Monthly Archives: May 2018

No Imagination

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At some point, you simply give up on (some) people. I’m talking about the ones who regularly offer up the most perfunctory responses response to me (or Mary) when they learn about Mark’s story and how our 33-year-old son was killed. How many times am I going to have to hear “I can’t imagine”?

Americans are nothing if not superficial. If they are able to muster a shred of empathy and support during a tough patch, they rarely are capable of sustaining it for long. We’re a country where sliding glibly over the horrific and returning to our happy, positive thoughts is akin to taking a drug. Of course, speaking of drugs, there’s a pharmaceutical for everything, especially ones designed to numb any pain. Then, did you see this? Apparently, psychedelics are a thing again.

I never liked reading or hearing about the death of a son or daughter, preceding their parents. Being a father, I never had difficulty summoning empathy for them. I simply imagined how I’d likely feel if I ended up in their shoes. I’m wearing them now and it hurts worse than I imagined it would. Continue reading →

America (Never Been)

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I’m a fan of Car Seat Headrest. I have been for a couple of years.

When Mark was out on his final walk, I emailed him about the band during October, early in his trip:

Hi Mark,

Did you think the story about Yo La Tengo and the Mets was funny? I did and got such a laugh reading it last night.

Mom and I have been reading at night, and not watching much TV. Can’t say I miss it at all.

Last night, was reading, while also listening to some Car Seat Headrest from their show they did at KEXP in 2014, I think.

They have so many great songs. Will Toledo is one of those prolific songwriters who got his start making music in his bedroom and releasing it on Bandcamp at first.

The song “America” made me think of your trip. Will’s writing from the perspective of seeing the country from life on the road, most likely in a tour van. The first line goes,.

“You can drive across the whole thing in four days…if you want it,” which again is the time when you’re driving. Still, there’s this sense of America being out there if you really want to see it, which you are doing on foot, literally!

Anyways that’s some of my “wisdom” or at least thoughts, this morning.

Nearly four weeks meat and dairy-free. God, I feel so good physically and my mind seems clearer. Really enjoying Michael Greger’s How Not To Die. Reading about eggs and chicken and the risk of salmonella in the chapter, “How Not To Die from Infections” last night was like a jolt—chicken and eggs exponentially increase your risk of salmonella, which is a serious infection that can kill you. He also talks about plants and how they boost your immunity. Great stuff!!

Mom says you are speaking at a school? That’s awesome!

Well, godspeed to you today as you journey forward.

Love you!

-Dad

Continue reading →

Musical Fruit

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There was a bus trip to Jay in 1978, to an away football game. We’d smuggled a cassette recorder and a bulky, homemade speaker aboard. Once we rolled out of the parking lot, we hit play and began blasting Robin Trower Live and Fresh by Raspberries (no definite article, either) on the ride up. Me and my friends were the only ones who appreciated the tunes. But man, oh man, did we love Raspberries (Trower was pretty good, too).

The Raspberries were a 1970s thing.

 

Too Rolling Stoned.

It wasn’t our fault that most of LHS has no taste in early 70s rock, or for that matter, something other than the AOR schlock that got played to death on the radio at the time. I was always happy getting a steady diet of the kind of power pop that Eric Carmen and the boys put out from 1970 to 1975. Raspberries weren’t obscure by any means: they had hits—but like so many bands from that era (think Big Star’s #1 Record,) their record company never quite got the marketing and distribution ironed-out. Continue reading →

Happy Enough

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First, let me put out this disclaimer: I am no authority on matters of happiness and especially, mindfulness meditation. Now that I’ve dispensed with that, let me share a bit about the last four weeks in my life, or better, “How I Learned to Meditate and Become Slightly Happier.”

I don’t think happiness is a great motivator. Everyone wants to be happy, but the problem with wanting to “be happy” is that happiness is often difficult to define.

Four weeks ago, I heard Dan Harris share his own story and personal skepticism towards meditation on The Rich Roll Podcast. Like me, Harris never thought much about meditation. I touched down briefly respective to Harris in a post about EQ, a month ago. Consider today’s post my progress report, four weeks out.

Actually, in my case, I knew that my son, Mark Baumer, meditated, but for a variety of reasons, I always had difficulty incorporating meditation into my daily practice. Perhaps I thought I had to sit still for 20 or 30 minutes. No way I could do it two years ago. Even now, after four weeks, I’m able to handle six or seven minutes, tops. I try to do this two times each day, although my goal is simply to manage one session. Here’s how I got started, and you can, too.

  1. Sit with your back straight and your eyes closed.
  2. Notice the feeling of your breath coming in and out.
  3. Notice how your mind goes off on all kinds of tangents: refocus and come back to your breath.

Am I happier? Actually, while Harris’ goal was to be “10 percent happier,” I’m not so worried about happiness. I’m simply trying to find a way to “center” each and every day.

For you, maybe that’s not a problem. But if my observation of the world around me is accurate, it seems like there’s way too much “white noise,” people reacting rather than reflecting (think of our president, on Twitter), and agitation has run amok.

But it’s up to you. Take my suggestion or leave it. The choice is yours.

This short video is helpful and everything you need to get started on your own personal path to being a bit more mindful (and maybe, happier).

Ambition

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Sufjan Stevens once set out to record 50 albums about all 50 U.S. states, at least he made an announcement about his intent. According to an interview, this was all a “promotional gimmick,” a joke of sorts, and one he didn’t have any inclination of completing. He did finish two of them.

The first time I heard about Stevens’ ambitious proposal was from Mark. Stevens may have been the genesis of his own ambitious plan to publish “50 books in 50 weeks” project. He actually completed his.

Project success, or not, I still like Stevens as an artist. I think Illinois (2005) is one of my favorite discs in my collection. “Casimir Pulaski Day” is one of the saddest songs I’ve ever heard. It’s even sadder, now.

From the Bible of the music world I live in, Pitchfork, Stevens’ music is described this way, from a review of his latest records, “Carrie & Lowell” (the names of his mother and stepdad),

Stevens has always written personally, weaving his life story into larger narratives, but here his autobiography, front and center, is itself the grand history. The songs explore childhood, family, grief, depression, loneliness, faith, rebirth in direct and unflinching language that matches the scaled-back instrumentation. There are Biblical references, and references to mythology, but most it is squarely Stevens and his family.

Maybe the reason I like his music is because it’s about life.

Oh, and Pitchfork gave it a 9.3 (on a scale of 10). Others like narratives drawn from life, too.

The Sociological Thread

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Mary was going through some old boxes that had cards, letters, and other assorted paperwork. She has resumed efforts at downsizing that began prior to our move back in 2016.

Some of the boxes contained letters from her mom, sent during college. When we were both off at school back in the day, letters (not text or social media) were how parents communicated with their children who were off at school if they cared about remaining in-touch.

Yesterday was yet another sad holiday. I felt inadequate, knowing her sense of loss as a mother whose son was killed: she also lost her mom last fall, so the day was particularly tough for her. I’ll experience something similar on Father’s Day. Life is never the same for parents who’ve lost an adult child, and not everyone is celebratory on days like these.

An item Mary dug out related to me was an old book report. I’m not sure what I wrote it for (most likely a freshman English class at UMO). It was on Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain.

Reporting out on “Huckleberry Finn” (circa 1980 or 1981)

Reading through my writing from the past was interesting. It doesn’t quite match up to my writing today, but there were signature items in this 300-word review that made me smile.

In the report, I managed to report-out on the “sociological thread” running through Twain’s signature work. Apparently, my interest in that method of analyzing writing was present back in 1980 or 1981.

I wrote this:

His (Twain’s) creation of Huck Finn, the uncouth, ignorant character at the heart of the book, captured the hearts of countless readers. This is something in its own right. Twain goes a step further, though, and delves into the sociological makeup of Americans at this time period.

I’d  rewrite this paragraph today so that it reads a bit “smoother,” but I obviously had cultivated an eye for the “sociological,” because it was there, back in my late teens.

Dances With Bears

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I’d argue that books and reading (can) open us up to the wider world. While it’s counter-intuitive, social media seems to be making us smaller.

In a recent blog post, I shared about my subscribing to a real newspaper—in this case—The New York Times.

I am reading Witold Szablowski’s book about dancing bears after reading the review that appeared in last week’s Times’ Book Review section.

A fascinating book about how humans often hearken for things they shouldn’t, but do, because it supposedly makes their lives easier.

A book about “the good-ole days” of authoritarian rule.

The book’s introduction starts this way:

The guy with the wacky hair and the crazed look in his eyes did not appear out of nowhere. He was already known to them. Sometimes he said how great they were, and told them to go back to their roots: if need be, he threw in some highly unlikely but madly alluring conspiracy theory. Just to get them to listen. And to give them a fright. Because he’d noticed that if he scared them, they paid him more attention. Continue reading →

Never Far Away

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Life goes on. At least that’s what they tell us. Actually, by repeating the phrase back at other people, it helps make them feel better about you that you are feeling better—but you’re not. You’re just moving with the flow, swept up in the momentum of life moving forward.

In the fall, I found out a private school nearby needed people to come in at night and help some of their students during a time slot called “guided study.” I told the director a bit of my story and how I would try to make it through the first week, but that there were “no promises.” I did. And then, I made it through the next week, and the week after that. We are now in the month when the students I’ve met across weeks numbering in the 30s are looking forward to the end of the trimester and going home. I did better than I thought I would.

Maybe the reason I managed to do the “life going on” dance had to do with a young man I met my second week of tutoring. He needed help with his statistics assignment. I hadn’t done statistics in decades, especially statistical word problems that required solutions relevant to terms like median, standard deviation, mode, and variance. I had to draw “pictures” to figure them out. He said to me, “why are you drawing pictures?” We both learned that he was visual and this offered us a window into understanding his learning style.

The next night, I was asked if I wanted to work with him one-on-one. I said I’d give it a shot. We’ve been meeting four nights a week (and Sunday nights, too) since late September. I’ve learned that he likes order and routine. I’ve tried to create that five nights a week.

My days are spent working on other things. I’m writing a book. A week ago, I drove to Waterville and then, Oakland, and offered a new seminar I’ve developed, The ABCs of Medicare. I began my week by sending out another newsletter for the Mark Baumer Sustainability Fund. Yes, life goes on. But you are never far away.

Springtime has dawdled this year, taking its sweet time getting here. Those of us who live in the Northeast have learned patience with the seasons—those who haven’t must contend with their constant carping (that does nothing to speed along seasonal change). At the very least, they’re always going to be disappointed. I’ve learned that life can be disappointing. Grief and loss are excellent instructors.

Spring is also a time of year that reminds me of all the previous beginnings of baseball dating back to the time when I was probably five or six and learning that baseball seasons all have starting points. These always correspond with spring’s arrival.

These (spring) memories are never far away.

Continue reading →