Say Their Names - Black Lives Matter

America's own particular "exceptionist" brand of racism has again lifted its ugly and brutal head to strike out with terror.  This time, its victims were 9 members of an historic Afro-American church in Charleston, South Carolina:  Miss Sharonda, Rev. Pinckney, Miss Cythina, Mr. Tywanza, Miss Myra, Miss Ethel, Mr. Daniel, Miss Susie, and Rev. Middleton.  Say each name.  Remember each loving and loved person, murdered in something even worse than cold blood:  in a hot blooded intentional racist act of terrorism in a state in which the state flag serves as an inspiration to just that racist ideology.  How is that possible?  Sure the Republican governor called it an act of "terrorism".  Did she lower the state flag to half mast?  What does it mean to lower the flag that flew over 4 million enslaved Black people to "mourn" the murders of nine?

Here in Maine, the state legislature just passed a budget that cut off aid (food stamps, housing subsidies) to new LEGAL immigrants, in this case, mostly Africans from Somalia, etc.  New immigrants are not allowed to work for 6 months - and how are they supposed to live in the meantime?  According to our Republican governor, Paul LePage, they can starve and live on the street!  That is his idea of "welfare reform" - and the "liberal" Democrats in our state government caved and voted for that budget - which includes income tax breaks weighted heavily for those making over $300,000 - because otherwise the government could have "shut down."  Which do you choose - death by hanging, death by poison?

That's Maine.  That's America.  Who will do something about it?  If not me, you, us, then who?  If not now, how many more will go hungry, homeless, be slaughtered in the streets and even in Bible study groups?  

I feel guilty even changing the subject to my own life... but life goes on... and I have had the privilege - unlike those whose lives were ended in Charleston this week - of having lived the week they died.  I should be, I am grateful for that privilege.  And for this...

David has retired - hurrah - and after my own several very stressful weeks at work, I had a lovely week of vacation during which we had a visit from my cousin Melissa, her husband John, and their son Austin.

 We began with a walk out the Rockland Breakwater, followed by dinner at a new local seafood restaurant.  

Sunday we took a "Puffin Cruise" from Port Clyde, with time for a walk to the lighthouse there first.

We visited the Lighthouse Museum, took a trip to the Owl's Head Lighthouse and the beach at Birch Point State Park.  We had dinner at the Lobster Pound in Lincolnville (one experience I probably wouldn't recommend repeating).  We drove up to Mount Battie in Camden State Park for a wonderful view of Penobscot Bay, including here, Camden Harbor:

Melissa, John and Austin took Captain Jack's lobster boat outing out of Rockland Harbor. Austin got to watch lobster traps being hauled up, lobsters taken out and measured as keepers or not, other sea creatures identified (and in one case, eaten by someone on board - sea urchin sushi ....).  Melissa, John and Austin drove up to Acadia and spent one day.  Anyway, it was a lovely visit.

And now I have two more days (including today) before I have to go back to work, and then only 3 weeks or so until Sam and the boys come to visit.  Sam sent me some great photos from his father's family reunion, including this one:

My gorgeous grandsons!

Back to work tomorrow.  The only good thing about it is tomorrow is one more day toward the last day.   As I count them, with a week's vacation while Sam is here, I will have 21 working days left starting tomorrow.  

Now, I am (almost) officially ... old.  I applied for Social Security last week, to start in August (which means first check in late September--they make sure you have survived the month for which your benefit applies before they give it to you! Not sure how they expect you to survive in the meantime, but, hey, that's the great American way.)

For me, each day has the potential to begin like this one did last week:

May the memories of Miss Sharonda, Rev. Pinckney, Miss Cythina, Mr. Tywanza, Miss Myra, Miss Ethel, Mr. Daniel, Miss Susie, and Rev. Middleton be a blessing for their families, their congregation, their community, their state and for all of us in this country.  May we take courage from their memories to take action in their names.

Peace.

Blah blah blah blah moon, blah blah blah blah June... warning - long post

Here comes June.  David's fourth day post-work.  And day 40 and counting down for me.  40 sounds like a long time, and then I recall that 10 of those days at least will be "vacation" days.  

I've been thinking about the concept of "home."  This train of thought was triggered by the fact that on my drive back from Connecticut last week, when crossing from New Hampshire into Maine, I had a deep feeling of coming home.  

I remember talking to my brother John about our feelings about "home" in the days after our mother died.  John said that "home" to him had always been wherever our mother was.  That wasn't true for me.  I think back then I felt like a turtle, carrying my "home" on my back, so that "home" was wherever I was.  Not literally as in when I visited people, but wherever I lived at any time.  Of course I moved around a lot.  Once I moved 8 times in a 10 or 11 year period.  Recently I read a long NY Times article about Jackson Heights, in Queens, NY, and I posted on Facebook that Jackson Heights still feels like "home" to me.  And that's true on some level.  I think Jackson Heights did feel like home when I lived there.  For one thing, my kids came and lived with me after a period of separation  It's really where they did their growing up (and so did I, for that matter).  It's where I became Jewish.  It's where I lived when I really established a "career" in law.

I remember when Sam and I moved to Atlanta, I was very grateful at that point to leave New York.  Sam was struggling in school and I think I was ready for a change.  Atlanta felt open with possibilities.  I liked having a car again, the feeling of freedom.  Being near family - my brother in Atlanta, my mother in Tennessee - felt good.  And on some level, coming back South felt like coming home.  I think the incredibly loud Southern music of nightly insect concerts struck some deep childhood memory chord.  The vegetation, the climate, the insects of the South have always seemed deeply familiar.  

Likewise on moving to Connecticut I was so glad to be leaving Atlanta's heat, humidity, pollen, and traffic.  Connecticut did not feel like home, but it felt like a welcome change.  I loved watching the seasons change.  I loved the manageability of the "urban" environment.  No more 16 lanes of traffic on my commute; just a public bus ride.  And although I lived in Connecticut a long time - 96-98, and again 2000 - 2012, it didn't really ever feel like "home" in the same way that Jackson Heights did.  I think in part it's because I always knew I would leave some day.

So here I am, in Maine.  I think part of why this feels so much like "home" is our house.  This is only the second house I have ever bought.  The first was in Birmingham, Alabama, back in 1975.  My recollection is that it was much more Hayne who wanted to buy a house rather than rent than I.  And I don't think I ever looked at our house as a place we were going to live long term.  That's more because of my age - mid-20s - and what we were doing with our lives back then,  We were young.  We were radical.  Life seemed full of motion, change.  Putting down roots in one place was not where it was at, so to speak.

But this house, this 154 year old house in a Mid Coast Maine town of 7,500 where the median income is 15% below the state average (and the state average is the lowest in the Northeast), this house with its peeling wallpaper, with it's 1980s rose-colored carpet in the living room (laid down over even older mustard colored carpet laid down over wooden floors), with its tiny yard, crumbling garage, solid foundation and dry (thank God) basement - this house feels like home.  When I plant my tomato and cucumber seedlings, my rows of carrot seeds, my mint,  oregano and basil - these growing things carry my roots down into the soil as well as their own.

Soon my time will be my own, and I will be using that time here, at home, with deepening roots supporting me in this place, whatever comes next.  

Meanwhile, a look at the goings on in Midcoast Maine (the "pasture and forage" event sounds interesting - if living on social security proves difficult, it might be good to know how to forage):

• "All About Bats," 7 p.m., Lincolnville Library. Annie Kassler of Bat Conservation International presents the free program with more than a hundred photos.

• "Glimpses of Vajrayana: The Tantric Path of Indestructible Wakefulness," Brunswick Shambhala Meditation Center. Registration 7 p.m. Talk by Acharya Emeritus Judy Lief 7:30 p.m. All welcome. Donations taken. FMI/registration: BrunswickMaine.Shambhala.org.

• "The Maven of Manners in a Motorcar," 7:30 p.m., Old Town House, Union. Free talk by Marilyn Solvay to Union Historical Society on Emily Post's 1915 cross-country trip. All welcome.

• Talk by Early U.S. Clothing Expert, Tues., June 9, Thomaston Historical Society, 80 Knox St. Talk by Julie Stackpole, author of "Dressing the New Republic: Authentic American Costumes from 1775 to 1805," after short 7 p.m. biz mtg. of Historical Society. Refreshments. Free & open to all.

• Talk on Agro-Homeopathy, Weds., June 10, 6-8 p.m., Deer Foot Farm, 1221 Union Rd. (Rte. 131), Appleton. Kelly Callahan tells how to treat animals, crops and people. FMI: 785-3200.

• 2-Part Pasture & Forage Workshop, Weds., June 10, at Kennebec Cheesery, 795 Pond Rd., Sidney, and Weds., June 17, at Oaklands Farm, 114 Oaklands Farm Rd., Gardiner, both 6-7:30 p.m. Led by USDA, UMaine & MOFGA. $15. Register by June 8: extension.umaine.edu/register/product/pasture-forage-management.

Peace.