Tag: Musings

Parts of Maine often resemble the Far West 

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Maine is larger than the rest of New England combined, and except for much of Vermont, it was settled much later than the rest of the six-state region. That is, the parts of the state that were ever settled at all. Half of the Pine Tree State has no year-round population at all, for good reason.

The result is that there are paved roads where you can drive for miles and see nary a utility line or a mailbox, much less a house. Often, the only human activity you detect is timbering or mining. Hunting and fishing are a way of life. It wasn’t that far out of Bangor I used to see the bear-hunt guide sign.

Those roads remind me of driving from town and out toward a mountain pass on my way to trails in the high country out West.

There are trails for hiking or ATVs just about everywhere, many of them through conifer forests like those of the Far West. Here’s one at Shackford State Park within Eastport’s city limits.

Downeast Maine’s open blueberry barrens on the ridges, meanwhile, give me a sensation of the Big Sky Country of Montana or the Horse Heaven Hills of Washington state, except that the blue overhead isn’t the same deep intensity.

I believe that the presence of Indigenous peoples is another part of the mix. Eastport is adjacent to the Passamaquoddy’s Pleasant Point Reservation, as we’re reminded every time we drive to or from our island. They’re one of the four tribes comprising the Wabanaki Alliance in the state.

Yes, there is a kind of frontier feel around here. I’d suggest calling the area the Far East, but that name’s already been taken.

Fact is, many of the old ships that sailed to the Far East were built along these shores rather than those of the Far West.

Ten great loves in my life

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

What, you were expecting sexy lovers? That’s a whole different story, maybe best left for my fiction.

  1. Symphonic music. Well, quickly extending to chamber music and opera and then even jazz.
  2. Quaker practice and culture.
  3. The great outdoors. Wilderness, especially.
  4. The Cascades range as I explored it, most of all.
  5. Seafood, fresh asparagus, real tomatoes.
  6. The sea. Surf. Lighthouses.
  7. Holy wonder. The natural high, if you will.
  8. Autumn foliage.
  9. The soul mate who turned out to be false. She still haunts me, all the same. I think it was all the shared aspirations that really got me.
  10. The color blue.

~*~

What do you really love? Make that who, if you desire.

 

About my current state of mind

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment
  1. Distracted. Just where did I put that thing-a-ma-jig?
  2. Stuffed to the brim.
  3. Amazed by so many actions that are normally taken for granted.
  4. Grateful for so much in my everyday life, even amid the inevitable irritations.
  5. Looking for additional sources of income to make ends meet.
  6. Worried about the future of mankind.
  7. Less demanding of others than I once was.
  8. Resigned to growing limitations.
  9. Angry about the injustices of the nutcase Right.
  10. Glad I’m not 21 and facing the future.

~*~

Now, to inhale deeply … and hold it.

 

Adrift without a routine … any advice?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Have you ever wondered how some individuals, liberated from the daily 9-to-5 or similar constraints, manage their lives? I mean, just everybody I’ve known has always envied that “free from it all” possibility, but what does that mean in reality? Even retirement?

As for someone who’s “financially set,” how do they arrange their lives?

The last thing I’d want to do is squander my time in front of a TV screen. The computer monitor, by the way, is a different matter. It’s more like a command post, not that my doctor would agree. You know, the new form of “couch potato.” If you’re reading this, you’re likely also guilty. Maybe we need to join ranks.

For years now, there was always the paying job to contend with. In addition, I’ve always had a big writing project at hand, as well as the rhythm of Quaker Meeting. There was also contradancing. Retirement added blogging, daily swimming and then Spanish drills, along with weekly choir rehearsals, at least before Covid.

 

SOMEWHERE IN THE PAST two or three decades I had an annual year-end practice of blocking in my goals for the coming year, as well as a five-year plan. That’s faded away since my leaving the newsroom, but when my wife first came across those, she was both amused and annoyed. Seems I left out a lot of important things, even in a single day, meaning the plans weren’t especially practical or entirely focused.

I’ve recently come across a file of those aspiration but find I’m unable to get very far in rereading them. My plans were grandiose, ambitious, regimented, even militant, and besides, I no longer have the energy to keep up that kind of pace.

On the larger scheme, I broke out each season with Personal items like birthdays, vacations, auto inspections and license renewals, routine medical affairs, maybe even a reading binge or a recognition that I needed to get some exercise, at least by hiking or some such. There was a Domestic category to remind me of getting the furnace cleaned, paying insurance, tax deadlines, setting aside time for snow shoveling or getting garden stuff moved, even ordering firewood. Creative was the one that set goals for writing, revision, and submission. Spiritual was mostly Quaker activities. And, for a while, there was even Astro, to keep me apprised of what the heavens indicated I should be aware of.

Retirement was when I was finally going to be able to go Literary in a big way.

On the smaller scale, I tried envisioning daily and weekly routines in which I would block out so many hours for each of my larger categories and goals.

The problem was that there were never enough hours to work it all in.

 

RELOCATING TO EASTPORT was initially a writer’s retreat where I could focus on the Dover Quaker history book, but now that the project’s wrapped up, apart from getting it published and promoted, I’m feeling adrift.

No matter what time I wake up, anywhere from 3 to 6, usually, I can’t get away from this keyboard and screen until after 10. So much for the early morning meditation and study I originally envisioned! Well, these are the hours I’m finding clearest for writing and corresponding.

But from there? That’s the problem. Nothing feels structured, much less directed.

The introduction of an hour of walking in the school gym may change that, though it means moving some of my computer “butt time,” as writer Charles Bukowski put the practice. OK, back in college, I was a night owl and found midnight to two or three to be prime time. (Not so any more! Eastport is in the “land of the dawn” or Sunrise County.)

A big cooking day? Say, Wednesday? As for cleaning? A set amount of time daily or instead a big round on a specified day?

Well, that’s what I’m looking at now. The one big difference is whatever emerges will be more flexible than the earlier incarnations.

Any advice or specifics, especially things that work for you?

 

Let’s acknowledge another annual turning point

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Looking at the low temperature here and then the ten-day forecast, I observe a turning point in the season. This may be the last day of the year that our low reading is near zero, much less in the negative range. We’re heading upward into the teens and above as the minimum.

It may be cold, but no longer bitterly so.

Not that we’re anywhere near getting warm.

What’s the equivalent where you are?

Microclimates? Dress accordingly

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

My awareness of microclimates – ways weather conditions in small spots differed from the wider scene – came early one spring when I was dwelling in an orchard in Washington state. There were critical hours once the trees began blossoming when a frost could devastate a year’s crop. Cherries were particularly susceptible, but the apricots, peaches, pears, plums, and apples were also at risk. Remember, a whole year’s income could be wiped out in a few hours.

Frost-fighting measures, such as smogging pots, propane heating lines, airplane propellers pulling the slightly warmer air aloft down into the groves, or spraying the trees with water to form a protective ice coating around the blooms, were all costly. Essentially, it was a gamble. The orcharists relied on alarms sent out on special radio frequencies, usually in the wee hours, before taking action. Sometimes three feet of elevation made the difference in whether to act or simply ride it out – or, in the other direction, whether any action would be futile.

Years later, in New Hampshire, I encountered something similar, where a band somewhere between Manchester and the seacoast could vary by ten degrees within a mile or five. It could mean setting out in shorts and being uncomfortably cold on arrival. Or setting out in long pants and sleeves only to be sweating.

Once, in Dover, I saw an 11-degree drop – plus a cloud bank – between one side of the bridge into Newington and the other. Another time, I left for work in 39-degree favorable conditions only to encounter freezing rain and a hill that took a half-hour to go down midway to the office.

Now that I’m living on an island in Maine, I hear a common saying that our temperature is typically ten degrees cooler in summer and ten warmer in winter than it is even at U.S. 1 on the other side of the causeway, just seven miles away.

The differences were even more dramatic one morning when I checked last month. Our reading was plus 4, but inland had minus 8, on one ridge an hour’s drive away, or minus 14 at a lake a few miles away. Close by us but inland only 15 to 20 miles away were readings of minus 12 and minus 15.

A few days later, we had a minus 3, but Calais, 25 miles north and on a tidal river, was minus 25!

Do you experience anything similar where you live?

Add or subtract 22 degrees from 70 to get an idea of how much the impact can be. I mean, the 90s are usually miserable while the 50s mean keep the furnace running and maybe the car windows rolled up. Unless you’re a native New Englander. (I’m not.)

Well, it is Groundhog Day, which is really the end of Solar Winter, by one calendar, or the halfway point of Calendar Winter, another. Either way, we’re entering a stage when things warm up a tad but can produce some horrendous snowfall in my part of the universe.

Once again, I’m ever so glad I’m no longer having to commute to an office, day or night.

No, it’s not all flat, either

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

In my novel Nearly Canaan, Joshua and Jaya meet in a railroad crossing known as Prairie Depot. And in my newest release, The Secret Side of Jaya, she returns there in a magical sort of vein.

Yes, Prairie Depot is somewhere in the Midwest. But the region itself is hardly as homogeneous as many portray it.

~*~

  1. Defined: The region is generally comprised of 12 states – Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, Ohio, South Dakota, and Wisconsin. I question the inclusion of Missouri, which was a slave-holding state and thus Southern, but others try to add Oklahoma. Population 65 million.
  2. Breadbasket of the world: Wheat, corn, and oats are major crops, along with soybeans and sugar beets. Beef, dairy, and hog production are also huge. The fields run on for miles. And Wisconsin is the nation’s leading producer of cranberries.
  3. Major cities: Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, St. Louis, Minneapolis, Cincinnati, Milwaukee, Kansas City, Des Moines, Omaha, Columbus, and Indianapolis head the list.
  4. Mall of America: The 400 stores, waterpark, and aquarium in Bloomington, Minnesota, are deemed one of the most popular tourist magnets in the country, drawing 35 million visitors a year.
  5. Heartland: The geographic center of North America is in Ruby, North Dakota.
  6. A taste for the oddball: Cawker City, Kansas, is home to the world’s biggest ball of twine. Ten feet in diameter.
  7. Linked by rail: The Union Pacific’s Bailey Yard in North Platte, Nebraska, is the world’s largest railroad yard. It’s eight miles long and up to two miles wide, with 301 sets of rails.
  8. Horses and buggies: More Amish live in Ohio than in any other state. In 2015, there were 69,255. And Iowa has a significant number, too – about 7,000.
  9. Cowboy country: Much of what we consider cowboy-and-Indian out west actually took place in Kansas, Nebraska, and the Dakotas. And sharpshooter Annie Oakley was raised by a Quaker family in Ohio.
  10. It’s not really homogenous: Each state is different, starting with the economy, religious mix, ethnic origins and culture, and amount of annual precipitation. Even the parts of a state can vary widely along these lines. Much of the eastern half of the region is heavily industrial, with steel and auto making at the fore, while other parts are intensively agricultural. There are further breakouts like the Great Lakes region or the Great Plains. And it’s not all flat, either.       

~*~

What are your impressions of this part of the country?

Another twist on everyday personal unease

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Everybody is searching for something. So I’ve heard.

That, rather than mere “anxiety”?

As if I ever had an answer, short of some piety.

Still, I am the son of a born worrier.

So just what, exactly, is that “something” in your life?

What, exactly, is your life (or mine) missing?

And just how much will it cost?

Some observers will argue it’s really an enemy, villain, or opponent in our life that we require.

Maybe even the devil in the details.

 

I’m going ‘round in circles!

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

No, I don’t mean that maddening activity of starting one thing but picking up another before the first is finished and then jumping ahead to the a third or fourth or fifth but having to backtrack to the second or first in some fashion. Know what I mean? Don’t we all have days like that?

This blog’s merry-go-round, meanwhile, feels more like a spiral.

The circles I’m looking at this morning are much calmer.

Let’s start with the fact I haven’t been getting much exercise this autumn and winter. It’s not like pre-Covid, when I was swimming laps in Dover’s indoor pool. Up here in Downeast Maine, the nearest such pool is in Canada, and the border’s essentially closed. I used to joke that I swam laps to keep my doctor happy, but now my new one has been concerned about my current blood pressure level, so I guess I’ll have to do something to keep her, too, happy. . Does that sound familiar to any of you? So we’re back to the lack of exercise and maybe a rising intake of salt.

After learning earlier this month that the high school gym is open weekday mornings for walkers, I’ve started venturing forth (it’s only eight blocks away, no need to drive) and begun circling the basketball court briskly in full comfort for an hour or so, switching directions about 30 minutes in. It’s nice not having tree roots, rocks, mud, or inclines to deal with, too. Frankly, even when they’re not snow covered, the local trails can be pretty challenging, not just where they’re along bluffs dropping into the churning ocean, either. There’s some pretty rough terrain around here.

As for the gym? I’m the only guy showing up so far, the rest are all women. Make of that what you will.

Guess the indoor track is gonna be the anchor of my new routine into spring, likely with pickleball thrown in somewhere during the week. (So far, I know nothing about said sport, other than what I found on the Web and that a couple of guys here have told me it’s a gas and I should try it and it seems to be the big social activity through the depth of deep cold. At least the avid players have a Facebook page here, and I’m kinda signed up, when the next round of newbies get introduced. Please stay tuned!) I do miss swimming those laps and some of the social connections I had many miles and months ago. Could that be a fine substitute?

That said, being back in high school, even it’s only a building, stirs up its own mixed feelings. I did resist an urge to deface a sign, TAKE THE SHOT, by altering one letter. I would be a horrible student if I had to do high school again. For instance, those PA announcements that interrupt the calm of my stroll really could prompt comedy. They’re unintelligible, far as I can tell, but they do have sound effects. BLARROOM! BLARROOM! Seriously. And you wonder that those kids aren’t learning anything? I think back in antiquity we relied mostly on bells, but I do vaguely recall that “come to the office” demand from a speaker box above the escape door.

In a more leisurely circle of activity, another highlight these days is the Eastport Arts Center’s Sunday afternoon free soirees through April. This coming week is some guy who’s invented a lot of instruments, starting with hubcaps, and is renting a U-Haul truck to bring them all up and perform. Some solid musicians insist it’s a revelation. I’m game. And last week was a discussion of dramaturgy. Hope I spelled that right. Well, how many other community theater companies do you know of that came out of the Covid shutdown with a Brecht-Cocteau double bill? By they way, I did know a fifth of the cast of their last production, Almost Maine, and a same proportion of the band. How’s that for a newcomer to town?

What anchors your life, week to week or even day to day?

My favorite big cities

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I always wanted to live in a big city, the kind where big things were happening, and even when I was in high school, people were telling me that’s where I should be. But, oh my, my life’s gone in quite another direction!

So here are ten I’ve experienced, all in North America.

  1. Boston: For more than three decades, I lived an hour to the north and came to know it well. The fact it’s so pedestrian friendly makes it unique, in my mind. Much of it has a small-town feel, especially when you add in all of the suburbs that retain their original, Colonial-era, village roots. Besides, even I have come to appreciate that Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics, Bruins regional identity.
  2. San Francisco: One visit, and it’s still love, though way out of my budget these days. We had a cheap place where we slept in sleeping bags. I now think of it as being somewhat like Boston, in a hip West Coast incarnation.
  3. Baltimore: I lived there for three years and know it can be Charm City, with a character all its own. It took me a while to readjust later to Boston.
  4. Cincinnati: A great place for classical music. Still is, from everything I see. Other than that, not quite so big as I remember, though Procter & Gamble, Macy’s, and Kroger are all headquartered there. I grew up an hour to the north, where everybody was a Reds’ fan.
  5. Chicago: Let’s start with the art museum, with all of its muscular heft, matching the city. Or the two years I worked for the Tribune, out on the road, and came in for conferences at the paper. Yes, I have stories!
  6. Seattle: For four years, it was my closest metropolis, back when everybody was worried it was going to go the way of San Francisco and lose its intimate charm. These days, I doubt I would know it all.
  7. Cleveland: For three years in my life, this was two hours away in one direction. Despite being the butt of a lot of bad jokes, the city was once the home to some of the nation’s leading industrialists, John D. Rockefeller among them. The art museum is definitely one of the nation’s top five, and admission is free. For genealogists, the Western Reserve Historical Society’s library is a mecca. The town as a whole has made quite a turnaround, though the Browns are another matter.
  8. Pittsburgh: And this was two hours away in the other direction. We usually headed for the university district.
  9. New York: I lived Upstate for a few years, plus a few more out in the Poconos, and during that time most of my friends were from The City. I’ve even spent the night in all five of the city’s boroughs, often in a sleeping bag, something few of the natives can claim. I know there’s a lot more than Manhattan.
  10. Washington, D.C.: Living up the road in Baltimore gave me repeated opportunities to zip down for a few hours, especially since one of my best friends lived there. There are still tons of the big attractions I never quite visited, though. I can tell you about the genealogical files at the National Archive, however, or the greenhouses at the National Cathedral, that sort of thing, and I still admire the subway system.

~*~

I still recall Montreal with wonder, from a trip back in the early ’60s. Someday, I hope, I’ll get back. And there are the repeated tastes of Philadelphia, enough to know I’ve missed much.

~*~

OK, your turn to tout a big city. What’s your favorite? Or one I’ve missed?