Both Sides, etc

I'm not a 'pox upon both houses' person. In my mind, there is clearly one party better than the other for working class families. The degree of how much better remains an open question that deserves scrutiny - none of which you'll read here.

Suffice to say Democrats have cooled to labor beginning 50 some odd years ago - perhaps even further if you count the Dixie-Dems who voted with Republicans to override Truman's veto of Taft-Hartley. As has been well documented elsewhere, Democrats have been feeding at the corporate cash trough since the 80s, and moving center-right as a party. Center-right doesn't produce public policy in support of working people.

The result of which is we have a country full of angry citizens not making it. Debt-ridden and lining up to fill out job apps at Walmart and food stamp apps at HHS. Our elections are no longer about policy choices - no one believes the bs anymore. More and more, our elections are being decided by which party more effectively taps into the frustrations and resentments of the working class. For now, the distinction belongs solely to Republicans and what amounts to a state-run propaganda wing, Fox News.

I don't blame the Republicans. They saw a market inefficiency and exploited it. The inefficiency has been created by the party of FDR by moving so far to the right that many have lost faith in the system. Corporate capitalism (the worst brand of capitalism) has taken over our democracy by purchasing public policy from both sides all the while manufacturing consent from the people through brilliant PR strategies.

Both sides may not be equal in their disdain for working people, but neither party is truly working for us either.

It Was 50 Years Ago Today

Or pretty close to it, when Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play.

Hard to believe that the Lonely Hearts Club Band album is half a century old. To commemorate, the music is being remixed and re-released with 34 previously unreleased recordings. Sounds like a long weekend or two to me.

My sister was more of a fan at the time than I was. She was older and of the age that made her susceptible to the Beatles magic. Whatever it was that made the girls go crazy. The Beatles began to make an impression on me after the breakup - I was a huge fan of McCartney and Wings and each of the Beatles' 'solo' music in their own rights. I always felt a bit jobbed because I was too young to appreciate their music when they were together (I was 8 or 9 when they split) and, like almost every inhabitant of the world not named McCartney, Lennon, Harrison or Starr, I daydreamed of a reunion that never happened.

Maybe this is as close as we get. Remix an iconic classic, add some nostalgic conversation and unreleased studio tape and trip out.

The Union Burying Ground

So it looks like union busting will be on the agenda at the NLRB in the near future. Even as I write this it makes no sense, but there you have it. There are two open seats on the board and a union busting attorney is on the short list. According to the Politico article, it would be a first.

The candidate will need a leave of absence from his full time job of de-certifying 27,000 unionized home health care workers in Minnesota to move into the NLRB job. Or maybe not. Conflicts of interest don't exist for this administration.

Tom Perez is right. Republicans don't give a shit about workers.

Waiting For My Real Life To Begin

I saw Colin in Concord last year. With little fanfare, extraordinary wit and music embedded in his redemptive story, he was a joy to experience. 

Catch him if you can.

Sunday Mourning

I used my GoogleMachine to see what the intertubes know about me yesterday. It turns out that I have half-brothers and sisters, one of whom passed away recently.

I'll offer another post on context, but for now, know that by his choice, my biological father abandoned our family when I was two or three years old. He began a new life with a new wife and new children and never looked back as far as I know. I say this with no judgement and very little understanding on how or why such choice are made. But made they are - I'm certain I'm not the only child abandoned by a man in this country - and life goes on.

Flash forward 57 years. My GoogleMachine tells me that Andrea Cicirelli died earlier this year after a 10-year battle with breast cancer. She is survived by her wife and two young children, along with 5 siblings and her parents. A celebration of her life occurred on March 18.

Andrea's obituary tells the story of a strong, courageous and loving person. While I never knew her, somehow this does not surprise me. The picture of Andrea bears striking resemblance to one of my brothers - they could be twins, separated by 15 years. Her surviving children are the ages of my grandchildren.

My heart is full of something of which I cannot yet describe. Sadness for Andrea's immediate family. A sense of loss for my own immediate family. Questions and puzzlement surrounding choices made and promises not kept from decades ago have me wondering if some mysteries are never to be solved.

Yet coincidences abound and must be explored. Many of Andrea's (and I suspect mine) siblings live locally. Her immediate family is in Manchester. The celebration of her life occurred on my birthday - how does that happen?

I am unsure of what to do, so I'll do nothing. At least today. I will contemplate and meditate on this, looking for a path forward that honors my values. I do not want to hurt anyone, especially a young family grieving the loss of someone so special.

Here I am. Guide me.

It Feels Different When You're 5 Years Old

My 5-year old granddaughter told me today she had a loose tooth and could barely wait to lose it!

The cycles of life are simultaneously amusing, ironic and depressing.

Friendship, part trois. The Finale.

One of my imperfections, according to one of my brothers who is quick to remind me, is my ability to take mundane topics and turn them into matters of life and death. I worry that I am doing that with this topic, although I feel I have a bit more to say. So here goes.

Having re-read the previous posts, it appears I have a very cavalier attitude toward friendship. What is more accurate to say is, I have an ambiguous attitude with the word friendship. I have no idea what it really means, to be honest, or what types of relationships it describes, other than in general terms. What is friendship? I don't know, and, quite frankly, probably don't care to know. Does it matter?

I have relationships that some would characterize as friendships. For me, as I age, all relationships seem to satisfy a certain set of criteria:

• Does conversation come easily? Is it awkward to share thoughts and feelings or does it flow?
• Is it reliable? Am I able to offer myself to another person, and vice versa, in easily accessible ways? Is there a desire to be dependable?
• Is our time together enjoyable? Whether we sit at a cafe, take a walk or talk on the phone, are we able to have a good time and share a few laughs?
• Finally, and because relationships are hard work, is there a sense of 'missing' when the relationship is dormant? Is it difficult to rekindle or keep lit, for either of us?

I suppose there's more and I acknowledge to be limited by my lack of expertise on the subject. Both intellectually and with real-life experience. I have had many friends in my life, people with whom I have either entered into their universe or they mine, or perhaps there was a brief union of universes. These friendships of convenience served a deeper purpose, no doubt, but the foundation was built on the very principles that would later undermine the relationship. They were no longer convenient. We no longer worked together. Our kids weren't in band together. You moved and found another church closer to your new home.

I also have legacy friendships. People with whom, as I look back on my formative years, I was closer with than my own family. How could I have shared such intense, personal experiences with people I barely would recognize today? 

My wife has great friendships forged by a relentless desire to not lose touch, to not let go of those common and shared experiences. She regularly gathers with friends from high school for a glass of wine and reminiscing. Her best friend is a woman she met when our son began Tiger Cubs with her son, nearly 30 years ago. This friendship of convenience grew roots and now blossoms. 

I do not think I have the capacity for sustaining friendships that my wife has. Instead, I think I have reached a point where I'm ready to add a new criteria for relationships in my life. 

• Does the relationship recognize, acknowledge and appreciate the limitations we all have as people? Are we willing to accept each other, as flawed beings, with few expectations?

 That is all.

 

On Friendship, part deux

Ford's essay (see the previous post) has me thinking about friendships made, lost and never to be. This is a never to be story.

Many years ago, I had a great job at a factory in Newington, NH. It was a union job with great benefits and pay. It was a job that allowed me to be the sole financial provider for our family and my wife to be home with our two babies. This did not happen without sacrifice as I often worked 12 hour shifts, six days per week, and my family time was not ideal.

We lived in a quiet neighborhood, neighbors close by on either side. Lovely, friendly people, with whom I often exchanged brief greetings and at least waves as we drove by each other. For the most part, and with little effort, I avoided the neighborhood walks and talks and minded my own business.

I should also relay how much I enjoyed playing basketball. I frequently carved out a few hours a week to play at the local gym, though never in an organized adult league. My family was (still is) my life and I had a good sense of where I needed to allocate the rarest of my commodities, time.

My wife, being the thoughtful person she is, gifted me a basketball hoop to install in our driveway. It was terrific - I could burn off some energy playing a sport I loved without leaving the home. The hoop brought me joy without the burden of not 'being around'.

One day, coming home from a long overnight shift, I saw one of my neighbors shooting baskets in my driveway. "Hmm...what is this," I thought, "that's my driveway and my hoop." I parked on the side of the road. My neighbor (let's call him Bob), grabbed the ball and began a conversation with me. It went something like:

Bob: "hey Joe, I hope you don't mind that I was shooting some baskets."

Me: "No - sure, that's fine. As long as the kids aren't trying to sleep."

Bob: "Great. Hey, I was thinking, what do you think about getting together a couple of times a week and shooting some hoops? You know, we could hang out and be friends?"

I'm pausing the conversation here because I'm having second thoughts about telling you the rest of the story. There are some people who would read this and not believe it. My brothers would tell you I'm being far too kind to myself. In any event, let me ask you to refrain from judgement and simply read and observe. Continuing:

Me: "Look, Bob, you're a nice enough guy. I like you and your family. But I work 60 hours a week and have two babies and a wife I don't see enough. I don't have room in my life for a new friendship. But feel free to use the hoop when I'm not around."

With that, I turned and walked into the house, greeted by two toddlers running and jumping into my arms. I never saw Bob in my yard again and our neighborly niceties disappeared. Not on my part, dear reader, but I think Bob was pretty well put off by my response and thought me pretty much an asshole from that point forward. 

All these years later, as I retell this story, I see that Bob was right. I was an asshole neighbor. But I was right too. I was a great dad and at least a mediocre husband (like wine, I've improved in the husband role over the years) and had no time to be a great neighbor or friend. I was perfectly willing to be an average or even slightly below average neighbor. 

Sometimes, for some people, that's not good enough.

Can't We All Just Get Along?

Richard Ford has an excellent essay in the Guardian this morning. It's called Who Needs Friends?

My experiences with friendship are quite different from Ford's, but so many of his observations resonate soundly with me. Is life complete without a 'best friend'? Ford examines this question and so much more in the essay.

I generally like the world and its inhabitants. I am quick to lend a hand, offer a shoulder to cry on (for a few moments, anyway), laugh at stupid jokes (especially my own) and acknowledge the existence of other real people trying to get from one point to another on this planet we share. All the while understanding that, in 100 years, all new people.

There is an inconsistency with friendship in that it takes work when it shouldn't. My friendships require work, I think, because, like Ford, I am slow to reveal myself to others. As an astute observer of other people (just ask me) the friendships that appeal to me are the ones where an indeterminate amount of time can go by without contact or conversation and the friends can pick up right where they left off. Like it was yesterday. I do not often see this and more often see long friendships written off because of an un-returned call or email. Please, people, get a hold of your runaway egos.

I agree with Ford that trust is not all that it's cracked up to be. Society places great emphasis on trust, and having it be said that you are not trusted is weaponized verbal assault - untrustworthy people are akin to emotional lepers. Considering it carefully, should we ever really trust anyone but ourselves to act in our own best interest? Should we be surprised when they don't? I think not. And thinking not saves me a lot of frustration. So the choice to trust or not is rooted in our ability to accept or not accept the human condition of self-interest in its various forms.

Don't misunderstand. I like people. I hope people find some of my characteristics tolerable and can enjoy my company for bursts of time. But I am quite content being a friend to myself, offering what is possible to offer to others and being a good neighbor and fellow citizen, while not expecting too much in return.

Friendship is overrated. Or it's not. You decide.

Namaste

Interesting article in The NY Times this morning about reversing negative thinking. The story makes connections between negative thinking and long-term ill health effects, and the opposite.

My default is to be positive - finding joy where and when I can. I don't know how the population breaks down on this, but in my little world I'm guessing 50/50 at best. For me, it's challenging, at best, and impossible, at worst, to be barraged by a person focused on the negative. Almost like a magnetic polar opposite, I can feel my body physically rejecting the negative vibes.

As my meditation practice has deepened and I've built defenses to negativity, it feels like negative people try harder to penetrate these defenses. Most recently, I've responded with direct conversation about my personal observation of the exchange. I try to be non-judgemental, simply pointing out the many positive things being overlooked by the person with the negative experience. This said, and generally speaking, the result has often been little more than a further rationalization of why the negative impressions are accurate.

I'm not a foolishly positive person, and I'm sure my family could point to many instances of negative imperfections. But the key learning for me has been that worry and negativity rob us of our capacity for joy. Joy is a treasure that must not be easily surrendered. Protect it. Learn the martial arts of the mind that help you develop a sanctuary from the daily barrage of interpersonal negativity and spoon-fed emotions from mass media.

Put the paper down. Turn off the tee vee. Go do something nice for someone. Do something extraordinary for yourself.

Hernandez

The story of Aaron Hernandez is a modern-day tragedy, complete with three acts. I have not followed this story with any focus and admit to headline scanning for most of my information. That does nothing to influence my observation that there are only victims in this story. Plenty of them.

Stuff is messed up in our country. 

Politics and Organized Labor

Erik Loomis has an excellent essay in Boston Review on the barely tenable relationship between labor and the Democratict party. Loomis points to labor's failure to organize outside of the northeast and industrial mid-west as leading contributors to loss of political support from democrats. I see the positive link here and also recognize how daunting that task really was.

At no point in labor's storied history have workers been truly successful without supportive government policy. These supportive policies often came at great sacrifice to working families - tens of thousands of whom beaten or killed. US policy has shifted with labor's ability to shift public opinion - mostly through the public relations damage done by wealthy industrialists in their attempts to thwart organizing efforts through every means possible.

Once the wealthy elite realized they could not win with only clubs and guns, the strategy shifted. Mostly gone was the violence (but not completely) replaced by a sophisticated PR plan of their own. The Natioanal Manufacturers Association rolled out the Mohawk Valley Formula in 1938, and industry never looked back. Ten years later, by following this script and using people like Vance Muse and his Christian Americans Association, anti-union forces passed Taft-Hartley. This was the beginning of the end for organized labor and has more to do with the unorganized south than any other factor.

Surely there were lost opportunities in the south for labor pre-Taft-Hartley, but these were fleeting moments. By restricting the rights of organized labor, the US Congress gave employers all the tools they needed to slow, stop and then reverse the growth of labor unions in our country.

The trend is clear and the inevitable seems at least probable. Although being a realist means acknowledging that the probable does not always happen.

Ripples

I attended the ROC NH leadership graduation last night. ROC stands for Resident-Owned Community and it is a program of the NH Community Loan Fund. The purpose of the leadership program is to help people who live in manufactured housing cooperatives develop the skills needed to lead a multi-million dollar corporation.

While the demographics of the residents of cooperatives can be diverse, the threads woven through the communities tend to be older, less formally educated and mostly blue-collar families. These are not pejorative terms - simply my personal observations after 5 years of attending these and other Loan Fund events. Also adding that the residents and graduates I've met during the events are nothing short of strong, smart, caring and hard-working.

That's what makes this program so important. Residents with little or no prior experience in running a business are suddenly thrust into the management of a multi-million dollar co-op. Without adequate education and guidance there is no way the residents can be successful. Heck, even with the best of training it's a formidable task.

The program participants learn about running meetings and creative problem solving. They learn how to depend on each other and to build trust when perhaps none exists. By the time they graduate from the six-month long program, they have a solid foundation for conflict resolution, public speaking and creating and reading financial statements. And remember, some of these people have never balanced a checkbook. It's amazing.

Last night I sat with one of the graduates during the program. He shared with me that finding his voice was the single-best result of the experience for him. He said he always felt like he had something to say and never knew how to contribute - the training and experience of the leadership program gave him a confidence to participate that now shows up in every part of his life. He has received a promotion at work and his wife (who was there) was raving about how their communication has improved. Ripples.

There are more than 7,000 families who benefit from ROCs in NH. Each year, ROC NH puts 20 of our neighbors and fellow citizens through an educational program (worth 4 college credits!) that teaches these life-affirming and productive skills. They transform lives and send ripples throughout our state. These graduates become leaders within their communities and help self-govern the co-op, non-profit corporations that provide safe and affordable housing to their neighbors and friends.

I am in a happy state of awe at what the NH Community Loan Fund is able to accomplish through their ROC NH program.

The Competition

My most difficult challenges are when I find myself stretching one value to meet another. There are always gaps and compromises between personal values - this isn't a judgement, just an objective snapshot of value reality. There are few Budhas and Jesus's walking among us today.

Generally speaking, there is little at risk during most competing value struggles. For example, I want to lose weight but don't exercise in order to create more time to spend with family. It's a minor value struggle that pits the value of a healthy life style against the value of family.

Sometimes the struggle can become deeply personal and occasionally the stakes are much higher. An example of this is sacrificing family time to devote enough time to a demanding job. We have the value of family competing with a work ethic value. This is a major struggle that impacts many people often to the point where we are not honoring either value very well. We sacrifice family time and employment effort - neither gets the attention it deserves. When my children were young, these choices were the worst.

These are constant struggles. Good people trying to 'right thing' themselves from one part of the day to the next. There are no clear paths through all this, just an inner sense of what you think is right and which value means more to you. You tend to do the thing you believe to be more important.

It's really not so much of a balance as it is a teeter-totter. One minute you up, the next your down. And man, look out if someone jumps off their end while you're up.

Bias

One day, a ferocious lion woke up angry. He was bitter, resentful and needed to prove himself to others. As he stalked through the forest, he spied a fox. Roaring up to the fox, the lion asked through gnarled teeth, "Fox, who is the strongest and most feared animal in the forest?"  Shaking in fear, the fox managed to answer, "Why, why, yoooouuu are, Mr. Lion. Surely you are."  With a glare that could peel bark off a tree, and feeling a bit more confident, the lion slowly walked away.

A little deeper in the forest, the lion crossed paths with a rhino.  Once again roaring ferociously, the lion cornered the frightened rhino. "Rhino,", the lion demanded, "who is the strongest and most feared animal in the forest?" The rhino, struggling to get the words out through chattering teeth, whispered, "Why you are Mr. lion. You are."  The lion glared contemptuously at the rhino, and without lifting his gaze, stalked slowly away.

Feeling even better about himself, the lion soon stumbled upon an elephant sunbathing itself in a small clearing. Intending to strike deep fear into the elephant, the lion summoned his most fearsome roar and pounced forward. "Elephant," the lion roared, "who is the strongest and most feared animal in the forest?" In one swift move, the elephant curled the lion in its trunk and slammed him to the ground, from one side to the other. After a few minutes of this, the elephant threw the lion up against a tree. As the lion lay stunned, not understanding what was happening, the elephant raised up its leg, stomped on the lion and walked away most disinterestedly.

The lion, dazed and confused by this sudden turn of events finally figured it out and called after the elephant,"You didn't have to get so mad just because you didn't know the answer!"

Why I'm A UU

I wrote this in 2011, but it remains true. I'm no longer a member at the Nottingham church but have felt right at home at the Concord UU church.

I'm a UU because I like being offended. I enjoy the learning experience that comes from sermons that strike nerves with me, fellow members who have very different answers and questions than I do, and folks who know little about UU who think they have it all figured out.

I get a kick out of holding the complex and somewhat contradictory concept of being intolerant of intolerance. You know you're a UU at heart when you understand that. And I love being able to be myself here...and to be accepted and loved for that.

I'd like to tell you that I had a long and arduous road to get to our church. I'd like to say that the UU church came to me after a spiritual awakening. I'd like to say that I'm a religious refugee struggling for answers. But I can't say any of those things. Although I was born to an Irish/Italian Catholic family, we were not very pious and only occasionally attended Mass. My wife and I had a civil marriage, and although we later had our vows blessed in the Catholic Church, we were intermittent worshipers. By the way, an intermittent worshiper is not much different from an intermittent wiper, where you can never get the intermittance to align just right with the need.

Looking back, it seems likely that we never felt like we belonged to the various churches that we attended. Nothing really fit. The truth is that we weren't looking for answers because we didn't know what the questions were. I heard many wonderful messages during the years from many excellent priests and pastors. But they were all too certain for what I've always felt was an uncertain world.

This reminds me of something Somerset Maugham once wrote:

"Sometimes, people hit upon a place to which they mysteriously feel that they belong. Here is the home they sought, and they will settle amid scenes that they have never seen before, among people they have never known, as though they were familiar to them from their birth. Here, at last, do they find rest."

And then I stumbled into a UU church. And you really do have to stumble into one because there's almost no such thing as an evangelical UU. And I knew that I had "hit upon a place to which" I "mysteriously felt that I belonged." And it felt right. Everyone struggling to find answers and questions were welcomed. There is no dogma, but faith overflows. A church where you'll find no Saints and plenty of humans.

The Nottingham UU church was also a serendipitous finding. Kelli and I had belonged to the Concord UU church, but, you know, for pragmatic UU members, driving 45 minutes during snow storms to attend church was not reasonable. Heck, driving 45 minutes in nice weather to attend church was not reasonable.

Then we saw a flyer for an event at the Nottingham church. We came to the event and then to a service. Again, I felt like I belonged and welcomed. And what a wonderful group of people to belong with. And this is very powerful, because religion is far too big a job for any one person. It takes a team and we use that teamwork to amplify our voices in song and in our efforts to make our community a more just place for all people. The great systems thinker, Peter Senge once wrote of this experience:

"When you ask people about what it is like being part of a great team, what is most striking is the meaningfulness of the experience. People talk about being part of something larger than themselves, of being connected, of being generative. It become quite clear that, for many, their experiences as part of truly great teams stand out as singular periods of life lived to the fullest. Some spend the rest of their lives looking for ways to recapture that spirit."

That's what keeps me coming back. This sense of being connected and generative and weaving a common fabric of life. I hope to never let this collective spirit escape me so that I don't have to search for it again.

What's For Dinner?

After watching the news, a grandson turned to his grandfather and asked why there was so much hate and trouble in the world. The grandfather thought for a moment and then began to share a story of two wolves.

"These two wolves," the grandfather explained, "hated each other. They were always fighting, clawing and attacking each other. They could never get along."

"Why?" The grandson asked. "Why didn't they stay away from each other?"

The grandfather went on, "Well, they couldn't. One of the wolves represented evil. He was bitter, angry and full of hatred. The other wolf represented all that is good in the world. He was full of love and compassion. He defended himself when attacked but never sought to hurt the first wolf."

The grandson was troubled. "Which wolf wins such a battle?"

The grandfather paused only a moment and replied, "The one you feed - the one you feed."

I Love You.

You all know who you are.

I Want To Be Like Warren Haynes

Not because of his musical genius and contributions, which are prodigious. Because of the person he is.

It's Going To Be Beautiful

It's difficult to read the news these days. Chemical weapons, missile strikes, upheaval at the NSA, Russians using Facebook to influence the democratic elections of the most powerful country on the planet...the list really could go on. Chaos and mayhem abound.

Our president is ill-equipped to deal with these situations. He is not versed in history or cultural affairs. The president surrounds himself with sycophants and family loyalists, none of whom are qualified for the very serious business of running our great democracy. The president is not temperamentally fit to be president.

These are not simply the opinions of a country bumpkin blogger in New Hampshire. Learned and wise leaders from a broad spectrum of political ideology are coming to grips with the seriousness of this situation.

As a businessman, the president made a career of destructive disruption to business process to leverage financial leverage. He is no Carl Icahn, but the president's piggy bank is full of nickels. Running a country is different - especially today where economic, climate and political instability have us teetering toward calamity on all fronts. What's needed is steady, wise and collaborative leadership moving us away from hyper-partisanship and into an age of empathy and cooperation.

Instead, we're stuck with Orwellian euphemisms and golf course diplomacy. This is serious business. We deserve way more than we're getting.

It's not beautiful.

The Power Of Convening

There is a strong desire to gather in groups to have meaningful conversation. There is so much value in bringing people together to talk about issues that are important to them. Value in sharing and inspiring and also value in learning about people.

The organization that I work with is beginning to move in this direction. Towards convening and empowering, sharing and listening and toward progress. At a recent meeting with nearly 40 in attendance, many of the participants stayed well beyond the end of the meeting to engage in more conversation. It's a sign that the participants found the experience to be meaningful and wanted to continue some of the conversations and exchange of information and ideas.

This is the cutting edge of 10,000 year old technology. Bringing people together to solve the real challenges we face and not hiding behind the anonymity of social media. Once we discover what binds us together, our differences matter less. It is the discovery of shared values that overcomes the minor differences that are used as wedges to keep us at odds with each other.

Convene.

There Are No Coincidences

What a coincidence.

We went on a walk yesterday afternoon to enjoy the nearly 50 degree temps on April 2. Granted, this is a little cooler than normal, but in comparison to the Nor'easter delivered on April 1, it was downright balmy and more than welcome.

Our walk was delayed by 30 minutes or so by various circumstances that popped up. A phone call, a conversation, a change of walking clothes - it doesn't take much to alter the logistics of any human endeavor. Even something as simple as a walk when it involves more than one person.

We began our walk not knowing which direction to take. The previous day's storm had delivered 12" of snow and, given the expected warmer temperatures coming, the city chose not to clear the sidewalks. We chose to walk in the road although traffic was unusually heavy for a Sunday afternoon in Concord.

We decided to move from the main road we were on to one of the side streets. We wove our way in and out of a neighborhood and its cross streets to emerge at an intersection with Warren Street where the sidewalks were somewhat cleared.

As we walked up the short hill, we saw someone walking towards us. It was a man, also choosing to walk in the street because of the messy sidewalk situation. As we neared each other, there was a familiarity that was trying to gain entry into my consciousness. It was one of those rare events that your mind has difficulty understanding and recognizing because of how rare the circumstance is.

When we were 15 or 20 feet apart, it dawned on us and our good friend, Bob Perry, what was happening. We had stumbled upon each other in the oddest of circumstances in the middle of Concord, NH. To help understand how unusual this is, know that Bob lives in Strafford, NH, a full 30 miles from Concord. Bob had come to Concord on this Sunday, April 2, because he had a meeting at Concord High School that had been postponed from the day before. He had parked on a side road, off of Warren St., adjacent to the school, but not being familiar with Concord, was swept onto Pleasant Street (which runs parallel) and was turned around looking for his car.

So that's how we found each other, a half mile from his car, down on Warren Street. It was a wonderful happenstance and I was overjoyed to see him. We decided to walk together to find his car and had a lovely visit catching up and promising, of course, to do better at staying in touch.

Walking away from this serendipitous occurrence, I couldn't help but feel the power of the universe in putting people in your life at the right moment for what you need. This was not a coincidence. The universe was sending us a message that needs to be slightly de-coded.

No Lamb In March

The old adage for March goes something like; "In like a lion, out like a lamb, or in like a lamb, out like a lion."

There was no lamb in March. It began cold and raw and essentially remained in that state for the duration. February was warmer. To add insult to injury, March spat a Nor'easter at us that delivered 12" of heavy, wet snow on April 1. How's that for an April Fools delivery?

I've always considered March to be the cruelest month. Not just this year, but nearly every year. Sure, March delivers spring to us, technically falling on March 20 or 21. The reality is that March is where winter hangs on by its fingernails, digging its claws into our psyche, keeping our optimism for hope springs eternal at frozen bay.

Cheers to March being done and moving, if slowly, into the realm of new life and blooms. I'm eager to hear happy birds, finding food aplenty in the yard and nourishing their offspring. Watching parents and children gather at baseball and softball fields to watch their kids play games that will soon slip from memory with people who will not.

There are no guarantees. The planet forms and transforms, absorbing, adapting and presenting itself. There are lessons here for the inhabitants.