Monthly Archives: October 2018

What I Know

Posted on by

On Saturday I’ll be holding another one of my Publishing 101 Boot Camps. This one will be in Oakland, hosted by Mid-Maine Regional Adult Community Education.

The last time I held one of these intensive sessions was in 2013. The setting was also adult education, in Lewiston. I had a group of 10 to 11 students who wanted to learn from someone who actually knew how to take a book idea from start to finish. That would be me, author of four books, and someone with credits of books published on my own, as well as helping other authors bring their projects to market.

My world in 2013 was a different one than where I find myself in 2018. The biggest difference is that Mark is no longer around to confer with and share some of my thoughts with, as well as voice any frustration during preparation.

Publishing according to Jim Baumer

The guide I created in 2013 was one Mark laid out for me. Looking it over, it’s weathered the passage of time (at least the five years since I last handed it out) very well. There are a few things that need updating, but they are minimal. Continue reading →

When Presidents Can’t Hear

Posted on by

Our demagogue-in-chief has landed in Pittsburgh, despite being asked by leaders of both the city and Jewish communities to stay away. He refused to heed their request.

My late son, Mark Baumer, said everything that needed to be said about our president, the day before he would be killed along a highway in rural Florida. I don’t have anything to add because Mark nailed it in foreshadowing who Trump would turn out to be as a leader, the day that our president was being sworn-in as the 45th president of the United States. To say he’s been divisive is understatement at its best.

I quote:

“We now officially have a president,” said Mark, “that does not believe in climate change. He wants the world to burn so he can profit. We have a president who hates women, who discriminates against women, who physically abuses women. We have a president who hates minorities, who wants to make minorities suffer. we have a president who hates disabled people, who doesn’t want to help people when they are in need. All he wants to do is profit. If you support this man, you do not support human life on this planet, plain and simple. You do not support the future of earth as a planet…”

I was reminded of this today, thinking about Textron coming to Maine, and this kind piece written by Steve Ahlquist the day after Mark was killed.

Rest in Power, Mark Baumer!

Choosing My Religion

Posted on by

Two weeks ago, the phone rang at 5:00 a.m. It was the automated call system that school districts now use in assigning substitute teachers when there are staff vacancies. I was being directed to report to a nearby junior high. I’d be covering 7th grade math. 90 minutes later, I was dressed and driving to my assignment.

I found out last year that tutoring was an amenable fit. It was more than that—I actually enjoyed working with youth and the assortment of experiences across my life allowed me to bring some breadth to my nightly tasks at the private school located 10 minutes away.

Last spring, I initiated an inquiry to my local school district about the possibility of subbing. It was near the end of the school year so getting started was impractical at the time. I made a note to follow-up during the summer. Then, I was off on my road trip and returned with issues related to my SI joint. Substitute teaching ended up on the back burner.

Summers now have morphed into completing my CMS/AHIP certification for Medicare, at least that’s what most of August is now about for me. I did manage to complete the required paperwork for the municipal school district and turned it in. Just prior to the first day of school, I received a call to complete my final payroll forms. I made an executive decision to do the same at a neighboring RSU. Now I’m on the roster for two school systems. I have the option of working daily if I want.

I am busy again and have been since the beginning of the school year. So far, my high water mark has been three sub assignments in a week. Not once have I regretted my decision or any assignment. Inevitably, there will always be a student or two who is determined to challenge a substitute. Somewhere along the line I must have picked-up some classroom management skills.

I’m enjoying being a substitute teacher.

Continue reading →

A Different Kind of Candidate

Posted on by

Cynicism is a default that lends cover for some. Rather than risk being wrong, or having their hopes smashed, the position is an easier one to adopt, especially paired with a smug demeanor, allowing an attitude of being “above it all.” I know this all too well because I run to that place more than I care to admit. I’m also big enough to admit that I’m wrong when I do.

I don’t want to come down too hard on those who have opted-out of the political process. Our current political milieu breeds cynicism in batches. Politicians pander to it and keep it well-fed. Is hope even possible at this time? Are we delusional to harbor it?

On Friday, I visited Hyde School in Bath for their seventh annual Maine Youth Leadership Day. For the purposes of full disclosure, I tutor at Hyde five nights a week. This is my second year. I rarely participate in the daytime activities, though. I wouldn’t have been there on Friday if one of my fellow tutors  hadn’t encouraged me to attend and mentioned that U.S. Senate candidate Zak Ringelstein would be there.

Zak Ringelstein with students at Hyde’s Youth Leadership Day.

At last year’s event, Travis Mills was the morning keynote. The young man I spent most of last year working with each night was enthralled by Mills, a true American hero, and his message. I knew that the day was a big event at Hyde and that they attract presenters worth showing up for. Continue reading →

Speaking in Public

Posted on by

An amalgamation of skills acquired across a lifetime continues to intrigue and also puzzle me. My skill set offers surprises, too. Where did it come from? Were there models in my life that I emulated that led me to them?

Public speaking is a primary one. My evolution as a speaker was a gradual one. I never envisioned when I was in my late teens or early 20s that I’d become someone who would eventually speak before a myriad of groups, and deliver a host of disparate topics, mainly after the age of 40.

When I was a player attending classes mainly to maintain my spot on the Maine Black Bears fall baseball roster and so I could pitch for John Winkin, I enrolled in Public Speaking 101. The class of primarily freshman and sophomores—most of whom dreaded getting up to speak—offered me that first taste of the thrill that I’ve always experienced standing before a group, and the sense of power inherent in being able to do that. While most people equate speaking in public with fear, cold sweats, and ostracism, I was learning back in 1980 that this skill was a valuable one to have in your back pocket.

At 18, I wasn’t committed to my craft. I simply chose a topic and basically got up and riffed on a few things I knew, threw in a joke or two, and thought I was something special. I wasn’t. What allowed me to pull this off back then was some belief I managed to summon from somewhere. I believed I could do it. Continue reading →

Medicare (for all)

Posted on by

We are slightly more than two weeks ‘til the midterms. Will the Democrats gain the House (and Senate), or will the Kavanaugh nomination drive Republicans to the polls in higher than usual numbers? Then, there are the myriad of issues sliding past the lips of candidates. One of them I’ve heard and care about is the term “Medicare for all.”

Despite continued opposition from almost every candidate on the right, Democrats recognize that voters do favor something more radical than President Obama’s plan for health insurance. While “Obamacare” is far from the ideal, all “the party of no” can come up with is continued cuts to Medicaid and even the specter that they’ll at some point gut Medicare.

If you look at polling, the landscape clearly shows that more than half of the country (and 70 percent of those polled who vote Democrat) want some form of single-payer healthcare, which is what Medicare is. More than half of America’s doctors also favor it. So why won’t our elected leaders do something about it?

I’ve written about passing my insurance exam and being licensed as a life/health agent in Maine. Last fall, I passed my CMS certification to sell Medicare. My first year representing Medicare Advantage plans found my sales to be minimal. But I was happy that I got to make this step forward as an agent. What I learned is that most people age 65 (or heading there fast) know little or nothing about Medicare. Worse, they don’t know how to maximize their healthcare benefit options. Continue reading →

A Pillar of Salt

Posted on by

Perhaps some future race of aliens will come across this blog. I hope this video makes them wonder about us. What sort of people made videos like this? A creative, multi-faceted group of people (even if those sorts comprise a minority of people not craven to white supremacist, authoritarian buffoons who employ tanning beds).

Indie rock is becoming a fading Polaroid in the pantheon of a music landscape turned to crap. When the “weeping” electric guitar is going the way of the dinosaur, those in the know recognize that we’re on life-support and it’s time to prepare for manning the lifeboats.

If the death of indie rock isn’t a herald of what’s to come, the craven political tilt of the  church in America lends portent, also.

Continue reading →

In Praise of Short Stories

Posted on by

The short story has been a neglected writing style in my reading. This summer, I made a point of addressing it when I read Ottessa Moshfegh’s excellent collection, Homesick For Another World. After I finished, I vowed to read more similar collections.

A perk of working with high school-age youth is having the chance to revisit writers and writing that you were equally clueless about when you were the same age as these young charges assigned to you.

Of course, being a tutor, sometimes you must scramble in reacquainting yourself with said writing from the past. A few of those writers? Try James Thurber, J.D. Salinger, George Orwell, and Shirley Jackson. Orwell and Salinger haven’t been tough. I read The Catcher in the Rye last year and have read it several times over the last decade. Ditto for Orwell, and in fact, I made a habit of annually rereading 1984 during the 2000s and the Bush presidency. Thurber and Jackson are less familiar.

A week ago, I was time-traveling back to Thurber’s “The Catbird Seat,” and dull little (or so we think!) Mr. Martin. Admittedly, I have never loved Thurber like some literary types have.

On Sunday, I was co-reading Shirley Jackson’s short story, “Charles,” and helping a student craft a paragraph about parents not recognizing flaws in a child. The discussion that ensued was meaningful to me on several levels.

Shirley Jackson, American writer (seen in this April 16, 1951 AP photo)

Save for “The Lottery,” few people who travel in non-literary circles know Jackson’s work. This New Yorker article is worth reading if you’d like to know more about a wonderfully (weird) and “haunted” writer.

“Charles” wasn’t particularly strange or odd. It was a story that had humor and was what might be called an “unsentimental” look at life as a mother during a particular time in America. In Jackson’s case, this would be the 1940s, a very different time period than our own. As a writer, Jackson shaped it with sly parental incredulity and humor, too.

Apparently, the story was published in Mademoiselle and later, was included in her collection, The Lottery/The Adventures of James Harris.

It begins thus:

The day my son Laurie started kindergarten he renounced corduroy overalls with bibs and began wearing blue jeans with a belt; I watched him go off the first morning with the older girl next door, seeing clearly that an era of my life was ended, my sweet-voiced nursery-school tot replaced by a long-trousered, swaggering character who forgot to stop at the corner and wave good-bye to me. . . . 

Like the parents Jackson is writing about, most think their child is the best. Love compels you to want to feel this way. This also opens the door to the possibility that you’ll overreach and have unrealistic expectations, too.

Of course, it’s special when parents of a child get to witness an adult who validates the faith they had in him or her.

Day Exploring-Boba and Bánh Mì

Posted on by

One

For a year, I wrote a monthly feature for the Lewiston Sun-Journal. It was called Explore. I’d spend a day in a Maine community and write about the place and the people who lived there. I’m not sure if they’re still online or not but I have some of them posted on my writing site. I especially liked this one on Wilton. The places became sources to write something more than the usual “town in the news” hack pieces. At least that was always my goal.

A bonus of these assignments was getting to work with a stellar editor in Mark Mogensen. Most local dailies don’t pay freelancers enough and I was forced to take my writing elsewhere. It was my Sun-Journal piece on Biddeford that led me to believe I could pitch it to a bigger paper. I did and my more involved feature landed on the pages of the Boston Globe nearly three years ago.

The practice I developed back then: spending the better part of a day in a particular place informed this post. As I was out and about in Lewiston last Friday, the thought of doing something like this on a semi-regular basis held some appeal. We shall see.

My initial thought was to go into detail and provide some personal history about me and Lewiston. Like being a seven-year-old second grader with a teacher who was overly demanding about my penmanship. It was 1969 and teachers had way more leeway in how they marshaled their young troops back then.

In the case of Mrs. D, it meant imposing her iron will on a young boy who was hyper and with no interest in mastering cursive writing. She died in 2006. I remember seeing her obituary and not feeling sad at all.

My Franco-American grandmother lived in Lewiston. My family visited her nearly every Sunday. My aunt who never married lived with her.

Immigrants like my grandmother were proud of their city. Her Catholic faith was important and a central element for her and most francophones and fellow French-Canadian settlers in Lewiston. If there is any doubt about the role of the Church in French-Canadian life in Lewiston, St. Peter and Paul Basilica, which sits like a sentry overlooking Lewiston (and neighboring Auburn) should tell you that religion was important to them. They made sure to leave a memorial to their faith. Funding for the church came from thousands of small donations given by Lewiston residents, especially the Franco-American community.

There is a lot more history about the Basilica I could cover, but I’m not really interested in doing so. Other family members have mined that vein if people are interested. Continue reading →

Better Days

Posted on by

During the summer of 2017, and even at times, this past summer, recovery from grief and loss seemed improbable. Losing a son like Mark assured me my spot in line, stuck in a position and place I never asked to be in.

Life is now pockmarked by sad anniversaries. These will be forever oriented around an event that turned lives upside-down: the last time we saw Mark; the start of his final walk; his birthday, Christmas, his death…and on and on the calendar turns.

When I returned from my Father’s Day road trip in late June, and with July’s swelter, once more I was moored in sadness and hopelessness. The odds that things might dramatically improve were not any that a successful gambler would take.

We’re fortunate to have an exceptional grief counselor. At an appointment prior to summer, in May, she reframed how I was feeling as “moving through grief.” Her suggestion and semantic reorientation from “moving beyond grief” worked for me.

I’m not dismissing that my physical malady and SI joint issue contributed to the darkness I experienced most days. Sitting at home with nothing to do and with no prospects of anyone intervening dropped a veil of interminability over July.

My walking partner and friend, Paul, was also experiencing back issues. Both of us had dusted-off our tennis games during the summer and fall of 2017. This tennis season, neither of us was capable of swinging a racket, or chasing balls on the baseline—we were simply struggling to remain upright.

August forced me to dig into my Medicare certification requirements. I wasn’t eager for this three to four-week period of completing modules in order to pass the federally-mandated certification exam that allows agents little wiggle room. You basically have to know your stuff if you want to sell this type of health insurance. On top of these strict federal mandates, each plan imposes additional requirements before being deemed “ready to sell.” The good news for me this year is that I’m contracted with three plans, instead of last year’s solitary option.

Tutoring at the private school nearby may have saved me in 2017. No matter how dark and difficult things felt, I knew I had to gather my wits about me late every afternoon in preparation for the student I was assigned to work with.

Driving onto the stately grounds of the school replete with a 19th century mansion always managed to enhance my mood and remind me that it was time for me to “perform” for two hours. And that’s what I did beginning in September through early December when the students left for Christmas break.

Teaching and tutoring are noble endeavors.

Continue reading →