Comings & Goings
Two Tramps in Mud Time
I wanted to start off by expressing my appreciation for those readers among you who have provided me with constructive blog feedback and other thoughtful insights. Even comments such as “Your blog is way too long and needs a good editor,” or “Who really wants to know what you are reading” are taken to heart as I refine my blogging skills, a work in progress to be sure. And everyone should know that the identities of those individuals providing feedback will always be kept in the strictest of confidence, even if they are family members.
When I finally found time to stack the cord wood in our driveway, as referenced in my last posting, I was reminded of Robert Frost’s poem, Two Tramps in Mud Time, which reflects the narrator’s pleasure for the physical escape and the kinesthetic joy of splitting wood:
Good blocks of oak it was I split,
As large around as the chopping block;
And every piece I squarely hit
Fell splinterless as a cloven rock.
The blows that a life of self-control
Spares to strike for the common good,
That day, giving a loose my soul,
I spent on the unimportant wood.
Later in the poem, the narrator – presumably Frost – finds even greater focus and pleasure when two loggers emerge from the woods, looking for “splitting” work and potentially compromising the narrator’s moment of bliss. Frost, however, remains unyielding, carrying on his labor of love and expressing,
The time when most I loved my task
The two must make me love it more
By coming with what they came to ask.
You’d think I never had felt before
The weight of an ax-head poised aloft,
The grip of earth on outspread feet,
The life of muscles rocking soft
And smooth and moist in vernal heat.
For me, I no longer feel the weight of the “ax-head poised aloft” nor “muscles rocking smooth in vernal heat,” and I remain unsure what led to the loss of a once familiar and annual rite. I now have a great wood guy whom I pay to cut, split, and deliver our wood, and I merely stack it. But I still take pride in my neat, symmetric wood rows and strong, strategic buttressing ends, my thoughts oddly drifting to the unfolding World Series drama just as much a part of October as the stacking of wood.
Depending on the kindness of strangers
Several weeks ago, on a Saturday morning, while in the middle of nowhere Maine, I began to experience car trouble with our 2007 Saab wagon with warning lights violently blinking, the engine sputtering, and a loss of meaningful forward momentum. I limped slowly along the side of the road, with yellow flashers properly deployed. I edged into a nondescript “mom and pop” gas station and went inside thinking that maybe dry gas would solve my problems (that’s the extent of my mechanical knowledge). I spoke with a nice woman at the register who, like me, didn’t know much beyond dry gas. However, another man who was waiting to pay for his coffee overheard my moaning car woes and kindly jumped into the conversation:
“It sounds like you got car troubles. What are you driving?”
“It’s a 2007 Saab wagon that my wife wishes we would sell.”
“Well, Perry Smith, one of the best Saab mechanics in the state is only a couple of miles away, and I think he is open on Saturday mornings.”
I thought to myself, how is it possible that I am truly in the middle of nowhere and the top Saab mechanic in the state is within spitting distance. True serendipity. I thanked the helpful man, took a right, went left, another right, found an understated roadside sign, and crawled up a narrow driveway towards a small garage surrounded by ancient Saab carcasses. I locked eyes with a man standing out in front, nursing a cup of coffee and discouraging his two barking dogs. Right out of central casting, I thought. Forty Five minutes and two cups of coffee later, Perry had diagnosed the problem, retrieved a new fuel injector “system,” which he unbelievably had in stock, and I was on my way with new hope for the ride home and a new friend in Perry.
I highlight this brief encounter because we all depend upon strangers at various points and even though Blanche Dubois in Tennessee Williams’ A StreetCar Named Desire uttered her famous “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers,” albeit in a very different context, this expectation is true. And beyond the strangers in our lives, I am reminded of the many different people who are vital in helping you and me: the wood guy, the butcher, the dentist, the mechanic, the stylist, the travel agent, the teacher, the physical therapist, the lawyer, the counselor, the hardware store guy… the list goes on. It seems to me that over time many of us have enjoyed the good fortune of developing human intersections, part of an economy of goodwill, service, help and kindness that lead to key relationships upon which we all come to rely.
Seward Johnson
As denizens of the Farmington Valley and Simsbury already know, our town has enjoyed since last May the remarkable art installation of Seward Johnson’s life-size “hyper-realistic” bronze sculptures “Celebrating the Familiar.” While initial student reaction last spring ranged from describing the statues as “creepy,” “sketchy,” and “weird,” I have grown fond of them and their sentinel-like, omniscient presence wherever one goes in and around town. Consequently, I treated myself to a “craft” afternoon, grabbed my camera and some lenses and went in pursuit of a few photos. Instead of photographing the full bronzes (there are 32 statues), I played around with color, depth of field, and focused on the expressive nature of diverse hands at work and at play. With apologies for the oddly truncated nature of this perspective.
Geordie
By means of a follow-up to past thoughts about people pursuing itinerant career paths, I had a chance to spend the weekend on Nantucket Island with a handful of friends. Among those friends was Geordie Beldock, an impressive young man who, at this point in his life, is pursuing the journey of a fishing guide. Geordie just spent 4 months guiding in Alaska and potentially has plans to return to Chile this winter, where he guided last year. Geordie also is now entertaining thoughts of starting his own outfitter business. The stories of his adventures instilled in me the desire to travel to both destinations.
Although heavy rains and high winds thwarted our efforts by boat to pluck a few False Albacore from the Atlantic Ocean, we enjoyed a fun adventure to a desolate Great Point at the eastern end of the island. The albies remained elusive even there, but our group witnessed an amazing, natural light show, reflecting that we are well into the throes of autumn with winter lurking nearby.
According to Amy, Nick, Abby, and Will
Nick shared with me a provocative article about professional burnout in medicine and strategies for combating this perilous outcome. While the piece is specific to the medical profession, it seems to me that its advice has application to everyone’s careers. Among other references, Siddhartha Mukherjee – the author – highlights Victor Frankel’s seminal book, Man’s Search for Meaning, which focuses on the belief that one’s sense of true purpose is the most important element for developing resiliency. Mukherjee goes even further and posits the notion that purpose, mastery, and autonomy – taken together – are a powerful force against burnout. If you read nothing else in this blog, this is the article; Mukherjee is a really good writer too.
I also loved an NPR interview that Amy passed along to me, highlighting hall of fame basketball player Bob Cousy and his regrets for not having done more to support his teammate Bill Russell, navigating the racist threads in the sport and within our country during the 1950’s and 1960’s. Cousy is ninety years old.
Worth the Read, Worth a View
I just concluded, The Day the World Came to Town, a wonderful story which truly reflects the very best qualities of people. The book shines upon the town of Gander, NewFoundland when the community rallied around 38 jumbo jets which were forced to make emergency landings after the U.S. closed its airspace during the 9/11 attacks. The recently produced Broadway show, Come From Away, is based upon this story. Several close friends have raved about the show.
I also am intrigued by Alex Honnold, the young climbing prodigy who is featured in the new documentary Free Solo. I was first introduced to his talents last year when one of the students in my spring senior elective, Literature on the Edge, did a class presentation on Alex, his climbing skills, and his approach to managing fear when perched, without protection, thousands of feet up above the ground. I have no doubt that this movie will be about much more than climbing.
Articles of interest:
The Secret Lives of Central Bankers
How Sears Helped Oppose Jim Crow
Researchers Explore a Cancer Paradox
A Harvest That Requires Flooding, Floating, and Pumping
Who Says Allie Kieffer Isn’t Thin Enough To Run Marathons?
Baseball has a Rorschach Test: The Checked Swing
And Finally
While I was speeding along the mass pike following yet another car issue that required me to call and to enlist the help of AAA, probably the best most helpful company in the universe, I found myself behind a UHAUL truck towing a trailer with a vintage yellow and white Chevy surfer van (circa. 1980) with, of course, California plates. As I neared the trailer, its sole bumper sticker caught my eye: Humankind, Be Both.
Enjoy the anticipation of Thanksgiving ahead.
sws
