Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • Fences on Bridges

      When you live in the north, you don’t even see them most of the time. And why would you? When you’re driving you’ve got other things to worry about, like other cars and large mammals leaping in front of your vehicle. There’s plenty of evidence of how that ends for the mammal dotted along the roadways. So inanimate objects understandably don’t get a lot of attention, especially when the inanimate object is a chain link fence atop a bridge you’re driving under. But I think about those fences, and was reminded why last week.

      There’s only one purpose to fencing edging the sides of bridges; to keep what’s on the bridge from plummeting off the bridge to the ground or road below. This is critical for keeping, say, an avalanche of snow coming off a snowplow from suddenly blinding the vision of an unsuspecting driver when it lands on their windshield. I’ve experienced this, and don’t recommend seeking it out in your winter travels.

      The fencing also serves to keep people from accidentally or deliberately exiting the bridge using the side exits. And I was reminded of this purpose last week as I drove down I-90 last week, looked up and saw the flowers. And the flowers reminded me of the darkest day in a college friend’s life, when he looked over that bridge and saw his daughter lying on the side of the road, feet from where I was driving last week, almost two years since he held her lifeless body in that place. She’d climbed over that fence in the middle of the night, and forever shattered many lives as she ended hers. I’m shattered for them, still.

      And now I look at bridge fences differently, especially that one. I’m grateful for the people the fences keep in to live another day, and mournful for the families of those who didn’t find the necessary impediment to their darkest inclination of the moment. May the fences be taller than the depths of someone else’s darkest moment.

    • Doing Things That Matter

      A little more than a year into my focus on daily habits, the overall the results are encouraging.  James Clear’s Atomic Habits poured gasoline on my focus on doing things that matter every day,  beginning with small things like reading more, writing every day and exercise.  It started with changing the routine when I got up in the morning, where once I’d consume sports media, check email, scroll through social media or play Words With Friends first thing in the morning, I started focusing on the very small habits that might move me forward.  Exercise to get the blood flowing, reading to get the brain matter firing on all cylinders, and writing, to finally do what I’ve been putting off for most of my life.  These aren’t everything that matter in my life, but they were the things I was pushing aside to focus on the other things.

      Priorities remain: family and work obligations come first, but following close behind are the daily habits. In fact, each habit improves the quality of my life, which improves the whole. Pretty simple, really, if you just incorporate the right habits and build them into your routine.  I’ve seen tangible momentum in all three, with the writing on this blog a measure of proof to consistency.  You’ll have to take my word for it on the exercise, and just like the writing daily habits add up over time.  I’ve seen the scale slowly – painfully slowly – showing consistent improvement.  I’ll take that.  I write a lot about writing, and walking.  And then there’s the reading….

      Once again the books are piling up, with four in the cue already I just purchased a Kindle version of Siddhartha by Herman Hesse and revisited Working Days: The Journals of The Grapes of Wrath 1938-1941.  It would be far better to finish one of the original pile before adding more, but so be it.  Books tap you on the shoulder and tell you “It’s my turn” when they feel you’re ready.  This morning Hesse and Steinbeck were both bullying their way into my reading time, and I welcomed them with open arms.  My reading is accelerating, not by speed-reading (which I’ve tried but don’t enjoy), but through focus and occasional multi-tasking (reading on the Kindle app on the iPhone while in line at the store, and more frequently, reading with maximum font on the treadmill while churning out steps).  Consistent, daily reading has been one of the best things I could’ve done for myself.

      So what else matters?  Plenty.  The world is getting exponentially better in many ways, and sliding into the abyss in a few ways.  If you want to improve the world around you it starts with contribution.  The more you do, the more capacity you have to contribute more; more effort, more money, more intellectual horsepower, more empathy, more credibility, and more time.  Ironic, isn’t it?  The more you do the more time you’ll find for the things that matter.  And there’s plenty that matters, if you take the time to think about it.  And that’s where I find myself today, thinking about it and taking a small measure of action, one step at a time.

    • 1917

      I saw the movie 1917 last night, and it’s stayed with me well into the morning. No spoilers here, just appreciation for an exceptional cinema experience. It’s the kind of movie I go to the movies to see; visually stunning, technical filmmaking with powerful acting that weaves between poignant scenes and heart-racing violence. Not the gratuitous, glamorized violence I’ve grown to hate in Hollywood nowadays (see the trailer for The Gentlemen for formula: turn your gun hand to 45 degrees and make a face), but the violent reality of a drawn-out war and the simplicity of two men on a mission in impossible conditions.  It’s the kind of movie you feel privileged to see in a theater, with the seats vibrating with every bang and boom and the full immersion the big screen offers, but without the testosterone-enhanced machismo of the Xbox/CGI movies.

      If this is the new golden age of television with HBO, Netflix and Amazon cranking out brilliant series, then where does that leave the classic craft of intelligent movies?  Blockbusters rule the movies because they make money.  I’ve had this debate with my aspiring screenwriter daughter and yes, I know, superhero films are an art form of their own.  That’s fine if you’re into them (and I know millions are into them).  Star Wars sequels and car chase movies pull in the dollars, but where do those of us that prefer to consume a different kind of entertainment experience go?  I appreciate the occasional visit to a cinema to see a truly great movie, but feel reluctant to part with my money to see CGI with a soundtrack.  So having a film like 1917 is a real treat – it satisfies both audiences.  I hope it’s the highest grossing movie of the year, because more films like it would get produced.

      I write all of this knowing the irony:  I choose to keep the television off most of the time and wouldn’t be heartbroken to cut the cord altogether.  I don’t play video games (computer chess is decidedly not a video game).  I’d rather take a walk in the woods or on the beach than go see an Avengers movie.  No, I’m most certainly not the target audience.  Which should make it all the more impactful when a movie draws me in this way.  If you can get me to go and rave about a movie, you should have a real winner on your hands.  Hero’s journey without the overtly formula plot twists. Dignity, courage and determination in a two hour journey through the horror of WWI: The Great War, the war to end all wars…. yet didn’t. Go see 1917 in a great movie theater, you won’t regret it.

    • Coffeehouse Self

      The commute started early this morning, with an early meeting conspiring with noise in my head about getting on the other side of the rush hour traffic that would surely build with every minute. Nothing stresses my commuter self more than being late for an appointment with miles of traffic ahead of me. I don’t like commuter self all that much, and avoid his company when I can.

      Traffic going into Boston is a wonder, but not wonderful; starting much earlier than you’d think possible, lingers past when you’d expect it to end, then reverses direction almost immediately to wreak havoc on your soul when you head home. You either skate your lane, distract yourself with music and podcasts or you let it get to you. I’ve gotten better at letting it go, but it’s a weakness in my character and I feel commuter self creep back into the car more than I’d like. So I play the active avoidance game when I can, and podcast the heck out of the worst of it. I once turned down a great job with a big promotion and raise because I didn’t want to crush my soul with the two hour 40 mile commute. I don’t regret the decision.

      This morning I time-travelled to Boston, found a café and sit writing this blog while others are stop-and-going on the highways I just left. Coffeehouse music is playing, counteracting the effect of the caffeine and the adrenaline of hundreds of cars and trucks I spent the last hour with. My coffee sits steaming on a distressed wood table and The Lumineers and Jason Mraz are playing just loud enough that I can barely hear the diesel engines and honking horns out there. The regulars talk amongst themselves but the place is still full of empty. There was no logical reason to leave as early as I did, with 90 minutes of time to spare. But I like the company of coffeehouse self more than commuter self, and that was enough for me.

    • Snow Globe Perceptions

      Driving in heavy snow yesterday with the headlights illuminating every snowflake, it looked like the scene in Star Wars when they shift to warp speed with the stars streaking by. My daughter pointed this out, and then made the observation that all those snowflakes weren’t streaking towards us, we were streaking towards them. And I thought to myself first, you’ve raised a very intelligent and perceptive daughter. And then I thought about perceptions, and what else are we streaking towards that we think is coming at us?

      The news comes to mind. We tend to validate our beliefs by seeking out news that is consistent with our worldview. Watch CNN or Fox and it either feeds your beliefs or enrages you, depending on your regular diet of spun information. Who you follow on Twitter is another example, with tweets of varying substance flying at you like those snowflakes seemed to. Think you’re falling behind others? That’s a perception too, validated by Facebook and Instagram posts, or counting WordPress likes.

      So how do you change your perception? Easy; slow down. When you stop driving highway speeds those snowflakes just drift slowly to the ground. When you unfollow people on Twitter the world seems more sane. When you stop tracking who’s vacationing where or how many followers someone has and change your perspective to what you’re grateful for and what you’re contributing to the world you suddenly exit the storm in your mind and things become clear. Stop shaking the snow globe and use that energy to create desired outcomes. Simple…. right?

    • Restlessness Met Sadness And They Both Smiled In Recognition

      Life is like the 55 meter indoor hurdles run by klutzes for its briefness and the lack of elegance with which we all get through it.  Family gatherings during the holidays offer the opportunity to take stock.  How have you been and what are you dancing with now?  Jamming multiple family events into one day means not spending enough time with any one person, but instead getting quick downloads between eating too much and taking pictures for posterity and InstaGram.  The latter offers immediate notification of what you’ve been up to for your followers (some of whom are in the picture), the former is the path highlighted for you years later when everything has changed.

      In the last family event of the night, after all the caloric intake and the unwrapping of gifts and the catching up on what you’ve been up to, I realized I was way too warm and needed a walk outside in the cool air.  Looking at my watch I calculated how realistic it was to hit 10,000 steps and weighed it against the limited time I have with these people in my life.  I settled on a quick walk around the block and resigned myself to getting the rest done in the shrinking time left in the evening.  I’d get over the mark eventually, with an hour to spare in the day.  Should’ve knocked it off first thing in the morning but such are the holidays.

      When I have a goal in mind I get restless, and sitting in a chair for hours isn’t going to cut it for me, so it wasn’t long before I needed to walk around the house a bit.  So I left the crowded room to walk around the kitchen and into the formal living room, built for showing furniture that people don’t sit on.  There standing by the door was the oldest aunt of my wife, waiting for a ride home that wouldn’t come for awhile as my father-in-law chatted in the other room with my kids.  In that moment she looked like a teenager, though she is dancing with 90, waiting by the door to go.  We talked about sports she used to play, for she was a very active in tennis and skiing for much of her life, and her eyes welled up as she talked about not doing those things anymore.  We smiled and talked and eventually it was time to go and we opted to bring her back to her apartment and chatted more with her as we drove.

      My restlessness met her sadness and they recognized each other.  The sadness was rooted in her own frustrated restlessness, doomed to an older body and an aging mind battling dementia.  She missed Thanksgiving on a bad day, but on Christmas she was lucid and sharp, seeking out conversation and connection.  And we connected and smiled at stories of past glories, recent small victories and setbacks overcome.  And I thought about my own restlessness and wondered when it would meet sadness again.  We all look in the mirror and see our story.  If I’m lucky enough to get there I want the sadness in my old age to be for the things I can no longer do, not the things I never did.

    • Season’s Greetings

      “And so this is Christmas
      And what have we done
      Another year over
      A new one just begun”
      – John Lennon, Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

      Lennon always breaks through the crush of Christmas songs this time of year, challenging and reminding me that yes, another year is indeed over and what have you done?  And in 2019 it turns out I’ve done a lot, but we humans are never really satisfied are we?  So much left to do, and 2020 is just around the corner.  But today I’ll pause and reflect and be grateful.  Peace be with you.

    • A Changing New Hampshire

      It’s the morning of Christmas Eve, and the creatures are stirring. This morning I watched the horses run free on the snowy fields beyond the woods. Closing the trunk of my car, I spooked a dozen deer I hadn’t seen between those horses and me. We don’t always see what’s right in front of us.

      On mornings like this I’m grateful to live here, even as the area changes with more development encroaching on the woods and fields I take for granted. Southern New Hampshire is changing. There’s been so much development in the three towns around me that they’re piping in water from reservoirs to the north to keep up with rising demand. Politicians celebrate the increased tax revenue of Plus 55 housing that comes without the hit on the school budget that more families would bring. So conservation is an uphill battle. You either fight development or you look the other way. Unfortunately I tend to look the other way, focusing instead on career and family. But the people who get things done find a way. It’s all priorities and focus, isn’t it?

      Open land is like the deer I saw this morning. You’re so focused on other things that you don’t notice what’s right in front of you until it’s too late. As I’ve referenced before, they’re paving paradise to put up a parking lot. I’m already missing what’s gone. So what am I going to do about the rest?

    • International Arrivals Gate

      You want people watching with stakes? Hang out at the International Arrivals gate for awhile. Hugs and smiles and screams and tears are commonplace at Arrivals, but every reunion is different. That stoic gentleman standing next to you? That teenager feigning indifference? They light up when that special person walks through the International Arrivals gate, with waves and shouts and a run through the crowd for giant welcome hugs.

      The International Arrivals gate is an amplified version of the Domestic Arrivals gate, not just for the distance traveled to get these people face-to-face with each other, but for the big differentiator in International: the reveal. As a passenger you walk off the plane, walk twenty miles to check into the country, stand in line for customs, and then to baggage claim. This process can take minutes or hours, all the while your loved ones await unseen on the other side of a secure door, watching the doors open, hopes rise, but ahh… someone else walking through. Someone else’s reunion, with flowers and signs and joyful celebration. The reveal amplifies the intensity. The anticipation grows, and the doors open and you watch another reunion, and another… until finally you see the person you’re there for and it’s your turn to turn from stoic stranger to wild hand-waver and giant bear-hugger.

      As you roll overstuffed bags around the crowd of people staring past you at the gate waiting for the next reveal, it emphasizes our human connection. We’re all the same, really, and we’re all in this together. The International Arrivals gate shows people letting their guard down and being humans connected to other humans. None of the divisive nonsense, just reconnection. And that’s what brought me there too. Reconnection. It’s nice to have the nest full again, if only for a little while.

    • Kimono Car Seeker

      I was walking into a store to pick up a gift card (‘it’s the season for gift cards), enjoying the warming sunshine and relative tranquility offered on a quiet morning in a mall parking lot the week before Christmas in America, when my moment of bliss was turned upside down by a car alarm beeping urgently nearby. Properly encroached upon, I looked at the car, and as expected saw no burglars backing away. I looked up at the store I was walking towards and saw a tall woman in a kimono (I’m no expert on such things but I’m going with kimono) holding keys up and looking around. She determined the direction of her car and clicked the fob to turn off the alarm, felt unsatisfied with her new compass heading and clicked the fob to activate the alarm again. I walked past her and smiled, content in knowing she had figured out where her car was, and we separated as forever strangers, sharing this one brief moment on our trip around the sun. I started to wonder why you’d where a kimono to a liquor store, thought the better of it, and just let it be. Some of life’s mysteries are better left unanswered.