Patience For the Ride

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Travel days are often “lost days.” By that I mean that the effort and energy required to get from point to point often delivers a net loss in terms of value.

I actually spent two days traveling back to Maine after leaving my Airbnb location in Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina.

Tuesday was a long day of driving, traffic snarls from DC north, and just plain gridlock in NYC as I hit the Big Apple at rush hour. Then, creeping northward into Connecticut, battling the worst drivers and driving I’d witnessed on the entire trip.

My goal on Wednesday was to get north of the city and I managed to do it, balky back and all. My back’s been fucked-up the entire trip. Any significant time in the seat was followed by excruciating pain upon exiting the driver’s position.

I wanted to stop-over in Providence and see Mark’s tree in front of the library on the Brown campus. I hadn’t seen the tree since its planting last fall.

The benefit of my marathon driving day on Wednesday is that I was in Providence at 8:00 a.m. and I had some time in that space remembering my son before things got busy. It was very emotional.

Mark’s tree at Brown.

The plague in front of John D. Rockefeller Library

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Dad Goes For a Drive

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I spent most of Sunday driving across the Allegheny Mountains, passing through rural villages and hollers. At times the sheer natural magnitude left me breathless. Mountains symbolize something bigger than ourselves. When I’m in their shadow, I’m left humbled. It helps me to realize how insignificant I am.

Along backcountry highways, I knew that here, many supported Donald Trump. It was also impossible not to notice numerous gun shops and signs trumpeting patriotism. Being on the road is a reminder that we are living in a collection of states where people hold contrary views, with little to bridge the divide. I’m not sure I see that story ending well.

This sign should read, “Trump Country.”

Passing through the land of guns, God, and glory.

Late in the afternoon, I found PA-641. This is the road where Mark began walking after crossing the river from Harrisburg. He stopped at The Healthy Grocer. Continue reading →

Always a Father

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Death affects people in  various ways. If you are a parent, where does the role you’ve occupied for more than three decades go? Are you still a father (or a mother)?

Last year on Father’s Day, we drove down to Providence and retraced the beginning of Mark’s walk when he left his house on Pleasant Street, setting out on what would be his final walk. A friend of his, James, helped us figure out the steps Mark took as he left his beloved city. A small group of friends and co-workers walked out to a point on the city’s bike walking trail and turned back. We walked nearly 11 miles.

Mark, in addition to being an award-winning poet, activist, and a one-in-a-million son, also collected geography, while passing through places in Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania. He reached Zanesville in Ohio. He got on a bus. He’d concocted a plan designed to subvert the coming of winter and what that meant to his bare feet. It was the only way he could come up with for continuing to walk. It seemed like a brilliant idea. Hell, it was a brilliant idea!. How could he know that the Greyhound was taking him south was actually transporting him closer to something dark and tragic waiting for him in Florida’s Panhandle? Continue reading →

Crossword Puzzles

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I’ve probably done five crossword puzzles in my life. Puzzles never really interested me. Then, inexplicably, I decided to tackle Sunday’s puzzle in The New York Times Magazine. It was harder than I thought it would be. However, I kept at it for two hours and then, came back to it at night. I still didn’t finish it. Actually, I kind of sucked at it!

My first Sunday crossword was a learning experience.

There have been people in my life devoted to puzzling—like my late father-in-law. He would sit at the table after returning from one of his endless nighttime meetings and work his way through a daily puzzle as a way to unwind. Continue reading →

The Death of Anthony Bourdain

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I’m not sure when the fetishization of food began, a place in our culture where watching others cook and especially eat became a thing. I found an article that does a good job of capturing the hoopla around food. It’s especially fitting given the death of Anthony Bourdain, who the writer called “the Elvis of bad boy chefs.”

I watched Bourdain’s various shows on Travel Channel over the years, especially “No Reservations.” He was an interesting dude. I always thought I’d enjoy meeting him. I loved the time he was hanging in the desert with his buddy, Josh Homme, of Queens of the Stone Age.

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A Better Pope

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I was raised Catholic. At some point, Catholic theology became irrelevant to me and my life.

Later, I got into born-again-ism. That was okay for a time. Then it wasn’t. Something about Brother (Jack) Hyles not liking blacks riding on his First Baptist Church buses.

Mary and I were 23 with a son who wasn’t quite two when I realized that moving nearly half-way across the country to follow God had been a mistake. Jack Hyles was a phony. That was part of Mark’s history, too.

I wrote a bit about my Catholic experience in a previous book of essays. The essay was called “The Altar Boy.” My family of origin didn’t really like it. What I wrote was true, though. And I really don’t give a damn what people who’ve abandoned me time-and-time again think. I didn’t then, I don’t now.

Last night, Mary and I began what will be a new chapter in our lives of grief and loss without Mark. Periodically, we’re going to get out of the house and do something a bit different during the week. Like going to see a movie.

At the movies: Pope Francis

The Eveningstar Cinema, a place where we’ve both been seeing films since it opened in 1979 has undergone a makeover. New seats, carpeting, and a digital marquee out front (not the old climb-a-ladder-to-post-a-film-announcement signage that’s been there forever) make it seem a bit more 2018 (or at least less pre-Reagan). I’m pleased that Barry’s still in the movie business. All of us film buffs are better for it, even if his demographic seems to be getting older all the time. Continue reading →

Is It Summer Yet?

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I don’t know for sure if summer arrived on Saturday. It seemed like it did. 85 and abundant sunshine felt like summer.

Officially, summer doesn’t show up on the calendar until June 21, 2 ½ weeks away. Today’s 50-degree dampness and rain makes Saturday seem like I may have dreamed it. But I know I didn’t. I was there.

The White Sands of OOB mean summer’s here!

The flowers we planted are doing well. My two trips to Laurel Hill last week to water them helped. Going to the cemetery no longer seems weird. It’s now a part of my life and Mary’s. I usually bring poems to read to Mark. On Saturday, I read Matthew Zapruder’s “Graduation Day.” It seemed fitting after being at the Hyde School graduation the week before. The young man I’ve worked with since last September graduated. Continue reading →

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

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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 →