What makes you ............ you ?

 

So, I have known Doug Dunnevant for 40 years. 

He is married to Lisa’s 3rd (4th? I don’t know for sure) cousin Pam.

 Although we have known each other for a long time, I wouldn’t say we had any kind of a relationship or friendship over the years. 

 I would see him once a year at their family’s annual trip from Virginia to Dummers beach here in Maine throughout the 1980s and 1990s.

 It was a yearly camping get-together for them and Lisa’s family.

A few years ago, with the help of social media, Doug and I reconnected, mostly around our mutual love of writing and political debate.  

He has also developed a decent talent for fishing but that’s another story.

Doug is a successful Financial??? dude?? advisor?? Not sure of the exact title but he has a successful company and has done well for him and his family.

What many don’t know is that Doug is also an incredible writer.  

Yes, he has a daily Blog, but he has written 5 wonderful novels over the years, and I have had the privilege to have read them all. 

Actually, I guess it's 4 novels and a book about his parents. 

A few years ago, he asked me to give him my opinion on the starting chapter of a book he was thinking about writing. (he must have been desperate for advice) I read it and provided my feedback.

Little did I know what that would lead to. 

 Over the last few years, I have been fed 4 novels, one chapter at a time. Often with weeks to even months between chapters.  

I was able to watch each one develop from the mind of this great writer to the page in the original rough form.

I was able to watch the characters unfold, trying to anticipate where Doug would take them next and seldom was I correct.

To read a book as the author is creating it one chapter at a time has been a real source of enjoyment for me over the years. 

Certainly, it’s not the easiest way to read a book, but Doug would often share thoughts and struggles he was having along the way with plot twists or characters and watching how he worked through them was fascinating.

Yes, Doug is a successful Financial “guy”, but he is also a great storyteller!

 I wish you all had the chance to read his books, I know you would love them as much as I did!

 I think he does have 2 published. One actual book about his parents, in book form and he has one published for download…. I think.

But he has 5 incredible books that I know all of you “readers” would enjoy. Hopefully, you will get the chance someday!

I wasn’t planning on this story sounding like I had become his Publicist, but I felt like you needed some background to make this next part make sense.

Although he has begun a new book and of course it's great so far! 

 I received chapter 7 last night with a note indicating that it would be all for now as we go through the holidays! 

 There was a small part in the last book he wrote about a man who lost his memory that really stuck with me.  The man had no recall of his past life at all.

When I read it, I stopped and really thought about the words. I read it many times before moving on with the story.

It has been rolling around in my head ever since.

Here is what I feel is a very profound and powerful thing to think about as written in the book. 

“What is a human being if they are stripped of all 

memory?

 If the mind is emptied of thoughts and reflections of everything that had gone before, could it be said that man still exists?

Robbed of memories, human beings live without context, making them the loneliest creatures in the world.”

I would ask you to read it again and really understand what he is saying.

I don’t know why that resonated with me, but it did.

Are we all simply the sum of our life parts. 

Our personality, behaviors and attitudes formed by years of piled up memories and experiences creating the person we are today but not the person we will be tomorrow.

Does each day, each experience be it trauma or joy, slightly shape who we are and what we become?

And what if it was all taken away? What if we lost all memories? 

Would we still be the same person? 

Or would we start over with a new beginning and become something different based on experiences yet to come?

I don’t know, and I had never thought about it before until I read those words in Doug’s book. 

I would hate to think that “who” I am is based only on what’s in the rear-view mirror and what’s waiting for me on the road ahead.

But if Doug’s words are not true, then what truly makes us who we are? 

Certainly, something to think about!

What makes you………. You?

 Trash ??

They say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

 If you believe that to be true, I guess Lisa and I have been trash pickers for many years.

About 15 years ago Lisa asked me to spend some time on a small beach along the coast of Maine.

 We were on vacation and spending a day at the coast. 

Although my initial reaction was less than enthusiastic, I agreed, and we started scouring the beach for the small remains of someone’s discarded trash.

Hey, I found a small white one she said. Within a few minutes she had found several incredibly smooth and polished pieces of sea glass of assorted colors.

If you are not familiar with Sea Glass, it’s simple. 

Bottles, plates, jars, you name it. Almost any level of trash finds its way into our oceans. 

Over the years, decades and more, the ocean smashes and shapes the glass.

 The ocean's currents and waves combined with our rocky coastline round all the edges and smooth out the glass making a small gem for the finder, a gem that was once just trash discarded into the ocean. 

As if taking the bad it was given, the ocean turns it into something worth searching for.

Although I hesitantly began my search for sea glass 15 years ago, I will confess we go at least 2 to 3 times a year and I really enjoy it! 

We often spend a warm winter day walking on a beach looking down.

I have found glass of every color. Some that I know was once simply a beer bottle transformed into a small gem. Others I know are OLD and remnants of a day long gone by.

I have brown, green, white, clear, pink, purple, red, dark blue (like the old milk of magnesia bottles) and everything in between.

Most are white and brown but the thrill of finding a rare color is hard to explain. 

Although I know it’s just a piece of glass whose story I will never really know, it is a treasure and a delight to find those rare colors and imagine what the story behind each piece might be.

It’s a very fun hobby! 

The sad part to this story is that over the past 15 years Lisa and I have searched for Sea Glass on every stretch of beach we have visited along the Maine coast, and we have yet to fail to bring home treasures. 

Although we consider each piece a treasure to collect and save (see picture) it’s a testament to exactly how much glass trash there is in our Maine oceans. 

The good news for treasure seekers is that every coastal storm or every extreme high tide sweeps in potential new treasures waiting to be found. 

Pieces that have been cast about our ocean for who knows how long, waiting to be found and appreciated by someone who can see the treasure within the trash. 

In the pictures below, one is Lisas hand with a recent gathering from a beach near owl’s head light house. We visited Owl’s head last week and decided to try our luck at a beach nearby. 

It was about 30 minutes’ worth of searching for the two of us.

The other is what we have collected over the years in a Quart canning jar.

It is time to start a new jar!

Reset

We all have our way of resetting. 

Our unique way of pushing our internal reset button to start anew. 

You know what I mean, that safety mechanism that ensures our life doesn’t overwhelm us and takes our focus off what’s important in life. 

It’s both an emotional and a physical reset and for many of us it’s an important part of our year.

Some take a vacation to the beach. With toes in the sand and the waves slapping the shore, they allow the ocean to wash away their stress and recharge them for what future challenges may await.

Others visit large resorts and places like Disneyland. They like to enjoy nonstop fun and entertainment with a crowd of folks having the same experience.

Still others rent a camp on a lake and enjoy the relaxing and quiet experience that nature will share with you if you slow down long enough to enjoy.

Regardless of the style we choose, we all have our method we use to reset. If you don’t, GET ONE!

Years ago, I would have scoffed at the idea that I needed time to reset, I was in complete control, and I didn’t NEED to do anything. Running wide open, life was to be lived, “you can rest when you are dead.” I would say.

One of the benefits of age is wisdom, you eventually learn more about yourself as time goes on. 

You accept the good and the bad and just maybe, you try to limit the bad a little for the sake of others.

If you have followed my ramblings, you know that several years ago, I took a solo trip up north to spend a few days, Lisa was working and couldn’t get away. 

For the first time since we were married, I packed up my tent and all my camping gear and headed north.

At first, I felt a level of disappointment, even guilt, that I was heading to my favorite spot on the planet and Lisa wasn’t coming with me.

That was a fantastic trip! 

A trip that taught me something about myself that I either didn’t know or never took the time to acknowledge. 

That newfound knowledge was that I not only enjoy but need time away and I need that time alone. 

 Really alone!

Not just for a few hours or a day but days with only myself and my thoughts.

For three and a half days I saw only one other person on a hiking trail the last day . I nodded and said hello as we passed. 

I was surprised how crackly my voice had become having not used it for 3 days.

From sunrise till way after dark while sitting by the fire, my only companion was my thoughts. 

Many people are afraid to be alone with their thoughts, time allows things to float to the top that are otherwise suppressed by the hustle and bustle of life or by our own choosing.

I have gone back every year since. 

Each year the reset goes a little deeper and the man that returns to his life is hopefully, just a little better than he was before.

It has become my time to clear the mind and refresh the soul from all the challenges that life sets before me each year. 

Unfortunately, this year for reasons I care not share , I chose not to make the trip. 

When I made the decision not to go, I knew it was the right one and felt confident with my decision.

Although I still agree that this year just couldn’t happen, as summer fades there is a sadness and a tug in my heart that makes it clear.

 I will be there next year. 

I not only want to go,

 I need to go!

These pictures are from my first solo trip. 

A place my heart will always long to get back to.

Next year!

Voices from the past

 

“Look at the old Pier pilings! I wonder what was here?” Lisa said as we walked onto the beach.

Today we stopped at a small beach we have driven by dozens of times over the years. It’s only a couple of miles from the main road but our past journeys have always led us by without a thought of what we might be missing.

On this day we had time to kill as we needed to arrive at our hotel in Lubec no earlier than 3 pm.

This late check-in had me searching for places to stop that we had never been to before.

Our stop was Sandy Point beach in Stockton springs Maine.

I was
expecting a nice sandy beach with rocks and shells. The typical Maine beach.

I wasn’t wrong. Those things were all there just as expected.

What I didn’t expect was to see old pier pilings sticking out of the sand and the sea.

They were eroded by time and desperately trying to continue to tell the story they were placed there to tell.

“I don’t know” I said “but let’s go take a look.”

The more I looked it over, the more evident it was that it was not simply one structure, but several, built over a span of hundreds of years.

Some were close to the end of their story with rot and decay taking its toll, nature was reclaiming them.

Others much younger were still holding strong to their place in time.

The youngest even looked like an old concrete structure of some kind, barely visible protruding above the sand.

But what? A look around the beach and the surrounding shoreline gave no clue as to why this was constructed or how long it had been there.

As we walked along the beach, I continued looking at the structure, my imagination running wild trying to figure out what I was looking at.

Lisa on the other hand had a more important task, find Sea Glass.

Could we find any of the small treasures given up by the sea on this beach? Not sure but she was up to the challenge.

We left 30 minutes later with sea glass in hand, and a mystery that wasn’t leaving me anytime soon.

The more I drove the more I thought about the weathered and eroded sentinels standing tall in the sand yet appearing to serve no purpose but to ensure the past hasn’t completely faded away.

When I got home and I started looking at the pictures from our trip, the pier once again grabbed my imagination and the speculation began, What? Why? How? More importantly WHEN?

So, I started researching to try to tame the questions that were nagging at me.

Here is what I found. What is now just a few echoes from the past, was once a bustling and historic location throughout the late 1700’s right into the 1800’s and beyond.

This is a copy from an article about the history of Sandy point.

“Sandy Point was a mail route drop off site as early as 1793, During the 1800’s this beach was lined with shipyards that built three-mastered schooners.

During World War 1 the government also built four vessels for the war effort here. You can still see the parallel timbers embedded in the sand used to launch these massive ships into the bay.

Also visible during low tide is the wharf that once welcomed summer visitors by steamboat to Maine by way of the Boston-to-Bangor Packet.

The more prominent pilings are reminders that this beach was also the location of a fertilizer plant that operated from the mid-twentieth century until the 1970s.”

WOW !

My imagination could never have crafted such a story for this small patch of land and yet there it was!

You would never know standing on that beach looking at those old decaying pilings rising out of the sand, that this area was once so important!

I often wish I had the power to make the lifeless speak. What stories those pieces of wood could tell.

The hundreds of years they have been there silently watching the hands of time slowly ticking by.

The stories of the men working to build the three masted Schooners, or of the Mail delivered in the late 1700’s that came from where? and went to whom ?

Mighty Steamboats pulling up to her magnificent dock to unload those folks fortunate enough to be able to travel to Bangor from Boston in those early days for a vacation.

I’m sure it was the only way to get there at the time.

And what of the warships built along the shore and launched across the once mighty dock system? A dock that now stands as a mere skeleton of what it once was.

Where did they go? What battles were they in?

Yes, the stories we would hear about this very important beach over the past 250 years if only the ghosts of years gone by could spin their tales.

I can’t imagine all that took place on this small little beach over the past 250 years!

A beach that now sits silent, with only a few echoes of the past standing tall, echoes tempting us to listen closely to their story.

A story they so desperately want to tell so that we may not forget the remarkable things that took place on this quiet little beach.

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Here comes Goodbye

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In the 2010 music Video by Rascal Flatts entitled “Here comes Goodbye”. The opening scene shows a man talking to a little boy who is playing with a truck. 

The man explains he had a truck once given to him by his grandfather. The man talks about the passing of his grandfather and the love of that truck. 

His last statement in the scene is “sometimes life just seems like chapters of goodbyes.” 

We find out later in the video that the man has died and the little boy who he is talking with has come to guide him to heaven.

I have heard that song thousands of times since it came out. The actual song references a breakup of a relationship, but the video focuses on the passing of a young woman’s son and now father.

When I saw the video, I formed a new meaning to the song, and it somehow hit closer to home for me.

 I haven’t had a lot of loved ones pass away. Actually,  I am incredibly lucky. Besides grandparents My life has been relatively free from the pains of death. 

When my close friend died in April with no warning, no goodbyes, just there one minute and gone the next. It hit me hard. Extremely hard. 

 Probably harder than it should have for someone my age, but it is what it is. 

Goodbye is a word we all say without even thinking, as we head to work, leave a friend after a visit . In reality we use it casually in our daily lives without giving it a second thought.

I saw the video shortly after Dennis died and it really hit home.

As I reflected on  the statement from the video “sometimes life just 

seems like chapters of goodbyes” the word goodbye took on new meaning.

My life, like yours, has been a series of adventures that have taken me to many different places to live, work and play.

When I think about all the goodbyes I have said over the decades it really does reinforce the quote above.

I have said goodbye to friends in school who moved away. I said goodbye to classmates in June of 1982, many I will never see again.

I have said goodbye to jobs, coworkers, and bosses.

I have said goodbye to towns and neighbors.

I have said goodbye to dear friends as I have moved from place to place. 

Some stayed in touch, others drifted away.

I have said goodbye to pets that had to be laid away after a life of companionship to our family.

I have said goodbye to family who have watched our adventures from afar .

The quote above truly is correct. Life really is just chapters of goodbyes.

Like all of you I have said goodbye a 1000 times over my 58 years. 

Many brought tears when spoken, most did not.

I think the hardest goodbyes to accept are the ones never spoken. 

The ones that you are cheated out of by fate .

When I squeezed my grandfather’s hand in the hospital and told him I loved him as I headed back to Alabama after his stroke. I knew deep down that I was saying goodbye and so did he. 

When his passing came shortly after our return to Alabama, although still sad, I felt closure that I was able to tell him one last time that I loved him. I had said goodbye and we both knew it.

When my grandmother passed away while taking a nap one day at the farm, I was not afforded that same closure as I had with Gramp. 

No goodbye, no last I love you. No final hugs.

The call came in from my father that she had passed and like that, the opportunity for goodbye was gone.

We had so many good times together over the 25 years I got to know Dennis. We were friends that had lasted through major life changes, moves, careers and everything else life can throw at you and yet our friendship carried on.

 Although he lived in Ohio I visited at least once a year. I usually did the traveling since he was over 20 years my senior.

As far as friends go, he was one of my best. 

He was an old school kind of guy and other than a smile he wasn’t big on sharing emotions. 

I remember one of my last trips to see him as I gave him a hug to leave, I whispered in his ear. “I love you man “ 

I think it took him by surprise as he didn’t know what to say. I didn’t let the moment linger as I reached over to give his wife a hug and got into my truck.

I wasn’t expecting a return gesture, I just wanted him to know.

Dennis died in April after mowing the lawn. He sat down for a glass of water and quietly passed.

No chance for goodbyes. Here one second and gone the next. 

So, as I wrap up this ramble, I have to agree. Life is just a series of goodbyes, but it is also a series of Hello’s. 

Take time to appreciate both!

I must say the goodbyes that hurt the most. The goodbyes that bring a tear when reflected on, are the ones that are never said. 

The ones that fate cheats us out of and our right to closure.

So, make sure as you look at your life, that those around you who you value and love, make sure they know!

 Make sure that if there is no chance for a goodbye, no chance for one last hug, no last I love you, make sure they know.

Make sure as you move forward in life. No matter how old you are or where you are in life, make sure those who deserve a goodbye know. 

Make SURE they know how you feel. 

Because you may not get the chance “someday” to tell them and those are the saddest goodbyes of all.

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Lisa Crooker Smith

 Public Service Announcement,

If you are not interested in reading the thoughts of a gushing husband about how wonderful his wife is on her Birthday, scroll on!  

This post is not for you.

 If you are ok with my completely biased opinion on how wonderful Lisa is, I invite you to read on!

And yes, I know tomorrow is August 12, but I hope to being doing something special with this wonderful lady tomorrow, so I posted it today!

 August 12, 1965, the world health organization estimates there were 319,907 babies born on that day worldwide. 

The most popular name for babies here in America in 1965 was Lisa and Michael. 

August 12, 1965, was a sunny summer day with a high of 77 degrees, it was a Thursday.

At 10:30 Pm on August 12,1965 the world became a better place for so many of us as Lisa Crooker entered the world.

If you know her, you know exactly what I mean by that bold statement.

 Her friendly, gentle demeanor has guided her entire life and blessed so many along the way.  

Whether you are a friend, coworker, relative or just someone who has spent a little time with Lisa, you know what I mean. 

The middle child of Bill and Nancy Crooker, Lisa was between younger twin sisters and an older big sister. 

Lisa developed many of the classic middle child traits.  Peacemaker, selfless, worried about everyone else over herself. You know the traits.

She has dedicated her life to helping and taking care of others, often at her own expense. 

Her family is and always has been her top priority! 

So many in our world, including myself, search, and struggle to find a purpose that makes us feel fulfilled, or valued. 

Lisa has had her focus from day one.

Be the best wife, mother, and friend she could be.

Be kind to all and always see the best in everyone you meet!

Although time has passed and the focus of her efforts have changed, the goal is still the same. 

Yes, she is still the best wife, mother, and friend anyone could ask for, but now she works to be the best Mother in-law and Grandma she can be! 

She has widened her circle of love and continues to strive to be the best she can at supporting those important to her. 

Her life focuses narrowly on those who are important to her, all else takes a back seat.

I may be biased but when I look at the past 57 years that Lisa Crooker Smith has been on this planet, I can confidently say that she should be content in knowing that she has blessed so many of us by being a part of our lives. 

I ask you all to join me in wishing this sweet lady a Happy Birthday!

 Let her know she is as special to us as she works so hard to be!

Happy Birthday Lisa Crooker Smith. 

I love more than you will ever know!

A rainy day long ago.

38 years ago, today it was pouring rain. 

It had been raining for 3 days and there was no hope of it letting up. 

You see, June 2,  all those years ago, was a VERY special day. 

It was the day two young kids who hadn’t a clue in the world, were coming together to take the most important step of their lives. 

Why did it have to rain?

As I stand in the back of the church nervously waiting for things to begin, unbeknownst to me, my bride was being delivered to the church wrapped in trash bags wearing sneakers desperately trying to keep her dress and hair dry. 

Her father and uncle David were soaked through making sure Lisa made it into the church without a drop of rain staining her dress or her. 

The true heroes of the day for sure. 

I was so nervous! 

I remember my hands shaking while I waited out back. I was confident in my love for Lisa and there were no cold feet to be had. 

No, instead I was more worried about messing things up. 

Something I was rather good at in those days.

I remember thinking OK, just repeat what the priest tells you and then say I do! How can I screw that up?   

 Well …. I could!

I remember finally getting to the altar and facing the back of the small church. 

It was time!

The pews were filled with the smiling faces of family and friends.

The organist begins and soon Lisa and her dad are walking my way. 

I remember saying to myself “how can this be? “How can anyone so beautiful and sweet be marrying me?

But marry me she did. 

I didn’t screw up my lines and the wedding and the reception was just as we planned it!

All the while the rain never stopped. 

That was 38 years ago but it could have been yesterday!

We have had many adventures and a life together full of love. 

For 38 years we have supported each other without question, 

Sacrificed when needed and celebrated life to the fullest.

I can’t wait to see what the next thirty-eight look like.

And yet still, 38 years later, can’t understand how or why anyone that beautiful and that sweet would marry me?

But every day since that rainy day in June, 38 years ago, I have been blessed and thankful that she did!

I love you Lisa Crooker Smith and I can't tell you how blessed I am that you said......    

I do.

This Photo is us leaving her father's house for the first time as a married couple.

We had no idea the life we were about to live and journeys we would go on!

Goodbye

Goodbye

As I look out the small window in front of me, I can see the edge of the earth fading away as it curves out of sight.

 I think the pilot said we were cruising at 32,000 feet. 

The sun is making long shadows across the landscape below. 

I can’t see the sun from our level due to a cloud bank that sits below us but through holes in the clouds I can see its reach.

Lisa is sleeping with her head on my shoulder.

We have made this trip many times, but this time is different. 

This time, we both wished we didn’t have to go.

He has been gone a little over a week. 

We got the call one evening as we were watching TV after work. 

He finished mowing his lawn and sat in his chair on the back porch to rest. One minute he was there and the next he was gone. 

He slipped off to sleep and never woke up.

He was one of my closest friends for almost 30 years. 

Although older than me and almost 80 years of age, he was always healthy and happy and for the most part, had no real health issues for his age.

He simply left us in the blink of an eye. 

No time to say goodbye.

No time to tell him what he meant to me. 

No time for one more hug.

No more laughs 

No more memories to make.

No more restaurants to visit.

Here one minute, gone the next.

Simply no more time.

As we near our destination, Dayton Ohio, the sun shows itself for the first time in a long time.

 At the moment it appears, I see this special little rainbow out my window. 

No one else on the plane seems to notice, no one comments on the beauty of the small but bright rainbow. 

 Maybe it was meant for me to see and only me.

My heart wants to believe that my friend was welcoming me back to Ohio one last time. 

My head knows better, but today I am letting my heart win.

As I stare out the window the heart takes over, my eyes well with tears. It wasn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last as I have a long weekend ahead.

As I look at the beautiful rainbow sitting among the clouds I quietly whisper, 

“Hello old friend, I have come to say goodbye.”

Dennis Ray Becker November 12, 1942 – April 12, 2022.

Suit

 “Booth please” 

We are in a local restaurant getting ready to have some Chinese food. 

One of my favorite foods!

As we are seated in the booth, as usual, I always pick the side that puts my back to a wall and gives me a better view of the room. 

We place our order and talk while waiting for the food. 

 As we talk, I notice the greeter escorting a very old man across the room to a booth on the opposite side of the room. 

I can see them, Lisa cannot.

My guess is he is in his early to mid-90’s and very frail.

I found it strange and started watching because the old man was dressed in a way that seemed very out of place. 

He had a light blue suit on, a baby blue in color.  

Who wears a suit to Chinese? 

Clearly the suit was old. The style looked like something from the 70’s or maybe even earlier.

As he moved along the floor, he could barely lift his feet and simply slid them along in a slow shuffle.

 I began to notice more details in the suit as I watched him make his way across the room. 

The pants were too long and bunched up as they hit the floor. 

The back of the cuff was worn and fringed from many years of rubbing on the floor. 

The jacket seemed too long for his now small and fragile frame.

His shoes were of the same time period and looked like they had not been polished in a long time.

As he shuffled across the room, he could not keep up with the greeter who waited at the booth for him to arrive.

 He sat down and quickly a waitress placed a set of silverware and one of those paper placemats in front of him as they exchanged small talk. 

I saw him raise his hand and hold up two fingers. Again, it appeared strange as if giving her a peace sign, but the waitress took out her pad and wrote down his order immediately and left.

 Clearly, he knew what he wanted as he never looked at a menu.

I didn’t mention anything to Lisa since she couldn’t see him anyway, but I kept my focus on him as we talked and ate our meal.

While he waited for his meal, he took apart the silverware rolled up in the napkin and place each one exactly where it needed to be on the sides of the paper mat.  

He reached over and took out some of the packets of pepper and salt from the cube along the wall and stacked them beside the paper mat as well. 

All the while he never looked around the room. He seemed to only look straight ahead at the empty bench on the other side of his table. 

Once he had his setting prepared like he liked it, he sat with his arms on the table looking straight ahead awaiting his meal.

I noticed his suit was not only old but stained and very wrinkled. 

 He had one sleeve that was buttoned as it should be, but the other sleeve was open. 

My guess is it was missing a button or hands ravaged by age could not get it buttoned.

 Either way it was open showing his white shirt underneath 

It wasn’t long before the waitress brought him his meal. 

After she walked away, I saw the reason for the peace sign or the two fingers. There were two glasses of water sitting in front of the old man. 

He repositioned his plate in front of him. Moved his water glass to his right side and then slid the second glass into position across the table from him as though giving it to someone who wasn’t there.

I watched the old man as he ate. 

His gaze never leaving the empty booth in front of him.

His facial expressions would change from blank stares, to smiles and sometimes sadness as he ate. 

It was as though he was carrying on a conversation without speaking a word or simply remembering one from days gone by.

I never saw him say a word but clearly, he was sharing this meal with someone.

Lisa and I finished our meal and we left before the old man finished his.

 I am not sure how this story ends. 

Was he celebrating an anniversary with a lost love?

Keeping up a tradition only he is left to partake in?

I guess I will never know for sure, but I know one thing, this man got dressed up to the best of his ability. 

Made his way to a restaurant and ordered two drinks.

 One he never touched after he slid it across the table to whoever he was sharing this time with.

What I know is, he allowed memories to take him away to a time and place that I can only assume was better than the present.

Lisa never knew I watched this; she will hear this story just like the rest of you.

I am not sure why I felt compelled to write about it. 

It was almost a year ago this took place. 

I never forgot about the old man in the suit.

This story has been rattling around in my head just waiting to be told. 

Why?  I'm not sure.

Of what value is it? 

Entertaining? Probably not. 

Educational? Probably not.

So why has it hung with me waiting to be told?

That , I do not know, but it did.

How tall is your wall?

 

I have written many times about the power of music and its importance to me.   Music has been a major part of my life since I was able to pick my own stations on the radio and I got my first turn table.

I love all kinds of music from hard rock to love ballads, to country oldies and everything in between.

Yes, I love music and the power it has over our emotions and our thoughts.

Of course, I have my favorites . 

Recently I became reacquainted with my all-time favorite album.  I purchased the album when it first came out in 1979. 

I wore out two sets listening to it over and over again in the basement of my childhood home as I wore a set of clunky headphones. 

Hours and hours were spent with the turntable spinning and the needle capturing the sound only vinyl can produce. 

 Than, I moved to Cassettes in my car and finally CD’s.

Now I have the entire thing downloaded on my phone and have it available anytime I want it.

 I would say I listen to the full 80 minutes of this album at least once a week since It came back into my radar

To me it is clearly the best collection of music ever written. From the first song through all 4 sides, till the final song, it’s a true work of art and a musical achievement that has never been duplicated since.

 I doubt it ever will be.

I am talking about Pink Floyds album “The Wall”.  

I have listened to this album literally thousands of times since it was released in Nov of 1979. I know every word, every note and when one song finishes I know what is coming next.

Its called a “Rock Opera” because the entire album tells a story. Each song leads to the next. Each song a chapter in the life of a fictional character “Pink”. 

Pink is a jaded rock star who creates a fictional wall around himself as he moves deeper into Isolation from society and everyone around him. 

It’s the brainchild of Roger Waters, lead vocalist and creative genesis for Pink Floyd at the time. 

Waters came up with the  idea when he was so burned out at touring, that he fantasized about having a wall between the band and the audience, so he didn’t have to see or interact with them while they played.

The concept led to Waters taking actual traumatic events from his childhood and life and combined them with the events of fellow band member Syd Barret. Syd suffered from Schizophrenia and ultimately had to leave the band .  

Waters created the storyline that is  laid out within the songs of the album.  

The story line takes Pink from childhood to insanity.

The concept is a simple one and one that I believe is true.

 As we all go through life bad things happen to us.  Parents die young, we get abandoned, we feel  alone when there should be someone there to help . We get jilted by lovers, betrayed by friends and though bad choices we make, we do many things we look back on and regret. Guilt builds into our life.

Each event we go through as our lives march forward, are either cast aside and forgotten, or they are turned into bricks and put in place to help build a wall that protects us from the world. 

I believe we all have a self-preservation mechanism that attempts to shield us from the bad things that happened and tries to ensure they don’t happen again. 

The wall symbolizes the removal of the vulnerability we all have when dealing with others. Remove the vulnerability, remove the potential to get hurt again. 

Build up the wall !

I think we all have a wall around us that we have built over time. 

Some walls are every tall and few people ever get in. They have built high walls to protect themselves from things in their past and ensure they do  not happen again.

Some walls are short as some can cope with what life has thrown at them and the need for a wall is minimal.

To some degree I think our wall keeps people from seeing the real us . At least not 100%

We let people see what we want them to see, the wall helps protect what we wish others not see.

I believe everyone has a wall. How tall? How short? Who we let in? Who we keep out? 

How and why, it protects us from pain, embarrassment or rejection depends on how we use the wall.

Pinks wall ultimately drove him insane as the total isolation he created allowed his mind to finally take over with the depravity that we are all capable of, yet keep at bay. 

How big is your wall? Who do you let in and who do you keep out? 

 What pain, rejection or embarrassment is your wall hoping to protect you from?

The great thing about walls is they can be built tall and strong to ensure they do their job of protecting us.

They can also be taken down.  

The self-preservation mechanism that unconsciously begins the wall building process in us all at a young age ,can be overridden and brick by brick you can take down the wall. 

For years the wall that surrounded me was tall and few entered.  I had stacked a lifetime of bricks. 

The walls is shorter now but it’s still there.

All I can do is work at removing one brick at a time, slowly taking down the wall and allowing more people inside .

How tall is your wall? 

Are you building? 

Or, I hope,   

you are taking down? 

Kind

 It’s no secret that none of us are getting out of this life alive.

 No, at some point in the future we are all going to take our last breath and leave the rest behind.

When we are gone, all we will leave for those remaining are memories. 

Memories of who we were, what we accomplished in this life and what was important to us as we used up our time on this rock. 

Some of us will be remembered fondly, others not so much.   

It always seems when we talk about someone who has passed on, we always seem to generalize.

“Boy that Tom, he was a character”

“Remember Al, he was always joking around “

“Old Bob, what a grouch he was “

“Remember Sally was so crafty, she could make just about anything for her house”

I think you get the point. When someone we know passes on, we remember them for the character trait or traits that defined their life. 

 As I said before some good and some not so good.

I guess the older one gets the more they think about stuff like that. 

What will I be remembered for? What will people say about me after I’m gone?

Today is Lisa’s Birthday and as I thought about what I might write in wishing her a happy Birthday I wanted to do something a bit different. 

Over the years I have created all types of Birthday wishes and stories celebrating her day.

I started thinking about who she was, what made her tick and what was important to her.  

I have known her for over 40 years. That’s a long time to know someone so I guess it qualifies me to be able to judge her life and put labels on her accomplishments.

Although I hate the thought of it, and it takes my breath away to even write it, I know some day Lisa will pass on.  

Selfishly I hope I pass first so I don’t have to try to exist without her, but either way, someday She will take her last breath as we all will. 

When she is gone what will people say about her? What was important to her? What did she spend a lifetime working on? 

I think I know.

“Lisa sure loved her family; it was the most important thing to her”

“Lisa was talented with those crafts and painting that’s for sure”

“Lisa sure was a great friend”

There are so many things that can be said about how Lisa has lived her life and how she has treated the world and everyone in it.  

There is one word though, one word that is at the core of everything Lisa does. 

One word that describes the way she has approached every day of her life.

One word that describes how she has treated everyone she meets and interacts with.

That word is………. 

Kindness

Lisa is one of the most kind and caring people I know. She treats everyone with kindness and compassion even when they don’t deserve it.  ESPECIALLY when they don’t deserve it!! 

She has no enemies although many have pushed her, she refuses to let anything but kindness rule her life.

She is truly a special person in a world racked by emotions, division, and strife.

She has spent a lifetime perfecting the art of being a kind and caring person and she has mastered it!

I know some of you may think it’s a little strange to be talking about your wife as though she had passed away when she hasn’t yet, and I guess you would be right.

 I can’t explain the thoughts that seed themselves in this brain of mine, all I can do is write about them when they beg to be let out.

Here is how I look at it. 

How special of a person does it take to build your legacy early? To lock down the things people will say about you for generation to come before you are even gone! 

How special to have cemented that legacy long before the dash on your headstone has a second date. 

Yes, it does take a special person to be so well known for one simple trait.  

Lisa is that special person!

She is above all else……

Kind 

Happy Birthday my love!

May your kindness shine on for many more years to come!

Time

 

The wind is playing havoc with the smoke coming off the fire pit. No matter where I set my chair it seems to follow me almost instantly. 

I settle into a new spot, and I slowly close my eyes as they are burning from the smoke,  as I listen I am instantly 40 years in the past.

I hear the crackling of the fire being drowned out by familiar voices from days gone by. 

 There’s Dennis he’s talking with Paula about playing golf. 

That’s Dave, he’s joking with Denise and Rhonda, I can’t make out what he’s saying but as usual if Dave’s talking people are laughing.  

To my left Mary and Molly are talking quietly. 

I can’t hear Alison but that’s not surprising her quiet and gentle demeaner hasn’t changed a bit in 40 years.

As I slowly open my eyes time fast forwards to the present and the reality of its passing can be seen.

I am at a small impromptu gathering of classmates pulled together at the last minute. Our mission is to visit around a firepit with Dennis, who is home for a quick visit from the west coast.

The evening started with hugs all around as we all slowly slipped back in time.

 There were stories told, memories questioned and laughter,  yes lots and lots of laughter.

Now even though it was a small group, and we live in the same town, there were several at the fire who I had not spoken with in 39 years. 

No, since the day we walked away with our gowns on and cap in hand, our paths simply never crossed.

The rest I have seen in passing but never much more than a casual  “Hello , how are you?” and we would be off again buried in our separate lives.

And yet, as though time had never passed,  our ability to reconnect and slip back into each other’s lives, if only for an evening,  seemed effortless. 

I know this will sound strange and I am not sure I can explain it, but the passing of time seemed to almost bring us closer together.

 I had meaningful conversations with classmates I rarely spoke with all those years ago. 

Was it maturity on our part at this point in life or simply a change in priorities and attitudes? 

I don’t know but to me it seemed easier somehow than it did all those years ago.

As the evening wore on memories reconnected us as we sat around a the smokey fire that played the ringmaster to it all.

 What seemed apparent to me was that time and our current place in it, seems to have closed  the gap that existed between us so many years ago, as caring and a genuine appreciation for each other filled the void. 

 I’m not sure that makes any sense and I’m sure it’s my inability to explain it that’s lacking.

All I know is for about three hours last night I was back in 1982 and I truly enjoyed the visit.

Goodbye Mary

 

Her name is Mary Louise Chaisson, she was born in 1958 in Rumford Maine. The Daughter of David and Philena Chaisson. By the time Mary was 2 years old David and Philena received the news no parents wish to hear. Mary was different, she would not be like other kids. In a day when words were not as closely guarded as they are today, David and Philena heard the news that Mary was retarded. , That’s a word we don’t use anymore today but back in that day, it was standard practice. Mary won’t be like other kids, and she probably wouldn’t live past her teens was the message. If she did manage to live past her teens her life would mean little and the quality of life she could expect was bleak at best. She will never have a family, never own a home, never have a job, never graduate from collage, fall in love or create a legacy for future generations. No in those days, an outlook like the one Mary received, lacked all hope of a life worth living. You see Mary simply wasn’t like everyone else and she never would be. I met Mary when I was a teen, and I started dating her cousin, Lisa. Yes, Mary is Lisa’s first cousin and I met her soon after Lisa and I started dating in the late 1970’s. By that time Mary had already beaten the odds and was in her early 20’s. Yes, part of her early diagnosis was correct . Mary seemed to me, to be stuck at about the age of 4 or 5 . She wore braces on her legs ,why I am not sure, but I know she had physical issues as well as the intellectual ones. Despite her challenges she was the first person with her level of disability to successfully graduate from High school in her hometown of Cambridge Massachusetts . The occasion was so celebrated that Mary was presented her diploma by the Mayor of Cambridge. So why am I telling you about Mary? Sadly, this past weekend I attended her funeral. She passed away at the age of 63 . A far cry from the prediction made decades before. I want to tell you about the Mary I knew . I want to give you “MY” diagnosis of Mary . In the view of the world, Mary was a broken soul destined to a life where the simple achievements made by you and I would be impossible for Mary. I would have to agree with some of that but let me introduce you to the Mary I knew for 40 years. Mary was a pure and gentle human being. Mary greeted everyone with a smile. She loved people and never met anyone who she wouldn’t try to befriend. There is no doubt that growing up Mary was picked on and abused as a child in the 60’s, by both kids and adults alike. Yet Mary never held a grudge or let it affect her attitude or outlook on life. She was the first to forgive and accepted everyone for who they were. She was always smiling and genuinely seemed to be happy every time I saw her . I would be greeted with a hug and an "I love you" every time we met. She had no self-pity for her situation. I’m not sure she even understood it all. She was just happy no matter what she was doing. She used the phrase “ I Love you” often and truly meant it. I remember the first time she said it to me, I was somewhat taken aback at the statement and yet I knew she meant it. It was simply a pure, unguarded expression of how she felt. Nothing more , nothing less. She wasn’t looking for “I love you” in return, nor was she using it in any way other than to express her genuine caring for those around her. She loved to travel and enjoyed going anywhere she could. She did have a job and was very good at what she did and loved by all who worked with her. Mary saw life through a lens that focused on the best in everything and everyone. It wasn’t forced or something she worked on . It was just who she was. She had no jealousy, anger, greed, or ego. I don’t know if she couldn’t understand those traits or if somehow, she choose not to embrace them but either way she lacked most of the qualities you and I work so hard to hide. Even when her time was short and her mother tried to explain the inevitable to Mary. Mary was sick and wasn’t going to get any better. Philena asked “Mary do you understand what I am saying” Mary Smiled and said “yes, I’ll be seeing Daddy and my big sister soon” was her response. Both had passed way years ago and Mary was looking forward to the reunion. She was simply a sweet soul who was stuck in a toddler’s mind. Was Mary different? Yes , she was . In ways measured by IQ scores, worldly accomplishments and most of the things today’s world uses to gauge success. Mary simply didn’t measure up. Although challenged with a mind that couldn’t keep up and a body that often failed, its true Mary was not like everyone else. BUT clearly looking back on her life much of that difference , much of what made Mary special and not like the rest of us, is as much because of our shortcomings , our weaknesses, and our level of broken, not hers. Mary exemplified what the rest of us should strive to accomplish. Mary exhibited daily all the traits we should strive to master. She was kind, caring and happy all the time. She saw the good in everyone and everything. She accepted challenges and heartache with a level of grace and acceptance that most of us can only wish to achieve. She embraced the life she was dealt with an acceptance for what it was and did it with a smile. So clearly if you measure Mary’s life by the gauge the world sets before us, Mary’s score would be very low. But take that same measurement with the gauge that measures what it means to be a truly decent, loving and kind human being and Mary’s scores are off the charts. So, was Mary different? yes, was she special ? She sure was ! We should all try to be more like Mary. We should all try to fix our broken and maybe we can be just half the human being Mary was for 63 years ! Goodbye Mary we will miss that shy smile!