Playing Fair and Being Kind

THE MIDDLE OF NOVEMBER

2015

Winter is coming, no doubt. November has been a gentle and polite host so far. I feel honored and well cared for. However, yesterday the wind nearly blew the hair off my head during a pleasant half hour of walking the breakwater in Rockland, Maine. The air was bracing and not too cold. I was wearing a sweater under my windbreaker as well as a pair of driving gloves on my hands so I never felt the chill. Just the same the weather took advantage of my windproof design to transform me into a sail. I had the wind on my starboard bow on the return walk forcing me to use a bit of right rudder. When we got back into the lee of the mainland my body was happy to be clear of the constant buffering. The head wind made it difficult to breathe and during the ordeal all that cool air in my face drained my sinuses. Not a pretty sight.

This particular walk is a recent discovery for me. Friend Tina introduced me. The breakwater is a well known site for strolling and gentle meandering. I’ve only walked this course twice and its benefits are immediately apparent. Walking the breakwater is an exercise for the brain and the body. Stepping across the gaps and over the uneven surfaces of the quarrystone takes every bit of focus and every muscle tenses in anticipation of a surprise. When I’ve walked it the patterns of the quarrystone placement, the odd dimensions, the uneven settling of the stones, the various gaps between the stones contribute to a hop-scotch effect. One’s steps mimic the physical characteristics of the path. I find the walk enjoyable.

A phone call earlier and a light lunch preceded the walk. I was going to be near the Rockland area for a visit with my mechanic in Union. The work for the car focused on installing studded snow tires for the winter. It is an hour drive from Boothbay to Rockland/Rockport/Camden so it pays to combine tasks on a trip like this. On this occasion I was able to visit with Tina for lunch and a walk, after which I found an hour to visit with friends in Owls Head the next town over from Rockland, and then skip on over to Union for the tires.

A bonus was the drive up and back on Route 1. There is a lot to discover. Objects of interest flash by the whole way. Driving north earlier I observed two crows challenging the wind that was blowing fresh out of the northwest. The pair were flying above the highway moving in the same direction as I. They appeared to be out of control but enjoying their experience all the while. Their wings and bodies would sometimes cause sudden aerial maneuvers that, I’m sure, the crows exaggerated. It is my opinion that despite their antics they were in full control. Still, the aerial maneuvers resembled a pair of black rags being tumbled in a clothes dryer. A mile or so later another crow incident presented itself. I saw three crows move off the road on bouncing legs as a trailer truck blew through their previously occupied space. The trio had been foraging on roadkill before the interruption. When I told this story to Tina she suggested the phrase “road crew” which easily transposes to “crew of crows”. Crows are entertaining. More than that they are really good scavengers and to know their habits is to admire them for all they are capable of.

While I was getting the studded snow tires mounted on the SAAB I asked the fellas at Marks Imports if they had gone hunting yet. It is deer season. I was a little surprised by their response. Neither one of the two I talked to had been and they both agreed that deer hunting was not as popular as in the past. I thought it might be because of the numbers of deer hunters with rifles was getting more dangerous. No, the said. No one really goes hunting anymore. A conversation a few days later sort of confirmed this. My writing group friend Grace said she hadn’t heard gun shots so far this season like she used to in past years. She also mentioned seeing a lot of deer where she lives on Southport Island. That makes sense. If the men aren’t deer hunting then the deer multiply freely. They love to eat tulips in the spring.

In the past couple of days I’ve watched the weather becoming more seasonal with lower temps and cloudy days. There is a definite shift although the weather so far has been considerate of us who are slower to prepare for winter. The decrease in daylight brings on the blahs. Seasonal affective disorder begins to show up in people’s lives and the community automatically shifts to staging more events to counter the problem. I’ve begun to feel it coming on as well. The combination of decreased daylight, colder temps, fewer people as tourism decreases, and loneliness add up to a marked and identifiable condition that can be uncomfortable.

Mild depression comes along for me this time of year. In the past I have combated it with the yearly escape to warmer and sunnier climes. But a few vague worries have introduced themselves to me in recent weeks. This year in particular I have concerns that, added up, convince me I ought not to travel to California. I’ve been thinking on this subject and I’ve gone back and forth, back and forth. I’m older and less enthusiastic about getting on the road. Money is tight. My health is good. I have lots to write about and I write better at home. There are great opportunities to be enjoyed if I do go to New Mexico. My associations with new friends across the country are strong. I miss these friends. I could go on.

What I think is the solution for me is to stick the winter out here in Maine. Scrounge up some more firewood to add to my emergency pile. I ordered heating oil today. The car is winterized. I got a new battery for the yard truck. I’m getting the house repaired early in Spring. I can save money by staying put for the next four months. Maybe in April I can change the tires back to highway tires and drive south to the mid-Atlantic states to visit a few friends. I could go to Dover, Delaware and hitch a ride on a plane to Spain at the Air Force base. I get space-A flying free-bees because I am retired military.

These are loose plans but the point being I don’t want to drive to California ten thousand miles round trip for three months. I take longer to recover from that trip now. It takes a me few weeks of resting and hiding to recover. My body is reluctant. And I won’t spend a million dollars on gas.

I reflected on these pro’s and con’s, as I said. No two considerations are directly related but all the considerations are related through other threads. I find that idea to be enlightening and liberating. Not being able to pinpoint accurately the cause of my discomfort with traveling across country has furnished me with an adequate supply of judgmental self loathing. Problem solved. I stay home this year and take a few short trips in Spring, if I still want to. Well, we’ll see.

I want include a poem I wrote a few days ago. I’ve been reading Etgar Keret a lot and I had just opened his book to read a short story. I noticed a dog eared page. I was stumped. My mind was blank and I could neither read or stop trying to read. Here is the poem that illustrates my obsession and compulsion. Also, in this poem I try to use a different style of capitalization. Rather than underline stressed words I use capital letters. So this is part piece and part experiment.

DOG EAR

Whoa! Does that hurt?

I Need to fix that for you.

How long has That been like That?

I can’t take my eyes off of it.

My attention is Riveted on that incongruous image.

The Bend at the top corner of the page Breaks the pattern.

I can See it without even trying.

Try as I might, ignoring the Bent Page does not Work.

It’s just a tiny corner but the Whole Book Weeps.

How could anyone be so Mindless?

Who would Do such a thing?

There.

Is that Better? Let me close the book and see if it’s Gone.

I can Still See it a little bit.

No matter what I do the Bend is Still holding the book Open.

Here; let me bend it a little the Other direction.

Who would even do this?

Okay, let me see it now.

It’s better.

I can Still See a gap.

I’ll just put it down and leave it alone.

Maybe it just needs to Rest like this.

There are Other tiny gaps that are more noticeable.

I can Hardly notice the dog ear.

It looks fine now.

Maybe I can read the other pages now. It looks fine.

We’ll leave it alone for a little while.

I feel better already.

I think I can read now.

Obsessing is a bitch. We did good.

G. M. Goodwin

10 November 2015