Tag Archives: life

And Four to Go!

It’s just about a half-mile from our house to the paved road. As we settle in our seats, that half-mile is an opportunity for us to clear our heads and remember something we either forgot or didn’t do. At the risk of bragging, we rarely find it necessary to turn around and go back.

Our first break will likely be in Gardiner, where we’ll recycle some coffee. Following the wisdom of serious road trippers, our first day is our most ambitious with a goal of Danbury, CT. It’s all familiar territory, and if we get an early start, the traffic on 495 should be tolerable. Note that we didn’t plan to leave Maine on Sunday.

Are we ready? A common answer is, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” So there might be a theory of relativity on readiness. I just remembered a few minutes ago that I need to pump up the EZ Pass. I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was! (Yes, it does so automatically. But depending on technology is not without hazards. A few years ago, I went through two tolls close together. The balance ran out after the first one, and I didn’t have time to replenish before the second. A $2 toll became $30.)

Have we left? Well, not physically. But in our minds…

So many things are relative. That might mean there are more processes than events, and that’s worth considering.

Many years ago, I attended Berkshire Community College. The first president, Tom O’Connell, was justifiably proud of our motto. “To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.” I remember him talking about it during a “President’s Hour.” I think he planted the seeds of my belief that life is an “unfinishedness.” For that matter, arriving may be relative as well. While planning and goals are important, we live in present moments.

Simple. This trip started months ago. When will it end? Maybe, in the truest sense, it won’t. Those present moments create change.

This portion of life’s journey begins with rereading “The Brook” by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

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.

We’re Already Here

Regular readers are at least familiar with my dear friend and colleague, Jack Falvey. I recently shared some plans with him and was not surprised by his response. Since I’m about to share those plans publicly, I’ll start with part of his response.

“We spend our whole lives trying to make it. For better or worse, we are already here.”

Jack Falvey

Ironically, as I prepared to write this, Seth Godin, in his daily blog post, notes that what we’re doing influences where we are. He asks the rhetorical question, “What happens when we are here and now?”

All these thoughts about where we are and what we’re doing are a good introduction to a few thoughts about where I am, where I’m going, and what I’m doing. I think some of you will be surprised.

This is not going to be a typical summer in our household. For one thing, we won’t be here for three weeks. How this all came about could be an interesting tale that might include karma and coincidence for those who believe in that sort of stuff.

Our extended road trip includes some time in Holmes County, Ohio, often referred to as Amish Country. On the return trip, we’ll also visit Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and connect with some Amish friends there.

However, a primary goal of the trip is Scotts, Michigan, which is the home of Tillers International. Here, I’ll spend four days learning to train and drive oxen.

Tillers Photo of Oxen Team
Doing things the old way… Photo by Tillers International, and no, that’s not me!

As some know, I’m a huge fan of oxen and ox pulls or draws. I can spot a poorly trained team or a teamster that doesn’t understand them. Tiller’s isn’t training for competition–they have a mission that includes preserving our rural heritage and skills. “We attract many people to our classes that are interested in history, the use of hand tools, nostalgia, and a sense of accomplishment of doing something ‘the old-school way.'”

While I’m going to Michigan, in another sense, I’ll be somewhere else. Maybe even a different time when things were more straightforward and we lived closer to the earth.

I’ve joked that this may qualify as one of the more useless things I’ve done in my life. I have no intention of acquiring a team. But as an educator, I suspect I’ll be conscious of how I’m trained and how I, in turn, train and manage these furry fellows.

Jack’s cryptic writing style is reassuring: “I love the oxen adventure. That is you. Oxen are real. You are in a good place.”


Some of my other thoughts on oxen:

Gee Haw! Meet four-year-old Julia and her two large friends. She had the fine distinction of being the youngest and smallest driver in a special class of oxen pulling…

Thanks, Julia! Seven years ago, Julia had the fine distinction of being the youngest and smallest driver in a special class of oxen pulling I watched. It was both entertaining and impressive. 

If Julia can do it, so can I!

Just in Case…

“What makes life worth living? No child asks itself that question. To children life is self-evident. Life goes without saying: whether it is good or bad makes no difference. This is because children don’t see the world, don’t observe the world, don’t contemplate the world, but are so deeply immersed in the world that they don’t distinguish between it and their own selves.”

Karl Ove Knausgard

The holidays are fast approaching! For some, they are an opportunity to be around kids. For all, they are an opportunity to watch kids’ excitement.

Just in case you haven’t been around kids much lately, this is a reminder to watch them and consider joining them.

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.