Tag: Musings

Ever feel like an imposter?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

My first brush with the concept came in a hearing a classical musician talk about his arrival in a major symphony orchestra and looking around at all the talent and amazing sound they were creating. “I felt like an imposter,” he said.

Oh, my, I could identify.

Little did I know of the Imposter Syndrome, a term coined by psychologists in the 1970s.

Rather than go into the details and nuances – there are many, look them up if you wish – I’ll mention ten places it hits me.

  1. Music circles. Yup, despite my extensive knowledge of repertoire and so on, I can find myself cowered at times in choir when a technical issue pops up. We’re singing in what key, now that we’ve hit this chord? What do you mean? Or of course I’m supposed to know which Chopin etude that is, not that I play piano.
  2. Books. No matter being a fairly well-read author, there’s no way I can keep up with the output. “Have you read” has a 99.9 percent chance of a negative answer, even in one of my specialty areas. Reading the New York Review makes me feel like a complete ignoramus. How about you?
  3. Poets. At least few other poets or poetry lovers know of the writers I’m most fond of, even the ones considered major figures. Now, what are their best lines?
  4. News events. Forty years in a newsroom and I still can’t follow it all. Local? Regional? National? International? As for the players’ names? Which leads to ….
  5. Politics. A congressman, for one, faces more proposed new legislation than anyone could ever examine. And I’m supposed to be one up? How about city council issues? Like when I’m having a beer once a week with some fine neighbors?
  6. Cambridge. Despite singing in a chorus with a number of Harvard and MIT grads, they are an inside circle. Being told my portrait hangs in one of the dorms on the Yard – I don’t remember which one – only made things worse.
  7. Quakers. There are circles I know but so many more I don’t. As for keeping up with the current reading? Back to books!
  8. People’s names and faces. I’m really at a loss there most of the time. Sorry.
  9. Money dealings. I’m still baffled by our cell phone contract and the monthly bills. As for dealing with car salesmen or realtors? WTF? A guy’s supposed to be savvy with this, right? Well, that leads to truly painful area:
  10. Male role: Yup, capable of repairing anything, solving any problem, knowing just who to contact when needed.

Tell me I’m not alone. Please?

Memories of places in the town I grew up in

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I’ve mentioned a few others, such as the art museum, in other posts here. Now, to add a few more, in no particular order. Again, I’m looking at Greater Dayton rather than strictly inside the city limits.

  1. NCR: The National Cash Register Company’s world headquarters looked more like an open college campus with linden trees and pristine lawns than an industrial jumble behind barbed wire and hurricane fencing. It even had a fine auditorium and pipe organ, used for its gatherings of salesmen but also the concerts of the Civic Music Association – I heard a number of famed musicians there. And I was awarded my Eagle Scout badge and later my high school diploma on its stage. And, oh yes, I can’t overlook Old River, the employee park with the lagoon and boating, a fine miniature golf course, and a huge outdoor swimming pool – when one of my buddies whose father worked at NCR and thus had a pass to the park asked if I wanted to go, there was only one possible answer. Please!
  2. The corner display windows at Rikes department store: The pioneering retailer was the place to shop in town, and anytime we took the bus, say to the library or a movie, we’d wind up checking the latest display – especially at Christmas. During my senior year, some of my art work was used in the background of the featured fashion.
  3. The YMCA: I learned to swim at the indoor pool and sometimes applied my allowance to a grilled cheese sandwich later, over on the men’s side. And then, little kid that I was, I enjoyed the freedom of taking the bus home on my own.
  4. Frigidaire employee park: Thanks to my best friend’s father’s employee pass, we spent many summer nights enjoying free Starlight movies. My dad worked for another General Motors division in town, one that had no such benefits.
  5. Troop trails: My Boy Scout troop had a long hike one Sunday a month, in addition to a primitive camping weekend. Our routes often followed a river or crossed farmlands or even trekked along railroad tracks. I remember especially a few that traced the abandoned Miami-Erie Canal with its mule bank and its eerie remains of limestone locks left in vines and trees.
  6. Suicide Hill: A decent snowfall (quite modest by what I’ve experienced since) meant sledding at Hills and Dales Park. How insignificant the slope looks now, but there were some serious injuries. I had a near call.
  7. Memorial Hall: It really wasn’t designed for concerts, but it’s where the Philharmonic performed, and since my dad had access to tickets, I heard many top soloists. Hard to believe now, actually.
  8. Our big ugly high school: built in the 1960s and long since torn down. In my memory, I recall it more than the older but equally ugly elementary school.
  9. Yellow Springs: Once I got my driver’s license, the bohemian town in Greene County, home of Antioch College, became a welcome retreat. Its funky stores, before funky was a word in my consciousness, were mind-expanding. Nowhere else could we find Earl Grey or gunpowder tea or sticks of incense or perfumed soaps. Then there was the professional summer theater series at the amphitheater, itself a revelation. By that time, I was in love, at last. And that leads to mention of a covered bridge by moonlight: Yes, making out afterward in the moonlight at a covered bridge that’s no longer existent down an unpaved road.
  10. The Art Theater: Where I first saw foreign films, black-and-white alternatives to Hollywood’s commercial concoctions. And then there was the Lemon Tree coffee house next door with its folk music and blues.

My, all that was a world ago in my life.

 

On former girlfriends and lovers

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

For me, this is ancient history, back before my second marriage more than two decades ago. Still, I get questioned about my deep past, and sometimes that has me looking at my previous romances and adventures collectively, rather than individually.

Here’s the latest take.

  1. None of them were like my mother, as far as I can see. There are good reasons for that.
  2. I was attracted to potential. As in “promise,” which was the original title of my novel now standing as Nearly Canaan.
  3. I put them up on pedestal. Up there, beside mine.
  4. Most were intelligent, though not always of a scholarly bent, as well as attractive.
  5. I am having trouble seeing deep mutual interests. Spirituality, especially along Quaker lines, classical music, and literature are central pursuits of mine, and being with someone who shared even one of those felt like Eureka. Contradancing worked as a connector for several of them. But for the rest?
  6. There are now questions of just exactly what I offered them. How often was I trying to be the white knight coming to their rescue?
  7. They were all younger than me. (Not that I’d advise that.)
  8. Were they all crazy, one way or another? That has been suggested. And, no, I don’t see myself as a victim.
  9. Except for a couple of them, I doubt they’ve ever visited this blog or read anything else I’ve written in the years since we were together.
  10. These things rarely end well. As in happily ever after.

ATVs all around

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

My introduction came back in the late ‘70s when our landlord acquired a three-wheeler to get him easily from one end of his orchards to the other, and even up to the hill ranch and back. It was certainly easier to navigate through the trees than a tractor was.

These days, though, I see them everywhere.

Even though they’re not my cup of tea, here are some reasons.

  1. The machines themselves: More properly known as all-terrain vehicles, these small open motorized conveyances are either buggies (“quads” or “four-wheelers”) or tricycles (“three-wheelers” or “trikes”) with big, low-pressure tires and a seat that is straddled by a driver who steers with handlebars. So they’re not quite a motorcycle, OK? They are intended for off-road use, but commonly show up running on highway shoulders.
  2. Popularity: Honda introduced the three-wheeler in 1970, followed by the four-wheeler from Suzuki in 1982. They originally appealed to hunters and then sporting trail riders.  Yamaha entered the market in 1987 with the Banshee, which added sand dune riders as fans. By the early 1990s, ATVs had also become a part of the American workplace.
  3. Pure fun: There’s a good reason for the big club down in Dennysville, as well as the recreational riders at the trailhead in Machias during their summer vacations. The activity is seen as a major tourism opportunity. You can zip along and bounce, feeling free. I think of them as a kind of three-season snowmobile.
  4. Ease of getting around: On the Passamaquoddy reservation just to our north, they’re a common way to get from one part of the village to another, no matter the rider’s age. Here in town, they’re still pretty much banned, with some folks complaining of the noise or potential trespassing. The controversy is a hot topic in many localities.
  5. Regulations: Few states require a license to operate an ATV. In Maine, where I live, there is an annual registration fee for an ATV. In addition, no one under age 10 is permitted to operate an ATM, and youths 10 to 16 are required to have completed a safety course and be accompanied by an adult. The rules don’t apply to land where the operator lives or on land owned by the operator’s parent or guardian.
  6. As for kids: Youths can drive them, although children under age 12 are advised not to ride machines having more than 90 cc engines or, under stricter guidelines, no one under 16 should be driving, period. In practice, though, parents do send the kids to the grocery and hear no complaints. In addition, smaller models designed for young riders are available. Engine limiters are among the safety features. Still, an estimated 22 percent of the deaths involved children under 16, as well 26 percent of the reported emergency room injuries.
  7. Safety: From the beginning, deaths and serious injuries occurred, most of them blamed on reckless operation and failure to wear safety gear such as helmets and goggles. Tipping and rollovers accounted for a majority of the accidents. In 1987 a moratorium on the production of three-wheelers went into effect, shifting the market entirely to four-wheelers. In 2021, there were 293 deaths on public roads – 59 of them riders age 29 or less. Texas, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania have the highest fatality rates, followed by Kentucky and California.
  8. Environmental impacts: They’re largely negative. Off-road use contributes to soil erosion, damages vegetation, and disturbs wildlife habitats. All uses increase noise pollution, greenhouse gas emissions, and air pollutants. On the other hand, they’re not as bad as a pickup.
  9. Cost: Roughly $4,000 to $12,000 for a new one, though customization can really up the total.
  10. Annual sales: North America recorded $2.2 billion in sales in 2022, nearly two-thirds of the global market, and it’s growing.

The Appalachian Trail is the grandaddy of a hiking marathon

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Other parts of the world have long had their pilgrimages, but in the United States, when it comes to doing that on foot rather than by car, I’d say the Appalachian Trail tops the list.

The public pathway was conceived in 1921, built by private citizens, and competed in 1937. It officially became the Appalachian National Scenic Trail in 1968.

Here are some other perspectives.

  1. Length: Almost 2,200 miles involving 14 states from Georgia to Maine. Parts of the path get rerouted over time, a consequence of urban development pressures, loss of access across private lands, or other factors. It’s touted as the longest hiker-only trail in the world. Pack animals and wheeled things are shunted to other options.
  2. Heavenly heights: The trail ascends many of the tallest peaks in the Appalachian Mountain system, including the Great Smokeys of North Carolina and Tennessee, the Green Mountains of Vermont, the Presidentials of New Hampshire, and Maine’s Longfellows, many of them rising above the tree line. Most of the trail is forests or other wildlands, although some sections, especially in the valleys, pass farmlands, follow roadways, cross bridges, or run into small towns.
  3. Backpackers: Sections traversing roadways often have trailheads that give day hikers or overnighters access for short treks, the AT is celebrated for its backpackers, carrying all of their food, clothing, and gear and camping each night somewhere in the wilds. Some, like my Boy Scout troop when I was 12, venture out for a week or two, but the truly serious folks are the ones who trek from one end to the other in a single season. They’re known as thru-hikers, and those who return to hike the AT from the other direction the next year are considered a “yo-yo.” An estimated 3,000 people set out each year to hike the entire length, with a fourth of them actually succeeding. In 2017, 715 northbound and 133 southbound thru-hikers were recorded.
  4. Weather factors: Winter weather in effect shuts down many sections of the AT, at least for thru-hikers. Since the weather warms earlier in Georgia than in Maine is the reason most of the thru-hikers start at the south end and head north, hoping the snow and ice have melted from northern New England sections by the time they arrive that far. Some veterans argue that the trail is easier in that direction, too.
  5. Self-discovery: As one gets a distance away from a road or peopled location, the terrain becomes more pristine. There’s less litter and debris and less noise, too. The hiker encounters not only nature, on gorgeous days and raw ones, but also personal challenges and inner resources.
  6. Dedicated organization: The AT is maintained by 31 trail clubs of volunteers and other partnerships and managed jointly by the National Park Service, U.S. Forest Service, and nonprofit Appalachian Trail Conservancy.
  7. Angels along the way: Thru-hikers tell of remarkable locals who routinely come to the aid of the travelers. Need a bath or shower? A lift into town for groceries? A phone call, back in the day before cell phones? (Maybe today that’s a recharge?) They’re there.
  8. Memories: Many of the experiences are unforgettable. The scenery, especially. But there can also be downsides: Rattlesnakes, copperheads, bears, as well as ticks, mosquitoes, and black flies. Or some brutal weather, even in the height of summer.
  9. Mostly protected now: Passage of the National Trails System Act of 1968 allowed the Park System to purchase most of the lands still in private hands, assuring the AT of a permanent route.
  10. It’s not necessarily free: Portions of the trail require payment for backcountry permits or park entry as well as for shelters and campsites. Otherwise, access it free. Your gear, foodstuffs, and getting there are, of course, expenses to consider.  

 The AT is no longer the only long trail system in America, but it’s still the oldest. To achieve its length combined with Continental Divide Trail (2,700 to 3,150 miles, depending) and Pacific Crest Trail (2,653 miles) is considered the Triple Crown of Hiking in the United States.

Letters from a retired hippie

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I’m sorry about what you’re inheriting. I’m sorry about the parts we’ve messed up.

It’s not all our fault. We were too trusting, for one thing. And so green, as in naive.

Looking around, we see too many old losers and the sense of hippie as essentially a girl thing.

A sense of betrayal, futility.

It was a youth movement. That’s what you need to know about it.

As for the other options?

What makes someone a ‘character’?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Often, it’s a flip comment and everybody nods as if knowing exactly what’s meant. Except, if you look closer, the actual definition gets fuzzy.

Calling someone a “character” falls in that vein.

The term itself reminds me of an older Quaker I knew. At the time, her mobility had been confined to a wheelchair for a decade or more. Members of the Quaker Meeting out in Ohio, where we both maintained our affiliation, always said, “Oh, that Anna! She’s a character!” But they would never tell me why.

Finally, when I had charge of her memorial service in New Jersey, I popped the question. And it was a rich experience.

Among the examples was from the days when she was still driving but relying on that wheelchair. She rolled up beside the passenger door, crawled into the seat, folded up the wheelchair and tossed it into the back, and then somersaulted into the driver’s seat. I can’t imagine, much less what was involved when she arrived.

What I did realize, on my drive back to New Hampshire, is that each of us has our first 40 years to get our act together and the next 40 to be a character.

So, back to matter at hand – sharpening our definition of a character.

Aided by responses from another circle of friends, here are ten things to consider.

A “character” is in at least several of these:

  1. True to self: Authentically themselves regardless of the opinions of others; comfortable in their own skin; possessing strong backbone.
  2. One of a kind: Standing a step apart from social norms; a nonconformist, unconventional. By definition, exceptional or original.
  3. Attuned to a lofty goal: Religion, art, social action, or so on.
  4. Faithful to moral values: It’s more than having character – integrity, honesty, loyalty, compassion, for instance – but of actually embodying them. This can manifest as courage, perseverance, and confidence to move through difficult situations.
  5. Eccentric: I’m guessing this goes beyond everyday preferences and habits of a mundane nature, like how we have tea or coffee. But it can mean something more than just one-of-a-kind. Maybe colorful? Quirky? A streak of ornery, in many cases, but not too much – like fresh ground pepper on a meal. Or even stubbornness.
  6. Seen in a positive light: Likeable, funny, interesting, amusing, a bit of a charmer, willing to do or say what we shy away from but would secretly consider. “I see it as a good thing … a positive thing.”
  7. Or in a negative sense: Nuts, weirdo, strange; annoying; rubs people the wrong way. “I hear it as snide, not meant to be flattering.” A slang thesaurus comes up with Soup Nazi and Ron Paul as synonyms. The matter of intonation does not show up in the definitions, but hearing a voice would certainly thicken the plot. (Did I put those two synonyms in the wrong spot? Some folks might see those individuals in a positive light.)
  8. Open to praise or ridicule: “They often have no idea they’re not conforming.”
  9. Willing to make self-sacrifices: Back to that lofty goal. Or at least not squander time and money on less worthy items.
  10. Sometimes even a big personality: In this case, being the center of attention, almost like they’re always performing. Well, an actor does play a character, but that’s just make-believe. This goes beyond that.

‘Big cities’ in my life

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I’ve long been fascinated by major metropolises, or at least the concept of a downtown as a pulsing power center buzzing with fashionable activity. My hometown, while a thriving city at the time, never struck me as “big.” As for glitz? Forget it.

In the list I’ve assembled, each of the cities has at least one professional baseball team, and today also an NFL team, not that sports were a big factor for me. Great symphony orchestras and art museums, however, definitely were. And later, I came to see subway systems as another measure; the majority of the cities here have them.

All but one of these locations is somewhere I’ve been more than once, and we’re not even counting connecting flights at the airport. While I’ve resided inside only one of these hubs, I’ve lived within the gravitational orb of another seven.

That said, here goes, presented more or less in the order in which I experienced them.

  1. Cincinnati: I grew up about an hour away, and once I got my driver’s license, I got to know the place much better than just Crosley Field, riverboat rides, the zoo, or the observation deck atop the Carew Tower, destinations of family outings or school field trips. I’ll save the details for later.
  2. Chicago: The Loop, with its narrow canyons between skyscrapers, and the walkway along the Chicago River still embody the visceral excitement I identify as big city. An initial visit as a teen followed by visits to friends and lovers later culminated when I worked for the media syndicate of the Chicago Tribune and was whisked up high in its tower overlooking Lake Michigan.
  3. New York: I didn’t get to the Big Apple until the summer between my junior and senior year of college. I was living in a boarding house and working an internship about four hours Upstate, but after graduation I returned and had housemates and friends from The City. Visiting the place with them was delightful. Later, living in the ashram about two hours away or in Baltimore to the south, I got in for even more exposure.
  4. Seattle: During my four years in the desert of Washington state, an escape to “the wet side” of the Cascade mountains was a regular part of our existence. I’m not sure how much I’d recognize the place now, but we did have friends who’d put us up. Even then, people were worried the city would lose its charm, the way San Francisco had.
  5. San Francisco: In my one visit, there was still some charm left. Especially the affordable ethnic restaurants out in the neighborhood where we were staying, with our sleeping bags on the floor. The hippies had long gone to greener pastures, but City Lights bookstore was still packed.
  6. Cleveland: Living about two hours away, I got to know the city on Lake Erie mostly as University Circle, with its extraordinary art museum (free admission), famed concert hall, genealogical library, and Quaker Meeting. The downtown still hadn’t rebounded. I’ll also include the famed orchestra’s summer home south of town as part of the experience.
  7. Pittsburgh: Two hours in the other direction, we spent more time in Squirrel Hill and the university neighborhood than downtown. The steel mills were long gone, but major corporate headquarters still flavored the core, much more than they did Cleveland.
  8. Baltimore: Oh, how I loved the place. My first apartment was the top floor of a rowhouse within walking distance of symphony hall. The gentrified neighborhood was something like Boston’s Beacon Hill but pre-Civil War era rather than Colonial. Even when I relocated to a suburb, I spent a lot of time in Roland Park and a few other neighborhoods. The Inner Harbor was always a delight.
  9. Washington: Living about an hour to the north in my Baltimore sojourn meant I could head down easily, usually to visit friends in the Maryland suburbs. What surprises me on reflection is how little I made of the opportunity to do more. Yes, I did use the National Archive and Library of Congress a few times for genealogical research, and visited the imposing National Gallery and the Phillips more collegial collection, but I never got to the Smithsonian or White House tour or any of the monuments, really. Besides, there was nothing much of a downtown – charming Georgetown seemed to fill that function.
  10. Boston: It took me a while to warm up to Boston, but once I was living an hour to the north, my attitude changed. For more than 30 years, then, I turned to its museums, theaters, concert venues, bookstores, record stores, restaurants, and more, even contradancing two or so times a week, and that was before having a girlfriend or two in the suburbs or joining a suburb community choir just beyond Cambridge. In the end, though, I was still an outsider.

I realize how much the experience of most of these places is based on walking. Pedestrian-friendly was a key element separating them from others.

Honorable mentions: Worcester, Saint Louis, Toronto, Philadelphia, Montreal, Detroit, Providence.