We finally attached the sail to the mast of my wooden boat. Well, almost. We still have to attach the tack to the mast with a downhaul and the clew to the boom with an outhaul and then the main sheet to the boom. But there sail itself is attached to the mast and boom, the sprit rigging is working as is the halyard. (Believe me, I know that the foregoing has lost most if not all of my few readers, and I'll leave the sailor's jargon now, but, I want to record here what was actually done). I am thinking of not trying to put her in the water for a sail this fall. I feel pushed up against the coming winter. People are hauling boats out of the harbor. I am thinking of her first sail in the lengthening sunshine of a spring day. Not sure yet.
I tried to look back at earlier summer posts to see if I had mentioned anything in this blog about submitting poems to the 2015 Maine Postmark Poetry Contest. It doesn't look like I did. But I did - submit poems. In fact, I submitted four poems. The deadline was mid-August. The blurb about the contest said they would announce winners by September 15. September 15 came and went, and I wasn't contacted. It wasn't that this was a big thing on my mind, but I was aware of the silence regarding contest results as the date came and went. Then, lo and behold, a week or 10 days later, I received an email from the contest organizer announcing results. I assumed it was a mass mailing to everyone who had submitted poems or was otherwise interested in the contest - but it turned out to be an email to the 10 contest finalists, myself among them. I was amazed and very pleased. (Poems are submitted anonymously - poem on a sheet without author's name, and separate cover note with author's name, contact information and the poem's title. The Belfast Poetry Festival had a committee of 5 persons who selected 10 finalists' poems and a single judge who selects the 4 place winners - honorable mention, third, second and first place. All 10 finalists were invited to come to the festival on October 16 and read their winning poems - including me!)
I tried not to think too much about the next step, but I know I hoped against hope to be among the 4 place winners. And, lo and behold, only a few days later I received an email informing me that my poem (called, "Before") had won first place. First place! Imagine that if you will (I still have a difficult time, even with the email on the screen in front of me).
This coming Friday evening, I will attend the Belfast Poetry Festival and read my poem. I am told I will receive a cash prize of $100 and the poem will be published in the Maine journal, "Off The Coast." I am very nervous. In addition to the 10 finalists, a long list of other poets and artists will read and perform at the Festival. Maine seems to sprout poets like the sea bed off of Maine's coast does lobsters. Really, there are poets everywhere in this state. (Was that true in other places I have lived, but I was just unaware of it?) And every poet seems to be highly educated - B.A., M.F.A., professor of this, emeritus of that, current or past Poet Laureate of this or that town (or state). That is intimidating to me. I am no professor, I have no advanced or even undergraduate degree. But I do write poems, have for a long time, more consistently and seriously the last five years or so However, except for a brief period many years ago, until recently I had not tried to find an audience for my poems. A few years ago I began sending a few poems to a few poetry contests. This is the third time a poem of mine has received recognition, and this is the most significant contest to give such recognition. I hope this will motivate me to work harder on my writing and to continue to seek audiences for my poems.
Meanwhile, the world turns. Trump leads the polls in the Republican presidential race, moving from laughing stock to harbinger of dangerous times. (Read It Can't Happen Here by Sinclair Lewis.) Bernie Sanders leads Hillary Clinton in Iowa and New Hampshire, but not in South Carolina. I try to imagine a head-to-head election of Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders. The mind reels. Mass shootings, Oregon, Arizona, Texas. Ben Carson - erstwhile presidential candidate and surgeon that will never take a scalpel to my brain - says if Jews had been armed, perhaps the Holocaust would have been prevented. The mind reels further.
My first social security payment is deposited in my checking account. I am grateful and believe that I will get by. At the same time, I wonder how so many others of my generation - including my brother - are able to face the years ahead with any equanimity, given only this pittance to keep a warm bed and a plate of food between them and the wolves at their doors.
The old, the aged, senior, senior citizen, the elderly, geezer, old woman, old lady, old bat - I stand at the door and look across its threshold. Bring it on! From "Events & Happenings" in The Free Press I find the following (but we geezers might want to take the later class first, don't you think?):
Rock Climbing for Beginners, 4-6 p.m. on your choice of Oct. 6 or 13, Maiden’s Cliff Parking Lot, Rte. 52, Camden. Led by Northern Vertical. Adults & teens welcome. Ages 13-17 must be accompanied by an adult. $35.
“A Matter of Balance: Managing Concerns About Falls,” Tuesdays and Thursdays Oct. 6-29, 9-11 a.m., Quarry Hill, Camden. Designed to help seniors stay independent while building strength, stamina. FMI: 602-1657. Free; suggested donation of $10.
Peace.
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