Intense emotions

My most intense emotions?

Certainly I was not the only one who ran the gamut of emotions this year. From birth to death and beyond, my normally calm sea of emotions swirled about, churning ceaselessly from January until now. With emotions, it is important to find a place to go, to experience relief in an accomplished goal, to even bow down to the inevitable as earthly life ceases as we know it for a loved one. 

The joy at a the birth of a grandchild was loaded with the emotion of expectancy for nine months. There was anticipation and uncertainty. And all of that that gave way to almost a super happiness at birth, because the wait was over, anxiety dispelled, and the beautiful baby boy was held and caressed by his mother and father, and they let me do the same. It brought me memories of the first holding of my two children over thirty years ago. It evoked anew the elation at caring, loving and raising them from birth to now. It never stops. 

And even in death, there is fulfillment or accomplishment. The grandmother of that child lived long enough to experience the joy of holding, and the fun of hearing the baby's cry. Unfulfilled for her will be the joy of grand-mothering. But the ultimate for her was knowledge that she herself had lived a good life, brimming with love and joy. The smile engaged everyone. It is in knowing the life she led that we are able to feel okay about her passing, and a certain joy amid our sorrow that her influence endures in her posterity.

From birth to death, within a month! A roller coaster of life, joy and sorrow, preparing us for the road ahead!  

Dancing and Weeping

What made you dance in 2012? What made you weep?

On that evening in mid-September, I leaped from my chair, grabbed hold of my bride, and we polkaed through the night. Our first grandchild was born, 6 pounds, 4 ounces, a boy, and he and mother are doing well. The next generation was assured.

It was a long time coming, but normal in the family when you consider that grandma was the youngest child of the youngest child on her mother's side, and maybe that went another generation back too.Grandchildren come in their own time. They give great joy from before the time of birth, actually, and I have a feeling that this boy will do no wrong ever. It's a long time from birth to adulthood. A lot of things happen. Learning to walk and talk and eat. To tie shoes, read and write. To play and work. To love.

So there will be a lot of dancing as the years go on; many more occasions to dance.

And what made me weep? Grandma passed away after knowing her grandson for such a short time.

Music to My Ears

Usually, when I think of the notion of music to my ears,  I am expected to create something out of some words or greeting that really hit me during the years. So I guess there was some of that traditional music to my ears this year amid a blaring cacophony otherwise.

For starters, from my daughter: "I'm going to have a baby, and you are going to be a grandfather!" and about eight months later "You have a grandchild!"

From my grandchild: "waawaa waa " (softly) and a few months later "WAAA WAAA WAAA..." (stronger and more serious).

From my wife: "I love YOU!" and "I am glad that I had this time with you!"

From my son: "I am here for you!" and reassuring me "You can do whatever you want."

From many: "We care about you!" and "A lot of people care about you!"

From a friend at the gym: "Want me to wash your back?"

From my walking partner: "What time is good for you next week?"

So these are the exciting and kind words from the wonderful people who were in my life this year.

But the real music was yesterday at the Holiday Sing. I was into it as the leader, more than ever, and the 40 or so people sang out, in tune, often blending in creative harmony. It was special music because it was dedicated to the one I love. Perfect harmony, and true music to my ears.

My greatest risk-2012

When someone seriously says "You're crazy!" and you somewhat agree, then you know you have taken a risk that might have turned out disastrous. At the end, I knew I had accomplished something, and felt good about my conquest.

For many years the abandoned ranger tower has beckoned to me. Hidden deep in the forest on a hill 1600 feet high, actually about 500 feet in elevation higher from my house where I started, it was there, and I took the time to hike to the top of the hill anyway. It wasn't like I planned it. I told my wife and sister-in-law only that I was going for a walk. They had no idea which direction I was walking, how far, or how high. They may have assumed that I would be hiking the main roads. A mile and a half in one direction, and back, three miles, one hour.

That was my intent until I decided to take a short additional jaunt down a dirt road. I wanted to see where the road was that led to the tower. so that added about a half mile onto the journey which was already more than two miles. I got to the road, and curiosity was getting to me. I wondered how far along the ranger tower road, the tower actually was. So I meandered down that road, up hill ever slow slightly, no cars, no people and thank goodness, no animals. The farther I walked, the bigger the commitment. I knew it was a long way back the way I had come, and since I had come a long way, it would be a shame not to get to the tower.

So I pushed on. It was a pleasant day, but a gusty wind. And the investment in this walk grew with every step. What if something happened to me... a fall... an animal attack. No phone. No one knew.How long would it take to find me, and when would they begin looking.

Eventually, I came to a sign: Fire tower, .5 miles, and the arrow pointed up. I pushed on. I got there. It was cloudy and windy. The ultimate risk would have been to ascend the tower in the wind. I didn't do that. A nice fall day would be better for that. But that was not the only risk.

As I hiked that last half mile, I noticed a sign that said "Barrett Pond, .9 miles." That became my next goal. The pond was just off a main road on the other side of the "hill". I launched into the new heavily wooded trail which had a steep decline. It meandered a bit, but for the most part the markers were visible. There were streams to ford, branches to trip on, leaves to slip on. No one would find me here, for days.

I arrived at the pond about 20 minutes later. No falls, no wild animals other than a few ducks on the pond. And then I was on a main road. I could be found if needed; even hitch a ride.

The final part of the journey was about 2.5 miles to the point where I began. The total trip was about 7 miles. I walked into the house, made believe I was not exhausted and  I  drank a lot of water. It felt good to accomplish this walk. Worth the risk. But  I found out that the tower is high enough to have cell phone service, and the next time I went with a partner, I did take a phone, and I  had a walking stick for balance and minimum defense.Anything to reduce the risk!

Favorite Book

My favorite book this year was  Ahab's Wife by Sena Naslund. This book has been around for a while. I had reread Melville's Moby Dick as part of a study group early in the year, and my daughter suggested I read Ahab's Wife as a follow up. It is an amazing story of daring, heartache, love and endurance.

I must admit that Ahab was never a shining character in Moby Dick, and to think any young woman could fall in love with him... well there are only a few more despicable characters in history who are worse. Yet, that is exactly what the adventurous yet vulnerable Una Spenser did. But the story is more than that. It is about a woman, finding her way in life, through extremely difficult times.

I think if I had to face some of the situations that Una did, I would have folded under the pressure, and crawled into a safe haven, any where I could, and maybe died.

Una, however, portrayed resilience as she dealt with her maniacal first young love; then her wonderful Ahab, whom she knew as a leader of men and hero; and  finally finding happiness with a good man who loved her in return. She was a woman of graciousness throughout.

The story is told well, poetic in its descriptions and a delight to read, despite its 600 pages or so.

Lesson learned: it ain't over 'til it's over.

Invisible no more

Considering the idea that nothing lasts forever: what was the most important relationship that you fostered in 2012? 

How will you continue to nurture it in 2013?

Last year, I wrote "To Be or Not to Be Invisible: Try!"
( http://philsreverb.blogspot.com/2011/12/to-be-or-not-to-be-invisible-try.html)


You can follow that link and realize what I was feeling at the time. I would go out, return, and meet no one who knew me, and I felt like I was an invisible person. So I tried something different in 2012. I decided to go to Chatham as often as time permitted. I made the grocery store there the only one that I shopped at. I walked on main street, and often went into shops that were welcoming. I joined the health club in town. Haircuts at my favorite hair salon became more regular. I bought sub sandwiches at the corner store. I made it a point to talk to people who knew me.

All in all, I was building relationships not just with a single person, but with many people, and really a village. It is not as if they all know me there. I know some people. But I was there. I felt at home. I was not invisible in the village any longer.

I expanded my visibility by occasionally dropping in at neighbors' houses, by hosting a party for our anniversary, by accepting an invitation to a barbecue, by making time for a lunch with friends, by attending community functions of the fire  company and the historical society.

I can honestly say, that I have overcome my invisibility issue. Probably next year, I will be wishing for invisibility again. I hope not. 

The relationships with friends in the village and town have always meant a lot to me. I think I did a good job of fostering these relationships in 2012. I will continue to do this into 2013, and expand the circle.

Being a grandfather

What's the one thing you want to take with you into 2013?

The truly joyful moment  in 2012 was the day I held my first grandson hours after he came into the world. This tiny fragile little guy caused me to really smile for the first time in a long time.

This is a moment I will cherish forever. I looked at him, promising he will get my full attention. This, of course,  is an overstatement of grand-parental zeal, but he will certainly figure in many things that I do in life.

What does it mean to me to be a grandfather? I knew one of mine up to the time I was almost 6. He had gray hair, twinkling eyes, and wit. He seemed to have boundless patience, and most of all, he genuinely enjoyed my brother and me. He taught us how to fish ( I let him learn patience as he unraveled the biggest backlash in the history of fishing on the Hudson, all caused by me.) He taught us how to do carpentry (before there were power tools, he could cut a board straight and exact with a hand saw.) He taught us to respect animals as he cuddled his beautiful white dog Spooky and as he took him around the block for a nightly walk. Pa, as he was known to us, was a railroad man. He worked hard as an inspector for the now defunct Boston and Maine Railroad. Pop he was called by his co-workers. He taught us to love as he with his wife Jennie raised one son and six daughters. He danced at their weddings in his black suit, with his gold pocket watch and chain, and smoked a pipe photographed at one wedding with it upside down.

So, as I go forward into the next year, with the memory of my grandfather, I will enjoy and help to nurture my grandson in the finest traditions I know.