Tag Archives: independence

Dancing Barbie, Tuna Stew and Songs in the Round

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

July 15, 2023- Barbie’s “mommy” gave her mother’s friend a gift bag, with a nice tall candle and a decorated card. Then, Barbie got to dance, do somersaults and yoga poses, all without complaint-as dolls are wont to do. Barbie finally got a rest, when her mommy got thirsty. Barbie’s mommy is on her way to being a strong, independent, thoughtful adult human.

That was how the evening started. Beforehand, I learned that my landlord was perfectly okay, as was the gentleman who fell, last night. As I suspected, heat prostration was at play, in both cases. I know how that works, having had my more rotund self experience it in 2012, whilst passing through Uvalde.

We did have a rather toasty day here, which didn’t get in the way of our team’s breakdown of the Farmers’ Market, thanks to sunscreen, proper desert headgear, plenty of water and our truck. Tomorrow will be another dose of July Fry, possibly reaching 119 in Phoenix, higher elsewhere in the Sonoran Desert and 102 here.

Getting back to the evening, I went to Raven Cafe for a Songwriters in the Round, set of performances by four engaging musicians, two of whom I’ve heard several times before. The tone was set, in the crowded room, by my thoroughly enjoying a new item: Basque Stew-which is tomato bisque with chunks of tuna, nicely stewed. I admit to being a bit apprehensive, as tuna has been either in a sandwich or in rolls of rice, as sushi, in my long experience with the meat. It was actually nicely spiced-and the fish was not overpowering.

I will let the Raven’s promo introduce Songwriters in the Round:

“Nashville-style songwriter rounds consist of 3 or 4 musicians trading songs and stories for an engaged audience of song lovers and supporters. This is our first one! Join us this Saturday as we see songwriters Tyller Gummersall, Stephy Leigh Griffin, Rachael Plays Guitar and Kevin Rueb step away from their bands to give you a raw and intimate glance into what it takes to be a songwriter.”

Stephy Leigh and Tyller have played, with their bands, at the Raven in the recent past. So, some of their songs were familiar-but done acoustically, sans bandmates, gave the tunes an entirely different, more intimate feel. Kevin, with a tongue-in-cheek, irreverent view of sexist behaviour by men-and its back-at-ya reaction from women, got rousing laughter from many of us, including his wife, who played along joyfully, during his hilarious take-down of the “Magic Mike” phenomenon. Rachael was the most soulful, directly-sharing of her experiences, and made no apologies for doing so. I look forward to her “Album Launch” concert, at the end of next month. I would gladly go to see any of these folks, time and again.

Time goes on, whether days are hot, cold or the great in-between; whether spent hither or yon; whether productive or laconic. Each day brings its gifts and each day exacts its costs. So do I take the best of what life brings, along with its expectations for recompense. On balance, I’d say this life is a bounty.

How Far?

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Posted by on in collaborating, distraction issues, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 2, 2020-

Chris Matthews retired as host of the news show, “Hardball”, with this evening’s broadcast. He’s not someone I have watched very much, if at all.  Talking over one’s guests isn’t something that would have gone over well, when I was growing up.

He comes to mind for a different reason, though. One of the things he is reported to have said this evening, is that he was sorry for constantly telling the women on his program that they were beautiful.

It took  many years, but a former student of mine pointed out, a bit sarcastically, that this is not the first thing a woman, or a girl for that matter, wants to hear about herself, first.  I began, at that point, to think more of the actual skills the person has, and of how to compliment those.  Beauty is not a skill, so however attractive I might find someone, the sensible thing is to focus on what can keep her in the loop, can help her grow.

We might think, in this month that celebrates Women’s History, of just how far we have come, as a species, in the area of gender relations.  My grandparents’ generation would have been mortified, had women gone out on the street in slacks, less-than-full length skirts or, God-forbid, shorts.  Women rarely drove cars.

My parents’ generation saw women exercising more options, when it came to dress, and certainly most women drove cars.  Working outside the home was one area on which progress was a bit lacking-other than teachers, secretaries, cashiers and nurses.

There was a lot of  “break-out”, both socially and vocationally, with my generation.  The Women’s Liberation Movement took me aback, when I got home from Vietnam, in 1971, though it might not have. Young Vietnamese girls were telling us that they heard “Mi “(American) girls were thinking more for themselves, and therefore they, the Vietnamese, expected to do the same. There was an incident where a girl told me I was not her type.  The other guys at the table about fell out of their seats.  I left her alone; then again, I did that routinely in the States, so it was nothing new, for me. For a girl in southeast Asia, though, it was a big step forward.

When women started opening doors for men, letting us board buses first and talking fiercely about not wanting to be on a pedestal, it began to sink in that this Movement was resulting in lasting change, however maudlin it appeared.  It was the beginning of the end for “Prince Charming”, who actually ended up being a villain in one of the more contemporary Disney films.

That has suited me just fine.  I was married to a woman who eclipsed me, intellectually, and, since her passing, have preferred the company of women friends who have clear goals, and make no excuses for their dreams and their drive-in fact, who make no excuses for anything in their lives.

While there is much to be done, as yet, I would answer the question, “How far have we come, in the area of gender relations?”, by saying how proud I am to be in the company of so many who are sure of themselves and can be persistent, with no fear of being pushed back into the corner.

 

Tales of the 2016 Road: My Eastern Anchor

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Posted by on in Family, Historical, Personal goals, Personal Values, Striving

July 8-9, 2016, Saugus-  I’ve mentioned before about this town of 40,000 people having been the springboard for the American steel industry, as it was the site of the first fully-operating Ironworks in British North America.

For me, it was also a springboard.  Though I was nowhere near as polished or as strong as the iron that came out of Saugus Ironworks, I have thrived, because of what I learned here.

My mother grew up on a small farm, north, northwest of the Ironworks site.  When she was a child, there was no National Historical Park, such as exists today.  The place was unearthed in the early 1950’s, when lower Lynnhurst was being prepared for a housing scheme.  The town leaders were wise enough to see to its unearthing, and preservation- a chance to get some of the Boston-Salem-Gloucester tourism traffic.  This led to Route 1 becoming one of the roads designated “The Great White Way”, for all the neon that reminded visitors of New York’s Broadway, as restaurants sprang up from the Revere line  to Peabody, 8 miles further north.  Yet, I digress.

Mom was the main reason for my visit here.  I would still have spent time with my amazing brother, a legally-blind sailor and bon vivant.  Mom, though, is still a force of nature, in late octogenaresis.  She is actually feeling and doing better than when I saw her in December.  She has always been about independence. She let me know where I need to work on myself, and it’s true that I have slacked off a bit, exercise-wise.  Choosing to spend most of the past several days driving, and not getting out and walking much- except for Bushkill Falls, is a habit I tend to embrace when going cross-country.  Habits can be broken, though.

I, like most people, want to feel my mother’s approval.  She has held the bar relatively high, all these years, but not out of spitefulness or malice.  Had I not been encouraged, at times cajoled, I would not be standing here today as a man of 34 years’ sobriety, or as one who puts the good of the whole above my own comfort.  She is my anchor, on the East.

So, I spent a fair amount of time just being present, watching the same reassuring TV films we saw last December- a fact she found amusing- “Why can’t Lifetime be more ambitious than to recycle the same canned stories, over and over?”  When it came time for me to go back on the road, she was a bit somber-but life for Lila Mae Boivin will go on- and she’s determined it will have quality.  There is no finer example, even for a man in late middle age, than someone who embraces the place in life, at which she finds herself.

Her last words to me were “Drive safely”.  These words proved prescient.

NEXT:  The demise of Nissan Altima.

 

 

The Road to 65, Mile 257: Desert Wildfire, Day 3

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Posted by on in Assistance, Service Activities, Social

August 12, 2015, Mohave Valley-  Wherever there are unicorns, there are also dragons.  Where there is joy, sorrow and rage are not far away. Light is accompanied by shadow. I prefer, I insist, that the former will outlast the latter, because that’s how life goes on.

The fire has been reduced to hot spots, which are being monitored, 24/7, by a very capable local fire department.  As always happens in a community that prides itself on independence, there is gratitude towards the local first responders, and grumbling towards the Federal presence, in this case, the Bureau of Land Management.  A government that seems distant, both physically and ideologically, is an easy target, and so it has been here.  The perception, among many who have come by for food, clothing and comfort is that the Feds didn’t seem to care about them, or about their property.  The Gold King mine mishap is thrown in, for good measure, as “eventually, that stuff will find its way down here, en route to the Gulf of California.”

It’s hard for people who are themselves overwhelmed, to see the situations of others- no matter which rung of the ladder we occupy.  I was fortunate to have been raised by parents who instilled the viewing of the situation of the other, in me.  Being the oldest of five made it more urgent.

Having to deal with the local bete noire, yesterday, put this whole concept to the test.  I went through six months, last winter and spring, of being patient and forbearing with someone whom nobody else seemed to want.  These folks are sent to us by a Creator Who desires only to see our full potentials realized.  This, I understand; it was just that, at the end of a long day in the heat, I had trouble waiting for a well-rested, fastidious case worker to complete the process with a needy, isolated and very edgy outcast.  I went back to the truck, turned on the A/C, and saved myself, while keeping the window cracked open enough to hear what was going on.  She completed the matter, thirty minutes later, and the four of us left the man, who felt more accepted, and headed home.  I guess this is one of the lessons that Christ meant to impart, when He worked on Lazarus, and on Mary Magdalene.

There are issues in any community, on any given street, and within any household which has more than one occupant.  In the Fire This Time, we, as a team, did well by the town of Mohave Valley.  After a day largely spent cleaning the gym floor of the temporarily closed Mohave Valley Elementary School, three of us volunteers headed home.  As we left town, a swirl of burned-out desert dust rose high in the air, causing our Team Lead to call in a “possible re-sparked fire”.  It turned out to be just a dust devil, with burned material, almost giving us a farewell, of sorts.

We stopped up the road apiece, at Westside Lilo’s, a homey, relaxed German restaurant, in Seligman, and decompressed with some fine sandwiches, served by an engaging and spirited young woman.  I always enjoy a good bratwurst, and a pretty smile.  The rain, which our driver had feared, seems to have preceded us, and it was an easy drive back to Prescott.

Goodnight, and it looks like tomorrow will be a bit of a respite, before the next big thing.