a swollen belly - to call him back, but he thought she would be okay. 

But when Melissa came, then I REALLY felt better.  For the first time since she threw up the first time, Ella got up on on her own and went to the door to greet Melissa.  (Ella loves Melissa and Tobias almost as much as she loves David and me.)  She came back and lay down again, but this time by the couch where Meliss and I sat.  The fact that Ella got up on her own to greet Melissa finally made me believe that she would be okay.

I rearranged my day and stayed home with Ella, leaving only later in the afternoon when I was sure she was okay - after she started playing with her ball (which she likes to "bury" in her "rug" by putting the ball on her little rug, and then scrunching up the rug around it so the ball is hidden, and then she "finds" it again).  She also was clearly hungry, and in the early afternoon I gave her some cooked rice that I had in the fridge.  She ate it with no problem.  By the evening she was totally fine, back to normal.

It was one of the hardest days I recall in a while.  To see your usually active, playful, happy, healthy, curious, outgoing, loving dog lay down in the middle of the street and not only not be willing or able to walk another 10 feelt, but also fail to respond to you - I really thought she was going to die.

But Ella's okay.  So I'm okay.  We had our walk this morning.  No ball.  No beach.  I tried to keep a close eye to make sure she didn't eat anything untoward.  She had breakfast.  And now she's curled in a ball, sleeping.

I am grateful.  To the woman who stopped to help.  To the cab driver and his passenger who brought us home.  To Melissa who came immediately when I called her.  To Dr. Lee and PenBay Vet's 24-hour hot line.  To Ella, for coming back to us.

Peace and brighter skies.

Stream of whatever... a rant, with apologies in advance...

A police officer who kills a young black man not resisting arrest must not look enough like a ham sandwich to get indicted in New York City.  Eric Garner and Michael Brown and too many others.  Black Lives Matter.  Metropolitan police departments armed with tanks, machine guns (including here in Maine, a state with 1.3 million inhabitants spread out over 35,000+ square miles—population density, 43 persons per square mile (surprisingly 38th in the country).  Who is raking in profits from arming those police departments?

2,000 Palestinian and Jewish Israelis marching peacefully in Jerusalem after an Arab-Jewish school is attacked.  Moshe Kahlon for Prime Minister?  Could someone in the early 21st century actually compromise?  Not in America.

 

Guantanamo still open, hunger strikers force fed.  I signed another petition.  One, two many petitions.  Obama – Yes, We Can - keep Guantanamo open - expand spying on American citizens by the NSA - renew and extend the Patriot Act .... etc. etc. etc.

Syria - 50% of the population displaced, outright refugees or home abandoned.  3 million Syrian children not in school.  What are they learning instead? Who to blame?  I try to imagine 50% of the American population being displaced, even 10%.  Why can we never put ourselves in anyone else’s shoes.  Someday, someone is going to rise up and take our shoes away and we’ll be walking in bare feet on broken glass in this country.

 

Ebola - 6,000 dead in Africa. Gay men still not to be allowed to donate blood.  To the Red Cross - who appears to have exaggerated or outright lied in their endless harping on how 91% of every dollar donated goes to programs.  It turns out 91% of every dollar SPENT goes to programs.  Why is the Red Cross making money and what are they doing with it?  Hey, worthless piece of shit Congress, how about investigating that?

 

Two sad pieces of news lately - a lovely woman, Tamara, finally lost her battle with cancer after a long hard fought battle.  Fifty years old and gone a year after diagnosis - if you can call it a diagnosis when they never determined what kind of cancer it was.  A woman beloved by her family, her friends, her synagogue, her community and basically anyone whose life her life touched.  You will be missed, Tammi.  This week I learned that the 23 year old son of a co-worker complained of knee pain over the Thanksgiving holiday, couldn't figure out when he strained it.  It was swollen and really hurt.  Visit to the hospital - bone cancer, requiring surgery and chemo at least.  Still don't know what stage it is.  Will someone tell me how a person who has a lucky break in life can say "I owe it all to God"?  Hey, God! Why Tammi?  Why a 23 year old young man?  In fact, why cancer?  And I'm not even warmed up or looking back at history...  Maybe we all need to read The Sixth Extinction.  Dinosaurs were on this planet for 10's of MILLIONS of years.  We've had 50,000 and we're really screwing things up. 

 

In this world, in the darkness swirling all around us, if you find the slightest glimmer of light, of hope, of love, of joy, of peace - hang on tight.

 

 

One two many photos

As I may have mentioned last post, we've been cleaning up from the October snow storm that happened while I was visiting Atlanta.  David used his new chain saw t cut down the big branches.  I used our "lopper" to lop them down to more manageable size and then I piled them in front of the house.  The city is supposed to come by people's homes (were supposed to be here by now, but presumably are extending the time) and pick up yard waste - leaves, branches, etc.  They do that twice a year, fall and spring.  Here's our pile (it is now somewhat reduced because a very ancient looking man came by over the weekend and stashed the wood in the back of a very ancient looking car.  I hope it helps him heat what is probably a very ancient looking home, wherever that is):

 

 

 

 

Ironically - the city came and picked up the debris while I was writing this!

 

Meanwhile I owe photos of the boys since I didn't get to take any while in Atlanta - I didn't take these but this is how they look. First, Halloween - the Green Ninja and Mr. Pizza Slice:

 

 

  Followed by gorgeous Cello:

And Mr. handsome personality, Cachao:

 

 What else?  My new treasurer responsibilities at the synagogue are wearing on me.  I know part of it is that I don't know what I'm doing yet, so it takes me a long time to do what is probably ends up being not a great result.  On top of that, being treasurer puts me on the board of a Jewish organization.  The old saying - Two Jews, Three Opinions - is definitely in play here.  The only thing I dislike more than corporate politics is politics within a Jewish organization.  And yet, I am deeply committed to being a Jew.  It can be painful, frustrating, and in general it is very like what it means to be part of a family, in this instance, a very very extended family.  I don't come from a very extended family, and my own "nuclear" (probably a Freudian usage of that term) family was broken apart before I was conscious.  I'm sure that's part of what sent me on a search that ended with my becoming Jewish more than 31 years ago now. 

 

Something I read in this week's New Yorker short story struck a chord with me.  I'm going to quote a long bit of it.  It is from "The Alaska of Giants and Gods" by Dave Eggers:

 

"She had been born a blank. Her parents were blanks.  All her relatives were blanks, though many were addicts, and she had a cousin who identified as an anarchist.  But otherwise Josie's people were blanks.  They were from nowhere. To be American is to be a blank, and a true American is truly blank. So Josie was truly a great American. 

 

"Still, she'd heard occasional and vague references to Denmark. Once or twice she heard her parents mention some connection to Finland. Her parents knew nothing about these nationalities, these cultures. They cooked no national dishes, they taught Josie no customs, and they had no relatives who cooked national dishes or had customs. They had no clothes, no flags, no banners, no sayings, no ancestral lands or villages or folktales. When she was thirty-two, and had wanted to visit some village, somewhere, where her people had come from, none of her relatives had any idea at all where to go.  One uncle thought he could be helpful.  Everyone in our family speaks English, he said. Maybe you should go to England? ..."

 

I think perhaps that the basis for the success that right-wing jingoist (and racist) propaganda by Republicans and other so-called conservatives have with mostly middle-aged to older white people, especially men, is tied to such persons being "great American ... blanks" who are looking for that tie, that connection, and are being offered it as "American" culture. 

 

Anyway, that's what I've been thinking about.  But Sunday morning on our walk, Ella and I went, as usually, to the Apprenticeshop's pier and watched the sun come up,  We stopped across the street afterwards and I took this photo.

 

 

 

Peace.

 

 

 

 

Fall into winter?

I am back from my visit to Atlanta - a good visit,  little longer than usual.  The highlight, of course, was Cachao's 8th birthday which falls on Halloween.  That morning I went with Sam to Cachao's school to watch the Halloween parade.  All the kids dress up in costumes (ostensibly as a character from a book which each child carries) and parade through the school with parents and family there to watch.  Cachao went as a green ninja, but  I couldn't get a clear photo of him - the kids moved so quickly.  I did get a slightly blurry one of a kindergartner dressed as Audrey Hepburn (I wonder what her book was?):

The visit was also good as Corinne is now in Atlanta and I had time with her, as well as time with Sam.  I was able to get to know Cello better, and even saw John.  On Sunday we played whiffleball in John's backyard - John, Sam, Corinne, and Cachao - Cachao can really hit that ball.  Corinne, Cachao and I visited the Eastlake Community Garden to tend Corinne's plots.  Cachao got to feed Egbert, the pig, and various goats, first some tasty specialty cabbage leaves from Corinne's gardens, and then kudzu when the creatures would have eaten Corinne's garden down to the last shoot of green. 

Here's a picture of Cachao at the farm that Corinne took:

Meanwhile, back in Maine, we had our first snow of the season - reminiscent of the big October snowstorm in Connecticut that left 3/4 of the state without power for days on end (for us, 11 days). This year in Maine, as in Connecticut then, there were still many leaves on the trees. While our town only got about 6 inches of snow, there were very high winds and David lost power for about 12 hours or so. Some places lost power for days, so we were lucky I guess. A tree in our back yard fell on our neighbor's garage. Apparently there was no damage to the garage, but the fallen tree now has to be removed (David now has his own chain saw - once the tree is removed, perhaps he'll sign up for chain saw carving classes!)

Our forsythia bush in the front was somewhat abused as well:

 

Well, that's the news from NoRo.  Oh, I hear you ask - what's NoRo?  Apparently there are a couple of artists who are trying to turn their home - which was first a church down the street from us in our neighborhood, then an apartment building, and now a very large home - into an art gallery.  They are trying to art-ify (you know - art-i-fy, to make art-sy) the north end of Rockland, which apparentlyhas had a less savory reputation historically.  Hey, we live in the north end and we like it here.  Anyway, ergo ... North Rockland = NoRo.  So...

 

Peace, Peace, from NoRo to all points of the compass and beyond.

It slips away...

Time goes by, fall arrives.  The weather is ... odd.  A Nor'easter parked in the Gulf of Maine dropped 4-5 inches of water over 4 days.  Finally the sun came out this weekend. 

Friday night was "Uke Night" at a local music store.  David and I went.  There seemed to be about 20 or 25 people there, including kids, younger people and, of course, our generation was well represented.  We took turns suggesting tunes from the Daily Ukulele (a songbook with 365 tunes), and then strumming them.  We were likely among the less accomplished players, but it was still fun.

Saturday night we went to the Rockport Opera House to a concert of local Maine folk musicians to support a local Maine organization - We The People (wethepeoplemaine.me) - which is part of a larger national movement to repeal the Supreme Court's Citizens United decision through a Constitutional amendment.  The hall was packed (again, our generation well in attendance, actually very over-represented), the music was good, the feeling was upbeat.

 As we were driving home last night, I asked David if it seemed to him that there was more "going on" here - culturally, politically, etc. - than there had been in Connecticut, or if we are just more attuned to it. He thinks there is more going on. I think in Connecticut the "goings on" seemed to be targeted at the wealthier - Hartford Stage, Hartford Symphony, etc. - while here there are a lot of smaller, more locally based happenings happening. Not a very scientific analysis, I guess.

So here's another sample from the Free Press "Miscellaneous" section of the local Calendar of Events:

• "Extreme Savings: A Crash Course in Couponing," 6-8 p.m., Great Salt Bay School, Damariscotta. $24: 563-2811 or clcae@aos93.org.
• "How & Why to Keep Bees in Top Bar Hives," 6-8 p.m., Medomak Valley High School, Waldoboro. $20: 832-5205 or msad40.MaineAdultEd.org.
• "History and Myth in Russian Foreign Policy," 7 p.m., Camden Library. Prof. Seth Singleton gives the free talk.
• "Tugboat Work & Seamanship," 7 p.m., Rockport Opera House's meeting room. Talk by Captain Ron Hawkins.

I like how you have to spend money to learn about "extreme savings".  Do you think you have to bring your own bee or bee hive to the bee class?  The tugboat event sounded interesting, but I think we missed it already.

Today was chore day - vacuum, rake leaves, mow the lawn (dare I hope for the last time this season?), clean up a couple of the garden beds and mulch.  Hard work, especially the raking.

I am getting ready to travel to Atlanta this coming week for Cachao's 8th birthday and birthday party, to which I received a handwritten personal invitation informing me to come in a Ninja costume, to bring a present and my invitation, and in so doing, I will be able to join a Ninja dance, have dinner and Ninja birthday cake and go trick-or-treating.  Sound like fun?  Photos to come post-trip.

MPBN - our local public radio station, sponsored a contest recently, asking the question "What to MPBN listeners look like?" - and asking listeners to take a photo of themselves listening to MPBN and send it in.  Many were posted on the MPBN website.  Here's the one I sent in:

I wish you bright autumn leaves, chilly nights, frosty mornings, and Peace.

The birthday of the world

Here we go, into the new (Jewish) year--5775.  Rosh HaShannah at the local synagogue was good--a smaller turn-out than last year when the holiday fell during Labor Day week and we appear to have had a number of "summer" people who stayed over and attended services.  But services were good and I found them meaningful.  On the second day, David and I were invited to lunch at the home of the former treasurer and her husband, whom we've begun to get to know and already like very much.  It was a big crowd, probably 75% of those who attended services on the second day, but hamish and much delicious food.  Now we turn toward Yom Kippur, which this year comes on a Saturday.  Perhaps that will bring out a larger crowd; who knows.  The synagogue will have a Break Fast, but I don't think I'll attend.  I find I need to go home and revive privately.

Two weeks ago the visiting rabbi came for Shabbat and on Friday night suggested we use poetry to dig into the meaning of the holidays.  He invited us to bring favorite poems or our own poems, and I brought a poem I wrote many, many years ago when I lived in New York.  Since I left New York in 1992, the poem must be at least 25 years old, probably more.  It arose from my surprise at finding that although during the year, synagogue Shabbat services would be attended by some number of people - perhaps 75-100, depending on what was going on - for the High Holidays (Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur), Jews would seem to come out of the woodwork and we might have 1,500 people attending services.  Here is the poem:

The Year Yom Kippur Came on Wednesday
 
we tumble from our beds our bellies growling
feet tramping through the halls and down
the stairs in canvas shoes so odd a match with

our best suits and bright skirts we dribble out to

sidewalks join in rivulets and merge in streams to

rush and pour into our sanctuaries where we stand

and sit and stand and fast as fast as hours pass in

prayer and penitence we beat our breasts confessing

lists of sins when we're not slipping out and in and

out again to catch the latest word on who's been

born and who passed on this year still finding time

to stir the lost sweet ache to weep to watch the

chazzan throw himself upon the floor become

a waterfall a woman's sobs white shredded clouds

in steeped blue skies each note a shard that

tears our hearts above our bended knees

at last the shofar blast we bow we leave to drink to eat
to laugh to weep to live and die again as
one by one each of us a single sheep passes by Him
unaware of what a miracle the Shepherd sees this Wednesday

October 12th will be the second anniversary of our move to Maine.  Every day I am happy we made that decision, my morning walks with Ella are a gift.  One recent morning:

May each person and every living thing on our world be sealed in the book of life for peace, for health, for prosperity in the year to come.  I have a feeling that would be okay with God--it's just us human beings that are likely to have an issue with it.  Still hope will not let go.  Stubbornly it sinks its frail roots into dry worn-out soil and hangs on, even in the face of the coming winter.  (300,000 people marched in New York City to warn of the perils of climate change.  When is the last time 300,000 people marched in this country for anything?) 

So, Happy Birthday, World.
If not us, who?  If not now, when?
Peace, peace, far and near.

So...

So ... I haven't posted lately because my computer is having troubles... again.  Same issue that came up around July 4th holiday weekend, being locked out and being told the password I enter isn't right.  Last time I called Apple Support and they walked me through sort of re-booting the system.  I haven't had time, or energy, to go through my personal desk to see if I (hopefully) took notes on the steps they walked me through.  If I didn't, my choices will be 1) calling Apple again (which means waiting on the phone 20-30 minutes and then, likely this time, paying money) or 2) taking the laptop to a local computer place, which also means money (and probably time).  There's a place around the corner from us that says it is an authorized Mac service place.  I just have been too demoralized to deal with it.  Since my iPod still works, I can see my personal email there; listen to music (at least the music already on the iPod) and listen to podcasts (which still automatically download).

Then this morning, I used David's computer to log on to my personal email (needed to use his computer just so I could capture a URL from eBay to send it to someone) and after I did that, he had problems logging in to eBay, so now I'm stressed that I somehow screwed up his computer.

But the bottom line is - f**king technology is taking over our lives, we come to "need" it and depend on it and get stressed and strung out if we can't use it when we want it.  Yesterday I got a marketing call from Time Warner, our internet, home phone and cable TV provider.  The woman wanted to tell me about a new "package" that would deliver "hundreds of movies" to me for just another $8 or $10 a month.  "I don't watch movies" I told the woman.  "Well, the package includes other entertainment options..." "I don't much care for 'entertainment,' I told her, "I barely care for Time Warner Cable."  So she gave up. 

That's the goal for next year, I think, when our "discounted" (if you can call it that) price for Time Warner's "triple play" package (internet, phone and cable tv---which was actually "cheaper" than buying only internet and phone) expires - get rid of cable TV, get rid of home phone (get MagicJack) and keep only internet from Time Warner (unless a better option comes along).

My next door neighbor doesn't have a computer.  She doesn't have internet.  She doesn't have cable TV.  She reads a lot.  She gardens.  She's not technologically illiterate.  At work she uses a computer, the Internet.  She watches movies on DVDs from the library.  She is a civilized person and, perhaps, my role model.

So that's what's going on.  I'm squeezing in this posting using another computer.  My next post may not be until my own laptop is repaired.  I am off to Connecticut next week for work and a check-up with my oncologist.  So I may not have time to deal with the computer until I return.

But don't worry.  I am here.  Ella and I continue to enjoy morning walks.  Fall is coming.  It makes Ella frisky. There is crispness in the air.  Northern and interior Maine have frost warnings in the evening.  Yesterday morning I forgot to bring Ella's ball with us on our walk. Down by the water where we stop and I usually throw the ball for her to chase, there's a pear tree. So I threw pears that had fallen on the ground, and Ella chased and returned them to me. What I found interesting was that she barely scratched the skin of the pear. A soft mouth. 

Rosh HaShannah - the Jewish New Year - approaches - the birthday of the world.  The day on which our tradition says that each of us, in fact, each living thing, the whole world, is judged for life... or for... 

I hope God is in a good mood, feeling lenient and more optimistic about humanity that I feel these days.  Otherwise, we may be in trouble...

Peace.

At dawn, shouts of joy...

One may lie down weeping at nightfall,

            but at dawn there are shouts of joy. (Psalm 30)

Maybe there is something wrong with me (well, okay, there certainly is something wrong with me, but I mean one specific thing).  I seem to have an almost irrepressible drive to wake up each morning and feel ... happy ... even joyous.  Given the state of the world, given the suffering - war, poverty, racism, violence, sexism, disease, hunger - I feel guilty about this, a shallow and self-involved person.  Over the course of a day, the weight of the world comes back, pulls me to it, and the pain and outrage vibrates.  But in the morning...

... joy!

In the meantime, August flies by.

My friend Cyndy and her sister-in-law Pam stopped by for a quick visit.  (Cyndy and I worked together at SNET beginning in 1996 when I moved from Atlanta to Connecticut the first time, until 1998, when I moved back South - gosh, so long ago! - and have stayed in touch ever since, even with Cyndy's move to Florida.) The three of us visited the Rockland breakwater and walked around "downtown" Rockland.  It was good to see her.  Cyndy even made some noises about finding a summer home up here in Maine when she retires in a few years.  I say to ALL my friends:  Come on up!

One wonderful thing that has been happening lately is my grandson, Cachao's, calls.  Starting a couple of months ago he began calling me to tell me he had finished another book in the series he is writing called "Captain Booger."  Those who are parents or grandparents of young ones will hear the echo in that title of the smash hit children's series called "Captain Underpants."  Cachao has been reading that series for several years, but about a year ago he began creating his own series.  Each book is between 10 and 25 pages, with text and drawings.  On yesterday's call, Cachao read me book number 40, the first of "season 6" of the series.  Of course, over the phone I miss the drawings.  But the sound effects - the title of "season 6" is "In Space" - were outstanding!  Anyway, it is just lovely to have the home phone ring, answer it and hear my grandson's voice.  And besides reading his own creations, we chat about other things, too.  I expect to talk to him again this weekend.  The littler guy, Cello, also likes to "talk" on the phone, although I wouldn't really call the experience a "conversation" but I like to hear his voice.  And I need to pay attention, because in a blink of an eye he'll be as big as Cachao is now! (Cello is 3, Cachao is almost 8.)

Meanwhile I'm thinking about news from family and friends, which is ... like most of life I guess ... up and down.  Up - a dear young man I know, Joseph, has been offered a very good job in his field with a very good organization.  It restores my faith in the ability to have hope about young people's futures in today's world.  Down - a good friend here lost her job, and not that long after receiving a promotion.  It was a case, I think, of the management not realizing that they had promoted to management an ethical person who would actually take her job seriously and do what was right.  Apparently that was problem for them.  But to be without a job again when one is closing in on 60, to be a single parent with a mortgage ... it must be gut wrenching, particularly at a certain stage of life.  Up - my daughter tells me she found a "job," definitely not a career but it will pay something and money coming in offsets money going out.  It is one step toward the future she so dearly desires (and deserves).

Summer is not lingering in mid coast Maine - which is actually fine with me.  The nights have been cool (50's), the days mild to warm to occasionally very warm (80's), but the spiral down to fall is now apparent.  Trees have begun coloring and dropping leaves.  First to go brown seems to be the Horse Chestnut, which I recall was the very first to bear green in the spring.  But also other trees.  Here's the first red leaves on a maple around the corner:

So heading into September on Monday - also Labor Day - here's a taste of what's happening around here:

• Donuts, Coffee, Conversation, Fridays, 9 a.m. Spectrum Generations Knox Center, Rockland. $1.
• Qi Gong at Thomaston Academy, Fridays, 11:30 a.m.-12:30 p.m. Chinese exercise for all ages. FMI: 354-2453.
• Free Pole Dancing Classes, Fridays, 5:30 p.m., through August, Studio V, 407 Main St., Rockland. FMI: 941-718-0847.
• Fellowship of the Spirit Step Study Group, Saturdays, 7-8 a.m., St. Margaret's Church, 95 Court St., Belfast. FMI: 505-5266.
• Meditation Group, Saturdays, 7-8 a.m., Belfast Dance Studio, 109 High St.

It is hard to decide what to choose - coffee and donuts sounds good, but free pole dancing classes?  Maybe I'll go meditate on the question and if I can't decide, join the spirit step study group to know myself better first.

Peace.

Hands up! Don't shoot!

Ferguson, Missouri - why does a city of 70,000 people need a police force with tanks and automatic rifles?   A city that is 60% black with a white mayor and 1 black person on the city council.  Oh, maybe that's why tanks and automatic rifles are needed.  Who can imagine a scenario in which an 18 year old white man would have been shot 6 times in the same circumstances - cops stopping 2 young white man walking down the middle of the street, leading to leaving one lying dead in his own blood on the street?    But, wait, hear all the voices - including Obama's - telling (black) people to calm down, to protest peacefully, violence never helps.  Someone should have told that to the cop that shot down Michael Brown.  Oh, wait, that's what Dr. King said before Selma, 50 years ago.  Oh, wait, Dr. King was shot down.  Remember Watts?  Remember Rodney King?  Remember Treyvon Martin?  

And then there is the Islamic State fka ISIS, Islamic State of Iraq and Syria.  Forced conversions to Islam or summary executions.  Selling women and children into slavery - in 2014.  

How did that "women's cigarette" brand used to advertise itself?   Virginia Slims - you've come a long way, baby!  Oh, we human beings have come a long way, ain't we baby cakes?  We used to burn people at the stake if they would not convert to Christianity.  We used to kidnap black people, lock them in the bellies of ships and sell them into slavery in the "new" world.  We used to occupy people's homeland, wipe them out, and then "negotiate" a "settlement" granting them a "reservation".  We used discriminate against people of color, against women, against gay people.   But we're way past all that now, aren't we?  Well done, human race.  God must be very happy with us these days.

That's all I have to say today, except:

"It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, but neither are you at liberty to desist from it" (Avot 2:21) - Rabbi Tarfon.  

Wage peace.  

Summertime

Summertime, and the  living continues to be stressful.  

When I thought things at work could not be more stressful... well, let's just say, I was wrong.  I think the bottom line is that I have never learned how in the corporate environment to lay low, play games, suck up when necessary, and generally maneuver "politically" to put protecting my own (ample) butt ahead of all else.  I've never been good at that, even when it would have benefited me.  I tend to treat all people as people, rather than worrying about who is important and who not, whose bony or other ass needs to be kissed, and whose can be ignored.   I tend to think other people operate the same way.  The result - again and again I am surprised when people are willing to stab each other in the back to get an advantage or will deflect a justified criticism (oh, sorry, I should have said "will fail to take advantage of a growth opportunity") by making a personal attack.  I suppose this is a "growth opportunity" for me - to model myself after those around me so that finally, before I "retire," I too can learn to contribute by looking after number one first and always.  That may be one new trick this old dog doesn't want or just is not able to learn.  As a result, I finally do see the end of my corporate "career" in sight in the not distant future - depending on other local job possibilities, finances, etc.  I'm not sure what will come next for me or exactly when.  But life is too short to spend it like this.

Better news:  

Our friend Jon visited from California.  Once he shared his personal history of being dragged out on boats by his family where he hung over the rail and barfed, we avoided boats.  But we had a good albeit short visit - we went (for me, back) to the Farnsworth Museum, took a walk on the Rockland Breakwater, drove up Mt. Battle to see the view, shared several good meals at local restaurants, and enjoyed just catching up.  Yesterday I learned that our friend Cyndy, formerly from Connecticut and now from Florida, may come to visit toward the end of August.  Something to look forward to.  (By the way, thanks to Cyndy and others who encouraged me to keep up this blog.)

The weather has been alternately hot followed by rain followed by a typical Maine summer day followed by more hot, more rain, etc.  The garden has generally thrived from this but our radishes were a bust.  I think I failed to thin them soon enough and then let them grow too "woody".  The carrots are looking  very robust, but we haven't pulled any yet.  The grape tomatoes planted in the raised bed are thin and feeble looking. We've had a few tomatoes from them, but the plants just didn't do well.  My neighbor Melissa says Japanese beetles have been a problem for her tomatoes, so maybe for mine, too.  The one grape tomato plant I put in separately over by the side of the house is thriving.  The jalapeño peppers are finally coming in.  We've been eating cucumbers from our garden.

Locally - we made it through the Maine Lobster Festival and this weekend, the Boat, Home and Something or Other show.  We skipped the Lobster Festival and went to the Boat show  yesterday.  Best thing was a local Ukulele band that had a repertoire of 1400 songs.  You could request a song by name or call out a number.  In addition to ukuleles, their instruments included an electric bass guitar, drums (including congo drums), an electric stand-up banjo bass, a saw, a kazoo, a flute, and more that I forget.  Tonight we may go kayaking off the coast with a group in a "super moon" paddle.

Meanwhile, here's what's coming up locally - if you don't have equally exciting happenings where you live, why don't you come up and join us:

• Talk by Hope Elephants Director, 1 p.m., St. Andrews Village, Boothbay Harbor. Andrew Stewart talks about the threats elephants face in the wild. Free, space limited; RSVP: 633-0920.

• Insect Walk in Edgecomb, 1-2:30 p.m., Singing Meadow Preserve, Cross Point Road. Join entomologist Clay Kirby for an entertaining stroll in search of singing insects. FMI: bbrlt.org or 633-4818.

• "The Truth About Bats," 5 p.m., Project Puffin Visitor Center, 311 Main St., Rockland. Expert Annie Kassler gives the slidetalk about our winged allies and their critical place in the planet's ecology and global economies. With wine and cheese. Reservations: 596-5566.

• "Race, Violence, and Friendship: Mississippi, 1964 and 2014," 7 p.m., Jackson Memorial Library, Tenants Harbor. Talk by David Riley and members of his family about Freedom Summer, its voter registration drives and a reunion of activists.

Actually, this may be the most quintessentially Maine event in the Free Press this week:

Quilt Whisperer" Gives Workshop, Sat., Aug. 16, 2 p.m., Federated Church, Hyler St., Thomaston. Bonnie Dwyer shows more than 25 from her collection and explains how to determine age and care for quilts. Bring your own for her to identify. Free.

Or maybe not, maybe this one:

"How to Kill a Zombie," Fri., Aug. 15, 7 p.m. The Maine-made action-comedy makes its debut at Flagship Cinemas in Thomaston, and continues through Thurs., Aug. 21, at 1 and 7 p.m. daily. Actors from the film will attend the 7 p.m. showing Sat., Aug. 16, and participate in a Q&A after the screening.

Peace.  Soon.  Please.

Things that matter

I don't even know how to write about the past  weeks since I last wrote - and even before, since my last trip to Connecticut.  The overarching shadow over all has been stress:  stress at work, stress about taking on the treasurer role at the synagogue, stress about my daughter's life and stress about the plight of the world.

I think I may have been made gun shy about posting to (or at least about what I post to) this "blog"  during my last visit to Connecticut.  While I sat with friends one evening, personal "blogs" came to be the subject of some gentle mocking by friends.  Of course, I don't think the friends' intention was to mock me specifically - several didn't even know about this "blog" -  but nonetheless, the ribbing made me look and think with a more critical (and hesitant) eye at posting here.

I don't think I've been a poster of "I got up, and had this and this for breakfast, went to the grocery store, took a shower, ate lunch..." type posts - but on the other hand, what if I have on occasion?  Perhaps I need to remind myself that although I am pleased if/when any friends (or even others) read anything I've posted here, my main purpose for writing here is for myself (and perhaps, someday, for my children and grandchildren).  This so-called "blog" has never aimed to provide highfalutin spiritual, political or ideological commentary on the meaning of life nor is it based on the belief that anyone - even me - is interested in documenting a daily/hourly journal of my daily thoughts or activities.  

When I began here, I wanted to record what it felt like to uproot my life (yet again)  and move to a new place, and specifically THIS place - a  city of 7,500 on the coast of a largely uninhabited state (all of Maine has 1,500,000 residents; Queens, NY had more than that; even Connecticut - a much smaller state - had about 4,000,000 people), to own a house for the first time since 1977, to join a new Jewish community,  living with David, putting down roots - real roots - for the first time in my entire life, growing old here and facing whatever the rest of life brings.

If giving a sense of life here gives rise to smiles - well, good, can't we all laugh more?  For example, another example of a sequence of events from this week's Free Press calendar of events:

 •  Mutt Scrub in Boothbay Harbor, 11 a.m.-3 p.m., Two Salty Dogs, 22 Mc-Kown St. DJ Meow Meow hosts a doggie talent show at 1 p.m. Doggie Musical Chairs at noon and 2 p.m. Dog washing, raffles, treats for humans and dogs, nail trimming and face painting. Donations go to Lincoln County Animal Shelter.
• "Unleashing God: Ezekiel and the Northern Lights," 3-4:30 p.m., Old Professor's Bookshop, 99 Main St., Belfast. The free presentation is given by the Old Professor himself.
• "Front Porch and Log Cabin: The Presidents' Homes and the Presidential Image," 2 p.m., Rockland Library. Architectural historian Esley Hamilton gives the free presentation.

Perhaps conveying some idea of what it feels like to live here - like this - walking Ella at just after sunrise, through thick Maine fog.

And always, if my eyes are open, finding beauty in small things - like the dawn sun on the water, turning it golden, a flock of ducks zigging through the glowing sea, another day beginning, breathing deep, and finding hope:

Peace.

Foggy morning, vacation over...

Not a lot of time to write this morning, so I will just post some photos from our "vacation" days and the visit of the Benjamin's.  Then back to work.

 Light house at Point Clyde from where we took the ferry to Monhegan Island.

Along the way, the ferry captain slowed down so we could see Harbor Seals sunning themselves.

View from the hill on which the Monhegan Lighthouse stands, looking down at the harbor, Mañana Island behind the harbor.  The large building is the Monheban Inn.  We had lunch there.  Delicious fish tacos, spinach salad and portabello mushroom "burger".

 The Monhegan Lighthouse.

We hiked across the island (which is one square mile, but has 12 miles of trails) to the cliffs on the eastern side.  Here's the view.  Pretty spectacular.

On the cliffs, we had a visitor - this gull who plucked up some grass and seemed to want to trade it for a bite of granola bar.

Several places on the island had do-it-yourself "bulletin boards" like this, announcing events.  It is useful to know that one can find a meditation group, a yoga class, ultimate Frisbee game, inter-denomination worship, and chili contest.

 Leaving Monhegan, this is the entrance to the harbor.

And Monhegan fades into the foggy distance.

A good day.

Peace.

Weathering it...

The last couple weeks have been so overlaid with stress from work, it's even hard to remember them. As if life - including my own - is going on somewhere else than where I am.  The last couple of days, a crescendo.  (Interesting that both Helen and my neighbor, Melissa, could tell my stress level had increased more than just a normal ratchet up - Helen, just from the tone of my voice over the phone, Melissa, from how tired she said I seem.  Both right.)

The only exception, my morning walk with Ella - and any other time I get away from my desk and get to walk with her.  Even my ukulele class was not particularly relaxation-inducing because I was late for it because my boss's boss called.

Meanwhile, mid coast Maine weather has been changeable - from out right warm (80 degrees) to what I think of as more typical Maine June weather - chilly, foggy, misty - to beautiful, crystal clear late spring sunshine and 67 degrees.  Here are photos of a chilly, foggy morning last week, taken from the pier at the Aprenticeshop very early on the morning after a full moon.  It was low low tide - the lowest of the month.

See the sailboat tilting on its rudder - that's because the tide was SO low that morning!















And here is one from a crisp sunny spring morning just a day later:

Even Ella pays for my stress as my mid-day walks are being shortened or pushed later in the day.  But more than that, Ella is a stress-o-meter.  I don't need a blood pressure cuff.  I can tell if my blood pressure is elevated or I am generally stressed, because Ella goes somewhere and curls up, preferably in a small space such as under David's desk, or between the radiator, the couch and the end table.  Here is Ella, looking as ambivalent about life at that moment as I am feeling.

Ella bears all with canine patience and still finds an ability to jump up and leap in joy for the smallest good thing - like a squirrel daring to come up on our back deck, the UPS truck having the nerve to pull up across the street (who knows, what devious intent that brown truck may have - thank heavens Ella is there to warn us of its arrival!), a shared piece of cheese, a romp with a ball.

May my squirrel come soon.

Peace.

Work Stress More Stress More Work Rain and Remembering

Is it clear from the title of this post that I've been "busy" at work lately?  To clear my brain, I turn to our wonderful little local weekly paper, The Free Press, to see what other people nearby are up to in their lives.  Here's a selection from last weekend, I think:

Perennial & Herb Swap, 9-10 a.m., Spectrum Generations Coastal Community Center, 521 Main St., Damariscotta. Bring a perennial for the Center's beds. Annuals and vegetable seedlings also welcome. If you don't have plants to swap, you can buy them for $2-$6.

• Death Cafe Damariscotta, 9-10:30 a.m., Savory Maine, 11 Water St. The open group is a safe place to have a lively conversation about death. Reservations: 633-4432.

• Antique Autos at Matthews Museum, 9 a.m.-noon, Union Fairgrounds. Dozens of antique cars will be on display. With free Moxie samples. Museum admission reduced to $3 for the day.

• Henry Knox Reading Circle to Meet, 10:30 a.m.-noon, Cole House next to Montpelier Mansion, Thomaston. The book is "American Crisis: George Washington and the Dangerous Two Years After Yorktown, 1781-1783" by William M. Fowler Jr. All are welcome.

• "Retrain Your Brain to Form Healthy Habits Through Yoga and Meditation," noon. Tammy Lee gives the presentation at Camden Library, as part of its Wellness Brown Bag Lunch series.

As usual, the above is a random selection of events listed here just as they appear in the paper.  There does seem to be something for everyone.  However, one particular event that caught my eye is apparently happening today.  Too bad about work stress work more work more stress - I guess I'll be missing:

"Sugar, Sex, and Poison: Shocking Plant Secrets Caught on Camera," 1 p.m., St. Andrews Village, Boothbay Harbor. Bill Cullina, executive director of Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens, gives the talk. Free, but space is limited, so save your seat: 633-0920.

Would you call that "Plant Porn" or maybe "Plant Punk"?  Who knew?

From the ridiculous to the only too real - today  what I really want to do is remember Danny Friedman in my mind and my heart.  I look across the room from where I sit typing this and see the banjo he gifted David with - that I think possibly may have changed David's life.  He plays it every day.  He "played" banjo before Danny's banjo, but since has been "serious" about it (or at least as serious as a banjo player can be - banjos just make you smile!)  More than that, Danny gave a gift of friendship and trust and belief in David's commitment to music that made (and still makes) David glow. I think of how my own life was touched by Danny - the first person in Connecticut to welcome me, take me home to Susan and her Shabbat dinner, make me part of the family whose friendship sheltered me in difficult days, laughed with me and still reaches out to me.  Danny, may his memory continue to bless David, me and most of all, his family who must miss him so.  

Peace upon Danny's soul, and peace upon all of us who cling to this planet and hurtle through space into an unknown future.

Blah blah blah blah June, Blah blah blah blah Moon

The title of this post comes from an Ira Gershwin lyric, can't remember the song title right now.  However, it is June.  The moon last night was about a quarter full.  This morning the sky is blue, the sun is shining and there is a soft breeze.  It is a beautiful day in mid coast Maine.  That's good because I badly need to be restored after this last week at work. 

This morning Ella and I got out earlier than usual - we were up at 5:00 am and walking by 5:30.  We stopped down at the waterfront and I sat for a while on a bench at one of the businesses on Front Street, Ella laying in the early sunshine on the grass at my feet.  When we got up and walked on, I took a couple photos.

First, this is a roll of shrink-wrap plastic - boat-size.  The photo doesn't really show the scale.  It's probably 12-15 feet high.

 Then these from Ulmer's point - a boat in dry dock  being worked on, and next, what the working water front looks like at 5:45 am (the Rockland Breakwater Lighthouse in the background).

I've been thinking about what my morning walks mean to me (and since David's been working full-time, my mid-afternoon walks, too, and recently, as David's heel pain has continued to bother him - much better now, but not quite completely well - often my evening walks as well.  But most of all, my morning walks.)

Each day to rise, dress, brush my teeth, and be out the door with Ella into the morning - whatever it might be that day - within 15 minutes of shaking off sleep, and within 10 more minutes walking, to be by the water, seeing the sun - depending on the season - just peeking over the horizon, or shining behind Vinalhaven island, the water variously misty, sparkling, wrinkled, glittering, roiling, or smooth as deeply blue or grey or green glass.  Wheeling overhead the gulls.  Calling from the trees, the wires overhead, the rooftops, the sky - birds, birds and more birds.  

Doing this every single day, day in and day out, month in, month out, and now year in, year out - when it is still dark when we go out into the morning, and when it is broad daylight, in the rain, the sunshine, through mist, fog, snow, sleet, when it is below freezing, or there is a warm spring breeze, when summer's heat is already apparent at dawn - whatever the season, the weather, the temperature, every single day, for more than 18 months, rising to walk, to smell the air, to hear the sounds, to watch the trees and bushes and other plants cycle through their seasons' garb.  Almost always to be the only ones out there.  Now become so familiar, and still, every single day new, wondrous, different.

I wonder how I lived in the days when I awoke in a concrete building in a concrete city and walked concrete streets to descend into a concrete tunnel to ride a machine through more tunnels to reach more concrete, breathing day in and day out the exhalations of millions of others doing the same.  (The plus side - I didn't even know I had allergies.  How could I?  There was no green.) How do we human beings, who evolved and lived for tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of years in, and on, and of green and living lands, how do we come to live in concrete?  

I watched a video posted by my dear friend 'Scabless' Sue on FB today about "concentrated industrial farming" - the images are horrendous, and we ask ourselves how we can put 4,000 chickens into a space that public safety codes would limit to hold at most 100 persons, how we can "raise" pigs in metal cages where their limbs poke through bars.  Do we not see that we are doing the same to our own species?  

Breathe.  Peace.  Breathe.

Peace.

90 minutes of sun

Another overcast day with occasional spits of rain drops.  David had to work and I ran errands, among them, buying some flowers for pots on the back deck and front stoop.  Our next door neighbor, Melissa, has 3 sons, 2 of whom live out of town and are here visiting.  She invited us to join them for a "picnic" (outside or in, depending on the weather) late this afternoon, so some of my errands were preparing for that, including picking up charcoal.  I also stopped at EBS, a local Maine hardware store right up the street from our house.  

(Background on the EBS shopping spree:  When I was in Atlanta, we went out for lunch on Cello's 3rd birthday to The Cheesecake Factory.  On the way there, Cachao found a 'treasure' on the sidewalk outside - a very dirty and slightly rusty steel washer (as in bolts and washers).  We had lunch, rather quickly as Cello had seen someone else celebrating a birthday across the restaurant who had a group of colorful helium filled balloons and he became fixated on - and cranky about - having a balloon of his own.  One thing led to another and we left the restaurant rather quickly - with the result that Cachao forgot to bring his 'treasure.' Yep, the precious washer was left behind.  He was heartbroken, as only a 7 year old can be over a dirty "found" treasure.  I promised that when I got home, I would get him more washers and send them to him.  I thought we had some here at the house (and maybe David does have some) but I couldn't find any in my tool box or around David's workshop in the basement.  So I decided to buy him some washers - ergo, my visit to EBS today.)

A very nice man at EBS asked if he could help me find something.  I told him I was there to buy "some washers".  So he took me to the right aisle, and I explained about Cachao's tragic lost washer and why I wanted to buy him some replacements.  The EBS clerk was very kind, and helped me pick out 4 different sizes of washers, 3 of each size, at a whopping total cost of $1.42.  (It will definitely cost more to mail them than it did to buy them.)

Next, some bad news - my car did the stalling out thing again in the EBS parking lot.  Eventually I was able to keep it running long enough to get home (about a block away).  A trip to the mechanic is definitely in the car's future.

Then some good news - the sun came out.  Actually shone.  The sky was blue.  There were white puffy clouds floating overhead.  I seized the opportunity to plant the lovely lavender and arrange the  colors of coleus around it in the little bed by the back stairs.  I can't wait to see the coleus thrive and fill out the bed with bright colors:

I also planted pansies in the new clay pot I bought last week.  They will end up on the front stoop I think, but for now, they're next to the garage.




I planted another flowering plant in a hanging planter at the end of the garage.

I ended up with had a few extra coleus and pansies which I put in smaller pots on the back stairs together with one red and one yellow Purslane.  (Purslane is the plant I found late in the summer last year, that spread out so wonderfully across the large round planter.  I'm hoping these will do so again this year.  And Purslane is edible!  Can't say I tried it in my salad last year, but maybe this summer?) About the time I finished potting these, the sun once again vanished.  Gray skies, overcast, spritzing rain periodically.  Meanwhile, on the couch, near the front window, Ella sat guard, patiently, making sure no UPS driver sneaks up on us:  

Ella had received her own invitation to Melissa's tonight and joined us there after dinner.  Good food, and lots of it, and a good time had by all.  

David is off work tomorrow, and I - lucky me - am off tomorrow, Monday and Tuesday!  Best thing about that is being off three more days.  Next best thing is going back to work and having a 3 day week.  And then Susan F. called and we chatted about grandchildren, growing old, the relative wrinkled-ness of old friends, high school reunions, and, well, you know.  A lovely end to a good day.

May there be peace (and sunshine), near and far, for one and all.