The Ancecdotal Life Part. 45

We would like to mark the passing of a beautiful, fighting spirit, named Amelia Callam. She was seventeen and fought through every invasion that cancer can throw at a person with outrageous determination and while maintaining an unbelievable cheerful demeanor. Her family and our family have been friends and neighbors at the LAKE for a century it seems.... and with good reason. The only comfort for myself at these times is what my mom told me when I was little. I think she was quoting a Maine tombstone she had seen or read about. " Here lies Jonathon Peas. It's only his pod. Peas shelled out and went home to God." I always felt that said it all.
Copyright: December 27, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part. 44

On one occasion when I went to town "up north" in Michigan, I paused to read a sign on the door of a business that sold supplies to fisherman. It gave the store's hours. " 11:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. ( sometimes earlier, sometimes later... mostly later.) I envied the store owner and loved the sign. Well, my blog has begun to look a little like that. I began by blogging twice a week. Then the boating season began. Well you can't blame a girl for slowing down a little on her writing then can you? Then four courses began about boating. Very understandable if one slowed down. Then Christmas. etc, etc. So I guess this is a once a week blog occurring either Wednesday or Thursday.
This week has been a nuthouse of family obligations and upsets. An entire apartment house burned down just a street or two away. My cat was horribly sick and I had to wash all the rugs. But in the middle of the week I had a dream about my boat. I dreamt I was on my boat and going over some very low water, so low that it eventually meant I was plowing through mud. It didn't seem that I could make it through, but my boat never faltered and kept going steadily forward, breaking through to clear dark water and then suddenly, I was safe at a dock. A man with a hat sat with his back to me working on the boat. Near him was a musical instrument. I wasn't sure who he was, but I knew he was a friend and being helpful. That dream has given me solace every time I think of it. Next week's journey home to Michigan is going to be tough, but my son has generously given me his Delta frantic flyer minutes for the ticket and my oldest sister, Diane, will meet me so that we can visit my second oldest sister, Ann, together. Sounds like "A Long Day's Journey Into Night"when I think about it.
Copyright: December 14, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part. 43

Well, I did it. I went back to the marina yard , borrowed a ladder, climbed with faintheart to the top, had to swing my leg up over the transom and roll myself over the side of my boat and finish up details I had neglected in my hurry to put boating behind for the season. I am tired of being scared to death for a while. You'd think all the boating courses would help, but they don't. One instructor hit it on the head when he said "You've got too much imagination." Well yeah, but it serves me well in art and writing... and in problem solving (as long as it's not math). And I must say on my behalf they don't make it easy. All four courses deal with what can go wrong. Fires, explosions from various, numerous and sundry sources, collisions, lightning, broaching your boat in high seas, pitchpoling your boat or merely burying the bow in high seas, man over board, self over board, hypothermia ( immediate and long term), running aground on shoals , wrecks and what have you, miscalculation due to a dozen "blonde mistakes" or fog , wind, current. There are nine hundred ninety nine signals using flags, flares, whistles, bells, flashlights, mirrors, not to forget electronic equipment, radios and etc. Nothing to it. The chilling stories from all boaters and that horrible movie, The Perfect Storm all compile why not to boat. But I bet I will be back at it next spring. Please, don't anybody send any scary things I may have neglected to think of. I will be busy taking care of that on my own.
Copyright: December 7th, 2006