Rail Trail Therapy

We took a walk on the Rail Trail this afternoon. We were not the only ones with that idea. It was crowded - well, for that particular section it felt crowded. Sometimes, when we’re walking and the only ones there, I ask Chuck if he phoned ahead to reserve it just for us. Today, not so much. As clouds moved in and out in front of the sun, we saw solo walkers, runners and bicyclists; couples, and young families with children and dogs, strollers and tricycles. We all exchanged greetings as we passed each other. A lot of “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” because it really was.

For that hour we all kept to our family groups. We all breathed deeply of the fresh late winter / nearly spring air. We let our legs carry us, almost on autopilot, as we tried to let the news headlines recede for a little while.

Respite is important. Moving, breathing, listening to our own breath, feeling the wind on our faces - all of it is restorative.

So is social connection. We currently have social isolation as the headline. But we can still connect. Phone calls, emails, texts, Facetime, Skype, letters, cards, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook… so many ways to reach out and stay in touch.

Rabbis and Cantors are streaming services in empty sanctuaries, but that livestream is illuminating a living room, a kitchen, a studio apartment, as well as the congregants there joining in prayers and singing the songs. We are finding new ways to connect.

Keep breathing. Keep focusing on the greater good. Pick up the book or the knitting or the model ship or the stack of crossword puzzles. Haul out the Scrabble and Monopoly boards. Be present. When the worry rises up, let it. Sit with it for a moment and then use a lifeline to phone a friend. In this challenging time, those calls are unlimited.

Solstice Sunset

There was a brief and subtle sunset tonight. Photographs couldn't do it justice. It was soft pink to mauve; a streak of yellow across orchid; and then a burst of magenta; closing to soft blue gray. It was in the upper twenties, the air crisp and the snow crunched quietly underfoot as we walked on the paths and in the woods. The Shortest Day. The Solstice. Winter officially begins, even as the subtle shift happens and the days begin to grow longer. Beautiful...

Hearts II

Dear loved ones of Suzann Diehl,
We visit that heart shaped rock slab on top of Cadillac Mountain twice a year.
We will check in on your heart each time we do…

On this April visit, all was well and as we first found it last October.
Sincerely,
Lee and Chuck


Previous post: Hearts

Sunset

Gorgeous sunset tonight over the Mount Desert Narrows, between Trenton and Mount Desert Island, Maine.

Our View

This was the view down our road at the end of the last snowstorm.
Or was it the snowstorm before that…?
Yes, this is really being a winter to remember - even if the details are already beginning to blur!

Hello Beautiful!

On Sunday afternoon I was startled to see a crow and, what I thought at first was a hawk, fluttering just outside the bedroom window. But once the crow flew off and the other bird settled down onto the branch, all became clear. It was an owl. Chuck looked it up and confirmed it was a Barred Owl (Strix Varia). These photographs were taken through a closed second story window, which also had a storm window. I’m afraid neither window was very clean! I was quite amazed and felt very fortunate that the owl turned and looked right at me as I snapped the photographs. The one on the left was taken with a Canon PowerShot S2 IS. The one on the right with a Canon EOS Rebel T3i.

Neither of us have ever been privileged to see an owl on the property before. It was especially surprising to see this large creature in daylight. But it was a very dark, gray day; with snow flying throughout the afternoon. When we looked up the call of the Barred Owl we knew it was the same sound we have heard many times over the years. That classic call always feels mysterious and just a little chilling. Now we have a face to go with the voice - a beautiful one at that!

When It Was Prettier

When it first began snowing last evening, it was full of promise and very beautiful.

5 to 6

The meteorologists warned us it could be more. But we only got five to six inches of heavy, wet snow overnight. Then Mother Nature added a bit of sleet and a touch of rain. This is what the driveway looked like after one pass with the snowblower. I like snow. This is not my favorite variety of snow...

Ticks

To be clear, I HATE ticks.

By all accounts this is going to be a very rough season. By season I mean spring, summer and autumn. An incredibly mild winter has been the common wisdom for the high number of ticks. But Dr. Richard S. Ostfeld has another explanation: acorns and white footed mice. The article in Science Daily is a quick and interesting read. Regardless of the precipitating factors, ticks are dangerous.

Part of why I hate ticks a great deal right now is because one latched onto Chuck this weekend. He wasn’t out doing yard work without protection. As far as we can tell he was just walking to the compost pile and back. Frankly, most of the joy of gardening has disappeared into the sea of haz-mat level gear, bug spray on clothing, body checks and loads of laundry that need to be done after every outdoor foray.

I followed the tick removal guidelines as best I could - patience is key. I cleansed the area and applied triple antibiotic ointment under the bandage. But every time this happens we worry about Lyme Disease. How can we not?

Thank You TJ’s

For several weeks we have been devoting a great deal of time and energy to helping Chuck’s elderly aunt. Working with hospice has been of clear benefit to Tanta and a blessing to us. Every life is complex and complicated; Tanta’s no less than anyone else’s. We are wending our way through a life’s maze built on privacy and filled with explicit and sometimes contradictory requests and desires. We are learning a great deal. We are sad. And we are weary.

Ever since Trader Joe’s has been doing their “bring your own bag, fill out a ticket” raffle we have been faithfully filling out tickets. This has been going on for years. We have written our name and phone number on tickets and slips all over Massachusetts, in Rhode Island and out in Washington state. Week after week some other lucky TJ’s customer has won. That’s why we were so delighted to receive a phone call telling us that we had won the bring your own bag raffle! Several days ago we came home after a very long day on the road and being with Tanta, to see the red light on our answering machine flashing and four messages waiting for us. Three were about Chuck’s aunt. The last was a cheery message from a gal named Leslie in Shrewsbury saying we had won a $25.00 Trader Joe’s gift certificate! We listened to it twice and high-fived each other to boot!

Tonight, on our way home from Tanta’s, we stopped at the Trader Joe’s on Route 9 in Shrewsbury and picked up our gift certificate. Chuck couldn’t resist snapping this photograph. The gift certificate was a welcome treat; our names on the sign such good fun. And exactly what we needed right now.

Need Or Scam & Does It Matter?

Back in May of 2010 I posted about my dilemma when it comes to being panhandled. Many of you shared your stories of when you do and don’t and the internal struggles you have. I came away from that discussion feeling that saying no was generally the best strategy and to always say no to giving someone a lift somewhere. However, in the twenty months since I posted “Need Or Scam?” I have witnessed several instances of generosity under comparable circumstances, by folks seemingly far less fortunate than I. I say seemingly because we never can really tell who’s the prince and who’s the pauper just on appearance alone. These have happened in Worcester, Boston, Brookline, Cambridge and so on.

Late one night last winter, there was a young man who was a bit in his cups. He claimed he hadn’t eaten all day and wanted a couple of bucks to get a hamburger at the Burger King across the street from the Hess gasoline station in Webster Square in Worcester. He approached Chuck who was pumping gas. Chuck politely declined. Sitting in the car, I watched as the fellow went up to all the other customers. The only one who reached into his pocket and handed him a couple of bucks was a young man, dressed very casually, driving a beater. If I had been ranking customers socio-economically based on their rides, this guy would have been at the bottom.

Another time I was waiting for Chuck to sort out a transaction at the service desk in the Stop and Shop in Lincoln Plaza. It was late. The store was quiet with only one clerk near me ringing up orders. I watched as several customers passed through. I saw a young woman shopping with her pre-teen daughter. They were purchasing basic, no frills items. When the clerk asked if she wanted to donate to a local charity, the woman did not hesitate and said yes immediately. Then a man came through buying value sized bags of rice, cans of Spam and a few other basics. He too readily agreed to donate. None of the three appeared to have the last name of Rockefeller or Trump. But a couple of customers in office attire both declined to contribute - as had we when we were checking out. While not the same as being panhandled I was struck by the difference in responses.

These and several other moments have triggered interesting conversations between Chuck and me on our long rides between home and Rhode Island or home and Brookline. As a result, we ended up shifting our position on panhandlers from no to maybe.

This evening, we were driving back home from a tough visit in Brookline involving a medical appointment for a loved one. We ran a few errands along the way including stopping by the WalMart in Northborough. As we exited our vehicle in the bustling parking lot, a man in his late thirties or early forties approached us. He was holding a cell phone. He said he was driving between Worcester and Framingham and his car was running on fumes. Could we give him two or three bucks just to get a gallon of gas. He expressed embarrassment because of his predicament. He offered to mail the money back to us. (See paragraph one of Need Or Scam?!) Neither one of us fully believed him. Chuck glanced at me. I nodded and Chuck handed the fellow three bucks. The man repeated his offer to mail it back to us. (He had no way of knowing that was the least reassuring part of his story!) We declined and wished him well.

Will we always say yes? Not likely. But as we walked into WalMart we both felt glad that we had once again said yes. This time we understood that we had acted in a gray area, but that we had acted in kindness and with a desire to trust. We also knew the importance of letting go - not just of the three dollars, but of the decision. The money was moving on in the universe. We sent it with our best wishes.

53 - 18 = 35

You may remember I posted about the incredible moment of serendipity when I met an elementary school classmate from Rhode Island, while visiting in Seattle back in June. That led to a mini-reunion in Rhode Island in late July. On a hot and humid Friday afternoon, ten of us gathered at our Catholic elementary school for a private tour. No teachers, no administrators, just a group of adults touring the school grade by grade, letting all the memories tumble out. We laughed; we hugged; many of us cried; all of us agreed it was a powerful, transformative event. After that cathartic tour we moved on to a friend’s home, where the reminiscing continued, but laughter was the rule.

That chance meeting on the other side of the country and the upcoming mini-reunion on this coast caused me to do something I swore I would never do: join FaceBook. I was convinced that FaceBook consisted of all of the worst parts of high school writ large and splashed across the public square. But almost everyone going to the mini-reunion was on FaceBook and they were all smart and funny and kind. So I did it. I figured I could just join quietly. I would “friend” just that little group, upload a few pics from grade school and later some photos from the reunion itself.

Turns out, it’s not easy to join FaceBook “quietly”! My best friend from elementary school went to college with a couple of gals I went to high school with. Within a few hours of my chit-chatting and friending within our little circle, I began to get friend requests from high school pals. Unbeknownst to me I went to high school with the 21st century FaceBook equivalent of Paul Revere! I was suddenly in the thick of catching up with high school kids I hadn’t had contact with in decades. And it was a whole lot of fun! The biggest surprise was that none of the kids who had been miserable to me in high school was on FaceBook. WTH? and Thank Heavens!

Last night was my 35th high school reunion. The folks on FaceBook I had reconnected with all just assumed I would be there. Eventually I took a deep breath and bought our tickets. Chuck and I drove down to Rhode Island and spent about five hours hugging, talking and laughing - with one dance thrown in for good measure. It was terrific. I felt right at home. Most of the folks there I had not seen in 35 years. Others I had stayed in touch with through college and for several years beyond that. But some deep pain in my life caused me to abruptly absent myself for 23 years. My disappearance was so complete that when I did materialize on FaceBook a friend asked: "Well, well, well, just get out of the witness protection program?"! Pretty darn close!

As you might expect I got a bit nervous before the event. So I did what any 53 year old woman with a Twitter account would do, I told a few Tweeps what I was doing and asked: “Am I Crazy?” Some seemed to think I was, in fact, crazy, but they all wished me luck and helped to buck me up. One of them, CookieCrumb, gave me some great advice which became my mantra as we drove to the event and walked through the front door: “You have nothing to prove and nothing to lose”! She was absolutely right.

Oh, and one of the kids who had bedeviled me in the high school halls was there. Mid-way through the evening I had occasion to walk by him. We made eye contact and I said “Hi ____” and kept on walking. He didn’t say a word. Yup. nothing to prove and nothing to lose is a sweet place to be!



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Jeff Was Right

Jeff was often right. He was also insightful, smart, cynical yet open minded and generous with his thoughts, his blog posts, his knowledge and his links.

Two facts caused me to think about Jeff Barnard tonight. The first is that Jeff’s yahrzeit is coming up on November 28th. The second is that Chuck and I ate at Carmella’s Italian Kitchen in Brookfield this evening. It was wonderful. Chuck and I and many, many Worcesterites loved Famous Italian Kitchen on Shrewsbury Street. It hurt when they closed. But back in March of 2009, Jeff posted about his celebratory family dinner at Carmella’s. In many ways Carmella’s is the reincarnation of Famous Italian or more accurately its ongoing legacy. I won’t go into details here. Jeff’s post deserves to be reread. Suffice it to say that the atmosphere was homey and whatever the Italian equivalent of hamishe is, service was perfect and cheerful and the food, well, we’re still talking about it and can’t wait to go back. Oh, and you can get a side of peppers that are even better than Famous Italian. Really.

Thank you Jeff. Thank you for everything.

Drive Baby Drive

Starting October 1st, I spent nine days driving.

It began at Logan Airport and Greater Boston here in Massachusetts. Then there was a trip back and forth to Rhode Island for a funeral. Then Brookline, Massachusetts to New Jersey, driving back and forth to New York City, wrapping up at JFK airport.

I’m a mediocre passenger and a middlin’ navigator for another driver - even with a GPS unit to assist. So for nearly 1,000 miles I was at the wheel, Chuck served as navigator and his sister Carol was the passenger. With Carol being from the land of very polite drivers, along with the very well signed and very well marked roads of Greater Seattle, she was sometimes “unsettled” by the driving in Greater Boston. (Yeah, we’ll go with “unsettled”!) But with this being Carol’s first visit east in seventeen years there was much to see and do, along with family to visit and catch up with.

In advance of the trip, I had been concerned about finding parking when needed in any of our city destinations and especially about driving in New York City. But it was all perfectly fine. Well, there was a certain amount of swearing, mostly by me (with occasional echoes from my companions) at a a few drivers who had apparently escaped from a NASCAR track or were perhaps fleeing the police. And there was one close call on the Lenny Zakim Bridge in Boston, in a torrential downpour, when a Subaru Forrester spluttered to a crawl right in front of us while in the passing lane. The parking in New York City, specifically in The Bronx, was easy peasy - except for that pesky $115.00 parking ticket we found on the windshield upon our return from visiting a family friend. (I thought “No Standing” meant no loitering. Lesson learned, sigh...)

But I was never worried about the driving. Maybe it was my two season foray into Autocross racing in a previous lifetime, which, while not wheel-to-wheel racing, does sharpens one’s skills on and off the track. Or perhaps it was just that driving was what needed to be done. The nice thing was that while I was enjoying my stint behind the wheel, my traveling cohorts were happy as well. Carol paid me great compliments, repeatedly using the word “guts” - and she assured me that she needed neither dramamine nor tranquilizers.

So at the end of nine days and nearly 1,000 miles I managed to get us and the car home safe and sound. But I have to tell you that the best driving moment of the trip came on day nine. I overshot the turn for the Midtown Tunnel which I needed to take in order to get Carol to her flight out of JFK. I evaluated the relatively quiet Sunday morning traffic conditions, paying no heed to the line of police vehicles parked curbside to my right, and pulled a U-turn on E 34th Street in New York City. It was just a couple of blocks down from the Empire State Building. It wasn’t like a scene out of “Sleepless In Seattle” nor “An Affair To Remember”. It was just ridiculously empowering and a whole lot of fun!

October Nor’easter

We drove home from my aunt’s memorial service in Rhode Island to find at least 14 inches of heavy wet snow carpeting our town. Our area also remains without power. Thankfully, we lost only one tree limb and there appears to be no damage to the house or barn. But the bushes, small trees and shrubs are another matter. We will know more as the week moves on and warmer weather moves back in. But at the moment, it appears that the damage for our property may be worse than the ice storm of December 2008.

The neighbors down the road were kind enough to let us park our car in their driveway until we could make a clear path down our own. We had packed shovels in the car so we walked back to our house and commenced the wintry work. Chuck hauled out the snowblower and cleared the driveway of snow. I set out to remove as much snow from the shrubbery as I could. In some places it meant shoveling lots of snow off where the branches were splayed and then digging out the tips from where they were buried near the ground. Each one that sprang back up without snapping was a little victory.

That done we were able to back the car up the driveway and into the barn. Then Chuck got the generator chugging away and we now have electricity, heat and running water. The temperature inside the house had fallen only to 49F/9C and the freezer had not gotten above 15F/-9C both of which were pretty darn good.

We know we are lucky and we are grateful.

Lobstah

At long last we have found a good Lobster Roll at a restaurant in Bar Harbor, Maine. Don’t get me wrong. Bar Harbor has lots of great restaurants. But it has been hard to find a decent Lobster Roll on a regular menu - not as a special. Tonight, however, we went to a place called the Side Street Cafe. It’s been open just a few years, but we’ve had a meal there on every trip up here. The Lobster Roll at the Side Street Cafe lets the lobster be the star: just a hint of mayonnaise, nestled into a buttered and griddled New England style, split-top frankfurter roll. They serve it with a wedge of lemon on the side if you want to squeeze a splash of juice on it. And, most surprisingly, they dust it with a bit of Old Bay Seasoning - very, very non-traditional, but it works.

The Side Street Cafe doesn’t have a huge menu, but because everything we’ve had has been very good, it never fails to leave us wresting with what to order. Now the Lobster Rolls have complicated matters even further. Nope. That was soooo not a complaint!

P.S. When the Thirsty Whale in Bar Harbor or Chase’s
in Winter Harbor, has a Lobster Roll on the menu, feel free to order it as you won’t be disappointed.

The Prints and The Potter

Worcester, Massachusetts boasts a wonderful gallery and framing shop: The Prints and The Potter. Located at the corner of Highland and West Streets, they have been in business for 36 years. With an extensive selection of pottery, jewelry, glasswork and framed art, the cleverly named shop should be your first stop for a special gift - for yourself or others! They are also the only place we take artwork for framing. They have handled a variety of projects for us and always do a professional job with exceptional attention to detail. They really are a gem!

About 50 To 311,832,658

When we were in Washington state for Chuck’s sister’s surprise birthday party, our timing afforded us a bonus event: our nephew’s senior prom! “A” is a great kid with a good sense of humor and a whole bunch of musical and artistic talent. He’s been friends with “B” for many years so we’ve enjoyed getting to know “B” during our visits to the Seattle area. The afternoon of the prom, 16 couples gathered at the home of one of the girls for photos. That’s 32 high school kids dressed to the nines, along with lots of parents, some siblings and the occasional Auntie and Uncle!

It was like a mini-prom without the dancing and completely unlike any of my high school prom experiences. We had a great time. “A” and “B”, along with their dates, were going to the prom and post prom together. So after the photo op there was a bit of coordination and combining of stuff into one car back at “A’s” house. “B’s” parents swung by to deliver something their son had forgotten. After waving goodbye to the prom bound kids, Chuck’s sister invited “B’s” parents in for a drink. The six of us sat out on the deck and chatted about the kids, the prom, the post prom, our own memories of how different things had been back in the day, etc.

We had never met “B’s” parents before but it was an easy going conversation. At one point I mentioned Rhode Island in passing. “B’s” mom asked if we lived in Rhode Island. I said no, but then gave the typical Rhode Island thumbnail sketch: born in Providence, grew up in Warwick attended such and such schools. “B’s” mom repeated the name of my parochial elementary school and followed with “I went to that school!” An extremely fast paced exchange ensued until we both said we had graduated in 1972! Yes, “B’s” mom and I were part of the same graduating class, she in one classroom, me in the other! Amazing. We spent another hour connecting the dots and reminiscing about growing up together.

There were only 50 kids in our 8th grade class. But there I was, 2500 miles away from that little school, and I was sitting across from one of my classmates. What were the odds?

Mount Rainier

On every trip we have taken to Seattle, Washington we have always been able to glimpse Mount Rainier at least once. You would think that at 14,411 feet or 4,392 meters, it would be a constant presence. But it is frequently shrouded in clouds, fog, rain or snow. On our most recent trip, we saw Rainier on the clearest day we have ever experienced in the Northwest. It was absolutely stunning. We saw it repeatedly as we drove around the area - but only from the highways. I never got a photograph of it that day. Sorry. The next day we were out on Lake Washington on the boat belonging to Chuck’s sister and her husband. In the distance, slowly but surely being cloaked back in clouds, was Mount Rainier. It was, as if, on our last afternoon in Seattle, it was bidding us farewell.

Sparkler

Happy Fourth of July!

We did our celebrating a day early on this long holiday weekend. We spent yesterday down in Rhode Island with family and friends. Al and Carrie kindly hosted the sometimes boisterous cheerful group. Isabella was at ease with the crowd, including one cousin she had never met before and an Auntie and Uncle she had only seen once, half a year ago. Good food, a couple of different varieties of killer sangrias, lots of laughter and post-downpour fireworks over the bay made for an excellent celebration!