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You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
SCARE
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It’s a daily ritual if you want to go sailing. The breakfast dishes have been cleaned up and put away. Now the real fun begins aboard the historic schooner Louis R. French.
For more schooner sailing experiences, take a look at my Under Sail photo album at Thistle Finch editions.
Maybe it was a good thing that we didn’t have too much detail in the CAD design we ordered from a local lumberyard. Initially, that was a miscommunication between our contractor and us, plus a looming deadline for a building permit.
The upshot was that as we watched the space open, our vision transformed. We saw new possibilities.
The first big one opted for cathedral ceilings in the four bedrooms. No big problem, said Adam.
Also, we wanted to leave the charred exterior rafters visible in the two back bedrooms. They were evidence of the 1886 downtown fire that started on the waterfront just below our house. They also reflect the original roofline, which we had now raised. And they were dramatic.

Alas, once we realized how labor-intensive (i.e., costly) keeping that touch visible would be, we opted to forgo it.
In another change, the windows in the bathroom and laundry room went from transom-style to narrow vertical.
The ceiling in the upstairs hallway was originally going to be flat, but we liked the feel of having it follow the roofline. Classy.
In the two front bedrooms, the width of the two side roofline panels was halved when we saw how much the original, aligned to the old dormers, really confined the rooms. The purpose of the panels was to keep a sense of the original profile of the house as seen from the street. What we wound up with does the job.

After that, the windows in the front two bedrooms went from spaced apart to being placed together, centered between the two pairs of windows below.
And there were some big tweaks in closet arrangements between bedrooms. The two smaller bedrooms got larger closets while the two bigger bedrooms got open loft above those.
As I’ve said, none of the bedrooms wound up looking like rectangular boxes with holes for windows punched in.
We did encounter so many unanticipated details. Things like molding, the placement of light switches, even the door latches – you usually open them with your right hand, it turns out. I’d never thought about it. How about you?
~*~
Did we see things an architect wouldn’t? I like to think so.
One of the artistic ideals in my life originated in the fantastic illustrations by Inuit craftsmen as they expressed the world they inhabit. Perhaps you’ve seen some of their calendars exhibiting owls, seals, the sun itself, and the like.
As I was told by the couple who introduced me to the Inuit works, an artist in the tradition does a subject just once, at least in the position or perspective that results. A bear, for instance, might be shown standing, but only once. If a bruin shows up again, it would be fishing or lumbering along or maybe paired. Each appearance, though, must be unique. There were still plenty of ducks, geese, walruses, whales, and other Inuit – hunters, mothers, and children – remaining for close examination, even in their Arctic environment.
The husband who told me this, let me add, was a coauthor of the Alaska constitution who had some acquaintance with the ecosystem. He had grown up at its southern edge, northern Washington state.
After more than two decades with that as a guideline, I faced a conundrum as I tried to assemble my own poems for submission as a competition for a chapbook – a booklet, essentially. A book needs to flow from start and middle to an end with some sense of continuity. My one offering that had that, American Olympus, had a received a provisional acceptance from a prominent press that later rescinded, claiming a cut in their grant funding. And my other pieces hopped, skipped, and jumped from one setting to another – if only I had been able to remain in one setting long enough for continuity in their completion.
Beyond that, my own life had moved on, providing me a lode of new material to draw upon. That’s when I turned to the idea of theme and variations, a major element of the classical music I so love and also big in jazz as improvisation. What hit me, especially, was Ted Brautigan’s sonnets from the ‘60s. They were essentially three poems, reworked over and over, into a full and very stunning collection.
I took that as my springboard into two intense weeks – while working fulltime as a newspaper editor – of reworking raw notes of loved desire that had incinerated into what you can read as Braided Double-Cross – a set that was rejected by the jurors in a competition based in its principal subject’s hometown. Maybe it was too intense. The poems are searing.

The night I finished drafting the 60 poems, I should note, I went out to dinner and have no idea how much I tipped the server. I was thoroughly exhausted, not just emotionally. Not that I remember of the meal I devoured.
Love really can be such a bitch. At least it still is with me, no matter how much she wonders why I still worship the one who continues in my life.
~*~
For now, let’s turn to the question of what makes a poetry collection “hang together”? In contrast to an assembly from my “best work,” however sporadic.
For perspective, also consider my aversion to series in fiction, where I’ve seen too many series as the same book done over and over with a few tweaks, even if that has led to way too many bestsellers. Yet I’ve gone back to my novels and reworked them to create linkage from one to the next, at least in two separate series. What I think now separates mine from most series is that none of my novels is a carbon copy of any of the others. Mine do, in contrast, represent a sequencing of growth from one to the other. In that way, they create one longer epic rather than imitative episodes like a TV sitcom.
Still, what is it that draws you back to a particular author, book after book?
~*~
I think now of the observation that an author’s next book springs from what was left unsaid in the volume published just before it. That point resonates and returns us to the question of how does an author know when a work’s finished.
Regardless, I’ve definitely done much more in the vein of “series” since completing the first.
~*~
You can find Braided Double-Cross and more in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. You can also ask your public library to obtain it.
What was the best year of your life and how did it look?
Pondering the possibilities for my most perfect year, I see how much even the best was tainted.
’72, I had the high of the ashram but it involved going through a lot of psychological muck and growth to get there. See Yoga Bootcamp for the parallels.
’73 was the whirlwind with my future wife, but I was laboring at subsistence pay, at best. See Nearly Canaan for the parallels.
’83 encompassed both my divorce and an exhilarating engagement with the young cellist who promised to be The One. It was also crushed in long workdays as a shirtsleeves manager in a newsroom, no matter how engaging I found the challenge professionally.
’86, I was deeply ensconced in a self-awarded sabbatical, but generally loveless. The core of my fiction was drafted in this period, and my circle of friends included Mennonites and my introduction to part-singing.
’99, the excitement of the ultimate woman in my life, as well as our frustrations in trying to find a home we could afford along with some emotional upheavals at the office.
2021, my exile to Eastport in what became a heavenly writer’s retreat, resulting in the publication of Quaking Dover the next year. It did mean being apart from my family and friends back in Dover for much of the time, but included exploring the fantastic outdoors of the waters and woodlands around me as well as the artistic stimulation of my new community.
So here I am now, with what’s turning into the home of my dreams in the sunset of this life.
My goal of having our family operating on a Quaker Meeting decision-making process.
Yes, trying to find concesus with young children in the house. We’re all on board, right?
Let’s just say I failed here. My, was a naïve when I jumped in as a stepdad in my mid-50s!
Not just because of a rebellious younger member, whom I deeply adore. But also because of the parent/adult dynamics and tensions.
No doubt, I pictured myself as the clerk, that is moderator. The mother, however, is what the one in the movie My Fat Greek Wedding Declared, the throat, ultimately rules.
Saint Paul should stand fully corrected regarding the head of the household. The mother’s is great theology.
Just how are decisions really made in families? I’d love to listen in on the discussions.

There had been five when I reached for my camera.
To explore related free photo albums, visit my Thistle Finch blog.
Dolley Payne (1768-1849) was the widow of prominent Philadelphia lawyer John Todd when she married the future fourth president of the United States, James Madison from Virginia. She was a colorful character, even apart from her extravagant fashion sense (which I see as a rebellion against the Quaker Plain constraints of her youth), a charming hostess who can be viewed as a founder of bipartisanship in American politics thanks to her dinners. Pleasurable food does enhance conversation, no? Dolley’s legendary social gatherings, known as “squeezes,” were attended by influential figures such as politicians, foreign dignitaries, and intellectuals, making her a central figure in American society.
Or, as a North Carolina Quaker minute book wistfully records her, “Formerly of our society,” meaning the Society of Friends. She was also the first president’s wife to be called First Lady.
Today, we have a Double Tendrils. The first set of quotes reflects her time in the White House and her flight during the War of 1812 when she saved the iconic portrait of George Washington in the throes of the attack that burned the new White House, which she had furnished and decorated.
First, things she said as First Lady.
The second set of quotes frame a larger perspective.
I’ve been on a flippant streak.
Hope others have seen it as light-hearted or even funny rather than offensive.
think of these as dream fragments
not always bad