Alexandersmap

    Month: September 2019

    • Go Above Your Nerve

      “If your Nerve, deny you—

      Go above your Nerve”

      – Emily Dickinson

      How the hell did I go all these years without reading that Dickinson poem? Too much time not reading poetry, I’d say. And not casting the net farther. That’s on me, but I’m catching up. Learning is a lifetime sport, and I woke up this morning still very much alive.

      I first felt the whispers of Dickinson when I coached at Amherst College. She lived in Amherst, appropriately there’s a Dickinson museum there, and a thriving community of scholars too. The Amherst air is full of her whispers. But I wasn’t ready to hear them, and left after a year following other voices.

      Perhaps if I’d read this poem before I left I may have listened more. I heard other voices then. The call of other places made it hard to hear. A shame it took so long really, but I’m catching up now. Emily was patiently waiting, and she whispers to me now:

      “If your Nerve, deny you—

      Go above your Nerve

      He can lean against the Grave,

      if he fail to swerve”

      Do you hear her whisper? Get on with it already. What are you afraid of?

    • Frogs and Acorns and Autumn Joy

      I’m not going to sugarcoat it, the garden is fading fast.  Sure, there’s crisp fall air to appreciate if you must.  Autumn is my favorite season, and particularly this year I’m excited about an upcoming trip to London and Scotland.  But this year summer ended abruptly with two events changing the backyard paradise I worked all spring for.

      The first affront to summer was having the roof done.  A new roof is a lovely thing indeed, but the damage done to the summer garden was catastrophic.  Some of it was my own doing of course – strategic weed wacker work through the faded bee balm and daisies to carve a path for the inevitable tarps and plywood needed to catch the roof debris.  But alas, a few prized perennials caught errant shingles as well.  The garden will rebound next year, but it may hold a grudge.

      Second, the pool is covered over for winter weeks earlier than normal.  I can hear the condensation drips splashing into the pool now, saying “What happened to the sky?” while frogs circle the perimeter wondering where the trendy amphibious nightclub went.  I expect I’ve ruined a lot of frog dates closing shop so early.  Sorry frogs.  Not seeing the water hurts me too, but not as much as watching acorns ricochet off the deck, bounce across the patio and splash into the pool to serve as beach balls for coy frog daters.  Autumn is called fall for a reason, and we’ve got some serious fall happening.  Something had to give and this year it was pool season.

      So what we’re left with is a few survivors dancing in the garden, faded potted tropicals wondering where they went wrong in life, and the extraordinary Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ standing proudly amongst the destruction in the garden; a miracle of color in an otherwise sad garden.  Even the roofers seemed to be rooting for it, and I appreciate their protective efforts as so many of her neighbors fell.

      So here we are.  Autumn in New Hampshire.  A bit different this year, but autumn nonetheless. September eases you into it, with apples and pumpkins and outdoor evening fires.  October will bring the foliage and then the leaves grudgingly join the acorns scattered throughout the yard (there’s no walking barefoot at night in September when you have oak trees).  Autumn joy indeed.

       

    • I Mourn for the Undiscovered

      Up early, reading some Robert Frost poetry I don’t remember reading before.  I’m mesmerized by a line and read on.  I get like this.

      Millions of songs on iTunes, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s out there despite a lifetime focus on music.  I’ve spent huge chunks of my time exploring new music, Shazam’ing songs in loud bars and quiet coffee café and back in the day hanging out in used record stores in Harvard Square trying to find that one gem, that magical song.  And I’ve found many over the years.  Eclectic collection perhaps, but dammit, interesting.

      A bucket list of places to see, and slowly I chip away at it.  My list grows shorter, not because I don’t want to go to all the other places, but because I want to focus on the specific few.  Linger in special places, like listening to a song over and over until you really know it.  Instead of trying to chase everything in a spin of futility.  No, not that.  Give me Thoreau at Walden or Hemingway in Key West.  Or Frost in Derry.  I’ve visited each of these places and understand the power of immersion it had on them.

      I mourn for the undiscovered songs, poems, books and places.  The conversation you never had with a grandparent.  The sunrise you slept through, the lonely beach you didn’t stroll on in winter, the ridge line you didn’t cross, the Northern Lights that danced unseen, the big city that woke up without you, the swims in bracingly cold water and salt on the tongue that you’ll never taste; the places you’ll never be.

      We can’t be everywhere of course.  But I’ll do my best to be present in this moment at least.  Tomorrow will come and I hope to see it.  But don’t mourn for losing today if I should get there.

    • Boston’s Changing Seaport

      When you walk, or worse, drive through Boston’s Seaport area you see an explosive leap to the sky (capped by height restrictions from nearby Logan Airport). At the same time every inch of available real estate is being gobbled up in a feeding frenzy of leveraged transactions. All this construction encroaches on the roads, closing sidewalks and lanes, wiping out parking lots and small businesses. What grows is beautiful and modern, if challenging to navigate in the short term.

      The seaport used to be desolate 30 years ago. Cross over Fort Point Channel and…. not much. An active seaport to be sure, and fishing piers, a seldom-used Hynes Convention Center, a few restaurants but not much else. Talk of the Red Sox and Patriots opening a shared sports complex blew up in political opposition. But then the Federal Courthouse opened up, with prime water views. A larger Massachusetts Convention Center opened along with an outdoor concert venue popped up. Then Legal Seafoods opened a large restaurant and there was wind in the sails. And suddenly the floodgates opened up.

      Today the Seaport is madness, thriving and accelerating in growth. High end steakhouses, trendy beer gardens, hotels and mixed-use buildings everywhere. The only thing they neglected was open public space and the infrastructure to support the crush of people commuting in and out. Surely there’s a grand plan for that, but honestly it seems the city is just winging it on mass transit and the roads.

      I finish this post still in the Seaport, but now at Trillium Brewing Company. An IPA and a pause before driving home. Wait out the traffic and get out of dodge. But [please] don’t do it under the influence of an IPA. There’s plenty of business in the Seaport, but New Hampshire and home calls. But perhaps a 4-pack to bring home with me… call it a souvenir if you will.

    • Move to Live

      “To be human is to be on the move, pursuing something, after something. We are like existential sharks: we have to move to live.” James K. A. Smith

      Early start today, and my routine was subsequently turned upside down. Writing and exercise were postponed for commuting and work tasks. And so be it, here I am writing, and the exercise will happen this evening instead. We all need a little agility to effectively navigate life’s twists and turns.  If I look back on this summer, I’ll say I regret not swimming more, not hiking more, not taking more late night star gazing walks….  but also not meeting with more customers, not writing more, not reading more.  I do something, but I could do more.

      It all counts. Do more. Keep moving forward or we atrophy and die. Existential sharks… moving to live.  Write the book, start the business, ask for the date, take on the project, take the chance today on something bolder than you might have done yesterday.  Fortune favors the bold, after all.

      “Make mistakes of ambition and not mistakes of sloth.” – Machiavelli

      James Clear highlighted this Machiavelli quote in his weekly newsletter and it hit me like jumping into a cold lake early in the morning (something I’ve been known to do):  Boom!  You’ve got my attention!  I’ve made many mistakes of sloth over the years – we all have, but use Machiavelli’s advice and choose your mistakes wisely.

      “Some say risk nothing, try only for the sure thing,
      Others say nothing gambled nothing gained,
      Go all out for your dream.
      Life can be lived either way, but for me,
      I’d rather try and fail, than never try at all, you see.

      Some say “Don’t ever fall in love,
      Play the game of life wide open,
      Burn your candle at both ends.”
      But I say “No! It’s better to have loved and lost,
      Than never to have loved at all, my friend.”

      When many moons have gone by,
      And you are alone with your dreams of yesteryear,
      All your memories will bring you cheer.
      You’ll be satisfied, succeed or fail, win or lose,
      Knowing the right path you did choose.”

      – William F. O’Brien, “Better To Try And Fail Than Never To Try At All”

      Well, there it is; Go all out for your dream.  ’tis better to try and fail than never try at all.  Make the mistake of action instead of the mistake of sloth. Keep moving forward. Be an existential shark already.

    • Moving Past the K-Cup

      Plastic.  It seems to be all anyone is talking about now.  And not in that this is the future way that The Graduate portrayed.  Plastic has come full circle as it’s accumulated so much over the last 50 years that we can’t avoid the reality that it’s a real problem.  And so the plastic straw and the plastic single use bags at the grocery store are under attack.  In this way the younger generation is way ahead.  Both of my college-age children are well beyond the thought process of my generation.

      I hear people mock the straw shaming – but I’ve heard this all before when change hits home.  People mocked ADA compliance when it hit their wallets, or political correctness when it came to changing the names of their school’s mascots (I was a “Chief” in college, so I know how divisive this was).  Change is hard, and especially hard when it begins to hit the way you’ve always done things.  We get used to convenience, and there’s nothing more convenient than plastic stuff.

      I’ve recycled plastic for 30 years.  I diligently put my plastic bottles in the recycling bin and place it on the curb.  When you had to separate your plastics from cardboard I’d be in the garage making sure everything was separate.  And I celebrated when I didn’t have to do that anymore.  So moving to cardboard or reusable straws?  Slightly inconvenient, but not that big a deal.  Moving back to paper bags or bringing my own bags to the grocery store?  Habit more than a convenience issue.  I’ll be fine.  In fact, the only thing that has proven to be challenging for me is the damned K-cups.

      I’m a coffee lover.  And I’ve made coffee just about every way you can.  I don’t even mind the ritual of making a pot of coffee in the morning.  In fact, I used to love it.  But I’m trying to drink less coffee and if I make a pot I’ll drink a pot.  Make half a pot?  You’re making too much sense.  I’ve tried French presses, single cup drip coffee makers, and all of that assorted coffee gear that’s been out there for years.  Except for one.  The AeroPress.  I’ve seen the AeroPress in action as my nephew used it for his coffee.  I’ve given the AeroPress as a gift to friends who are sailing around the world and blogging about it.  But I hadn’t purchased one for myself…  until now.

      I can’t reconcile the waste associated with K-cups.  I’ve had just about enough of them.  And so this morning I’ve finally brewed my first cup of coffee with an AeroPress.  From a timing standpoint the Keurig has it beat, but not by much.  If I adjust the amount of water I boil in the kettle to a single cup, turn the Keurig on to heat water at the same time I’m boiling water, then go through the brewing experience the AeroPress is very close to the same time.  I timed my second brew (with boiling water ready to go) and it took me 3 minutes start to finish, including cleanup.  If you figure a minute for a Keurig with pre-heated water, I’m saving two minutes per cup with a K-cup.  I can live with the extra two minutes, as the process of brewing the cup is meditative – something I’ve missed with Keurig.

      The benefits are hard to ignore.  The coffee tastes FAR superior!  I was using a bag of Peets coffee that’s been sitting in my cabinet for the entire summer and it blew away the K-cup.  I imagine a fresh bag will be amazing.  And I had none of the mess of a French press.  Simply unscrew the filter, pop out the coffee plug and rinse.  Done!  Looking at the biodegradable coffee and paper filter in the trash felt a lot better than seeing a plastic K-cup in there.  And I have the option of composting the coffee plug to amend my garden soil for an even greener experience.

      So here’s one man’s experience with taking a step away from the K-cup.  The AeroPress is highly portable, easy to clean, and makes truly excellent coffee in close to the time that a K-cup takes.  The cost of a K-cup averages $.60 cents USD.  A bag of really great coffee will be a fraction of that per cup.  So I’m saving money, creating less waste, and drinking better coffee.  I feel better already.

    • Opting In

      “A man is worked upon by what he works on.” – Frederick Douglass

      I’m not a photographer by profession, but I fill Instagram with pictures.

      I’m not an author by profession, but this will be my 416th blog post.

      I’m not a horticulturist. but I’ve spent hundreds of hours painting vibrant portraits with amended soil and pruning shears.

      And so on…

      We aren’t what we want to be, we’re what we do. Theodore Roosevelt’s Man in the Arena comes to mind. There are too many cavalier critics in the world. Too many armchair quarterbacks. Get out there and do something already! Opt in and act. Memento mori; remember we all must die, so do something meaningful while you’re here!

      “People get the mind and quality of brain that they deserve through their actions in life… people who are passive create a mental landscape that is rather barren. Because of their limited experiences and action, all kinds of connections in the brain die off from lack of use. Pushing against the passive trend of these times, you must work to see how far you can extend control of your circumstances and create the kind of mind you desire.” – Robert Greene, Mastery

      The more you do, the more you become. And the more interesting you become. Being interesting is a byproduct of being interested. Being interesting to others of course isn’t the objective, but being interesting with others should be. Engagement offers enlightenment. The curious mind is alive, vibrant and accretive, the disinterested mind is on life support, dull and diminishing.

      Hobbies like gardening and photography aren’t going to get me invited to do a TED talk mind you, but they do make the world a little better, move some electrons around in the brain, and hopefully give me something more to contribute than someone less interested in opting in. If you’re still talking about your conquests in college when you’re over 50 or freeze up when the conversation goes beyond last week’s game you aren’t really growing, are you? Writing for me is no longer a hobby, but not [yet] a profession. Blogging, fueled by travel, reading and curiosity, is my apprenticeship; Teaching consistency, discipline and the art of putting words together from the mind to the screen. I’ll never use this blog to make money, but hope to enrich myself in other ways in the process of daily, consistent writing. I owe that to myself.

    • Sassafras

      Serendipity placed me in front of sassafras twice in almost exactly 24 hours. Yesterday I was with a friend and expert forager who saw it on the edge of the woods. He pointed out each of the three unique leaves of the sassafras tree and pulled out a small root for me to smell.

      Today I visited the Aptucxet Trading Post Museum in Bourne, Massachusetts and what do I see but a sassafras tree! The museum guide pointed out the leaves, scratched the root to have me smell and it was déjà vu all over again.

      The original tea that settlers in North America drank and exported was made from the root of the sassafras tree. Sassafras was used for other things ranging from shipbuilding to toothbrushes, but when you smell it you probably think of root beer. And of course you’d be right; the oil from sassafras root gives flavor and the name to root beer. That was my favorite soft drink growing up. I don’t drink it sugary drinks anymore, but at the moment I’m craving some root beer. Instead, I purchased some sassafras tea from the gift store at the Aptucxet Trading Post Museum and will make a sugar-free sassafras drink. And toast the tree it came from.

    • Flight Delays and a Dose of 80’s Arena Rock

      Strobe lights probed the crack in the curtains, finding my eyes. Loud rumble of thunder found the ears shortly after. A glance at the clock confirms what I feared. 1:14 AM and under two hours until the alarm on my phone is set to go off. 2:54 and various atttempts at sleep, meditation and mental math have carried me to the inevitable and I was up before the alarm. I’d switched to a morning flight when the evening flight delays and cancellations started stacking up, grabbing a room at a Doubletree I’ve spent too many nights in over the years.

      Too early for the airport. I know this. But the alternative is to toss around in bed trying to squeeze an hour more sleep out of the night. Not me. So I shuttle over to the airport with a crew of Spirit Airlines talkers listening to which airports have quiet places to sleep when your flight plans get blown up. Finally in the airport, too early for TSA Pre-Check, but with only 12 people in front of me who cares? The guy in front of me, that’s who. We all handle sleep deprivation differently. In the morning, no matter the sleep pattern, I simply don’t care about slight affronts to my Pre-Check ego.

      Gliding my carry-on through the airport I try to avoid waking up the nappers trapped in the airport. If I had a restless sleep in my hotel they surely have more to say. I won’t be the one to wake them up. Looking out at the sheets of rain rolling down the glass punctuated by heat lightning I wonder if I should have just stayed at the hotel. Flight is still listed as on time, and all I have is optimism and a healthy dose of hope that this flight goes as planned.

      Talking heads on CNN analyze last night’s debate. My noise canceling headphones barely overcome the volume of the speakers blasting through the waiting areas. I count my blessings again for getting a hotel room. This trip on balance is still positive, but it’s also another vote for less business travel. Time is fleeting, and this is no way to spend it.

      “Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.” – Homer

      I revisit this Homer quote at times when optimism wanes. That hasn’t happened just yet but I have it at the ready. The other is “This too shall pass”. And it will, so I roll with the changes, like that REO Speedwagon song, which sounds like the perfect choice to drown out debate talk right about now. And just like that the pulse quickens just enough. It’s going to be a good day.

      And then before I know it we’re at 34,000 feet and things look brighter. Things do pass, given time and patience. I keep reminding myself of that, and the world keeps reinforcing it in return.

    • Early Morning on Navy Pier

      East Ohio Street leads right to Lake Michigan, as so many other roads in Chicago do. This road ends at a tunnel under North Shore Drive into Jane Addams Memorial Park and the Navy Pier beyond. As with most things, being out on the water a bit changes your perspective of the world, and on my last morning in Chicago I finally got out there.

      The city was shaking off some overnight rain, and fog was descending quickly as the sun rose. In that brief window I caught a glimpse of sunrise, appreciated the good fortune and took in the waking Navy Pier. Boats all docked, restaurants all closed, just the joggers, dog walkers, construction workers and me. And one tractor driving noisily by on its way out to the end of the pier. I grumbled to myself about the noise until I looked up and realized what he was doing. There’s a row of flags at the end of Navy Pier, and all were at half staff to commemorate the anniversary of 9/11. This gentleman was riding out to raise the flags. I caught up to him as he was completing the raising of the first, paused for a moment and moved on. There was a lot of “where were you” talk yesterday, and it was interesting to hear how people from around the country took in the events of that day.

      Making the turn and heading back to the hotel the fog began to swallow buildings. There’s beauty in fog too, and I took in Chicago from this perspective. Beautiful city and a joy to behold. Reflection time over, its time to move ahead with the day.