She was truly one of a kind

In reflecting recently on the Quaker tradition of creating memorial minutes for “weighty Friends,” I was surprised that one example I had never posted was of another clerk of our Dover Meeting. She was struck down by a particularly virulent, fast-moving cancer, and it’s hard to me to see that nearly five years have gone by since her passing.

There’s much more that I could tell, but the approved minute will give you a good sense of her vibrant character.

Jean V. Blickensderfer

November 11, 1946 – June 16, 2017

Among Dover Friends, Jean was the flash of gold in the morning, a welcoming soul others naturally confided in, a faithful worker who eventually filled nearly every organizational position – from children’s teacher and treasurer, to co-clerk and finally presiding clerk.

Raised Unitarian-Universalist in Methuen, Massachusetts, she came to Friends in the early ‘80s after she and her first husband, Dean L. Davis, had settled in Eliot, Maine, and were seeking the right church for a family that included daughters Thaedra May and Sarah Joy. They were quickly entrenched among us.

Jean was twice widowed.

She married Dean the day after his graduation from the Maine Maritime Academy in 1967, and then managed their home during his long assignments at sea. During his interludes ashore, they built their own post-and-beam house on the banks of the Piscataqua River and could often be found boating, sometimes to visit other Quakers upstream, or on his motorcycle, which they rode to Meeting in good weather. He died in a freak automobile collision in 1992, an accident his wife and daughters survived unscathed.

In 1998 she married Del Blickensderfer and worked as his partner at Del’s Service Station until his passing of lupus in 2006.

Deeply grateful for the mentoring she received from seasoned Friends, Jean was a stickler for Quaker process and, over time, became the memory of the Meeting’s business itself. She sought to walk a line between holding her tongue and being direct, when needed. A witness to the movement of Christ in our midst, Jean’s infrequent vocal ministry could be powerful. Her skills as a professional typist assured the Meeting’s minutes were of archival quality and, combined with her business-school training, led to the Blue Books for committees and their clerks detailing their responsibilities. She was particularly fond of drawing on the Advices and Queries from London Yearly Meeting’s 1994 edition of Quaker Faith and Practice as guideposts for our own action. An avid knitter, she took comfort in seeing others do needlework during our business deliberations, their patience reflecting the work before us. In time, a midweek knitting circle became what she called a “wicked good” time of refreshment, nurture, and fellowship.

More pressing obligations had precluded her attending yearly meeting sessions, a “bucket list” item she resolved to achieve. All along, she warmly welcomed the wider world of Friends to Dover.

Other delights in her life were yoga, visiting with neighbors, shopping and dining with dear friends, walking the beach, doting on her Pomeranian Sumi, and especially being with her grandson Jonah. His living in Albuquerque, New Mexico, did not prevent her from accompanying much of his childhood and youth, from celebrating birthdays and holidays to attending his piano recitals to cheering him on in mountain bicycle races, whenever she could.

In all, her presence, generosity, and deep and lively spirit were a gift.

With loved ones at her bedside through the final days of her cancer, she passed at age 70, peace and grace abundant.

APPROVED by Dover Monthly Meeting July 16, 2017, Charles Cox, clerk

 ENDORSED by Dover Quarterly Meeting July 31, 2017, at North Sandwich, Erik Cleven, clerk

 

For that round face both puzzled and kind

to catch up on the overdue exchange rather than taping up all those goodies and it’s still good to be home just two days into a lunatic week already a day behind whatever gets no better all housework’s piles of homework and up in the midst of keyboarding with a broom a general epistle to all who send cards or other missives & ought to be acknowledged, at least this could be personalized hey, you! unlike those photocopies everyone loved that one remarkable year, finally we’re coming round to sunshine

Say now, Augie

no piano sounds more like transactions of harpsichord or organ this postulation halfway finishing business drafts describing new goods so you want to tell what’s Kosher with jottings of what remains pressing all kinds of mental jumping about, on the way of continuation just writing and writing, the notes falling all in due time polishing or dashing to editors or agents or Winona in response to a beautiful letter hopefully corresponding to annals and her invitation to follow through on an earlier intent to respond to queries sent off to my overseers and elders, this exercise easily, now, back to you, so what’s playing next

How flimsy are all those social media stats?

I know that everywhere you go, everybody seems to have their nose stuck in their cell phone, oblivious to just about everything going on around them. You know, the bubble people.

Or, where I’m now living, they have those phones up in the air taking pictures so they can look at what’s in front of them later.

Oh, my. What a world.

As a writer, I’m supposed to be active on all platforms as a matter of marketing , but as many others are discovering, those venues rarely lead to book sales or loyal readers. Let’s be honest.

I’ve toyed with some of them, but drifted away, even Twitter.

My primary social medium is here at WordPress, blogging. I know how to manage my posts easily. The Reader feels to me like a real mailbox, with dispatches from around the world – postcards, letters, clippings. As for you?

For that matter, I’ve never quite “got” Facebook. It’s cumbersome to navigate, most of the content feels like gossip cluttered with advertising, and I don’t like having to sign in to see what should be public information for local retailers, schools, or public events.

Still, living in a small town, I’m finding that’s where the local “party line” is, and checking in regularly is essential. I still have qualms about the bigger corporate picture, with its shadowy agendas.

Recently renewing contacts with folks from my ancient past has also had me turning to FB.

What’s surprising me, though, is the gap between those who are active in a social medium and those who are “members” but rarely or even never check in.

It’s not just FB. Even email accounts. I suspect many of my contacts are that way, too. Hello! Anybody there? Did you get my message? When was the last time they posted or commented? Take that as a clue to their presence … or absence.

The numbers, then, might not be nearly as big or influential as they’re boasted.

Meanwhile, I keep falling down these Internet rabbit holes, pursuing arcane information.

Where are you spending your time online? Or even elsewhere?

Chopsticks, ultimately, with or without a piano

the repeated but unreal seasons of pork chops with browned potatoes, peas, and Jell-O salad, the next night’s meatloaf with Spanish rice and green beans followed by fish sticks with scalloped potatoes and corn et cetera, always the same combinations back then, even Chinese would intimidate in dim rooms some at the edge of town on a Sunday night away from campus in the galleys of perdition, as if soy sauce would fix anything ketchup wouldn’t

Oh, Jody

after three months I recognized the true nature of dining hall menus in their two-week cycle of institutional perdition now I’ve revolted by way of vegetarian practice and straight from the garden gratitude for herbs and spices, sauces, flavored vinegar, pressed oils, the religious dimensions of feasting and fasting as well as prohibitions, there are reasons apart from snobbery no wines accompanied those dinners, after all, what do kids know and who would teach of goodness : as in what God saw as good, as in good to eat? and so it was, grace before vittles / sweet tasty dreams

Ten things about the leading lady in my life

Quite simply, she’s the coolest woman I’ve ever known. Warts and all. Now for some details.

  1. She’s an idealist while having no tolerance for b.s.
  2. Witty, even caustic, but never cruel. The truth, however, can sting.
  3. Much smarter than me, and better read, though knowing everything can be a problem. In other words, she remembers everything, especially what I’ve done wrong.
  4. I love watching her, the way she moves, the twinkle in her eye, the perplexed twist of her lips while solving a problem. Oh, yes, and her long, long hair.
  5. Has an artsy, natural style that leans toward earth-tones, folk sources, and simplicity.
  6. She’s frugal but generous.
  7. Has never been remunerated in just compensation to her societal contributions. If she were, we’d be living in high style.
  8. Is one of the world’s great cooks. And that extends to the garden, though she rarely has time for the weeding. The problem is, neither do I.
  9. Is gifted in spades with empathy. Only she can’t understand why the rest of us can be so lacking in it.
  10. Should have been an astronaut.

Darling Ilene

perhaps you remember the one whose moon-eyed lovers were reflected within the ringing gravel } none of them yet the maid of honor or a best man’s cattle, hogs, goats grunt in discomfort, sniffing the usual rounds without any drum healing wounds at least only to burn away { somewhere in the distance