June 30

When I was a year beyond graduation from her alma mater, we attended a ceremony to mark the life of my grandmother.  I was in a really positive mood that day.  I had just had a string of very positive, transformative experiences and was looking ahead to the promise of the future in the mind of a 23 year old guy.  On top of that, it was perfect weather, I was with my parents and my Uncle Al, and the preacher was a funny, kind man who had been good friends with my grandmother and had even traveled to New Zealand with my grandparents (at the behest of my grandmother, he'd talked my grandfather into the adventure by remarking on what great fishing they had).  We laughed a lot during the ceremony.  She'd had a fantastic long life, making it to 88, although the final decade had been painfully beset by Alzheimer's.  She left the world on her wedding anniversary though, just about two years after her husband.

What strikes me now is the picture board in the reception where there was a newspaper clipping from her retirement after a long career as a history teacher at the local high school.  The student recalled a popular class she taught called "Problems of Consumer Democracy."  She encouraged her students to put themselves in other people's shoes, and to go out into the world to solve the problems that pained her heart.  Many things are better than in her day, but right now, things are pretty iffy.

Who knows what will happen?

3 years later, on the same day, I arrived at the farm to greet my family in preparation for my only sister's wedding, having traveled abroad on my own for exactly seven months.  I began in India, went through six more Asian countries, then from China to Egypt, and then Germany and Ireland.  On June 30, 2010, exactly ten years ago, I rode the Amtrak train up the Hudson River to Rensselaer Station, where my best friend picked me up, and I gave him a slice of New York City pizza as a thank you.  We caught up for thirty-five minutes before we arrived at the head of my country road.  I walked the remaining mile or so, past the Christmas tree farm where I had my first job, then down a hill to the closest farm, then up a large hill with a nice view, before walking past the familiar fields and waving to my sister and her friends through the library window.

I live now in my grandmother's favorite place, where I used to bring her crispy s'mores up from the beach when she was sitting up here.  I haven't traveled abroad in two years, or had anything one could call a long journey in eight years.  I teach humans from various countries, mostly English, sometimes various problems of consumer democracy.  Anything which keeps them interested.  It's nice to have the connection with so many different people, but real human contact is scarce.  I traveled alone for seven months in foreign countries without knowing anyone or speaking the languages, but there were always other travelers.  Now my other travelers are on a computer screen.  Better than nothing.

At least the future looks brighter.  I saw friends for the first time in months about ten days ago, when we sat around outside a fire together.  I wish I could see people's smiles in public though.  I understand the masks, but depriving people of smiles is perhaps the hardest part of going alone.  I could count on a few smiles when I was traveling.

So far, life is working.  I've been to the doctor's recently, and I'm happy to have my health.  When I was in a funk earlier, mostly on account of the weather and sleep, I heard this song "Keep Growing."  The sun finally peaked through the clouds for a little while.

I'm reading about people who don't have it so well.  I suppose journeys taught me that all too well.

But journeys also have taught me to enjoy life when possible.  It's not always possible.  So when joy is ripe for the taking, with due and proper respect for those around, you may enjoy your gift of a life.

13 years ago I left my job as a banking paralegal and wrote a farewell e-mail to my colleagues at one of the largest international law firms in the world, rode the subway from midtown-Manhattan to Penn Station, took a train up the Hudson to Albany-Rensselaer Station, met my father, rode up in the car through the Adirondacks to where I am now, and spent the night so we could attend my grandmother's funeral ceremony the next day.  That is, we didn't come exactly where I am now, because it was in such a state of disrepair and abandoned renovation from another member of the family that it was uninhabitable (I'd been sleeping on the floor at least once a summer since I was 17, but my parents were a little old for that).  We stayed at my aunt's guest camp instead.  I was feeling so good then, with an idea that great things would happen on the horizon.  I wasn't wrong, they just happened in very different ways than I'd suspected.

Since then we've repaired it and then some, I live here, and I woke up this morning to teach a new class of 23 students, which would be fun in a large room but is a bit much (for their sake) in an online meeting.  Luckily, I met about 12 new people, because the others were returning students (and maybe half of them have been in the class since we started this whole online scene).  It turned out two of them kind of knew each other from being involved in similar business on the other side of the world, but didn't realize it until I encouraged one of them to turn her camera on for a moment.  About half my students have their cameras on, the other half opt not to, which is fine for them but strange for the rest of us.  But when I get new students I encourage to overcome their shyness and show their glowing faces for just a couple minutes so we have a better idea of who we are talking with... although it's an interesting experiment when they opt not to.  How often in life do you hear someone's voice for hours a day for weeks, but never know what they looked like?  More often than I would have thought at this point.

Thanks to strange internet, I had to drive over the (small) mountain to a forest to find a better connection, which is interesting.  The bonus is I get to walk in the forest when we have a break.  On top of that, I have afternoons free the next two months, so I spent this one well, cooking and eating and reading and napping and reading and walking before reading and eating and writing experiences.

10 years ago I returned to the United States after a seven month journey abroad, flying from Dublin, Ireland to New York, New York that afternoon.  I got on the subway and rode from the airport all the way to midtown, where I walked past my old building where I'd had my first job out of college, and finally rode the elevator up to the top of Rockefeller Center, for the best view of New York City I've ever had.

When I was young the first books I remember loving were the Where's Waldo? series.  I enjoyed searching for him, but what I really liked were the imaginative humorous depictions of life around the world, and in the sequels, life throughout history or in imaginary fantasy worlds.  I always tell people that when I returned to Manhattan, having lived in Brooklyn and Queens for three years before I spent 8 months at home in the countryside of upstate New York and then traveled the world, mostly Asia, for seven months, it was just like a Waldo book.  You traveled all these separate worlds, and then, just like in the book, you saw everyone mixed together in the ultimate illustration.

I didn't need the city for that today.  I'm enjoying the "wilderness," as pretty much everyone from the city refers to my life up here amidst the pines.

Thank you, journeys

Today is my grandparents' anniversary, and also the day my grandmother left this world in 2007, right after I returned from an all night drive from a music festival in Tennessee.  So I finally went for a swim in the freshwater lake that extends up past the border.  I knew something was missing this whole time I've been living here.   Very thankful

Saturday... I stay up late, I sleep late... I read from bed, going on social media and feel obliged to correct some misrepresentations of history comparing protesters to Brown shirts before getting out of bed... then read a full 30 page chapter of The Battle Cry of Freedom before getting up (looks like we're finally going to get rid of slavery now that Grant is in charge), shower, Ben Harper steel guitar music while cooking breakfast, it's cloudy, high of 55, previous night required electric blanket, walk up the block and back, wave to each neighbor who walks or drives past (I'm just about the only one under 50), drink Irish Breakfast black tea, Kukicha twig tea, and Genmaitcha green tea (it's got toasted brown rice...) while reading more about the Civil War inside and on the dock on the completely placid water (Sherman has taken Atlanta, and Sheridan rallies in the North in a come from behind victory), watch part of Ken Burns' Civil War (episode 4), Gettysburg on the horizon, the North will pull it off though, eat some fish accompanied by pasta and veggies, talk with friends on Zoom (Jac and his love embark on a bicycle journey in Europe tomorrow) while the sun finally shines on the Green Mountains almost until 9, enjoy a glass of Tennessee Bourbon whiskey and then a couple local IPA's (one single, one double) from Saratoga and Schroon Lake in the Adirondacks, share some of my favorite Carl Jung with the world, listen to the best rock music from 1968, having listened to 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, and 67 recently, eating potatoes in front of a roaring fire, thanking life

1st things first. I give thanks I am living life as well as I am, and ask love for continuance with those I love

Today is Chung Fu day

I’m attempting to understand people’s true natures so that I can cooperate with others for our mutual benefit.  Sometimes though, historical circumstance leads to disagreements which require fights, whether verbal or physical, and through development of mind, body and spirit, I intend to be able to defend when necessary.  Chung Fu involves “Wind over the lake.”  I recall when I went to Heart Lake and saw the eagle, which reminded me of my grandfather who always was willing to lend a helping hand, but joined the armed forces when they had to make their stand against authoritarian races who were fighting to rule the land.  There’s a good reason that eagle has an olive branch held up wherever it may face, but some archer’s arrows out back, just in case.  Sometimes you need to be tough, sometimes you can glide, but always remember your truth which resides inside

Love and understanding through knowledge and wisdom gained from exploration of experiences

Everyone has a rough road at some time, but when we're talking about politics and the laws which shape our opportunities in life, African-Americans have quite a tougher slog than we with less melanin.

I am reading a book about 700,000 casualties of a war to free 4 million enslaved human beings, after which equality before the law became the law of the United States.

A month before that, I read about a war where tens of millions were sacrificed in the battle to stop racist authoritarianism.  Integration of our armed forces was followed a decade later by mixing education and a decade later by ending segregation and ensuring voting when choosing political representation.

Such freedom spreading is the glory of our American story. 

Rockin

I usually love the rocks, and sometimes I want to throw them... more often I want to skip them on the water

Love inside, outside