The Inexorable March of Time

I was reminded by my friend Brian’s recent comments in a Facebook group about returning to blogging that, “hey, I have a blog, too!” Only I haven’t written anything here for nearly FOUR YEARS, and other than satisfying my own desire to write, I’m not sure why I would continue, or even why I did it in the first place.

At home, on my desk, in my computer bag, etc., I have blank notebooks, big and small, some with stuff written in them, some still completely blank. I don’t expect them ever to be of value to anyone, except maybe sentimental value for a time. It’s like a bit of dialogue in the movie “Arthur” where Arthur Bach (Dudley Moore) says to fiance’ Susan, “Not all of us who drinks is a poet. Maybe some of us drink because we’re not poets.”

Not everyone who buys little notebooks is a writer. Maybe some of us buy little notebooks because we’re not writers (but wish we were). I’m also reminded that some things take discipline, practice, and patience, three things I also wish I had more of.

So, what does all this have to do with time? In the four years since I’ve written anything here our eldest and middle daughters have gotten master’s degrees, our youngest gotten her degree, all three are working and living on their own, we took a trip to England, Scotland, France, and (briefly) Iceland. I took a business trip to Norway and Sweden (the ones in Europe, not the ones in Maine), political and civil discourse in our country has gone from bad to worse, our middle daughter has gotten married and our son-in-law started his medical residency at a naval hospital, and in so many ways and in so many spheres I find myself wondering, “what’s next?”

What’s next? Well, who knows, but maybe I’ll write something about it.

Photo by Monoar Rahman on Pexels.com

Around the World in 223 Days

So neither Phileas Fogg’s fictional feat, nor Michael Palin’s actual one, are in any danger of being eclipsed. But when Lindsay‘s flight lands in Boston later today she will have completed one whole trip around the world. We’ll count the high school trip to France, Spain, and Morocco, and her semester abroad in Uganda, as test flights, like the Mercury or Gemini projects were before the Apollo missions.

Except for eastern Canada and a week in Bermuda I have never been outside the United States. The moons of opportunity, capability, and inclination just haven’t come into alignment, but that hasn’t stopped us from experiencing some fascinating places vicariously. And at a safe distance from spiders.

Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right…

No, I’m not writing about Congress (and there are even more reasons since that article was written), though goodness knows I could be. What I am writing about is the apparent wholesale abandonment of driving sense on the part of the motoring public. No, no, I’m going to through bicyclists and pedestrians, too. Holey moley!

This past June I whined on Facebook about an incident that happened while waiting to turn left into our driveway, which is on a busy road. I was on my way home from work and waiting for oncoming traffic to clear before making the turn. I was on the bike, having made sure to flash my brake light a few times while slowing and had both my brake light and left turn signal on. Just as traffic clears, this lame-brain on a BMW touring bike goes by ON MY LEFT, cigarette dangling out of his mouth, Hawaiian shirt flapping in the breeze, and no helmet on his empty head. I give him the horn; he gives me the finger. Fair exchange, I guess, but WTH?!

This morning I’m also on the bike, second in line to cross a busy intersection that’s one lane in each direction on each leg (so no right turn lane, no left turn lane, just one lane). The car ahead of me has its left turn signal on and has to wait for someone coming straight across who must have imagined another lane. Meanwhile, there are vehicles in the oncoming lane with their left turn signals on. I want to make sure the car ahead of me has cleared so the drivers on the other side of the intersection can see me when I cross the intersection to keep going straight. I’m owning the lane and, six-foot-four plus the silver helmet, plus the hi-viz, high contrast XXL jacket I’m wearing, I’m not hard to see but this knucklehead right behind me just couldn’t wait and passes me on the right just as I’m beginning to cross. Once more with the horn, and a few morning pleasantries. Did I really have my face shield open when I said that? Oopsie.

What IS it with you people? Grrr.

Can you see me now??

Once More….

*ceci n’est pas un avion

The photo above is not the actual Boeing 777 carrying Lindsay from Los Angeles to Hong Kong on her way to Thailand, at least as far as we know, but it might as well be. Three years ago we were waiting to hear that she had arrived safely in Africa. Now, after getting her messages that she had arrived in LA from Boston and boarded her flight for Hong Kong, we have to wait about another twelve hours before we can reasonably expect to hear from her again.

With all three of our girls away, either at school, or way away, as in Asia for the next six months, we officially have an empty nest (just don’t tell the cats). This opens a new chapter, some of which I don’t expect to be markedly different from the previous, but which presents some of its own opportunities. I suspect it will take a little while for us to establish a new rhythm, a new pattern of life with mostly just the two of us again after more than twenty years with children of various sizes in the house.

Meanwhile, Lindsay has picked up her blog again, and we can expect to hear all kinds of interesting things about life, work, and travels in Thailand and other parts of southeast Asia.

Christmas 2012

The Heart-in-waiting

Jesus walked through whispering wood:
‘I am pale blossom, I am blood berry,
I am rough bark, I am sharp thorn.
This is the place where you will be born.’

Jesus went down to the skirl of the sea:
‘I am long reach, I am fierce comber,
I am keen saltspray, I am spring tide.’
He pushed the cup of the sea aside

And heard the sky which breathed-and-blew:
‘I am the firmament, I am shape-changer,
I cradle and carry and kiss and roar,
I am infinite roof and floor.’

All day he walked, he walked all night,
Then Jesus came to the heart at dawn.
‘Here and now,’ said the heart-in-waiting,
‘This is the place where you must be born.’

By Kevin Crossley-Holland, from Selected Poems, 2001; Photo by Ina Hramacek. (via Fiat Lux)

Merry Christmas.

Skwerls!

In the latest battles of the bird feeder wars between humans (i.e. me) and gray squirrels (i.e. them), the skwerls definitely have the upper ha- um, paw, greedy little cusses that they are.

I honestly don’t know, perhaps in a fit of impending middle-aged softening of the head, but a few years ago I started hanging a bird feeder or two. Joking (or not) aside, I like to see the various birds that come out – chickadees, blue jays, cardinals, other little birds I haven’t identified, since I’m not a serious bird person. We also have bunches of mourning doves that hang around, which I also don’t mind but they’re not as much fun to see as the others. The one I really don’t like to see, though, is the bushy-tailed gray vulture a/k/a the gray squirrel. They make a mess, they scare off the real birds, they hog the bird seed (especially the sunflower seeds), and they destroy bird feeders. So far we’re 1-for-4, with the latest in our arsenal being the Brome Squirrel Buster Mini. Without sounding too violent, though, I was thinking about something with an anti-squirrel missile launcher, but they seem to back-ordered or something.

After watching “Raccoon Nation” on Nature a few weeks ago, I wonder if our efforts to thwart squirrels is having the similar, unintended consequence of creating a race of uber-squirrels. Yikes, there’s a thought.

Highlands Highlights

More Highlands highlights. I’m sure the photo, as amazing as it is, doesn’t do the real thing justice. Still, that I know someone who was there and actually stood there to take the photo makes it that much more real.

Waiting

Is it the hardest part? Sometimes, I guess, though dealing with what you’ve been waiting for may be harder, depending on what it is. Seems like we’re always waiting for something – the phone to ring, a letter (a what?), the outcome of an election, an occasion or holiday, or some other event – so you’d think that we’d always be in that tension. And so we probably are, though we experience it more acutely at certain times. Like after hitting the “submit” button on a college admissions application.

Now all we can do is wait.

VOTE!

For those of us in the United States (including those citizens who are overseas serving in the military or for other reasons) today is Election Day. No news there.That the campaign, not just for president, but for just about everything else, has gone on far too long, been far too expensive, and far, FAR too divisive? Well, no news there, either. Goodness knows there’s plenty to be dissatisfied with, and cynical about, and much about the system needs fixing. But today, as I have nearly every Election Day since I turned eighteen, I went to the polls, stood in line, gave my name, filled out my ballots and put them in the ballot box. It’s a ritual, one I feel should not be passed up by using absentee ballots (unless really necessary), standing shoulder to shoulder with people with whom you may agree or may not and being part of the process.

For all of you who have voted, and for all who will work long hours today making sure we could, thanks! And for those of you who have not yet voted, please make the effort.

Shameless Plug

For our middle daughter’s study-abroad blog and her most recent post, Highlands Preview.