A Photo Blast from the (Distant) Past

My cousin Nancy Carol called this week to tell me she had spoken with a relative of Kate Wells (may she rest in peace), a very close family friend - at least I think that was the connection - and she received a bunch of old photographs mostly of my mom and dad, my brother John, me, as well as of Kate. 

By way of background, my paternal grandfather passed away at the age of 29 when my father's mother was pregnant with my father.  My widowed pregnant grandmother went to stay with Dr. and Sue Wells (whom she knew from nursing school) in Mississippi and my father was born in the Wells' home in Alligator, MS.  Not too much later, Dr. and Sue's own daughter, Kate, was born there.  My father and Kate spent the early years of their childhoods together and stayed close.  (My younger sister and brother are named Sam and Sue after Dr. and Sue Wells!)

Anyway, I'm going to post here a slew of the photos that Carol sent.  (That's today's consecutive thing.)  Here we go:

John - 3 months

John - our mother had a thing for saddle shoes! But I didn't know John wore them, too!

Alice and John - Myrtle Beach, SC  Dig the bandanna.  Wish I knew what book she was reading.

Alice and John - Myrtle Beach, SC  Alice was a babe!

A very rare photo indeed - the 4 of us together, my 1st birthday - may be the only such photo in existence

2nd birthday - I think back then I actually LIKED icing.  

On Long Island circa 1953 - I didn't know I went there before 1955

Long Island circa 1953

Long Island circa 1953

The formal portraits

Last, but certainly not least, Miss Kate Wells, who was a beauty in her time, and was beautiful throughout her long life in every way that matters - may her memory continue to be a blessing for our family:

Kate Wells 

That's it for today.

Peace.

This and that

I have now been "retired" for 2 weeks, and so far, I'm liking it.  If anything, I feel guilty.  Why should I be able to do this - stop working, do whatever my time, my brain, my aging body and my skinny bank account will permit - while others continue to have to slave away?  Then I remember that I slaved away for 40+ years myself.  I certainly don't claim to understand retirement yet.  It still feels like vacation.  But already I have taken advantage of it to attend a program at the local art museum at 1:00 pm on a weekday afternoon.  I'm still getting up at 5:15-5:30 for my morning walk with Ella.  I've done some gardening, weeding, mulching.  We have had Caprese salad with home grown tomatoes and basil for the past several nights. Yum.  The tomatoes taste like sunshine and the basil is as sweet as mint. So far, retirement is good.  

While I've been learning to be retired, David has worked on the boat.  The work is basically done.  He put another coat of varnish on today.  We plan to take her out this coming week to row.  Meanwhile we are researching some info on the sail plan.  We are going to modify it slightly to add a halyard and lazy jacks to have the ability to raise and lower the sail.  Here's what she looks like now.  (By the way, I'm debating whether to "name" the boat.  I don't think we'll paint her name on her, but still might like to have a name to call her.  Any suggestions?)

From her stern - see the beautiful oars David made?

Nice lines, eh?

Tomorrow our new furnace will be installed.  Actually, tomorrow AND Tuesday.  I have my fingers crossed that it goes well.  With a 150+ year old house, you never know what surprises may be waiting for you.  Reminds me of being a 10 year old camper on a hike near a stream.  The counselor lifts up a flat rock and out crawl many creepy crawlies.  The moral of the story:  be careful what rocks you lift up.  But this rock - our 40+ year old furnace - needs to be lifted up.

Meanwhile, from the "It's what's happening in Maine" column:  in purusing our local weekly, The Free Press, David has come across multiple items in the "Events" listings for a group called Temple Heights Spiritual Camp.  Today he decided to check out the group's website (if you are curious, or end up doubting what I'm about to cite from its pages, you can find it at  http://www.templeheightscamp.org).  On the "temple's" front page is a headline that reads "Mediums/Healers of the Week."  One of the "mediums/healers" is someone named Kristin.  Here is her bio blurb:

"Kristen is a Registered Nurse, Master Herbalist, and Professional Energy Healer certified through Barbara Brennan School of Healing.  She offers individual sessions utilizing a unique and multidimensional healing modality.  With the assistance of Spirit Guides, she works within the four dimensions of being (Physical, Auric, Haric, and Core Star dimensions).  In deep contact and connection with the client's energy field; she invites healthy and positive changes on many levels.  Results vary from deeply relaxing and enjoyable to deeply profound and transformative, depending upon the readiness of the individual."

Unfortunately - or perhaps, fortunately - I think I may be burdened with a low level of "readiness"!  Nevertheless, there perhaps is still a role I could play for the Temple Heights Spiritual Camp.  They are seeking "volunteers" and the particular skill set sought appears to be something I may be good at:  

"We are looking for people willing to do a few small things around the camp.  Our gardens are in need of some TLC.  If anyone is handy with consecutive things we are looking for you."

I never realized it, but now that someone has put a name to it, I think I do. I think I may in fact be "handy with consecutive things".  Like this morning I vacuumed, first one room, then another, until I had vacuumed the whole damn house, consecutively.  I hear David in the kitchen right now, washing dishes, also consecutively.  I think we may be very skilled - that is to say, handy - with consecutive things.

Like right now, I'm going to sign off this blog.  First, I'll type my Peace goodbye, then I'll save the posting, and then publish it.  All consecutively.

(It does make me wonder what I'm missing.  Should I go back to school to learn to be handy with non-consecutive things? Hmm...  Food for ... consecutive thought.)

Peace.

One more day

Finally, it's here.  Today is the last day of work for me.  Well, actually I am officially "working" on Monday at the office in Connecticut, but that's the day I turn in my computer, monitor, printer, shredder, etc., go out to lunch with my group and attend a "happy hour" to say good bye to co-workers.  So really, today is the last day of  "work."

In my home office I have print outs of monthly calendars that began in August 2014.  That's when I began marking off every day of work at day's end.  In the beginning, I printed calendars for August 2014 through February 2015, with the goal of making it to mid-February when my employer pays the 401K matching contribution.  Then in February I printed calendars for March through July.  That's 12 months of calendars, 12 months of counting off days of work one by one.  Somehow that act made me more conscious of time, the passage of time.  At my age one doesn't want time to "fly" - there's little enough of it left - but this was a year I did want to get past, while still living every day of it.  Mission accomplished.

In the meantime, I had my 65th birthday, and it may have been the best, or certainly one of the best, ever.  Lovely calls from both children, a long talk with my older grandson, calls from my dear friends Helen and Susan F, wishes from many friends at work, great presents from all, and a wonderful dinner cooked by David!

David's been a fiend of efficiency.  He has completed the work on all the "pieces" to my little boat - mast, boom, sprit spar, dagger board and rudder.  He has applied another coat of epoxy and sanded the outside hull, and now has applied 2 coats of primer followed by 2 coats of paint - 1 more to go.  All that is left is the inside.  He built a set of stairs for entry to our basement bulkhead (we had a bulkhead entrance to the basement but without stairs).  Those will be needed in a couple weeks when our new furnace is installed.  David is setting a hard example for my retirement - I can't imagine being so efficient.  But maybe I can permit myself some weeks or even months of rest and relaxation before beginning to beat myself up.  In any event, I am very proud and grateful for everything David is doing - to finish the boat and around the house.

Well, it's almost time to go to work.  May be the last time I ever write that - although I can conceive of "working" again in the future, but not in the way of these last 15, no make that 40 years.  It's going to be an adventure.  Stay tuned.

Here is a photo taken on a recent morning walk of the perennial garden of a home I pass every day.  Leaving aside the "Gart" (Garden "Art"), it is truly beautiful and an inspiration for me as I have more time to spend on my own garden.

Peace.

Que sera, sera!

The boys from Atlanta came.  They saw.  They conquered - walked the Rockland boardwalk and out the Rockland breakwater, shopped at Planet Toys and had lunch at Rock City Cafe, went out on Captain Jack's lobster boat (where Cachao saved a little lobster's life by bravely picking it up and tossing it back into the water), played miniature golf, hiked in Camden State Park, went up the Owls Head lighthouse, threw rocks at the beach, drank apple juice left and right, tested David's pancake making stamina, had Dorman's ice cream AND Gifford's ice cream, wore out Ella, helped with my chores including watering the garden, scattered Legos everywhere, played Tenzies (dice game recommended by Melissa--thanks!) with a vengeance, filled in and then told Mad Lib tall tales, and generally livened up this old folks' home until its 150+ year old walls (and almost as old wall paper) rang with laughter - and now they're testing Manhattan's ability to withstand the same before heading back south tomorrow. What a wonderful visit!  

Cello, the cutie.

Handsome Cachao.

On Captain Jack's lobster boat - Cello looks for a seal spotted nearby.

The little lobster saved by Cachao - to be eaten by him on a date to be determined.

"Trapped" at Claws, the latest tourist trap.

I miss them already!  The house is very quiet.  The coffee table is very neat.  I haven't stepped on a stray Lego all day.  I think I've picked up all the plastic straw wrappers dotting the carpet throughout the house from the multiplicity of emptied juice boxes.  I'm already thinking ahead to a 2016 road trip of our own - when David and I (and maybe even Ella!) can take a trip down to Nashville to visit Aunt Maro, Carol, Debbie and David, on to North Carolina to see Melissa, John and Austin again, and then to Atlanta - for Sam, Melina, Cachao, Cello, Tia Corinne and Uncle John!  Between now and then, maybe  a flying visit by Abuela.

Meanwhile, I have today and tomorrow off of work and then it's down to 8 more working days.  The future seems ... wide open, unknown, both exciting and scary as hell.  I remember back in 1992, when I left a good job in NYC and Sam and I moved to Georgia, I had no idea what would happen next, which freaked me out, could cause me to break out in a cold sweat.  But I used to tell myself, "Anything can happen!"  In the end, I guess what happened was life.  

And now, here I am again where it seems anything can happen.  I guess that's always the case, just sometimes we close our eyes to it.  I hope my eyes can stay open - to whatever comes next.  That's all there is, after all.  

My mother wasn't really a "music person" but she had a couple of songs she used to hum, even sing.  One was, "Que sera, sera!"  "Whatever will be, will be," it says, and goes on, "the future's not ours to see... que sera, sera!"

Peace.

26 days and counting

There are 26 calendar days - 13 working days - between me and retirement (the discrepancy due to a company holiday for July 4th and 5 days of planned vacation).  It is a thrilling if somewhat bowel-loosening milestone.   And while I feel I have waited years, literally, for this Day to arrive, in that slippery way time has of sliding out of your grasp, the Day seems to have sneaked up to be right around the corner.  I feel I have waited forever.  And I feel I am not prepared.  

Of course the big fear is money - what if there's not enough of it?  But then I've lived much of my life with that fear, including days when small children were dependent on me and there truly wasn't enough money.  I remember going to the local kosher butcher in New York and having him give me at a discounted price days old chicken that was on the point of "turning".  I would buy a whole chicken and he would cut it up in 8ths so there would be more pieces to give the kids, making it seem like more chicken.  Monthly I would choose which bills to pay and which to skip.  Once an eviction notice was nailed to our front door - literally.  And we made it through... with the generous help and support of friends and community ... and I would say also, by my own grit and determination.

So what really is the basis of my anxiety now?  I think it is just facing a big change, a life-altering threshold.  I've faced other life-altering thresholds and crossed them successfully.  I left radical politics to make a new life for myself and my children.  I became Jewish, making an unfamiliar religion, its rituals, language, culture my own.  I moved, multiple times.  Change jobs, multiple times.  I faced serious cancer, surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, and came out the other side.  

But I think that retirement is fundamentally about losing the camouflage on your "self" provided by your job or career.  You know what they say, when an American meets someone new they ask "What do you do?" not "Who are you?"  So who are you if you don't work?  You are a kid, an unemployed (aka unwanted) person or an old person - in all 3 cases, you are irrelevant to the question "What do you do?"  Retirement makes you face your self and ask, "When I am freed of the obligation to do what someone else tells me to do, what do I want to do?  What am I interested in?  Who am I?"  Retirement is an existential challenge as much as or more than a practical one.

Heavy thoughts on this foggy Maine morning 26 days from the Day.   It wasn't foggy a day or so ago on Ella's and my morning walk, just overcast but with the sun breaking through:

Meanwhile, I await a visit from Sam and my grandsons, just a week away.  So much going on in midcoast Maine:

• Talk by Beekeeper Jean Vose, Newcastle Fire Station, River Road. 6 p.m. biz meeting of Newcastle Historical Society. 7 p.m. free, public talk by Vose on keeping bees in your backyard. Handouts.

• Free Talk by Heiwa Tofu Owner, 7 p.m., Lincolnville Library. Jeff Wolovitz shows photos, describes how his organic tofu is made in Belfast, shares hard-learned biz lessons and gives samples.

• "Roadside Maine: A Route 1 Journey 1900-1906," 7 p.m., Centennial Celebration at Bayside Community Hall, Northport. Free, public talk by Maine historian Earle Shettleworth

 • Talk on Magna Carta's Role Today, 7:30 p.m., Old Town House, just off Union Common. Free, public talk by Rockland lawyer Bill Maddox to Union Historical Society.

Not sure these are the main or Maine events to attract my son, or his 4-year old and 8-year old sons, not even sure about this 64-year old, but I know we'll find plenty to do.

Peace.

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.