Category Archives: Uncategorized

A meditation on downsizing

How big a job?

How hard is it to downsize? And what can help you get through it?

After a month of merging the contents of our now-sold house in Georgia into our already-furnished condo in Charlotte, NC, I can report that it is possible, but not easy. Questions arise, like, dear God in heaven, do I REALLY possess 30-plus tee shirts, dating as far back as 1976? Or, ok, I remember buying one recliner, but how did we ever end up with FOUR? And, What does it say about us that we possess no fewer than eleven devices intended to open a wine bottle? …Although, admittedly, those did see a lot of use over the past four weeks.

It’s worth noting, too, that this wasn’t just the contents of a 3300 square foot house that needed shifting. It was also the accumulated stuff you might gather over 25 years in a 2500 square foot hangar. Two riding mowers, three work benches, four bicycles, rakes, shovels, implements of destruction, automotive tools, old batteries, cinder blocks, lumber, plumbing supplies, and on, and on…

Yes, it was a gargantuan task, but what did we learn?

What’s the take-away?

Well, for one, emotional attachments to “stuff” are pretty much toxic. While I do love the sentimental rush I get by going through old drawers and bookcases, it bears reflection that those old mementos have been marinating for decades in darkness. And only now to elicit that murmured “aww”. After trashing about three cubic feet of fuzzy photos of inexplicable locales and strangers, I felt light as a feather. Likewise for a closet full of old theater tickets, gimme hats, business cards, and mix tapes.

For another, no human being should ever have a favorite pillow, towel, or pair of sneakers. Such objects, if so favored, have undoubtedly worn out long before the bond was formed. And, oh, by the way: Take a look around, and you’ll realize that you possess no fewer than six pairs of worn sneakers, another four of bedroom slippers, and two of hiking boots, alongside a linen closet with dozens of towels, and a gaggle of lovely new-ish pillows. It’s time for change! Out with the old, in with the new!

Finally, what’s the most important thing?

The Lesson!

It’s this:

Giving things away is much more satisfying than boxing, shifting, and keeping them.

I had an old piano; an upright Baldwin from the 1930’s, with yellowed ivories and worn ebony flats and sharps. I’d rescued it from the basement rec-room of a friend long ago, and lovingly refinished it. I took lessons, but never quite learned to play with any facility. When my daughter expressed a desire for it, I was very happy.

When her crew of friends who came to help move it were done with loading, I encouraged each of them to choose a piece of art from the house to take as a thank you. It gave me peace and joy to know that those objects would be kept in the light, and viewed with pleasure by these people and their friends. The alternative was storage in darkness.

Take those superfluous cork pullers, and all the whatever else… take it straight to Goodwill Industries, and help others to uncork some wine.

It’s the best feeling ever.

DISPATCHES FROM RETIREMENT

Tap…tap. Is this thing still on?

It’s been a very long time.

Revisiting the habit of writing is like trying to resume any exhausting activity that’s good for you, like aerobic exercise, or stretching. So easy to abandon, and difficult to pick up once more. However, the exhaustion is a false impression (one hopes), and the benefits for health, mental and physical, assert themselves in time. It only feels like heavy lifting at first.

Were there good reasons to have neglected this blog? No. And yes.

No, in that I’ve had access to ample time. Since my last post I’ve retired. The nature of time has changed remarkably for me. My days are full of it.

But yes, too, in that the trickle of passing time has become a rushing torrent; a veritable fire hose blasting past me. I brew my morning coffee, blink, and watch the sun setting.

A friend resumed writing after a long hiatus just today, and inspired me to do so, too. He spent a few words reflecting on why he’d stopped, but concluded saying, “I will end the excuses here. I simply did not write, which is also ok.”

Retirement is as full of needful and wasteful actions as working life, except one gets to chose them. That, and choosing the proportion of necessary to capricious effort falls to me. I’ve not been a good steward of those choices consistently. While it’s fine to review a news-page in the morning, do I really need to read WaPo, the New York Times, and The Guardian, all three? Do I absolutely need to hear what Stephen Colbert said last night? AND Seth Meyers, too?

Maybe I should clear the pine straw off the roof first.

And, certainly, I should resume the practice of writing, and maybe sharing that with the winds of the internet. More content to follow!

Thank you for listening.

Two People and a Sailboat

Two People and a Boat

Sea, Sailboat, Sunset Elliott and I have long been searching for something we can do together once he retires. At one point–a long time ago–I thought that might be flying, but the older I’ve gotten, the more frightened of that I’ve become, much to Elliott’s disappointment. Quilting isn’t really Elliott’s style, nor is running. Well, he runs–but he much prefers to do so by himself or just the two of us; races aren’t his thing. For me, however, the energy of a race and all of its people give me added energy. So, running’s out. Although we both like to read, that’s more of a solitary pleasure. Kayaking’s okay, but limited by weather and tides. We both vetoed golf, hunting, and a whole host of other ideas, for one reason or another.

Then we got invited to visit our friends Beth and Eric on their sailboat. I’d never been sailing before, and it was a perfect weekend. Slowly, the idea of getting our own boat took root. In June 2016, Elliott and I both attended the Windward School in Fernandina Beach for a weeklong sailing school, where both of us earned our ASA 104 certificates. (School isn’t nearly as easy as it used to be, let me tell you! Engine mechanics requires a bigger brain and a heftier vocabulary than I have, I’m afraid.)

We started visiting marinas wherever we went, drooling over sailboats, learning what we could about what we wanted and didn’t want. A well-maintained and gorgeous boat, Integrity, was just 25 feet long and we theoretically could step the mast ourselves if we wanted to join friends Cherie and Chris on the Great Loop–but sleeping would have been cramped and there was no kitchen. The Sneaky Tiki was gorgeous and everything we wanted, but a bit out of our price range. A 45-foot Bruce Roberts gave us a lot of room–but was probably more than two novices could easily handle. While Elliott searched and queried, I waited for the boat that would shout, “Pick me! Pick me!”

Sailing friends Kate and Fabio tied up in Jacksonville, just across the pier from Kathryn. Elliott visited the two of them, and it turned out the owner was getting ready to put Kathryn on the market. She’s a Tartan 37, and has had only the one owner since her manufacture up in Ohio in about 1980. We indicated our interest, and set up a sea trial a couple weeks later. She sails like a dream. Smooth, gorgeous, and definitely worth waiting for. I heard her say “Pick me!” loud and clear.

Like any good prospective boat owner, we’re having a survey done, in mid April. Boat surveyors act like home inspectors, checking into and under all the nooks and crannies that newbies like us wouldn’t think twice about. “See these bubbles here? That might indicate a bit of rot under the paint.” “Compression check shows one of your cylinders isn’t…doing its cylinder thing.” (Have I mentioned how I don’t understand engine mechanics…yet?)

Hopefully, Kathryn will pass her survey with flying colors. We’ll be down there that day, shadowing the inspector. If all goes well, she’ll get a new coat (or two!) of bottom paint, as long as she’s out of the water. And the next step will be moving her closer to us…and that means sailing!

I can’t wait.

Another new audiobook: ‘Dr Sam Sheppard on Trial’

Hot on the heels of ‘Resister’, my second non-fiction audiobook has been released: ‘Dr. Sam Sheppard on Trial: The Prosecutors and the Marilyn Sheppard Murder’.sam-sheppard-on-trial

Marilyn Sheppard, four months pregnant and mother of a toddler son, was bludgeoned to death in her Bay Village, Ohio, home in the early morning of July fourth, 1954. The cause of death was 27 blows to the head with a heavy instrument. Who took her life so brutally has been the subject of much controversy and debate for over half a century. Was it her husband, Dr. Sam Sheppard, who was convicted in what was then called “the Trial of the Century”, in the case that helped inspire the TV series and the movie The Fugitive?
Or was the killer, as Dr. Sam claimed, a “bushy-haired intruder”? Or could it have been Richard Eberling, the window washer who worked for the family, as the Sheppard’s son, Sam Reese Sheppard, believes? Dr. Sam spent 10 years in prison before the US Supreme Court overturned the initial verdict in an important legal decision, determining that the doctor did not receive a fair trial due to excessive press coverage.

Defended by F. Lee Bailey in his second trial in Cleveland, Sheppard was found not guilty of his wife’s murder. And then in 2000, in what has been referred to as “the Retrial of the Century”, Sam Reese Sheppard attempted to prove in a civil trial, while suing the State of Ohio for millions of dollars, that his father had been wrongly incarcerated.

This volume presents a comprehensive and final analysis of this controversial case from the perspective of the prosecutors. Jack DeSario, together with co-author William D. Mason, the chief attorney for Cuyahoga County, Ohio, provides all the facts, evidence, expert testimony, both old and new statements of the principals in this case, which concluded in April 2000.

Hear an excerpt, and buy the audiobook here, at Audible.com .

Please note this: If you become a new member at Audible, and make ‘Sam Sheppard’ your first paid purchase, it earns me a BONUS royalty that pastes a big smile on my face. (Let me know, and I’ll buy you a beer!)

You can hear samples from my other narrations at my professional site, Spoken-Arts.Swiftpassage .

©2003 The Kent State University Press (P)2014 Redwood Audiobooks

The new audiobook is out! ‘Resister’ by Bruce Dancis

resisterThis makes my third narration in release, and I’m well-pleased with it. It’s a story filled with a history I lived through, and close to home geographically, as well, set between metropolitan New York City, and Cornell University in Ithaca, NY.

The author, Bruce Dancis, tells of the commitment he and other student radicals of the ’60’s shared in their effort to stop the Vietnam war. The act of resisting conscription was deeply radical, a felony punishable by a crushing fine and hard time.  Dancis and his fellows in the Students for a Democratic Society did their best to inspire thousands to follow their example of destroying their draft cards, and flooding the legal system with “resisters”; young men refusing to support the  pointless and illegal war in Asia.

If you grew up in the 60s, and even if you didn’t, you’ll find this story engaging.  The times it describes are relevant to today. The turmoil of an unjust and unjustifiable war then can be related to the shocks and stresses of today.  The political and racial divisions of that time continue even now.  I recommend Dancis’ book as a powerful and personal testiment.

Hear a sample from the audiobook at Audible.com , and please know this: if you are a new customer at Audible, and make ‘Resister’ your first paid purchase, it garners a BONUS royalty for the narrator. Thanks!

You can hear samples of my other audiobooks at SpokenArts, my production web site, as well. The are ‘The Calamari Kleptocracy‘ by Nicholas Sansone, and ‘Headwind’ by Christopher Hudson.

Thanks for listening!

 

Sowing Dragon’s Teeth

I just finished an eye-opening book today: ‘Imperial Life in the Emerald City’ by Rajiv Chandrasekaran. It’s a journalist’s memoir of the occupation of Iraq which focuses not on the military aspects of the invasion but rather on the abject failure of planning and policy in the ensuing occupation. It’s a clear and well annotated account of a story that’s never been reported to the American people, except in the most vague of terms.

The Bush administration filled the CPA (Coalition Provisional Authority) with inept cronies, in preference to skilled non-partisan diplomats from the State Department. To rebuild Iraq’s health care system, they replaced an experienced ex-Navy physician-administator who had coordinated health care on a Kurdish mission with a conservative Michigan party hack, who devoted his time in Iraq to privatizing the country’s state-run pharmaceutical distribution system; an agency which due to looting had no drugs to distribute in the first place.big imperial

Six days before the hand-over of sovereignty to the Iraq-interim government, 2.4 BILLION dollars in US monies, IN CASH, specifically $100 bills, was transported into Baghdad, and transferred into purposes as yet unaccounted for. An additional 6 billion more in conventional money transfers can be added to that sum for the month preceding, also never accounted for. And those figures are a tiny fraction of the total squandered in the money-pit of the occupation.

The incompetance and corruption was everywhere. In instance after instance reported in Chandrasekaran’s book, it is clear that the CPA was focused on removing that which once actually served the Iraqi people, Saddam’s socialist infrastructure, rather than rebuilding that which two gulf wars had destroyed: the power grid, water system, and public infrastructure.

The occupation of Iraq completely destabilized that nation, led to the death of tens of thousands of their people, and now ten years after, has left a vacuum of tribal and civil warfare that continues with no end in sight. The greatest irony is that the Neo-conservative cronies in charge of the occupation are the ones most at fault for engendering the power of the present-day Shiite-led majority government.

Prior to the 2003 invasion of Iraq it could not be demonstrated that Al Quaida held ANY sway or influence in Iraq. Today they definitely ARE waging civil war in open revolt in Fallujah, while the government does what it can with the US trained and armed Iraqi
forces.  As a nation, it seems we’re always “sewing dragon’s teeth” abroad. Oh, well. At least the oil keeps flowing.

I experienced this book as an audiobook offering from Audible, narrated by Ray Porter, whose work is very fine indeed. Non-fiction narration can often be terribly dry and disinteresting, but Porter’s cadences, voicings, and use of foreign accents where called for kept this book alive and fascinating throughout.

Find it here at Amazon, or here at Audible.com.

Ann of Two Thousand Days

Ann of Two Thousand Days

As I go about my daily tasks–editing, running, cooking, what have you–I find myself increasingly obsessed with going to Mars. This has been going on for more than a month, ever since I got the Round 2 notification from Mars One in late December–a fact which played havoc with my carefully thought-out New Year’s resolutions. I had to revise them, and that did not make me happy. Contrariwise, it did add happiness and excitement and many wasted hours of dreaming to my day-to-day life.

Along about New Year’s, I also read an insightful post (contact me if you want details, as I’m simply too lazy to look them up right now) that in brief stated, “Don’t make a weighing-you-down list of things to do, like chores; instead, make a list of how you want to be, and tailor the list to achieving those “to be” goals. To be, instead of to do. I want to be a Martian. (Incidentally, I also want to be athletic, confident, and uncluttered–but when I think about it, Martian covers it all.)

So, I want to be a Martian. I passed my physical in January. The next step (it’s now early February) is an interview, probably sometime after April. I can’t wait that long. I have to wait that long. Grrrrrrr. The longer the wait, the more I do the “negative talking thing” to myself. I see a list of “Five People I Want to Go to Mars With” and I’m not on it. What do they know that I don’t know? Others get interviews; I send out feelers and get nothing. (I admit, self-promotion is not one of my fortés.) Other applicants are rocket scientists, physicists, mechanics, astrobiologists. I’m a … and here I draw a blank. I tell myself to start learning basic mechanics–that seems like a necessary skill. But when my outside weather display stops giving me outdoor temperatures on a really cold day and needs more than a change of batteries, I hand it to my husband, the mechanical genius. I should learn from him, I really should. Instead, I walk out to the front porch and feel the temperature. Yes, still too cold to run.

Should I be lucky (not skilled, not smart–remember what I said about self-promotion?) enough to go to Round 3, I’ll have to figure out why they want me, other than being an older person with limited life expectancy anyway. Having decent people skills and being a nice person seem like poor skills to list on a resume to be an astronaut. I can kind of garden in sandy soil, but that doesn’t seem much of a recommendation either, although it might have application to the dusty soil of Mars. I wish I’d paid more attention to tenth-grade chemistry class, the one that convinced me I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was.

ALL NEW AeroGarden EXTRA

And then Round 4, which consists of (roughly) two thousand days of training. That would be wonderful, magnificent, marvelous! I could train, I could learn anything they want to teach me. Astrophysics? No sweat. Microbiology? You got it. And then my New Year’s resolution hits: Why wait? Ack! How can I narrow it down? Maybe I should go fix my Aerogrow, the hydroponic garden that sits on my counter–or did, till it broke. You can fix it, Ann; it’s not rocket science. Yet.

(Elliott–if you’re reading this and you come home to a torn apart, nonfunctional, machine sitting on the kitchen counter and a despondent wife scratching her head, feel free to–gently, quietly–help put it back together.)

Cedar Key Nomadic New Year Convergence

We spent a week at Cedar Key,  getting home yesterday feeling rested and contented. We have a special friendship with a community of people who live the peripatetic life: They are nomadic, you see, working jobs they can perform most anywhere, most of them. Oh, some of these folks self-describe as retired, but in truth are roaming, seeking, and working at all manner of things along their paths.  Many of these folks converged at Cedar Key for New Year’s Eve a year ago, and the same tribe (with many new representatives) did so again last week.

It was a colder winter there this year, and with a pair of rainy days that had our little camper, The LeSharo, dripping a bit from around the ceiling vent, but this didn’t dampen our spirits. We walked, and ran, and did yoga during the week, and made new friends every day of our stay.

We participated in ‘Bar Wars’ for the evening of NYE; an event where contestants made and served cocktails of every description, sharing favorite recipes. I fixed Vodka Gummy Worms, with hilarious results. Pro tip: I should have started them three DAYS earlier for best results. They are far too chewy after only 3 hours.

We read, and read, and read in our snug little camper on the slack hours, and dined here and there,  sharing fixings and condiments in the rolling home of our friends. It’s easy to imagine doing this sort of thing when it’s time to hang up my clinical job, oh, many years from now.

In recent reading, I’ve learned that human beings were massively changed by the advent of agriculture, being fixed to tilled land, their nomadic ways arrested by cleaving to one place. For one thing, sharing basic needs was curtailed. Acquisitiveness, ownership, and guarding one’s “lot” came to replace general sharing of everything.  Human “classes” came into being. Agriculture, while it sustains more complex civilizations, does not improve the welfare of all, but balances the improvements enjoyed by landowners and their “priests” on the backs of the balance of the closed tribe, and fully excludes “The Other”, all those wanderers who exist outside the fringes of the one tribe. Workers and Warriors support Landowners and Priests, unified in the task of excluding and defending against The Other,  even if they all share the same basic DNA. Peace cannot be a part of this construct.  Sadly, it always comes down to Us and Them.New Year Ann 2014

It is so ironic that in The Book of Genesis it says that Adam and Eve were cast out of The Garden, to toil ever after in their own damned garden. God’s Garden was the free range, where Wanderers gathered of  The Plenty, and shared freely.

Modern motorhome nomads tend to emulate God’s Garden and ancient nomads because it rapidly builds Community among transients in the moment of being together.  It is warm, and lovely, and just the best thing ever. I’ll give you an instance: One afternoon this past week, there was a spontaneous “Swap Meet”: people brought things they’d found themselves carrying around that they had no use for. People laid stuff out, and people just admired, and conversed, and tried on old hats, and laughed over hip-waders and cookware. And eventually, everything was picked up, and stowed away in EACH OTHERS ROLLING HOMES! If any money changed hands in this process, I never saw  it happen.New Year Technomadia 2014

Nomads are like that. I just love being around them. As a lesson for the New Year, and all the years ahead, it’s one to bear in mind: Be open to others, share what you have, and love beyond the limits of your own  “tribe”. If you drop your fences, and wander “outside”, you will be astonished at what you receive, and the freedom that you find.

On My Way to Mars, One Step at a Time

I am one of the 1,058 worldwide applicants who were chosen to continue in Round 2 of the selection process for Mars One (and apparently one of only 20 or so over the age of 55 in the United States).

How do I feel about this? Excited, hands down.

But perhaps I’m in denial. Why me? I’m not *that* special. The whole thing is kind of unreal, hard to believe. I have to pinch myself. Maybe they only had 1,100 applicants and 42 of them screwed up the application by mistyping their own email address? Maybe their PR guys told them to accept a bunch of old people so they wouldn’t get sued? Whatever the reason, whether there were only 2,000 applications or 200,000, I’m still in the running–and I’m taking it seriously. Wheeeee!

Why Mars? Well, duh: Because it’s there. And it’s part of a big mystery, a puzzle waiting to be solved. Do I really believe there are aliens there? Not really. Alien lifeforms? Well, maybe fungus or something, though I think it’s unlikely. My science knowledge is somewhat sketchy. We won’t know till we get there, will we? (And by that time, I hope I’ve soaked up a bit more knowledge about such things. And mechanical stuff. Have I mentioned that’s not my forté?)

I’m okay with it being a one-way trip, I really am. That’s not to say, I won’t miss Elliott–I will, enormously. And I’ll really miss the girls. How will their lives turn out? Will they be happy? I’ll never have the chance to hold grandchildren, but maybe I’ll be a part of an opportunity for those potential grandchildren, or somebody else’s grandchildren. We’re doing a pretty good job messing up this planet; I’d like to think I could help get started on the right track on another one where we’re maybe not so insensitive to what’s around us. (Note to daughters: Do not go out and get pregnant on my account…No! No no no no no no no!)

But that’s assuming I even make it. I will be in the neighborhood of 72 years old at the time this takes off, and probably somewhat akin to the canary in the coal mine. After all, if a 72-year-old dies trying to repair a whatchamacallit off the whosit somewhere out in deep space on a long leash (remember, mechanical stuff is not my forté), everyone can say I had a long, happy, exciting life. If a 23-year-old dies, it’s a PR nightmare. (Who, off the Challenger, do you remember most? The young happy teacher and mother of young kids or the older professionals? Can you even name someone other than Christa McAuliffe?)

Why me? Maybe because I don’t have an agenda, other than seeing this whole thing work on Mars. Not just work, I’ll say thrive. I want the Mars One colony to thrive on Mars. I don’t want to populate it with evangelican Christian babies (or fill in whatever group you want); I don’t want to exploit it more than necessary; I don’t care whether people are Democrats or Republicans. Okay, yes, I do have an agenda: to make it worthy of a dream for someone else to follow. Idealistic? Heck, yes.

Or maybe because they were desperate? Nah, I’d rather think the selection panel was intelligent, discriminating, and persnickety. Yeah, I would.

Mars One is a nonprofit organization geared toward getting humans on Mars in about 2024. You can find out more information at http://www.mars-one.com, and they have a fundraiser at Indiegogo, http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/mars-one-first-private-mars-mission-in-2018. (Fundraising will be, I suspect, a key part of applicants’ ability to progress…though I’m not a salesperson. Go look, see if you think it’s worthwhile, fund if you do. There.)

I’ll keep you posted…eventually. In the meantime, if you see me wearing a bracelet that says WWMD and I’m doing something particularly crazy, it does NOT mean What Would Morons Do.