HARDLY WHAT I’D ANTICIPATED

Here I am, a little more than three years since formal “retirement,” though I hardly feel retired, whatever that is.

As I mentioned the other day, I’d long anticipated this time in my life as one of intensified spiritual and literary focus. What’s been happening is something altogether different, and from my inner perspective, what I’m feeling is a sensation bordering on spiraling out of control. Or maybe it’s just sliding into oblivion or the like.

Earlier there were a few patches where I had a taste of what I thought my life would be like these days. Much reading, attending free concerts at the neighboring university or jazz night at a now defunct downtown spot, preparing dinner and then meeting my wife when she got off work (well, at least she’s home full-time now – yay!). But then I started spending much of that space working random shifts at the newspaper before the pension kicked in and then, well, as I’ve also noted, I took up new, unforeseen activities like singing in a first-class choir, swimming laps in the indoor pool, and blogging plus its related social media.

The daily nap, for several reasons, just hasn’t materialized, and I’m not taking days “off” to head into the mountains or rove the seashore. (You did catch the glitch in trying to get away, as if I’m still tied down to an office?)

My joke is that I’m not retired, it’s just that my work’s not generating an income. Think of Donald Hall’s distinction among Work, Jobs, and Chores – or what Gary Snyder’s called the Real Work. If I look closely, I have to admit to spending more time on that focus these days, no matter how much more I’d wish to devote.

Could it be I just have never intended to follow a course that more closely resembles the stereotype of retirement? Things like golfing and extended leisurely travel and nights playing cards at the club? Let’s be honest, that’s not me. By the way, gardening is hardly a hobby around here, so don’t consider it along the lines of retiree at play. In the ashram, we called it Karma Yoga — part of life in our holy boot camp. The mere memory of that puts other things in focus, reconnecting me to early adulthood and the pathway since. So here we are.

Well, if I ever get bored, I guess there’s always politics. It might be fun becoming the cranky protester at public meetings or holding a sign at the intersection of Washington Street and Central Avenue. Maybe that’s closer to my expectations, after all. Maybe in another decade?

WE’RE HAVING A SHARE IN THE CATCH

This summer we’re participating in a program that’s introducing us to varieties of fish caught off the New Hampshire coast. Once a week we trot down to the natural foods store in town to pick up our delivery – our location gives us a three-hour window – and we return with a pound of very fresh seafood. Every week it’s a different variety (11 are likely over the season), and we get an email earlier in the week notifying us what will be on the way, allowing the cook in the household to begin considering menu options. Or we can go to their website for links to suggested recipes.

It’s not cheap – you pay when you sign up, in our case for the 15-week program – about twice what we’d normally shell out for what’s featured at Market Basket, but there are other factors to weigh in. For one thing, living in the Seacoast Region of the state, we’re very aware of the plight of the once vital fishing industry across New England and the struggles to sustain both a way of life for families and communities and the fishing grounds themselves. While we’re not militant local-harvest activists (it just isn’t economically viable for our part of the world, not with its long winter), we are inclined toward small-scale economics wherever possible (just consider the banks, for starters). So we feel good about our token support for our neighbors. In a way, it’s like a farmers market, except that we’re committed to taking the week’s delivery, the way you are in a community-supported agriculture (CSA) setup.

That leads us to another consideration, the fact that the program itself arises in an attempt by the commercial fishermen sailing from Seabrook, Hampton, Rye Harbor, and Portsmouth Harbor to counter the negative impacts of a practice begun in 1976 that directly sold the local harvest in international auction. Rather than having their fishing practices driven by global market pressures, they wanted a more sustainable alternative,  a strategy to better manage marine resources and fish more selectively. In response, four years ago the harvest coop they organized was given an ownership right to collectively manage the federal groundfish fishery. In other words, there’s a strong environmental component here, including a more efficient use of high-cost fuel along the way. As they say, their fish catch hasn’t been sitting on the boat for a week – it comes to port the same day it was caught. Good for them!

Of course, all of that still needs to come together at the dinner table. This isn’t charity, after all, but a win-win deal we’re looking for. We can start with a sense of adventure as we explore previously unknown types of fish. (Acadian redfish, anyone? Or dabs? Or dayboat dogfish shark?) Let me rave about the monkfish on that front – as I ate, I kept thinking this could be lobster tail. So what else is swimming in the same water with me each summer? My curiosity is heightened. What they’re delivering isn’t everything in the local catch, but it is a way of supplementing their income and providing more balance in their cash flow.

We’ll admit this is our splurge, the way our weekly wine tastings were, back when I was duly employed, or the half-pig we ordered from a farm in Maine, two other examples that allowed us to learn more of the range in taste and satisfaction in our world. Admittedly, we couldn’t do the fishery program when the kids were still living in the house – they can be picky that way, with one easily upset by the mere whiff of fish cooking. Oh, my.

Initially, too, I thought a pound would be on the skimpy side when it comes to our dinner, but we’re finding the enhanced freshness in flavor satisfies in smaller portions – we can serve three and still have a bit left over. Actually, it’s about what we’d get in a restaurant while spending much more.

Reading the profiles of the participating fishermen on the website has me wondering how long I’ll go before making a list of their boats, just so I can identify them when they pass by in the water or tie up at dock. They seem like nice guys, too. Maybe we’ll wave. It does change my perspective, doesn’t it.

Now I’m wondering about similar alternatives being developed around the world. Pipe up, if you wish, along with your own growing awareness.

~*~

New Hampshire Community Seafood is a cooperative of fishermen and consumers that has 18 pickup locations with deliveries spaced from Tuesday through Saturday.

REBUILD THE WORK ETHIC … WITH DECENT PAY

All those big-oil tycoons, hedge-fund managers, global conglomerate executives, and their lackeys who have contempt for paying workers a livable wages are murdering the work ethic that built America.

Protest all they want, they’re anything but conservatives.

Real conservatives would battle to save the covenant that assures all who labor will earn a livable return – shelter, food, decent clothing, health care, education, enough to raise a family, and time for rest and worship. That’s what real conservatives would pursue rather than greedy oppression or re-enslavement.

NOT JUST SOCIALISTS

And we always assumed anarchists were all Socialists? Think again! The Tea Party’s full of ’em.

Now, tell me: Are anarchists all destructive, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake?

The right’s rife with ’em.

Sounds like a fit, the anarchists, matching everything they’ve been fearing.

 

SUFFERED ENOUGH?

Time for true conservatives to weigh in.

Take back the GOP.

(From the super-rich.)

(From the off-the-chart far-right-wingers.)

(From the anarchists masked in their midst.)

We’ve already paid enough.

Just run the numbers. The full cost of everything, far beyond war and taxes.

WHERE ARE THEY LEARNING THEIR HISTORY?

Conservatives who don’t know history are dangerous. What are they conserving, anyway? If there ever was a golden era in American history, just consider the years after World War II when the New Deal direction really kicked in. (The “socialist” programs they’ve always derided.) And we’re seeing all of its downsides, as well – sexist, racial, environmental polluting, smug.

As for solutions? It’s safe to bet their ideology would lead to yet another banking meltdown. As I said about history? Bush I and Bush II, or even Harding-Coolidge-Hoover, illustrate that point.

Without banks, there’s no modern economy. (What would you barter for a computer, for one thing?)

Oh, but if you’re truly conservative, what would you need a computer for, anyway? Or anything more than a mattress?