Dan

Dan with our first son, Justin.

Today is the seventh anniversary of my late husband's death. It may sound odd, but I always look back on it thinking, "it was a good death," as far as deaths go. It was back in 2002, just a few months after 9/11 when so many families sent their loved ones off to work, never to see them again.

I remember thinking how lucky we were to have time to do all the things we needed to do, say all the things we needed to say.

He had been diagnosed with a brain tumor back in 1992. The doctors gave him 18 months, tops, to live, had he taken the standard chemotherapy the oncologist recommended. Instead, after surgery Dan decided to try some clinical trials out of Tufts University and sure enough, two years later, the tumor was unnoticeable on a CAT scan. The doctors were amazed and were sure the original diagnosis must have been incorrect because they'd never known anyone to survive that long. We didn't really care, we were just grateful that he felt good, was able to do the things he enjoyed, as well as continue his career as an electrical engineer.

We put it behind us and moved on with the business of living our lives and bringing up our three sons. It was always there in the background that the tumor could return but it had little negative impact on our daily lives. The boys went from 3, 5, and 8, to 13, 15, and 18, before it did return; so they were given the gift of growing up with, and getting to know their Dad. I'm sure they would have had very little memory of him had we lost him as the doctors originally predicted, back in the early 90s.

But come early September 2001, the tumor returned. I thought he was having a stroke one morning and called an ambulance. He went into a coma as I discussed our options with his doctors, and decided to try some chemo. The doctors said the tumor was too deep to do surgery this time.

The chemo worked, though we anticipated that it would only be effective very short term. This time they predicted less than six months.

Dan never completely came back at that point. He came home and was able to enjoy is day to day existence, though his cognitive abilities were substantially diminished. He enjoyed being in the house with the boys running around, lots of visitors - friends, family, and church members. He had a wonderful Hospice volunteer who'd take him shopping or out for coffee or lunch. You had to be kind of careful because he might stoll off on his own or get it into his mind that he was going to drive. But never in a cantankerous way; he was always good natured and easy going about it.

A few weeks before his death we had a hospital bed delivered and he spent the last couple of weeks in it, with great home care through hospice. The night he died his brother Peter and Peter's wife, Laurie, were there with me. We knew it was time and we had some old home movies of the kids playing on the tv while I held his hand and Laurie and Peter and I talked. The boys came in occasionally, and each spent a few minutes alone with him. Dan's church group had been over earlier in the evening with their guitars and tambourines and had sang and played music for him. He was unconscious but I swear I saw him tapping his foot at one point.

I think it was about two a.m. that he finally let go. His hospice nurse had been there until about 10 and she came right back when I called and made the phone call to the funeral home we had prearranged.

The family - his seven siblings and spouses, and his Mom and Dad - gathered with us the next day to support each other and to remember the fun times.

It seemed his death came too early - at just 53 years old. But it was in peaceful and loving surroundings. I think that's the best any of us can hope for when our time comes.

My Weekend

I haven’t written in my journal much lately. I feel speechless without my camera. But this is supposed to be a journal, not a blog, so let’s see, what have I been up to lately?

I started training a new volunteer at work last week. She’s going to start paralegal studies this summer and wanted to volunteer to get a flavor of the work we do. We seldom accept volunteers because they often take more time than they save, but this woman was willing to do whatever kind of work we needed help with, so I agreed to put in the time to train her. She’s very sharp and picks up on things the first time around. I took her to the Statehouse with me on Thursday to participate in a workshop I was facilitating on a mock public hearing for Girls Day at the Statehouse. I love GDATSH. 105 seventh and eighth grade girls from all over the state converge to meet the governor and learn about the legislative process. It’s organized by our good friends at the Maine Women’s Lobby.

We held our public hearing on LD 84 – An Act to Ensure Fair Pay – which is before the real legislature this year. The bill would allow employees to talk with each other about their wages. Some employers actually bar this activity currently, but how are women to know if they get equal pay if they don’t know what anyone else is earning?

The girls had a great time strategizing about who you would want to have testify, and what their message would be. I gave my other volunteer the pro side and took the bad guy role for my group – those against the legislation.

It was a fun exercise and the girls came up with some good strategies and actually convinced the “legislators” – another group of girls – to amend the bill before passing it, to allow employees to ask their employer for the wage information in order to lessen any possible tension among co-workers.

Thursday night I went to pottery and then met Rick at Hallowell and Wine to listen to our friend Mark Miller play. Rick usually practices with his band Thursday but they weren’t practicing this week so I convinced him to come in to listen to Mark with me, thinking the place would be packed and he could save me a seat. Well the place was pretty empty. Mark is a kick ass guitar player when he wants to be. He was pretty mediocre Thursday night I must say. Quite disappointing. When he finished at 9:00 I decided to go find what the pottery girls were up to and Rick headed home, preferring to avoid that much estrogen. Probably a wise move on his part. The girls were in rare form. After the music ended at The Cup we headed over to The Higher Grounds where Jonah, Alfred, Thib, and Lefty were playing. A good combo. We found a few other women and an occasional brave male and danced until closing time at about midnight.

Friday was spent pretty laid back and then Rick and I headed to The Depot in Gardiner for a beer with some friends, to Joyce’s for dinner, The Wharf for the last half hour of the early show, and then to The Higher Grounds for music by Stevie Jones, and a shaker of espresso martinis.

Saturday morning I went into the studio for a couple of hours and was really pleased with some pieces I worked on. I came home early so we could go to our local town meeting. That was kind of an interesting experience. We didn’t stay very long because they decided they needed to do a paper vote on whether to authorize a monetary expenditure to investigate the need for a new town office complex. Many of the townspeople thought the tentative design the building committee had come up with was way too extravagant so there was a lot of opposition to it. They didn’t get the point that the money authorized then was to continue investigation – not proceed with the building. Anyway, it was going to take 2 hours to do the paper vote and count before they could continue with the next article, so Rick and I voted and left. As did many others I suspect.

Sunday we went up to The Solon Hotel in Solon, Maine for a benefit concert for a person who is fighting cancer. There was a great turn out and some excellent music and I ran into a few old friends. I had been telling Rick for the past couple of years what a dive the Solon Hotel was so he was anxious to check it out. It had been a long time since I’d been there so you never know if it might have gotten fixed up. It did seem a little cleaner than I’d remembered it in the past but it’s still quite a dive.

My Kerouaction today: On Spontaenous Writing

At dusk it becomes very bleak looking, come March in Maine. The only color you can squeeze out of the stark landscape is a tint of red on the southwestern sky, as the sun sets behind the shadowy row of trees across the frozen lake. Dirty black and white snow banks hold dead looking oaks, maples, and beech trees rising out of them. An occasional black crow is seen scavenging, and even the color you got earlier from the bright bluejays is now long gone. There’s Emmylou Harris singing Cold Cold Heart lowly in the background and the only sign of warmth in the whole scene is the fire flaring and crackling from the corner of the room.

Full Moon

Every work day morning I set my alarm for 6:00 a.m. so that I can run out to the other end of the house and turn the heat up. The 50 degrees we keep it at during the night is great for sleeping but it makes for a rude awakening – climbing out of my nice cozy bed to the frigid air, hurdling the gate we keep on our bedroom doorway to keep our cat Emma in our bedroom so she doesn’t decide to leave little deposits around the house in the middle of the night, and navigating around the furniture now that it is once again dark at 6:00 a.m. Then making my way back again for that last half hour of blissful sleep while the house heats up to a more friendly 70 degrees.

This morning I was stopped in my tracks just after my initial gate hurdle by the sight of the full moon shining across the frozen lake. It was very low in the southwestern sky and there was a slight tinge of pink in the atmosphere from the rising sun. It was so beautiful I just had to stand there in the cold and gaze. My instinct was to grab my camera and get some photos. However, my camera died last week.

The camera: Maybe I shouldn’t go from the wonderment of a magnificent morning moon to a rant about my piece of shit camera. The camera actually takes great photos. However, from the moment I got it there have been problems. Some of my own making I must confess.

First when I bought the camera at Staples they had a special for a free photo printer. Just pay $100 for it and send in the $100 rebate. Great idea if you’re not hopeless about these kind of things like I am. Of course I got the printer but immediately managed to lose the rebate info AND my receipt for the camera which needed to go with it. So I paid $100 for a printer which I think I've used once.

Second, the camera came with a special rechargeable battery but no charger. So I ordered a second battery and the charger. When they came, the new battery fit my camera fine but the charger didn’t work for the battery that initially came with the camera. So fine, I’m stuck with just one battery. If I’d had my receipt, maybe I could have gone back to Staples and gotten a second battery that worked in the charger for free. I'd like to think so anyway.

One of the reasons I choose this particular camera was because there was both a view finder and an lcd display. However, after a few months the lcd display stopped working, except to review pictures. So I had to always use the viewfinder. After dealing with that for a few months, Rick managed to find a place to turn the lcd display back on but it no longer toggles back and forth between the two without going deep into the menu features to do so.

Then last week after taking a few photos of my latest pottery pieces, the camera went dead. I assumed the battery just needed recharging. But after charging the battery, and the charger indicating the battery was completely recharged, the camera still wouldn’t turn back on.

So now I don’t know if the camera died or if the battery is defective or if the battery charger is defective. Plus the whole history with the camera just makes me want to walk away from it.

I looked on Amazon over the weekend and found the "perfect" new camera and put it on my wish list. If anyone has an extra $400 they’d like to spend on it for me, please click here. http://www.amazon.com/Nikon-Coolpix-P90-Vibration-Reduction/dp/B001PKEJZQ/ref=wl_itt_dp?ie=UTF8&coliid=IQTLFP6PD2NOB&colid=21UG53Y60VEKA

Otherwise I’ll save up my pennies and in the meantime, I guess I’ll use Rick’s old reliable workhorse of a camera and be thankful.

The Rorschach Bowl

I rather like this bowl though it reminds me of a rorschach inkblot. It strikes me as a reindeer.

I want to kayak!

Is it spring yet?

Mid Winter Camp Check

Rick and I snow shoed into camp today to give it a mid winter check. Everything looked fine, except an outside light had been left on, presumably from when the boys had been out there in November for a campfire. Rick took the shovel to clear out enough snow

to get the front door open.

It's so serene out there this time of year. The Cobb has a channel running through that remains unfrozen most of the winter.

Droopy Roses

I found a good use for my new red bowl - providing a second life for last week's now droopy Valentine roses.
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White Winged Crossbill

Check out the little white winged crossbill who stopped by the beach last weekend along with a bunch of his friends. I can’t remember ever seeing these little guys before. They have very interesting long, pointy bills, with the top being longer than, and overlapping the bottom, hence their name. They were incredibly friendly, letting us walk within a yard of them while they concentrated on the pine cones. There is an abundance of pine cones this year. We gathered a garbage bag full of them for burning in the fireplace and there are still thousands of them left, especially now that some of the snow has been melting.
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However, as of this morning - Thursday, February 19th - the pine cones are once again covered and I suspect the crossbills have moved on, taking with them possibly the robin Rick and I saw out the back window while sitting at the breakfast table last week. I'd had visions of spring in my mind for the past week after seeing so much bare ground on our walk at the beach. They were shattered this morning though I still couldn't help but admire the beauty of the snow.

Worked from home today and I wasn't nearly as productive as I wished I'd been, but I can do some more reading and editing of web pieces tomorrow morning.

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The Red Bowl

The bowl started to warp when I lifted it off the wheel so I decided to go with it, molding it into a slight triangular shape. I love the “really red” glaze on it. The photo doesn't really capture the color accurately.

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Today, well actually Yesterday

It was 15 degrees below zero at our house this morning, 9 below at the bank half way to Augusta, and 4 below in the city. That seems to be the pattern, about 10 degrees colder here at the lake than in Augusta, ten miles away. I worked straight through till five, went to the studio and cranked the heat up on high and ran back to my car and sat there with the heat on high for about 15 minutes, trying to thaw my fingers and toes and hoping the little electric heater would bring the studio temperature up enough with the temperature outside at just16 degrees.

Malley’s still in Vermont so her friend Robbi led a class on hand building trays and animals. I made some beautiful little sushi trays, and trimmed a mug with a kitty on the handle – maybe a little too cutsey, we’ll see. I also trimmed the bowls I threw last Saturday and brought home the best mug I’ve ever made. It’s still not quite right – too small, but I like the shape, weight, and glazing. Here's a pic. You can see that it's a little too small sitting there next to the perfectly sized UMF cup that Rick gave me for Christmas.




I met Bob, Susan and Deb, for dinner at Hattie’s, a quick stop at The Higher Grounds, where I ran into my old buddy Pat who I worked with for 20 years. We used to have such great conversations, often about the challenges of raising our kids, but whenever I see him now he’s usually just running through the office.

It’s now almost 4:30 a.m. and I’m still wide awake. I had stopped drinking coffee with caffeine on Friday, two weeks ago today. The prior Monday night I’d slept two hours, Tuesday night I slept two hours, and Wednesday night I didn’t sleep a wink. At that point I just gave up even trying to sleep and decided to get up and enjoy myself, messing around with some photography, downloaded some pictures, printed some older pics, and framed and hung them.

I was fine the next day other than feeling a little wired and unfocused. I think sleeping at night is kind of like rebooting your computer and getting rid of the cache. If your psyche doesn’t have that down time, it continues to carry all the stuff from the previous day that you didn’t get a chance to process and dump. Even ten minutes of sleep can suffice for me.

But anyway, this morning I had caffenated coffee so here it is 4:30 a.m. and I’m still up. I just finished watching Terms of Endearment. What a tear jerker. Shirley MacLaine is such a wacko in that movie, until she gets laid anyway.

Fortunately I don’t work on Fridays so I should be able to catch a couple hours of sleep at some point before we go see Del McCoury at the Strand Theater in Rockland tomorrow night – oops, tonight.

Guess I’d better go back to decaf. I slept great all this past week, probably at least seven hours each night. And the caffeine this morning just made me feel all jittery, so f that. It’s probably take a couple days to get out of my system and then it’s purely decaf!

Rick went to a town planning board meeting tonight to try and convince the town not to issue a building permit for the new owner to build a house on a beach lot that we and 70 other families have shared private access to. A good turnout by the neighbors and a killer letter from Rick and they at least postponed the decision for two weeks and will hold another hearing.

Pottery

I went to the studio today to do some pottery. I finished glazing some pots and then threw some new pieces. I was very pleased with three bowls that I threw. The big bowl is a serving bowl to go with my set of salad/pasta bowls I made last week. One of the two smaller ones I’ll turn into a pedestal bowl and the other will maybe be an addition to my salad/pasta set.

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I’m very fussy about coffee cups. I have not yet made a cup that I would use. They’re either too small, too big, too heavy, or just too ugly. Today I made several pieces that I’ll try putting handles on next week. Maybe one of them will pass the grade as the perfect (or almost) coffee cup. They shrink about 12% during the drying and firing process, so it can be pretty tricky to get just the right size. Once I have my prototype, then I can work on a set.

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Camp in Winter

I used to go to my little one room camp in the winter and spend a weekend of solitude, kind of roughing it without running water. When the stream was still flowing I'd carry water to flush the toilet. (No outhouses here!) Later, when it was all iced over, I'd have to carry some water from home and melt the rest from snow to flush or do dishes. But other than that I'd have all the comforts of home: nice gas fireplace, electricity, and most likely I wouldn't see another soul the whole time I'm there - a day, 2 days, whatever. Nice. Some books, music, my djembe, a bottle of wine and whatever.

Sometimes my friend, Grace, would come out with me, though she'd get restless and have to leave within the first 24 hours. I'd fill the bird feeders as soon as I got there and within a few hours and birds would start calling. Often I'd get visits from racoons or skunks, sometimes a deer. And my camp kitty, Cobby, who must belong to a year round neighbor would find his way over - often to spend the night. I always made sure to bring special treats just in case he decided to visit.

The only other place you can see from my camp is another seasonal that never gets used in the winter. Across the stream is all woods and my nearest year round neighbor is a quarter mile away. So even though you're really quite close to people on a snowy day like today, it would feel very secluded, all holed up just listening to the intense silence caused by the heavy falling snow.

I Love Flowers

I love getting flower deliveries, especially at work. From where my office is located, I can see when people drive in our driveway. I can also see them walk up the ramp to our office and if my door is open, I can see them as they enter the front door.

Yesterday I was working at my computer, which sets right next to my window, and saw the flower delivery van drive in the driveway, and the delivery man walk up the walkway to our building. As he walks in the door there are always those few moments of anticipation, wondering if that stunning bouquet he’s holding is for you . . . or is it for one of your co-workers? At that point it doesn’t even matter; you can’t help but smile, just looking at those beautiful flowers. But when he announces your name, there’s always such a moment of delight and surprise, especially if it’s not even your birthday or Valentine’s Day, or some other special occasion.

He Who Is Unique To Me In All The World knows this about me . . . and indulges me with these wonderful surprises quite frequently. Probably 8 out of the last 10 flower deliveries to our office have been for me, sometimes arriving on someone else’s birthday or anniversary. In fact, I think the delivery man sometimes feels a little sheepish as he brings my deliveries. One day last winter he stopped by our office with a beautiful assortment of flowers that were “left over” and left them for all to enjoy.

I have always loved flowers – blooming in the wild, cultivated in a garden, hanging from pots on a porch. But there’s something about a bouquet of cut flowers; perhaps it’s that their lifespan is so fleeting that they must be treasured for every possible moment of their existence. They must be put in a prominent place where you can enjoy the benefit of their beauty. Sometimes I’ll bring them into my bedroom at night so they will be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. On cold, dark mornings, it’s such a lovely surprise to open your eyes and see that reminder that spring really isn’t that far off. That the simple joy brought to us by nature’s beauty rising up from beneath winter’s snow cover will be upon us once again before we know it.

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Goals - Not Resolutions

Some goals for 2009:

Sell my Gardiner house

Make a SET of pasta bowls in pottery – it will be a challenge to make several bowls that are similar enough alike to look like a set

Spend more time kayaking

Visit San Francisco and/or New Orleans

Write more poetry

Read more

Exercise more

Synchronicity

As I mentioned yesterday, Rick and I gave each other the same book of poetry for Christmas – a bit of synchronicity right there. His had been delivered one day while he was out so I had a brief opportunity to wrap it. When I give poetry books, I like to write a passage from one of the poems inside the front cover above my “to” and “from” entry. Sometimes I take a while to find the right stanza, or I choose a poem I’m familiar with. This time I needed to wrap it right away so I randomly opened the book to page 696. (It’s quite a tome – The Complete Poetry and Prose of William Blake.) I scanned the first poem and loved it! I chose the 3rd and fourth lines to inscribe:

“Saw how they mingled melting rays
Exchanging Love a thousand ways”

A perfect selection to write in a poetry book given to one’s lover!

I wrote, signed, and wrapped it and this morning, my first leisurely one in several days, I picked up the book to read the whole poem. Here’s what I read:

“Sunday August 1807 My wife was told by a Spirit to look for
her fortune by opening by chance a book which she had in her hand
it was Bysshes Art of Poetry. She opend the following

I saw ‘em kindle with Desire
While with soft sighs they blew the fire
Saw how they mingled melting rays
Exchanging Love a thousand ways”

. . . and it goes on . . .


It was the piece I’d randomly chosen to write in the front of Rick’s book! What synchronicity!

But then I wondered if this was part of Blake’s poetic presentation or was it truly an event related by the poet. Is there really a book entitled Bysshes Art of Poetry and is there a poet named Behn.

The internet is a wonderful thing.

Sure enough there is both. The book is referenced in another book on Google Book Search and Behn appears to be Aphra (a/k/a Afra) Behn, a 17th Century female poet who has a very interesting history. A bisexual whose erotic writing often speak of men’s impotence and an anything goes kind of sexual freedom: “that was lawful all, that Pleasure did invite.” Apparently she also worked as a spy, spent time in debtor’s prison, and later earned a living by writing amatory fiction – a prelude to the romance novel. I have to admit I don’t recall hearing of her previously though I guess she’s considered quite important for her unabashedly sensual homosexual writings.

So I inscribed a poem by Afra Behn into a William Blake poetry book. C’est la vie. Love is love.

Christmas 2008

Monday morning - 12 inches of snow met us at the door; probably more like 18 inches in the driveway.






Rick out emptying the fireplace ashes; refusing to let go of the last vestige of summer . . .








Jared posing for Christmas Eve photo -

. . . after too much hot soup, chocolate silk pie, and wine -

Christmas Karma

Some Christmas reading and viewing: Rick and I gave each other the same book of poems; did everyone get two copies of The Beat Face of God? Throw in a little Kerouac, some Lebowski, and a couple of great vintage movies. A 1980 film based on Ursula Le Guin's book, The Lathe of Heaven. I think it was shown on PBS one Sunday afternoon, after lots of hype, (Dan and I drove an hour and a half to my parents house because we refused to have a TV at home) and never shown again on TV, and unavailable in or by order from any video store I'd ever been in. Of course, however, I found it on Amazon recently and put it on my wish list and someone very sweet gave it to me for Christmas. And from Rick's wish list an even older film - 1964's Robinson Crusoe on Mars. Directed by Byron Haskin who also did War of the Worlds and Outer Limits, released on DVD just last year. Cheesey cool.

Present - Christmas Eve

Rick's chocolate silk pies are setting up in the fridge, Jared is baking, Christopher is making punch, soup is simmering on the stovetop, Christmas lights are twinkling, fire is crackling, and it's just begun to snow. Guest arriving in a couple hours.

Favorite photos of 08

Here's a couple other favorite photos of 2008. Rick is in PA tonight hanging out with his beat friend, Keith, the one who originally turned him on to Kerouac. Keith was in Maine last summer and the three of us went to Acadia for the weekend. Great time.

Rick and Keith did some rock climbing while I photographed from another ledge. Here I am later walking on the Rocks at Otter Cliffs.

Thursday Night in Hallowell

I love Hallowell. It’s been several weeks since I’ve done my Thursday night rounds there as Malley moved her regular Thursday night class to Mondays. I decided to skip this session as there’s no point in going out in Hallowell on Monday nights and what fun is pottery without rounds afterwards.

There’s such a fun assortment of characters out on Thursday night in Hallowell. Old hippies, Bob and Susan, and Deb who always come out to listen to music after their silent vigil at the Augusta rotary in protest to the Iraq war. They’ve been there every week since the beginning, regardless of driving rain, or temperatures ranging from below zero to over ninety. Deb is director of CDS and can’t wait to retire so she can join the Peace Corps.

Then, of course, there’s Eddie; but he’ll be leaving soon to flee the cold Maine winter for sunny Dominica. Malley, my pottery teacher who’s glad to have a few Thursdays off from classes, but is still drawn out for the music and friends. Bruce the bartender at Hattie’s who starts pouring my beer when he sees me walk in the door – occasionally even when I hadn’t intended to stay. Ross the woodcutter and his on again off again relationship with Barbara. Definitely off this month.

Eddie, Deb, and I then headed down to The Higher Grounds where I found Brian, “play some Queen” Bob, Paul tending bar, whom I hadn’t seen in some time; Jim C on a brief return home from Florida, and of course, the guy in the corner whose name I don’t know but is always there with his sketch pad working on some incredibly elaborate piece of art. Deb and I actually sat and talked to him last night and checked out the piece he was working on. Bob C from the band came over (of course they went on break two minutes after I came in which never fails to happen) and seeing a Celtic knot in the sketch suggested that would be a good name for an English bar: The Celtic Not! Ha.

Next stop was Joyce’s, which is a fairly new pub in town, owned by a former bartender at The Wharf, named Joyce of course. Rick and I have been there several times for dinner and music but have always stayed downstairs at the main bar. Well we went upstairs last night and what a lovely surprise. Not only is it very cozy but lo and behold there were another 20 of my favorite Hallowell regulars there last night. They’d been out Christmas caroling to the local nursing homes, all dressed up in long black coats and top hats with red flowers. Very dapper. A different musical assortment with Mike Byrd on stand up bass, some guy I didn’t recognize on the baby grand, and Chris’s sister, Cathy on vocals. They were wonderful! Played a killer jazzy version of a couple of Christmas carols that just brought joy to the heart.

As we were headed back to our cars we met Stevie, a kick ass musician, just packing up from his gig at The Liberal Cup, eagerly inquiring what was happening where. Just imagining him sitting in with the folks at Joyce’s almost made me turn around and go back.

Thursday night pottery classes start back up in early January. I can’t wait. Oh yes, and boy do I have a shit load of pottery to give as Christmas gifts this year. Some good stuff, too! Gotta make room for the new.