Tag Archives: Mark Baumer

Emotional Music

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I can be going through my day, oblivious to this season’s constant reminders of the second anniversary signposts Mary and I’ll be moving past in December and January. Then, a song comes on the radio, or in the sequencing of CD/album, or a Spotify playlist, and I’ll be wrecked. What is it about certain songs that hit me with the emotional equivalent of a ton of bricks?

Not only does certain music and more specifically, songs, affect me, but hearing people talk about their own loss also triggers emotions. Like several nights last week, driving home from tutoring, and hearing Mark Curdo winding down another day of Markathon on WCYY.

Yo La Tengo plays some amplified Hanukkah tunes. (Brooklyn Vegan photo)

As he closed out each day of fundraising, the later hour meant that the busyness of responding to phone calls and other communication had lessened. The solitude of the hour allowed Curdo to open up and speak about his own experiences with grief, or share his heart about the center’s work and mission to help those moving through the grief journey. One night, it was Curdo talking about Brendon Whitney, the talented Portland rapper (who rapped as Alias) and producer who died unexpectedly last April. Curdo was forthcoming about how his close friend’s death devastated him. Another night and the tears were flowing as I headed south on Route 1, headed for home. Continue reading →

Women Won’t Save Us

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We are living through “the year of the woman.” Following the mid-term elections that delivered a female tsunami, naive believers have glommed onto the myth that depositing a wave of women on the steps of the capitol—simply assuming that swapping the gender of those who prop up our power structure will change everything. This is akin to believing in the magic of fairy dust.

Some of these “new” women actually believe that if they had been in power, bad things wouldn’t have happened. I say, “dream on.”

When I roll out of bed, I usually do my stretching in front of the television. I want my weather beamed from a 32-inch flat screen, not a phone sitting in my palm.

Before switching the channel to our local news affiliate, I caught the last five minutes of this morning’s MSNBC’s First Look. Their final segment had yet another variation of “the woman have arrived to save us” narrative that’s in vogue with lazy journalists.

Generally, I wouldn’t have paid much attention to the screenshot of a group of about a dozen women, but one name “jumped out” at me, identifying her photo. That would be Gina Raimondo, the new head of the Democratic Governors Association.

Yes, Raimondo is a woman. I’m also aware that men have done more than their fair share of damage to the planet. But she is not a woman I’m cheering for in her role leading an organization that’s “dedicated to electing Democratic governors and candidates.” Oh, glory!

Women in power suits, making plays for power.

Continue reading →

Writing Newsletters

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Thanksgiving’s gift of an extended respite was a welcome one. No tutoring, insurance, and only one chance to sub at a nearby high school.

I read, tag-teamed in the kitchen with my better half on some amazing plant-based meals rooted in simplicity: I had my evenings free, which has been rare since September. Thursday, we drove into Maine’s snowy western mountain region for time with Mary’s family.

Western Mountain splendor.

Grief is “a process.” The idea of grief proceeding neatly through “five stages” has been imposed upon those grieving, thanks to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. Fifty years ago, she described a progression of emotional states experienced by terminally ill patients after receiving their diagnosis. Because of her “theory,” those who mourn are often inflicted by well-meaning people with the belief that we should be “getting over” our sadness and loss. If it were only as simplistic as passing through five stages.

I’m not going to debate the veracity of Kubler-Ross’s framework. Others have already done that. But Mary and I know better than most that grief doesn’t proceed in an orderly fashion, even if some wish it would. Grieving people will always mourn the loss of someone special and loved, like we loved Mark. Continue reading →

What I Know

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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

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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!

A Different Kind of Candidate

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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 →

Better Days

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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 →

Falsehood and Deception

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Most of us know, deep down, what’s wrong and what’s right. As we get older, we find all a myriad of mechanisms that we employ to begin lying to ourselves. Eventually, we find it difficult if not impossible to honor truth in our lives.

One avenue I could take in a post like this is to illustrate how American culture allows us to become comfortable with all the lies of omission we tell ourselves, without even touching on the other side of the coin—outright deception and peddling falsehood.

For years I’ve had a blog. On my blog I’ve invested effort and energy in writing regular posts ranging between 500 to 1,000 words, often topping 1,500 and even much longer pieces on a host of topics: American dysfunction, books, writing, politics, history, indie music, reinvention, religion—and lately, the fallout that accompanies tragedy, which is grief, loss, and mourning. I’ve always tried to write honestly, with conviction, and I’ve prided myself in writing things that could be verified and validated by fact. If not filled with factoids and research, they were rooted in personal experience.

Facebook has made it all-too-easy for people to denigrate fact-based dialogue. It’s the digital equivalent of spending an afternoon at the beach, building an ornate sand castle, and then, someone coming along and destroying it, and laughing in your face. Maybe even going, “na, na, na, na, na—I ruined your sand castle.” Far too many counter thoughtful writing with a few words, a couple of sentences, and then, purposely or because they lack the ability to think and reason, fail to follow along with even the simplest responses to their inanity. The poster child modeling this is now president of the United States.

For months, I’ve entertained “blowing up” my social media accounts, especially Facebook. But instead, I’ve persisted in trying to have reasoned dialogue with people who are unreasonable. Yes, I’ve used it to post links to my blog posts, but in truth, it hasn’t dramatically boosted my blog stats.

This afternoon, I’ve made the decision to step away from it.

I’m tired of the back and forth that never ends. I’m tired of the time it robs me of that would be better served reading, exercising, or doing something else—anything would be better, and make me feel less crappy than time spent on Zuckerberg’s bulldozer.

Done running from Zuckerberg’s bulldozer.

Continue reading →

Anita Hill 2.0

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Today is the “big day” on Capitol Hill. Brent Kavanaugh will have to answer to and about the allegations made against him. Several women have alleged that he at best, acted in an aggressive and sexualized manner towards them. At worst, he was/is a sexual predator.

Mark Peterson photo/Courtesy of The New Yorker

Since Mark was killed, I boomerang between days and weeks where life seems like it’s returned to “normal.” I go off and do one of my various freelance activities, or I’m working on one of the one or two articles I turn and get paid for by the auto trade magazine I’ve written for since the summer of 2015. The activity allows me to push aside the pain that comes with losing someone central to my life.

Inevitably, something becomes a trigger, and I can go from “nearly normal,” to freefalling into an angry funk. When this occurs, it’s hard to want to care about anything for a day, or longer. I’m angry at the woman who hit and killed my son. I’m angry at people who seem to be so self-centered and oblivious about others and their pain. I’m sick of thinking about how I’m going to scrounge up some additional income, and a host of other emotions related to grief and loss. This week, it was something that someone who I thought had my back, said. This person once again indicated what an absolute shit they are and have been since Mark’s death upended my life and Mary’s. But it’s always about them and always has been. I must remind myself of that and breathe. Continue reading →

Don’t Dissemble

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Certain words ring true at particular times in our lives. We might be living through something, or feeling under siege, and you come across a word that elicits that Charlie Brown response from one his infamous sessions with Lucy: “That’s It!!!” he shouts, bowling Lucy over, after she offers her diagnosis to poor ole’ Chuck.

The word this week (and perhaps this month) for me is “dissemble,” as in feigning, concealing, or tamping down one’s true feelings. This is often done for some gain: personal, financial, social. The dissembler might even experience dissonance in the midst of their dissembling. Continue reading →