Much Ado….

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May 30, 2021- Have you spent much time in your life, building a small matter up, until it becomes overwhelming? It often occurred, that the matters, which so affrighted me before they were resolved, quickly became lost in the fog of the mind’s archival footage, once a day or two had passed.

These are matters most often related to finance, or to interpersonal relationships. Panic attacks and anxiety (which are serious medical matters, deserving of professional attention) aside, it generally happens that careful thought and emotional grounding can help to put things in their true perspective. Past unpleasant experiences can cloud one’s judgment, so it is important to recognize that each situation is different, that learnings from the previous bad experience can be put to use for a better outcome, this time and that the person, him/herself, is different now than before.

There are situations, of course, which are dire and which deserve all the “ado” they can be given: The illness or disability of a loved one, especially of one’s child, spouse or parent; a natural disaster which threatens or damages one’s home; a sociopolitical riot or rampage in one’s home area. That, in turn, is why we humans are social beings-that we may call on one another and anticipate support in a truly dire emergency.

I have had such emergencies in my life, and am fortunate that my family and close friends have been responsive and helpful, in a nonjudgmental manner. I would do the same for them.

A Few Learnings

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May 27,2021- The squeaky toilet kept waking me, and in my semi-conscious state, I thought it was the room next door, which was being renovated, that was the problem. I got up, for the day, and found that it was my room, at Days Inn- Grants, that had the issue. Having had plenty of experience with such things, I fixed the toilet myself, and so informed the desk clerk, upon check-out. It was a simple matter of re-attaching the chain to the release lever.

I have now returned from the journey to help Mom move out of the family home and become settled in a more social place. She has all her wits about her yet, so I have every confidence that this will be a bright chapter in her life.

For myself, I know that the journeys that await me, this summer and autumn, will be more leisurely, without the sense of urgency that I felt this time, especially heading east. There were deadlines and commitments involved. Thankfully, the COVID protocols, to the extent they still exist, are very cut and dried. Masks are worn, when the community or the enterprise requests it, The same is true, with respect to physical distancing. Dealing with the pent-up aggression of drivers is more a matter of not using the passing lane, except to pass. If I find I am being tailgated, no matter the lane, there is always the next lane over to the right-or if that is where the aggression is happening, I can bide my time and let the impatient one go around.

The nice thing, this time around, is I heard a lot of “Come back and see us!” This is always gratifying, especially to one who has encountered the opposite, in times long past. Then again, I have cast off a lot of baggage, over the years.

I was asked, by a loved one, what new things I had seen and what I had learned, on this trip. I saw the Missouri State Capitol, and Harry S, Truman’s birthplace. I was reminded that people around major cities can be extremely impatient, if they are overbooked, overloaded and uncomfortable being in a given place. I found that would-be thieves are discouraged from breaking into my car, when they see the blue security light-which makes my double security system that much more gratifying.

Finally, I was reminded that, even when someone is making the most obvious of errors in reading or speech, to not interrupt them, to let them finish. After all, the world is not going to cave in from that error.

Home Base Bound: Day 1

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May 22, 2021, Bedford, PA- It is most often a good idea to end a visit to one’s hometown with a call on an old friend, or two. So, I spent my last hour in Saugus with a couple who live diagonally across the street from our old house, and down a couple of houses. It’s always good to catch up with local news and discuss what would be best for the town.

With the future of Saugus set, for now, I headed to nearby Wakefield’s Gingerbread House and got a coffee and breakfast, for the road. This was enjoyed at a Massachusetts Turnpike Service Area, giving me an extra boost, in the event that the Connecticut and New York portions of the trip became traffic-jammed and tedious. There were a few short backlogs in Connecticut, passing through Hartford, Waterbury and the junction of I-84 and Rte. 7, west of Danbury. This is de rigeur for the Constitution State (Connecticut’s ratification was what put the Great Document over the top, and put our country on the map, for real.). New York’s segment of I-84, sometimes a scene of long back-ups, was smooth as silk today.

The drive through Pennsylvania is frequently the longest stretch, east of the Mississippi. I zipped down I-81, and headed over to the Oley Valley, visiting with Beth and David Glick, their faithful collie, Manny, and their interesting house guests, Beth’s relatives from Illinois. The couple have four vibrant and talented children, the eldest of whom can pilot a small airplane. We discussed the relatively small number of women pilots, which, considering that Amelia Earhart was one of the pioneers of American aviation, seems a bit disconcerting. I think the young lady will do a lot to counter that, given her self-confidence, and her parents’ support.

As I have a late night Zoom call, I left the Glicks’ house, after a sumptuous dinner, and made my way to this community, in west central Pennsylvania. One of Bedford’s draws, for me, has been Bedford Diner. I found the omelets and freshly-ground sausage patties there to be worth making this my overnight stop, when heading towards New England. The old diner appears to have closed, but the crew is now at Route 220 Diner, so that will be my breakfast stop, tomorrow. It’s gratifying that people for whom I have developed warm feelings are able to bounce back from hard turns, and continue with what they do so well.

Goodnight, all, from Janey Lynn Motel, in Bedford.

Around Hometown: Day 5

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May 21, 2021, Saugus- Mom gave me my marching orders. I am to do several sit-ups, every day, henceforth, eat smaller portions and get out on the trail more often. While she is still very concerned with COVID variants (she is fully vaccinated, but frets about the deniers causing havoc), she knows I am not at risk for the disease. Thus, taking care of the Septuagenarian Sag is to be one of my main focuses.

This comes with her own promise to me, to engage with her fellow residents and end her long self-imposed isolation, which came to an end with her move of last week. There are several activities she can join now, so I look forward to the resumption of her letters-which she stopped, out of annoyance at being stuck in the house, for so long.

Today is the twenty-first day of the fifth month, in the twenty-first week, of the twenty-first year, of the twenty-first century. Twenty-one is the Industrial Age’s hallmark of maturity. This, in and of itself, means little to actual maturity, which varies from person to person. When I was 21, I was in the throes of adjusting to a rapidly-changing set of circumstances, in my life, but using the methods of an adolescent. Maturity, for me, came around age 40. The century, though, has begun heading into its maturity, with the human race, likewise, being dragged kicking and screaming into its own maturity. Forces like nationalism, racism, misogyny, sectarianism, patriarchy and material jealousy are bound to fade-though not before each goes through its “wounded predator” stage.

My current visit to my hometown will come to an end, tomorrow morning, and the road southward, then westward, will occupy me-and this blog. I have my marching orders, though, and my filial sense has not faded, even as mother and son share the status of advanced age.

Farewell, childhood home, and may you become the place of memories for another family.

My childhood home
The old backyard
Our dogwood tree

Around Hometown: Day 4

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May 20, 2021, Saugus- In anyone’s life, priorities must be made, kept and never be fodder for apology. I took stock of my charitable efforts, this afternoon. They are, by any definition, responsibly generous. I will not apologize for not taking on additional causes, no matter how persistent and vocal the appellants are. There remains one appeal on Facebook, to GROUP contributions. If no one contributes, in three weeks’ time, that will end-and I will not apologize, no matter how harshly, or how widely, I am criticized. I have told those who might benefit, that there are no guarantees. Besides, I know, and people who know me best will concur, that I do not live for my own comfort, alone.

I felt better about myself today, observing the process of refuse collection and donation retrieval at the old family house. It is just about empty now, with a few boxes to be taken to Mom’s new residence. We had a vibrant and wonderful family dinner, this evening, at Teresa’s Italian Restaurant, in the town of MIddleton, about 10.5 miles north of here. Whatever tensions or differences of opinion might have arisen in the family, over the past several days, vanished, with the awareness that we were all here for Mom.

I will spend one more day here, visiting an old friend around Noon, and going back to Mom’s place in the early evening. Then, the road back to Arizona opens up, with the knowledge that I will be back here, in midsummer, to honour Mom’s progress in this new chapter of an incredible life.

Around Hometown, Day 3

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May 19, 2021, Saugus- Today was a bit of a break from the house clearing. I focused more on getting the car’s regular service. No problems arose there. Otherwise, today was mostly spent resting.

I made the choice to spend the last two nights here at Chisholm’s, rather than sleeping on the carpet in the old house, “for old time’s sake.” There is only so much emotional value, in spending time where ghosts actually did call on me, in my childhood. There are also the ghosts of my own inferiority sense, which I realize now was just a reflection of the inferiority that some very vocal people, in my family and close by, seemed to feel in my presence. It would have been better, had they never felt that way. Putdowns flowed pretty freely, back and forth, in the days of my youth. Much of that has been overcome, but there is the residue that I sense, after being with certain people for more than a few hours.

I know this much, though. There is no length to which I would not go, to defend and protect any of my family and townspeople from attack. Every one of us has been wrestling with demons, and for far longer than we sometimes care to acknowledge. I have urged people who want my help, in other communities and countries, to learn to work together at a local level. That admonition has sometimes been put to the test, these past few days, in my own situation. I find that a good thing; self-purification makes giving advice to others a whole lot more trustworthy.

Around Hometown: Day 2

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May 18, 2021, Saugus- My visit with Mom, this evening, produced a lot of talk of her long life, with the joyous acknowledgement that her life is far from over. She is grateful that she has us, her children, tending to the house and making time to visit her in this first week in new quarters. None of us would have it any differently. Mother has given us so much of herself, from my own Day One, onward. Another woman in our nuclear family has taken on so much of tending to her needs- as well as initiating and maintaining the process of clearing and selling the old house. This week is the least we men can do to help out. I will likely be back, in late July or early August, to follow up with Mom’s progress in adjusting to her new home. In the meantime, she has plans to join in the Center’s activities and I know she will make new friends.

Curiously, the “don’t forget about us” calls and messages I have been getting, from elsewhere in the country and across the globe, have both made me put this current effort into perspective, and have triggered some old trauma, which has only been vaguely in my memory. I have figured a way to help another family, experiencing dislocation, even as my mother has successfully been resettled. There is someone else, in another part of the world, whose difficulties are, in large part, the result of his community’s failure to act in concert with one another. When I have encountered such dystopia, in the past, the feelings that have arisen are confusion, anxiety, then sadness, and finally, an angry outburst at those who refuse to work together. There is also a measure of self-loathing, as invariably those same people will turn and list all of what they claim are my own shortcomings and all the ways that I have failed them.

My psyche is changing, though, and I am seeing more clearly that the only way out of any impasse is for those on the ground to work together-and never for someone from outside to swoop in, throw money at the problem, and leave. That colonialist and patriarchal method has become the default for so many, in impoverished communities, both in this country and elsewhere. I am no longer going to blame myself for the refusal of others to help themselves, regardless of their own past experiences.

When I left Saugus, so many years ago, I was hobbled by fear, uncertainty of self-worth and the Rescuer Syndrome. That was not my parents’ fault, but it was my burden to cast aside. It is gone, now, and I feel it important to hold others to the same standard. All communities, especially those which are disadvantaged, need to band together and raise themselves up-confronting, as a unit, every single obstacle in their way.

Around Hometown: Day 1

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May 17, 2021, Saugus- Thomas Wolfe famously said, “You can’t go home again”. He was making the point that both the home and the dweller change over time, and thus the fit is never quite what it was, when the two were intertwined, in the processes of childhood and adolescence.

This could be said, in my case, as much as it could be said about anyone. There is, however, the corollary that aspects of home go with us, wherever we may go in the world. I may have, long ago, lost my eastern New England accent, and the relatively watchful guardedness around strangers has faded, somewhat, but I have taken with me the basic lessons imparted by my parents, and the other significant adults of my youth: Aunts and uncles, grandmothers, concerned neighbours, the best of my teachers and advisers.

The genetic memory of my grandfathers also has impacted the values I have taken into my being. Both men worked harder than they might have, but both were providing for large families. Grampy Boivin was with General Electric, and had his own small backyard farm-with poultry, rabbits and a full garden. Papa Kusch, who I never met in the flesh, worked as a shoemaker, then came home to tend his sizable garden. The children who they sired were, to a one, imbued with the finest of work ethics-which they, in turn, imparted to each of us cousins-some 80, in all.

I also learned, growing up in Saugus, the importance of neighbourliness and community consciousness. Looking out for the welfare of the whole, underscored by my being the oldest of five children, is hard-wired in me. What is also a part of that is the concept of teamwork. Being an individual rescuer, or playing the victim and expecting to be rescued by one or two people, has also not been something that has made much sense to me. Thus, my life has been one effort at team building after another.

My brother, his brother-in-law and I were a team for much of today. While I focused on clearing items from the upstairs rooms of our childhood home, the other two men were concerned with the larger first floor. Sixty-six years of full living were reduced to more bags of trash, donated apparel and curated family keepsakes, books and necessaries than I have seen since my own house-vacating, in 2011.

No, I did not go home again today, but I paid homage to a great house, which served seven people to the full.

Hometown Bound: Day 5

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May 16, 2021, Saugus- The body takes the sleep it needs. So Penny used to say, and so I have been finding to be the case, this time around. After a very deep six hours of slumber, I got myself together, and with a breakfast sandwich from Dunkin’ Donuts, across the street from Travel Inn, I headed out for the final leg of a hometown journey.

There were a few disruptions: I had to walk back to the hotel room and retrieve a mask, in order to purchase my breakfast meal. Even with Federal and state governments lifting restrictions, the people on the street need to be convinced. That will be a lengthy process, and some business owners will require employees and patrons to “mask-up”, well into the summer.

There were a couple of traffic backlogs, but both were accident-related, and the Massachusetts State Police cleared matters rather quickly. I was here in the Home Base of my childhood, in time to visit an old friend for a while, then to check in to my abode for the next several days. Chisholm’s Motel has been in business here, since the 1950s. The bungalow format is something I find relaxing and quite secure.

I joined my mother, brother and sister-in-law, at Mom’s new residence, spending about 2 hours taking the measure of her feelings about the move. She is a consummate realist, and as it was her decision, I have no qualms about this being the right place to settle. I checked out our old house, which will be base of operations for the next few days, as large amounts of memorabilia get divided up, apparel gets donated and castoffs get bagged as refuse. Memories, though, will never be eradicated. Mom has read, and been heartened by, her advance copy of my life story. I will not return to the house, once it’s been sold, but I will always see it in my mind’s and heart’s eyes.

Hometown Bound: Day 4

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May 15, 2021, Hartford- The governments are scaling back their mandates, but businesses are protecting themselves and their employees. So, I am still finding, in the swath of the Southwest, Midwest and Northeast that I have visited and enjoyed, over these four days.

It has not affected traffic, all that much. Going around Indianapolis and Columbus, I saw about as much traffic as I remember, in those fair cities. I noticed scant fear of strangers, so long as those strangers adhered to posted rules. My longest stop of the day was at the Bedford (PA) Service Center, along the Pennsylvania Turnpike. There, I picked up some road food, rather than go into town and visit Bedford Diner, as I really needed to get to the night’s lodging, before dawn tomorrow. Good-natured banter with a truck driver, whilst waiting for the food to be readied, made this break refreshing, and the food was energizing.

That was crucial. I did not have the luxury of stopping by and visiting with friends in southeast PA, as I so often do, on these jaunts. My destination was here, in Connecticut’s capital, some five hours from Bedford. Most of that, of course, was crossing the Keystone State. The scenery is ever enticing in Pennsylvania, with dense green forest and shimmering valleys. The Turnpike, though, is not enticing. Though the toll collection system, mercifully, is digitized, as it so often elsewhere in the country, the state of the roads is as much in flux as it ever was. Construction equipment is still everywhere, even as there were few, if any, workers present on this Saturday.

The icing on the cake came, in crossing New Jersey. The roads were not at all bad, and I-78 Express, towards the Big Apple, was finally finished, and smooth as glass. I stopped at a filling station in Basking Ridge, between Bedminster and Newark, was permitted to both fill up my own vehicle (rare in New Jersey) and use the restroom, even though the place was closing. The only other blip came at the toll booth for Garden State Parkway. There, I saw no ticket slot, in the dark, and walked over to the guy behind me in the vehicle line, telling him I was confused about where the ticket slot was. He grinned, and fortunately was understanding, handing me the ticket which he had found waiting, even without pushing the usual button.

After gratefully paying my ticket at the toll collection booth, five miles further, it was on through a small swath of New York City: The George Washington Bridge-which resembles a small village, anymore; the squeeze point of I-87 and the Cross-County (Westchester) and Hutchinson River (Connecticut) Parkways. Notable in this was the pair of racing teens, who deftly zigged and zagged through traffic, along the segment of Thruway we used to get out of the city. There was another guy, seemingly a bit hopped up, who flashed his lights behind me, several times, then also zigged and zagged out from behind me, and on into the night.

These sideshows, as potentially deadly as they might have been, seemed to me, edging towards this long day’s conclusion, to be just part of the mix. I still feel nothing but love and connection to the people I am meeting-more so than in times past. The shared struggle is likely a good contributor to that.

So, when I finally walked in the door of Travel Inn, a huge building that is still largely locked tightly, due to COVID-based restrictions, I felt like I had walked into home sweet home. Just about any place at all can feel like that, after 16 hours on the road.