As the road narrows

   It's only about a half mile from my front door to a major four lane highway, major by Maine standards that is. Interstate 95 can take you from northern Maine to well below the Mason Dixon line, deep into Florida. Traffic on 95 in Maine can be very busy, busy enough to cause a 100 car pile-up a few weeks ago in one of our many snow storms this winter. The accident even made the national news. But as Rt. 95 passes by the New York City and Washington D.C. area, traffic often comes to a standstill because of the number of cars and trucks racing to get somewhere. It could be to get to work, get home from work, get to the local grocery store or maybe just to “get out of town,” What ever the reason, there always seems to be lots of traffic, making the congestion in Maine nothing compared other sections of the country as one heads South down Rt. 95.
    For those living in the North, Rt. 95 is a way to escape the cold of winter and to enjoy warmer days and white sandy beaches in the middle of the coldest February on record. For those in the South, 95 is a direct route to the beauty of New England in the Fall, a delicious Downeast lobster dinner, to explore the history of Boston and the surrounding area (or see a Red Sox game), or downhill ski in the mountains of western Maine, New Hampshire or Vermont.
   And did you know that while Rt. 95 in one of the oldest interstate highways in the country, its final completion date is scheduled for 2018?
   With hundreds of exits along the way, it is easy for one to explore the local culture, the picturesque towns of New England, the rolling fields and farms of Virginia, and the sunny beaches along the shores of the Atlantic. And, for those with a real spirit for adventure, one can always join the mass of traffic shuttling in and out of New York City and the metropolitan area. Should I take the tunnel or the GW Bridge this time?
   Heading South and with a few hours to spare, I decided to take a brief side trip. Most exits along Rt. 95 have signs and markers identifying restaurants, gas stations and motels near the exit. I wanted an exit with no listings, just a solitary highway name or number. At the end of the exit ramp it was either to travel east or west. I chose 'west'.
   The trees were beginning to show signs of Spring with red and green buds. Daffodils lined the roadway as if someone had taken the bulbs and scattered them about by throwing them from a car window. Every so often, the carcass of a dead animal killed by a vehicle lay in the middle of the road. That last one was a skunk and the odor was still fresh in the air. The smell caused Lucky to pick up his head off the back seat and take a whiff or two, but he soon settled down and back to sleep.
   There were very few houses along this stretch of road and the deeper and deeper I drove into the woods, the narrower the road became. About 12 miles or so off the interstate the road turned into basically one lane, winding though a heavily forested area. Even if I had wanted to turn around, it would have been difficult. There were no driveways or areas wide enough to turn the car around and head back onto the highway. I had expected that at any time the pavement would end and the roadway would turn into an unpaved, graveled driveway leading to someone's hunting cabin or farm carved out in the middle of the woods. Well... No farm or hunting camp, but it did become a one lane gravel roadway.
    Life is filled with symbolism. Much of  life is like a four lane highway, filled with jobs, raising a family, an ambitious life style. We seem to do nothing but race from here to there, always on the move and sometimes even trying to get ahead of the next guy (or gal). No time to take the next exit! Got to keep moving forward!
   But then, all of a sudden, things begin to change. All of those things we thought were so important are not. The highway, with cars speeding pass at unbelievable speeds, isn't fun to be part of any more. Rather than continually driving in the passing lane, the right hand lane seems to be a bit more comfortable now. I still want to get where I am going, but if it takes a bit longer, that's OK.
   That exit I took, the one that narrowed to a one lane road... often that is how life sometimes feels as I get older. There are times I would like to turn around but I know that will probably not happen. The only option is to continue to move forward, despite how narrow the road seems to get.
   About two more miles down the narrow dirt path the road widened, the pavement returned and a double white center line reappeared. Ahead, I saw a road sign. A turn to the left was the way back to the highway, and to the right.....

Looking at the past can be an eye to the future.

   It's the middle of March. The weather has been extremely unpredictable for this time of the year. The trees and flowers have yet to break the muddy surface.. Families with young children are out in the streets hoping for warmer weather. Small gatherings of men are at almost every street corner, voices raised, arms waving in the air. It is March 1787 and the talk is of the meeting in Philadelphia to revise the Articles of Confederation, the document governing the early American colonies. The war with England  is over and for most of the region, life has returned to normal.

   At that moment, Patrick Henry turns the corner, making his way to the Charlton Coffee House in Williamsburg. Quickly, others follow him. Serving in the Virginia legislature and having been Governor several times,  he is an important figure in the political landscape of the area and  many seek his opinions and ideas.

   Patrick Henry is one of the more vocal opponents to the ratification to the Constitution and will not attend the Federal Convention in 1787, his fears being founded in the loss of state's rights and individual freedoms as well as a general suspicion  about those from the North, a belief quite common among many Southerners.
   You may have figures out by now that I am visiting Williamsburg this week, away from the snow and cold of northern New England.( I love history)

     Life was very different for those who lived in the South, dominated by farming and slaves while those in the North would soon become part of an 'industrial revolution.'

   During the summer of 1787, behind closed doors, the delegates worked to craft a document that outlined the roles and responsibilities of a new central government, the election of representatives and the limits that would be placed upon the various branches of the government.

   The work, in the minds of many, would be seen as a model for “cooperative statesmanship and compromise.” (One today needs to asked what has happened over the years.)

  Still  concerned, Patrick Henry would continue to voice his opposition until the Bill of Rights was eventually added. 

   Over three hundred years later, the debates and issues surrounding Federal powers, states rights and individual freedoms still continue. The world has changed  since 1787, but the concerns of the people have not. But perhaps the most important lesson to be learned from the early leaders was the understanding of the need for civil discussion, cooperative statesmanship and an ability to seek compromise and work together for the 'common good'.  

A 'blessing' or a 'lesson'........

...
     I remember having a discussion with our then 5 year old granddaughter several years ago. Ava was telling me about her new best friend at school. As a 5 year old can be, she was very excited in her descriptions and her words often ran together with excitement. This new friend must have been someone really special.  I proceeded to ask her why she was her new best friend.
   Ava was quick to respond that  her new friend shared her toys with her. That is a big issue when you are 5 years old. If someone doesn't share, they are not a good friend. (Those were my words.)
   A good friend shares  cookies at snack time  and  sits next to you  during story time. They ask you over to their house for a party after school, even though mom may know nothing about it, because there really is no party.
   If it's raining outside, a good friend will let you use one of their yellow rubber boots so your shoes don't get wet. Maybe even the rain coat too, the one with pictures of Daffy Duck all over it.
   A good friend doesn't throw  toys at you or make you cry. A good friend makes you laugh, leaves you alone when you want to play alone and maybe stands outside the bathroom door so no one will come in.
   Realizing that these were her ideas but with some of my words, I thought about how we, as adults,  select our friends. Having friends is important. “No man or woman, regardless of how young or old, is an island.”
   As we get older, begin to raise families, get a job, become involved in the community, many people come into our life, Some are part of our life for only a short time while others stick around for a while.
   Fast forward to 2015. I recently saw a post on my Facebook page. It was one of those 'poster type quotes' and was credited to Billy Cox Motivational. And the quote...."Everyone who comes into your life is either a blessing or a lesson."
   I recently finished a short term temporary job, one that kept me busy the past few weeks and even though the weather was not the best, with very cold temps, strong winds and record snow fall, I did have the opportunity to get out and interact with many people I had never met. There were some times I did cross a path or two with folks from the past, but for the most part, these were folks I had never met before.
    But as the job came to an end this week and I packed up my left over supplies, I began to think about some of the people I had met and what impact  they might have had upon me. Had they been a 'blessing' or a 'lesson?' Or is it possible they could have been both?
   With those I worked closely with almost every day, each added a bit of "them self'  to my life and I thought about how lucky I was that they had been part of my team. Five complete strangers working well together. Definitely a 'blessing.'
   But there were times when we learned some lessons from each other also. Each had their own individual and unique views of the world as we shared some of our stories during the  time  we spent together on the job. And it were those lessons that taught me things, not only about each of them, but gave me pieces of insight about who I was and what I valued too.
   It's interesting to note that even as adults, much older adults I might add, the people who come into our life  can still be  a blessing or a lesson, teaching us something new about who we are.
   Not everyone we meet in life will become a friend. I thought back to my discussion with Ava.  In fact some may become an adversary, especially if they throw toys at us. But the lessons  we learn even from the adversaries hopefully will teach us more about who we are. What is it about me that makes this other person someone I see as an adversary?
   Many who come into our life  are  those with similar interests and enjoy many of the same things we do. But sometimes it is the differences that are the  'blessing'.
   As Ava will learn as she gets older, we tend to be friends with people who accept us for who we are, not necessarily what we are. We look for people who we can trust, someone who will not throw a toy at us when our back is turned, people who will not only be a 'blessing' in our life but also may sometimes teach us a lesson or two.
  And a bit of grandfatherly advice for my granddaughter.......Friends can change over time, but "really good friends" can last a lifetime and serve as both a 'blessing' and a 'lesson' for each and every one of us each and every day.

.

Friggatriskaidekaphobics

   I am not superstitious. I am not_______. I am____ _________. OMG! Am I really superstitious?

   This year, February and March have something in common. Both months have a Friday 13^th. Having safely maneuvered through Friday, February 13, I only need to get through Friday 13^th  in March. But if I am not superstitious, why worry?

   While many, myself included. will laugh off the superstitious day, others will remain paralyzed by fear and avoid daily tasks, conducting business or traveling. Many will stay in bed. Hmm!

   In the U.S., an estimated 17 to 21 million people suffer from a fear of Friday the 13^th. That fear has a name. It's called Friggatriskaidekaphobics. (What a great word for a 'spelling bee.')

   Friday the 13th, also known as Black Friday,  is considered an unlucky day in western superstitions. It occurs when the 13th day of the month in the Gregorian calendar falls on a Friday. Makes sense to me!

   The superstition surrounding this day may have arisen in the Middle Ages, "originating from the story of Jesus last supper and crucifixion" in which there were 13 individuals present in the upper Room on Maundy Thursday, the night before His death on Good Friday.

   Other scholars claim there is no written evidence for a "Friday the 13th" superstition before the 19th century, and the superstition only gained widespread distribution in the 20th century. Leave it to the 20^th century to give the 21^st century something to worry about.

   Most of the time when a Friday 13^th rolls around, I treat the day like any other except....that I usually try to avoid passing in the path of a black cat, carry a good luck charm in my front right pants pocket, stay out buildings that have 13 floors and never book a trip or fly on a Friday 13^th.

   I make sure I have more than thirteen dollars in my wallet, drive more than 13 miles one way in my car and if I am in a meeting, there must be more than 13 people in the room. Other than that, I treat Friday 13^th as just a normal day. Remember. I am not superstitious!

   The market on superstitions is not just limited to Friday 13. Over the years, depending upon one's luck or lack of, people will develop there own superstitions and behaviors.

   Basketball coached and players are notorious for crazy habits and superstitions. Favorite pairs of sneakers, pre-game warm ups, and put a championship game on a Friday 13^th and end up losing the game........! You don't think Coach K has a favorite piece of clothing he wears at each game?

   Personally, although I have stated that I am not superstitious, there are certain behaviors I tend to follow with consistency, just in case. Let's just call them habits.

   For example, I always get out of bed the same side each morning, regardless of whether it is a Friday 13th  or not. If for some strange reason I change sides, my day could get off to a very bad start, like not having any hot water for my shower.

   I have several pairs of socks that I will only wear at particular events. This may not be as much a superstition as it is a fact that I only have a few pairs of socks that will not fall down around my ankles and into my shoes as I walk. Who really wants to be constantly seen pulling up their socks while lots of people are looking on?

   Even at home, if I go outside to work in the yard for example, when I go back inside, I will usually go back inside through the door I came out. I don't know why, but it may have something to do with the belief of ...”don't let the door hit you on the way out (especially if you want to come back inside)”.

   Friday 13^th is now only a few days away. I have my good luck charm. I have more than thirteen dollars on my pocket and I will be on the lookout for any black cats that may pass by. Maybe I'll also put on my “lucky shirt” this time also, just in case. One can never be too careful!          
   
   Oh, by the way, if you miss the Friday 13th in March, there's one more in November. Might as well plan ahead.

The bully pulpit and other political devices.........

Definition: According to Wikipedia, a “bully pulpit” is defined as a position sufficiently conspicuous to provide an opportunity to speak out and be listened to.

   I recently came across an article about Theodore Roosevelt, one of our more colorful American Presidents and remembered that he had coined the phrase “bully pulpit”, using the White House as his 'pulpit' from which he attempted to generate public support for his political policies and agendas. For sure, being President of the United States, today more commonly referred to as POTUS on most television shows, is certainly a position of power and of potentially significant influence. But along with the advantage of having 'the pulpit' comes the responsibility and a respect for the influence it yields. And let's not forget to include ethical behavior. Perhaps local 'state houses'  also become 'mini-bully pulpits' for governors and wanna be's too.

   Before going on, however, let me add that in the days of President Roosevelt, the word 'bully' had a much different meaning than it does today, a more positive meaning. 'Bully' was an adjective meaning wonderful, superb, outstanding. When somewhat shouted “bully for you” it meant “good for you!” The word bully even meant 'to be a lover.' 

   Today, however, the term 'bully' has transitioned to a different meaning. A 'bully' is someone who uses 'negative tactics' as a way to force, intimidate or dominate others, bullying tactics.

   From a bit of my past, at a fairly young age in grade school, Timmy Barrett would  bully me on the playground after school in an attempt to get me to give him my baseball glove. No way! Of course, my first name often contributed to additional taunts and name-calling as well from some of his friends.... until the day I picked up a stick and whacked Timmy across his forehead. From that point on and after a trip to the principal's office, Timmy never bothered me again. (The fact that he and his family soon moved away didn't hurt either.)

   From the days of Teddy Roosevelt to 2015, being a bully has evolved from being “wonderful and superb” to being someone who uses force and coercion to get what they want or wish to influence. Sound familiar?

   Having been on the side of one who has been bullied, at the time I was too young to really understand the motivation and reasons why someone becomes a bully. Yes, I had a nice baseball glove, lived in a home with a mother and father, did not live on the street or was not allegedly abused as a child.

   I had goals and dreams. True. I came from a middle class family, although some thought my family was rich. I wanted to go  to college, become successful at a job and raise a family. I felt an obligation to give back to my country and community. I wasn't angry, didn't carry a chip on my shoulder because I had been forced out of my house to live with the neighbors  nor did I feel the need to make fun of others  who I perceived as better than I was or who I sometimes even feared because of the color of their skin, the way they dressed or the language they spoke.

   Today a person can not walk through any school hallway at any grade level in Maine without seeing the signs and posters about “bullying'. “Just Say No to Bullying.” "This is a Bully-Free Zone"

   But I have come to the understanding, over time and life experiences, that the key to whether someone becomes a bully or remains  one as an adult is rooted in having both positive role models and a feeling of being in control of one's life. The prerequisite for success is a matter of self perceptions. If a person feels there is an imbalance in social or political status then that person will use the behaviors they feel necessary to either level the playing field in their eyes or in some cases, even gain the upper hand. And often those bullying behaviors learned and practiced as a child will continue into adulthood.

   I often wonder what motivates someone to run for a political office, a position of power and influence. Is it a desire to serve, to give back in some way to those who had been a positive impact on a life or is it driven by the need to gain or regain control over something which there had been little or no control. Is it to gain the advantage of having a 'bully pulpit' in order to finally "be heard and listened to?"

   It was easy for me to pick up the stick and hit Timmy in the forehead. At the moment it felt good! And although I was frustrated  with Timmy's constant bullying, standing up to the bully may have turned out to be a good thing. I proved to myself and others at a young age that I could take on the bully and win (although the meeting with the principal and my parents was not fun).
   In its original T.R. definition, a 'bully pulpit ' was a position of conspicuous opportunity to speak out and be listened to. But over time that definition has changed. What happens when one uses a  'bully pulpit' to become nothing more than a present day 'bully'? Is that an effective leadership style? And  when the bully finally realizes that no one is listening or cares any more............then what?

Simple observations.......

   I don't need to remind anyone how challenging the winter of 2015 has been to date. Extreme cold and  endless snow storms have blanketed Central Maine with deep, deep snow that seems like it will never melt. I can't remember the last day we had temperatures in the 30 degree range.

   Many have described this winter as 'a good old Maine winter' but to be honest, I must either be too old or possibly too young to remember what a 'good old Maine winter' was like. But if this winter is an example, then I guess I am glad I don't remember what they were like.

   Current condition, the low temps and the constant snow, can bring out the best and the worst in people and as one who likes to 'people-watch' I only need to look around to see some folks at their finest and others, well.....

   I recently stopped  to pick up a cup of morning coffee and a bite to eat before heading off to work. ( By the way, the early morning temp was -7 degrees) A young girl pulled into the parking spot next to me and raced to the door. Although there were several others waiting at the counter to be served, she jumped to the front of the line, ordering a medium sized coffee and a donut.

   Almost back in her car, she returned complaining that she had not asked for sugar in her coffee and demanded another, without sugar. The clerk obliged, with a smile I might add, and the girl went on her way. As she left, the person in front of me in line shouted out to her .....”Will there be anything else deary or can I place my order now?” But by now she was pulling out of the parking lot.

   With the threat of another potentially large storm looming, grocery stores often become places that bring out more than the worst in people. No shopping carts or those little red baskets to put 'stuff' in, what's a guy to do. Pushing and shoving to get the last package of Ring Dings on the shelf....it's a shopping frenzy.

   And those shopping carts people are pushing around seemed to be filled to the top. I wonder if the size of the storm or the predicted amount of snow influences how much people buy to stock up. Maybe there is a conspiracy with food stores and weather personnel. The bigger the storm the more people will buy.

   The lines at the checkout are long and people become impatient, but it is a good opportunity to observe the latest in winter weather attire. This day, the temp was around 11 degrees. Topping the list of what to wear when one goes shopping were the brightly colored fleece pajama bottoms. There were at least five or six different patterns and designs waiting in the  checkout lines. Oh, there's one with the Boston Red Sox logo.

   Most people were wearing some type or winter shoes or boots on their feet, but right in front of me..... the person was wearing pink flip- flops. Now that's got to be cold. But she also did not have on a jacket or coat either. Maybe she was from Florida or some place warm.

   But sometimes the weather can bring out the good side of people too. An elderly woman was in the next checkout line. When told the amount she owed for her purchases, she realized she did not have enough money to pay the bill. (She was actually paying with cash.) Without skipping a beat, the young family waiting in line behind her paid the balance of her bill. No question she was a bit embarrassed and offered to pay them back, but they told her not to worry and they struck up a friendly conversation as they walked to their cars.

   I have been spending some time in several of the area schools recently. The only group more anxious for the upcoming mid-winter vacation than the kids were the teachers. I am sure that as Friday afternoon rolled around you could hear the countdown to the end of the day begin.

   Interesting, though. In talking with some of the staff members, few, if any, were doing any traveling to warmer climates this vacation. There was one cruise, one trip to Disney World and that was about it. Several were going skiing and snow shoeing.

   As winter drags on you can tell that people are getting 'edgy'. There are very few smiles or people saying 'thank you'. Everyone seems to be in a bit of a rush.

    For me, I am waiting for that first 35 degree day, the day when the snow on my roof begins to melt, the day I can begin to see my driveway again, the day I can take my car to the car wash and not worry about turning it into a block of ice. Surely then, people will begin to smile again.

150 miles can take you into a different world......

   Television and radio news broadcasts will often offer “the week in review” and I had thought about that as a title for this week's blog. It was a busy week and coupled with the cold Maine weather, snow and a bit of extra travel... OK, I'll admit it, I was a bit tired on Friday night. But to give you a report of 'my week in review'? How about just one day?

   A journey of only 150 miles can take you into a different world and sometimes we need those opportunities to help put a bit of perspective back into our life. With all the terrible and horrifying news we hear every day taking place around the world it's nice to know there are places and values that time and people still protect.

   Part of my week's travels took me on a journey to almost the end of the earth, or at least the U.S. Border. It's called Route 201 and in its entirety runs from the coast of Maine to the Canadian border, two very unique and distinct regions of our state. It begins at the Atlantic Ocean near Brunswick and takes you to the woods and mountains that make up the northwest corner of Maine. To some, 150 miles may seem like a long ride, especially on roads covered in snow and ice. But this trip, even in the middle of winter, still offers some beautiful sights and a look at the “hearty stock' of people called 'Mainers'.

   This week, I jumped on Route 201 in Skowhegan to head north but I have traveled the route from Brunswick many times as it passes through a number of what some from away might consider small towns. The route, for the most part, parallels the Kennebec River, a waterway flowing with its own rich history and stories.

   But on this day, a right turn at the large wooden statue in downtown Skowhegan and that was the beginning of my journey. Most of the roads were still well covered in fresh snow and ice, requiring an extra cautious drive and a great deal more attention to the road conditions and surroundings. And perhaps, that turned out to be a good thing. It gave me a bit more time to appreciate what was going on around me.

   A few miles from the center of the town the landscape and surroundings change significantly. There are fewer homes, winding roads and ….look at all the pine trees covered in a jacket of snow. Are those fresh deer tracks along the side of the road? You bet! Real fresh!

   Eventually the road and the Kennebec River meet up side by side again and it is easy, even in winter, to experience the beauty of the area. By the way, at this point Route 201 becomes a National Scenic Highway.

   Small variety stores, aging motels, cabins and camps (old, but well maintained) dot the country side, providing places to stop and rest, to pick up a fresh cup of coffee or spend a few days enjoying what the area has to offer. No large Marriott hotels here. This particular time of year the snowmobiles probably outnumber the cars probably 3 to 1.

   My destination on this day was Jackman and once I got to The Forks, I knew I only had about 25 more miles to go.

   The road from The Forks to Jackman is both hilly and curvy as it cuts through the river valley. But I will say that at the top of the last hill before entering Jackman, with a view of the town below and Canada off in the distance, with a bright, clear blue sky, the view was beautiful. Fresh snow, smoke from the chimneys below....it was worth a picture or two.

   My task for the day in Jackman was to spend a bit of time at the local school. Being a very small town, all the kids in town attend school in a building that houses grades K to 12. It reminded me of my first teaching position in W Va, a small mining town with 128 students in grades K-12. And like the school in W. Va. this school, over the years, not only known for some exceptional graduates and educational programs, also usually has a pretty good basketball team too. Right now they are ranked No. 1 in their division going into the tournament next week.

   After a few hours at the school it was time to head 'down state'. The day turned out to be very successful. The students we met worked hard. They were polite, even said “thank you” at the appropriate times, opened doors for us and pleasantly said “good bye” when we left.

   It was obvious the students were very proud of their school. A small town, a small school, a great deal of pride and almost out of reach from the rest of the world. It was for me, on this day, a brief glimpse of a different world.

   There were very few, it any, students walking around with cell phone or IPads or texting their friends. They didn't need to. Their friends were all right there and their families, just down the street. They carried notebooks and textbooks and  backpacks like other kids in other schools, but there was this strange and eerie sense of freedom in their movement throughout the building and.... the front door was always open to visitors and guest.  Maybe it wasn't so bad living near the edge after all.

   I got back into my car and, as if out of habit, reached for my cell phone to see who had called. But I put the phone back down on the front seat and decided to wait until I was a bit closer to home. There was no rush. It was almost like I was living in a different world.