Category Archives: Mental Hygiene

Do You Know Who I Am?

Before some spraying and scrubbing.

You don’t have to answer, but I hope you’ll wonder just a little bit. This is a gravesite stone in the “old” Abbot Village Cemetery across from the town hall. You can still make out the word “Baby,” but you can likely surmise this child lived some years ago. The stone is worn, covered with lichen, and discolored, so I guess we don’t know who this is—or was.

My goal is to encourage curiosity, not sadness. Particularly as we age, we do tend to think about “legacy.” Most commonly (and the dictionary supports this), we think of our legacy as the amount of money or property we leave behind. It’s one way we will be remembered. Gravestones are another.

This child, or perhaps more accurately the family, “left behind” this small stone. I was reminded of the child’s short life during the few hours I spent recently volunteering to help the Abbot Historical Society clean gravestones. I found “Baby” in the family plot I was offered as my project.

After some spraying and scrubbing, the special solution we used will continue to work, and hopefully, the stains will lighten.

As I worked, I learned a bit more about “Baby.” He was the infant son of George and Sara Bradman. While his lifespan isn’t documented with dates, based on his parents’ stone, he probably lived his short life on Earth in the mid-to-late 1800s.

I mentioned all this to a good friend in an email. Jack replied, “Everyone does their best to make life work… Keeping gravestones clean is a nice reminder of how the system works. Not a bad spiritual exercise.”

Without getting too theological, I hope Baby Bradman and his parents are pleased with my work. I think our little town of Abbot is a better place, not just because this cemetery will look better when the project is finished, but because we are showing that we care about our community and its legacy. The spiritual exercise and reminder of how the system works was a bonus.

But wait, there’s more! Spending a few hours with like-minded coworkers was enjoyable. Everything we needed was provided, including materials, tools, support, and encouragement. We all paused briefly when a passing car repeatedly blew its horn, and the driver leaned out the window, waving and yelling, “Thank you!”

This was one of those occasions when the work itself was the reward. If you live in Abbot, keep an eye and ear open for the next opportunity. You can also contact Brian at the Abbot Historical Society. I won’t be surprised if you join this effort for a few hours and decide to do more.

Rachel’s Right–Again!

Instead of counting minutes, maybe count priorities.

Being in Lancaster County always feels a bit like being home again. We made this year’s visit towards the end of Road Trip 2024 somewhat intentionally to aid us in the “re-entry” to life as we usually practice it.

This sign on a Pennsylvania Bank serves as a reminder that we’re in Amish Country. Maybe I should have brought “my” oxen! (Yes, I’ve seen buggies at the drive-up window.)

One of our first stops was to see our young Amish friends Katie, Hanna Rose, and Rachel. All three are wise beyond their years, and their years are increasing. I was especially curious to talk with Rachel. We had a shared interest in teaching–what fun it was to compare notes! But last year we learned that she’d stopped teaching–Katie spilled the beans, explaining, “She’s in a relationship.”

After some friendly teasing, Rachel explained that it’s possible to have too many priorities and that, while she enjoyed teaching, her relationship and future family would be her focus. (Read last year’s story here.

When we arrived this year, one of the young boys was sent to get her—she was helping her mother make and can ketchup. After a few preliminaries, I was not surprised to learn that she’s getting married on October 29th. She was glowing, and it was not just from the hot work of washing dishes.

Most conversations with the Amish I find are very mutual. She seemed equally interested in what I was doing and planning. At one point, I reminded her of our age difference and said, “I’m told that at my age, the two most important words are ‘comfort’ and ‘fun.'” She interrupted.

“And peace,” she said. “Don’t forget peace.”

The interruption surprised me, but the suggestion didn’t. Making peace a priority makes sense at any age. It’s one reason I try to keep my worry box small, so there’s not a lot of room for things to worry about. The peaceful pace is one thing that attracts me to the Amish. Rachel isn’t the only one who counts priorities instead of minutes and hours.

Sure, it’s possible to have too many priorities. But it’s also possible not to have enough or to miss an important one. It almost goes without saying that we should constantly check our priorities against our values. When I talked with my new Amish friend Roy in Ohio, he expressed some concern over the proliferation of e-bikes among the Amish. He’s not sure how that will change their communities over time. Questions like that are often more important than the answers. Our priorities should be driven by our values. We have more control over our values and priorities than we often exercise or even realize.

Thanks to Rachel, I’m adding “peace” to my package of priorities. I explained to her that I’ve always worked towards what I call “positive apathy.” It showed up last night when we stopped for ice cream at an Amish farm.

Grandma had a spray bottle and cloth and was eyeing the outside tables. I glanced heavenward and joked that it was likely to rain soon and the tables would wash themselves. She smiled and said, “We really need the rain.” (Rain should be a priority!) So, while I’d hoped to walk some with the camera, the rain is needed by the farmers and the earth. So be it. There is no need to worry or get upset. Peace, comfort, fun.

It may seem ironic that I’m adding to a package that is getting smaller, but I think it works that way. As the saying goes, “Less is more.”

Rain can be calming.

A Conversation That Matters

I’m honored to be part of a powerful collaboration to confront escalating suicide rates. RSU 19 Adult Education, American Legion Post 73, and I are joining hands to offer a free workshop to raise awareness and encourage the prevention of this growing healthcare crisis.

It is up to all of us—educators, veterans, families, and community members—to unite in this significant cause. Through education, support, and open dialogue, we can contribute to reducing the stigma associated with mental health issues and work towards a future where everyone feels valued, supported, and empowered to seek help.

Pre-registration is strongly encouraged by calling RSU 19 Adult Education at 368-3290. Doors open at 5:30 pm and the Post will be providing light refreshments.

For additional information and FAQ regarding the workshop content and attendance visit this page.

The End Is Always the Beginning

When I announced my “retirement” from teaching real estate last spring, I introduced the concept of “repotting.” (Spoiler alert: a friend told me to stop saying retirement and switch to repotting. “You’re just going to grow in a different place.”) Bear that in mind as I make yet another announcement.

On November 10, 2023, I inactivated my Maine Real Estate Broker License. It was a bit of a ritual–I’d stopped actively engaging in brokerage some years ago and had no intention of starting again. My joke was, “There are more fun ways not to make money.” That might be a different topic, although, at the time, the market was challenging. Besides, I could broker vicariously through the experiences my students shared.

That’s not to say that real estate–whether brokering or teaching–isn’t fun. I recently had a lot of laughs with my colleagues at my agency of record, the Mallet Agency in Dover Foxcroft. We recounted some of the funny things that have happened over the years. And I’ve often quoted, “The little joys of teaching are without number.” Sometimes I do roll my eyes when I say it, but it really is true.

So, after clicking “submit” on my application to change my license status, what happened? In one sense, not much. No grand chorus rang from the skies; the heavens didn’t open, there was no clap of thunder… In a very real sense, I’d simply officially made a life change that began some years ago. Every end has a beginning, and every beginning has an end.

So I left for Bangor but stopped at the mailbox. In it was a big envelope of thank you notes from some third graders I recently spent some time with. (It’s a long story; you can find the details here.) I also stopped to meet and visit a 94-year-old fellow in hospice. (It’s another long story; you can find the details here.) We had a great visit. I enjoyed his smiles.

As the day progressed, I seemed to have one positive experience after another. I had some canning jars to drop off at my Amish friend’s farm stand. It was another happy visit. I usually bring books for her sons, and their enthusiasm for them is both rewarding and encouraging.

I know that our “worldview” tends to influence what we see and how we interpret it, but I had to admit that a lot of good stuff seemed to be coming my way on this both eventful and uneventful day. We can attribute it to Karma or fate or the planets being aligned, but my last stop on the way home was the grocery store for a gallon of milk. When the fellow ahead of me was given his amount due, he jerked a thumb my way and said, “I want to pay for his milk.”

A day that started with an ending included lots of new beginnings. Or maybe just one. Maybe, for some reason, I started seeing the world a little differently. Today was a great reminder we have a lot of control over how we see ourselves and how we see the world. I may not be an official real estate broker any longer, but new beginnings are more important than endings. I’m just going to thrive and grow and laugh and enjoy in different places. I didn’t retire. I repotted.

Can I Help with the Peaches?

Actually, there is no direct connection between Kauffman Orchards and B… and if this photo looks a little blurry, understand it was taken from a moving horse and buggy!

During a recent visit to Central Pennsylvania, I decided to revisit one young friend (“B”) I’d talked to last summer. She told me then she had just decided to stay with the Amish Faith and shared some of her thoughts and reasons. I was quite literally “blown away” by her honesty and thinking. We even discussed some of the difficulties she anticipated. When the conversation ended, she said how wonderful it was that we had learned from each other.

I didn’t see her working at the farmstand this year, but I mentioned her to the older Amish gentleman who collected for my purchases. He smiled some, jerked a thumb over this shoulder, and said, “She’s in the back peeling peaches. You should go talk to her.”

I felt oddly honored that I was allowed through the “employees only” door. I found her making short work of peeling and cutting up a huge basket of peaches.

I was not disappointed. She remembered me and was only too happy to share some updates. We actually had quite a discussion about “social media.” She has a phone because, in addition to working at her family’s farm stand, she has started her own business. She explained how she uses the phone and how she doesn’t. Prior to baptism and joining, she used the phone freely, but she also saw how using the phone impacted her. I agreed with her and found myself a bit jealous of her achievement. In so many words, we agreed that it’s important to think about how things impact us.

It wouldn’t be accurate to say she’s a lucky girl because I’m not sure luck is involved. She is taking full responsibility for her choices and the consequences of them. She’s a critical thinker–I noticed that last year. She made the point then that choosing to remain Amish would not be based on the things she is giving up. She is staying Amish for what she will gain.

I’ve noticed that conversations about the Amish typically drift to what they don’t have or accept. “They don’t have electricity.” {That’s only partially true. ) “They don’t drive cars; they have to use horses and buggies.” (Again a partial truth.) We seem to make it sound like being Amish is all about giving things up and following rules.

B doesn’t see it that way. She is not a victim of being Amish. She chooses not to sit at home and play computer games on her phone. She is choosing her way of life. We talked a lot about who we are and who we will become, and how life is a journey and process. She also knows what she doesn’t know.

Gellasenheit! (Ironically, when I used that word with her last year, she didn’t know the meaning. She found it interesting and amusing that she was learning an Amish way of thinking from an Englischer.

B continues to work at the family farmstand. Since last year she’s also started her own successful business. She somewhat shyly shared that she’s “in a relationship.” I teased, “So next year you’ll be married and I won’t find you here.” Her reply was straight to the point, “Oh, I doubt that!” Later, I wished I’d clarified. She might have meant she’d probably be married but still at the family farm stand. One thing for sure, she’ll have made her decisions thoughtfully.

I didn’t ask, but if I were to guess she’s in her late teens. Most Amish join the church between the ages of 18 and 21.

In the Amish world, she is NOT an exception. I could share other stories and examples. She finished the peaches while we talked. I can handle that sort of multitasking. I am challenged to talk with someone who is also typing on their smartphone.

I am proud, honored, and blessed to know her.