Tag Archives: Mark Baumer

Mindful of Muffins

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Baking was never something I aspired to. Ever.

Then, a year ago while looking through Veganomicon, one of our favorite vegan cookbooks, I spied a recipe for muffins. I read the ingredients and directions. I told Mrs. B. I was going to make them. And I did. They turned out well and were delicious. She was actually impressed. I’ve made them several times, since.

Descriptive muffin (sub bananas)

Muffin-making guidebook and supplies.

Mark loved over-ripe bananas. Some of you might remember the video where he ate like 21 bananas in one day. Me, I’m not a fan of the overly-ripe variety—you know: the ones with brown spots and they’re “mushy.” But, they are good for baking—at least that’s what my wife told me.

My go-to recipe from our vegan cookbook calls for unsweetened applesauce as a main ingredient. Living life during Crona, we’re doing our best to stay away from the superette. We’re eating through what we have on-hand, in our pantry, and one our shelves.

While we didn’t have unsweetened applesauce, we had all the other baking supplies I needed. In place of the applesauce, I substituted three very ripe bananas.

The muffins came out perfect and boy, were they delicious!

Plating muffins.

While my baked goods were pretty healthy and vegan to boot, there was an added bonus to making them, I think. Getting up and collecting my wits and following baking instructions helped me off to a positive start on my day (a day free from wage labor). There was a sense of accomplishment and joy in sharing them with the love of my life.

While having breakfast, Mary read from a little book devoted to self-care. She shared the advisement of taking ten breaths. Mary’s mom, who had been given the book by a family member had written in at the top of the page, “to solve a problem.”

Eat muffins and breathe.

When you feel yourself becoming entangled in a problem you can’t solve, take ten deep breaths and put the problem aside. Deep breathing increases the flow of oxygen to your brain and slows your heart rate. Later, consider a way to solve the problem—differently.

Notice that sharing on Facebook or Instagram isn’t mentioned.

Disappointing People

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A remembrance I’ve had lately is my mother telling me when I’d bemoan the struggles I was having making friends upon moving back to Maine in 1987. I was around 25 at the time. She’d say: “Jim, people are so disappointing.”

I’m not sure I agreed (and I certainly didn’t understand) at the time, but I now concur with what she said. “Yes, mom, people are so disappointing.”

I learned that lesson all-too-well across the three years following Mark’s death. Even people who hadn’t disappointed me in the past came up short at a time when I needed something from them. Don’t expect anything from people: then you won’t end up experiencing what my mother shared from her store of wisdom (and experience).

Neil Young is probably my favorite singer/artist/rocker (whatever one calls performers these days in our time of streaming garbage). His song, “Albuquerque” would be one of my top 10 songs.

Canadian singer-songwriter Neil Young in concert, circa 1970. (Photo by Michael Putland/Getty Images)

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Triggered

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A week ago, the world seemed fine (or normal) for most people. The day here in Southern Maine was warm for early March. The winter of 2019-20 hadn’t been a particularly harsh one, as Maine winters go. There was a sense common in northern regions that signal spring and that place-based “rebirth” that many of us hearken to and anticipate during the dark days December and January.

For people living on the other side of grief and loss, the past three years have been a journey of darkness, sadness, and pain. But to remain here in this life, there must come a time when you get back to “living life.

For me, having lost a son in January, 2017, so much of the past three years have been lived inside-out. By that I mean, grief for me turned me inward. I lost my usual gregariousness and the ability to feel joy. I didn’t want to be around people. I was becoming a misanthrope.

Late last summer, after conversations with my better half, the mother of my son, we made a decision for me to leave the house where I’ve been barely existing as a freelancer and take a job outside. Not some evening tutoring gig or part-time sub teacher stint, either. No, applying for and being hired by a firm that provides healthcare to Mainers and patients just across the border in New Hampshire.

This new role placed me in a new contact center just shy of being open for a year. The woman who interviewed me and subsequently hired me was the sister of someone I graduated from high school with. Continue reading →

Complicated, but Simple

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Mark was killed two days prior to the day that serves as my birth day. In 2017, feeling celebratory 48 hours after receiving the gut punch of knowing your only son was gone was impossible.

The following year, I realized I didn’t give two shits about anyone knowing it was my birthday. My better half talked about celebrating halfway through the year. Being born in January means that the day signified with cake and ice cream (or your own special guilty pleasure) is usually cold and foreboding. But any day with cake can become a great day.

I haven’t had much cake over the last three years. The summer party never appeared—the idea was a good one, it just lacked a trigger for execution—namely me giving it the green light. Again, losing Mark made celebrating another year of life seem like an exercise in futility and the kind of self-indulgence that grief and loss robs you of.

Mark loved bell hooks’ writing. I was also a fan. Shortly after Mark’s death, I bought her book All About Love: New Visions, at Gulf of Maine Books in Brunswick. Continue reading →

The Holidays are Here

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I’m no longer sure who visits this space. Since almost everyone uses social media for communication and I’d prefer not to, it’s been months since all but a tiny contingent of people have remained connected.

It’s December. For some of us, it’s not a time of holiday cheer, or happy memories from Christmases past. For families who’ve lost a child, or currently going through their first holiday season without a loved one, it’s a painful time, one infused with memories that more often than not elicit sadness.

For Mary and me, this is the first year we’ve decorated a tree since Mark was killed. He was a Christmas baby, born on December 19. This will be the third birthday of his we have to endure without our son.

Christmas in the saloon.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be filled with joy and happiness (I probably never have been), but at least this year, the dial on the sadness meter has dropped a few notches: still sad, just not “wrecked with grief.” I guess that’s an improvement when you’ve set the bar very low.

Today, I concluded a difficult class at USM. This was the first one of my history classes I’ve taken that I didn’t enjoy. In fact, I really didn’t care for the professor or anything about the class. First, it was an online class. Being that in 2019, universities are moving away from bricks and mortar and face-to-face meetings, I guess I need to adjust. Continue reading →

Retreat at Work

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Having a “regular job” the past 7 ½ years hasn’t been the norm for me. Project work, consulting, tutoring, along with freelancing, sprinkled a few other “moonlighting” gigs have gotten me through. This followed what felt at the time was being “kicked to the curve.” A role I was perfectly suited for and really loved being in, ended when our idiot governor at the time thought he knew better than anyone how the state’s workforce development system functioned, and de-funded parts of it. His petulance at the time affected me directly and ended six years of successful local and statewide initiatives.

In August, I went back to work. My new position is a part-time one. I’m still surviving as a writer. This requires maintaining a patchwork-quilt of income streams. I’m also spending a few Saturdays each month advising young drivers on safer practices behind the wheel.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure embracing change would end well, or even last more than a few weeks. But I’d been a satisfied consumer at this not-for-profit committed to delivering healthcare in a way that still values the patient, so I knew firsthand that their core values were genuine. When I learned they were looking for people with customer service experience and skills, I applied.

Being in a healthcare setting as an employee isn’t that far afield for me. One of my better jobs I had found me landing at Healthsource back in 1997, when they were still locally managed. Continue reading →

Back in God’s Country

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A week ago today, Mary and I were heading north on I-65, back to places where our young family began our life together. This is about as close as one gets to having what could be called a “time machine” or sorts.

Traveling back in time, via I-65.

A week later, news is still filtering forth from the Hoosier State, fallout from the newly-minted documentary, Barefoot: The Mark Baumer Story. We got to hear a welcome voice yesterday afternoon. It was Julie Sokolow, the filmmaker. She’s remained behind after we flew back and her cohorts headed back to Pittsburgh. The festival actually has continued for another week. We were thrilled to hear that her efforts at telling Mark’s story were rewarded. The film landed the Heartland International Film Festival’s Best Premier Documentary Feature. As Mark’s parents, this elicited more emotion—but this time it was something more joyful and made us less sad. We’re thrilled for Julie and the film’s team that worked so hard in capturing Mark as elegantly as they have.

Barefoot wins award at Heartland Film.

I think Sundays will forever be a day that I remember as one that once centered on God and church, especially back in the days we first pulled up in our rented U-Haul in front of the Bible school I would be attending. Last Sunday, we drove onto the grounds of Hyles-Anderson College, where every day was focused on those two elements, at least in a theoretical and experiential manner for a 22-year-old who’d felt “called to leave everything behind save for his pregnant wife and a few belongings. Continue reading →

A Journey That Never Ends

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Grief is primarily a solitary slog. If you and your partner end up being thrust into the position of having to share in the journey, then there are times when your parallel paths join and then, depart again.

Briefly, there are times when others come alongside: We both experienced this in the days and weeks following Mark’s death. But then, people go back to wherever they were before the tragedy occurred.

In a nation where our empathy deficit is just one of a host of maladies, this inability of other people to understand at first is maddening, then it becomes the source of anger (or sadness), then eventually you simply stop caring. You are left alone to live in a place you never considered before—but there you are—a ghost among the living.

This weekend, in addition to being pleased with the documentary that was made about Mark, we got to spend time with people who reminded us both of Mark. They were a lot like who he was, believing that our better angels might win out. The filmmaker, Julie Sokolow, is a force to be reckoned with. It would have been enough for Mary and me to have a wonderful film. But, to see Julie in her element, bringing her “A game” to the Heartland International Film Festival, on message in interviews, was a thing to behold. She’s also so easy to be around and we’ve come to consider her a friend in addition to the woman who gets to tell Mark’s story in documentary form. Having spent so much time with Mark and his memories she’s forged a unique connection with his parents.

Barefoot: The Mark Baumer Story (poster by Jim Rugg)

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Songs About Rachel

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Someone who I considered a friend once told me I couldn’t play guitar.

I’m playing and over the last month, I’ve written four songs and three of them now sit up on SoundCloud. I don’t think he’s got anything out there I can listen to.

Canadian singer-songwriter and guitarist, Bruce Cockburn, has a line in “Lovers In a Dangerous Time” that goes, “got to kick at the darkness ’til it bleed daylight.” Playing guitar and writing for the instrument is me, kicking at the darkness that nearly swallowed me, nine months ago.

Sunday, I read an excellent feature by Amanda Hess in the New York Times Magazine, on Rachel Maddow. I’d highly recommend you take the time to go through it.

I’ve been a fan of Ms. Maddow, or simply “Rachel” as I call her when I speak about her to Mary or others that share similar views on the state of politics in America. On Monday, I came up with some lyrics in my head, while swimming prior to work. I jotted them down on a legal pad and when I returned home in the middle of the afternoon, I had a song.

Then, I had to come up with a chord progression and I had that completed by dinnertime. I played it for Mary when she came home.

Tonight, I decided to record “Rachel, Rachel” before going to bed.

That’s how I roll these days. And I appreciate former friends who motivate me to do things that they said I couldn’t do—like play guitar and write songs.

Mark on the other hand would tell me, “keep doing what you’re doing, dad.” I keep that thought close to my heart, always.

 

The Gift of Affirmation

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There are people who validate—and there are people who criticize. From my vantage point, I’m of the opinion that there are more of the latter than the former—but there are certainly a significant number that live in that first category—they make building people up rather than tearing them down a priority.

I’m trying to spend more time with the validation crowd than with the critical set. I also know firsthand that being validated can carry you forward for days and weeks, while being criticized (whether valid or even offered in a constructive manner) makes you want to run and hide. It totally sucks and drains whatever energy you had at that moment.

I know plenty about laboring in obscurity while following my passion and rarely, if ever, receiving compliments or recognition. It’s what I’ve been doing for most of the past twenty years as a writer.

During that period, I think I can number on both hands the people that I’d consider real fans or people who’ve taken the time to routinely acknowledge a blog post I’ve written, or mention one of the numerous articles I’ve had published, or tell me they’ve read one of my books. One of these is someone who I don’t know very well. She’s also a wonderful writer and we see each other maybe two times a year. But a month ago she was in a town in Maine and walking by a book shop. She happened to see my Moxie book. She took the time to send me an email when she got back to Portland and let me know that and reminded me that she knew I was still out here. Continue reading →