I am tired. That’s a statement about physically feeling a dearth of energy at the end of each and every day. Likely it’s due to trying to cram as much as I can into a 24-hour span. Having a new job and also working at another part-time gig, while taking a class at USM probably has something to do with feeling “wrung-out.” Continue reading
Tag Archives: Family
Changing Shifts
I’m going to miss swimming at the Bath Y. For more than three years, I’ve driven north on Route 1 to Bath to swim. Swimming has been one of a few things that kept me centered during the most difficult period of my life, both emotionally, and a year ago, when my SI joint flared-up.
For the past year, I’ve tried to swim three mornings a week. I’m usually there Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I tend to arrive after 6:00 (the pool opens at 5:00 a.m.), which allows me to get up at 4:45, have a cup of coffee, watch the weather with Mary, and then throw my bag in the backseat and make the 12-minute drive from where we’ve been living in Brunswick.
My arrival usually corresponds with a “shift change” of sorts. The group that arrives when the facility opens is usually wrapping up and the locker room most mornings is full of talk and camaraderie. Having played team sports throughout high school as well as coaching, the energy in a locker room is a special kind of thing.
Auto workers leaving the General Motors Powertrain plant in Warren, Michigan (2008)
Writing Newsletters
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
We Showed Up
There’s a huge advantage to living nearly halfway across the country from the rest of your clan when you are 21 and you are a brand new dad. This formative experience fosters deep bonds between you and the other two members of your unit.
Being so young and suddenly thrust into the role of parents forced the two of us to become really clear about our lives and our love for one another. Yes, I suppose we could have gone in the opposite direction, but what we lacked in money and resources—we more than made up for in devotion to one another and our newborn baby boy, Mark.
When I look at photos of the two of us from the early 1980s, I’m struck by a couple of things. First, I’m amazed at how young we both looked. This was the stage in life when many people our age were getting started on a career, and contemplating what grad school to apply at. For the two of us, it was cobbling together enough cash to pay our rent, keep one of our two clunkers running and on the road, and later, how best to sync our dual work schedules so that Mark could have a parent home, spending time with him and nurturing his spirit.
On the steps of our duplex in Chesterton, IN (circa 1986)
After I fell out with the God people in Hammond and Crown Point, Indiana, I landed a job working in a prison. While Westville Correctional Center sure as hell wasn’t glamorous, it offered decent wages and even more important for our young family at the time—access to health insurance and our first HMO. Continue reading
Back To the Real World
This morning (Monday) is getaway day for the remaining two members of Team Baumer (or Mrs. B, Mr. B, and Baby Boy, our “official” name we registered under). Mark, aka, Baby Boy, jumped the 1:00 pm Amtrak back to points south and Providence after we sat down, breaking bread post-race, over lobster, along with a thousand or so other people.
All good things must come to an end. Mary and I had hoped to get up and watch the sun come up over the water this morning. Instead, we were greeted with a wet parking lot and a light rain falling when we stepped out the door of The Edgewater. No sunrise for the early risers today. Continue reading
Sons and Fathers
Beaver with hid dad (and mom).
I heard a news story last week that spending on dads for Father’s Day is 40 percent less than similar spending for Mother’s Day. I probably could have guessed that. Father’s Day has always seemed to possess less luster than May’s paean to mothers, at least on the Hallmark side of things.
Dads are still important. I’m sure daughters have their own thoughts about their fathers. Boys, dads, and the dynamics inherent in that relationship are an entirely different animal. Continue reading
Time Marches On
One year ago, to the weekend, I was feted as the “author in residence” at Kennebec Fruit Company in Lisbon Falls. Members of Moxie Nation know it simply as “The Moxie Store.” That book signing for Moxie: Maine In A Bottle, took place on May 5, 2012; it doesn’t seem like it was one year ago, but it was.
Yesterday, my sister and I pulled off a surprise 80th birthday party for our father, Herman the German. The location was another Lisbon Falls landmark, The Slovak Social Club, on Avery Street.
My sister and I with our parents, Helen and Herman.
There’s a saying that “time waits for no man,” and it doesn’t play gender favorites, either. The seconds, minutes, and hours of life continue ticking away and then, the clock ticks no more. Continue reading
This is not a Thanksgiving post
Life is often filled with uncertainty. Not knowing can cause anxiety and worse, even fear. Often, fear is irrational but it still stalks us creatures craving directions and crystal clear pictures of the future.
My year began with so much excitement and then, I got dished a large dollop of unpredictability, which segued into a period of dissonance, and eventually, employment’s door shut in my face. By late June, I was uncertain about what new revelations were just around the corner. Continue reading