A Sadness Revisited

You don’t need to have lost a child at Sandy Hook.
You don’t need to have lost a close friend at Sandy Hook.
You can still recognize John Donne’s universal message – a meditation he wrote nearly 400 years ago – that each passing affects us all, as we are all members of the continent, all part of the main.

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My New Neighbors

The sound of Canada geese taking to the air:


The woods and waterways – stream, ponds, marsh, waterfall – down the hill from my home draw nature’s musicians: the barred owl, various frogs, a pack of coyotes, one or two families of mallard ducks, some great percussionists (the woodpecker with its stunning staccato, and the beaver with its shotgun-slap), as well as thousands of Canada geese nearing the end of their fall migration.

Every morning for the past week or so, a new gathering of geese has taken to the air, circled around the upper pond below my home (the pond that is farther upstream on the waterway that supplies the ponds and the reedy marsh that are home to all this diversity), and headed toward their winter home. I use the generic term “gathering” because there are different names for groups of geese, depending on how they are gathered.

On the ground, a group of geese is called a gaggle: a collection of geese (the female), ganders (the male), and possibly goslings (the youngsters – though by this time of year, the goslings are fairly well grown up). In the air, a group of geese might be called a skein, a team, or a wedge – and when they are flying especially close together, they can be called a plump.

The Canada goose –  yes, use the female designation when referring to Branta canadensis – is an energetic migrator,  considered native to all of North America and (of course) Canada, but has also reached northern Europe on the wing – covering tremendous distances at a typical altitude of about 3,000 feet (although they sometimes rise to several times that altitude).

The recording found at the top of this post is of a large flock of Canada geese as they take off, circle the pond they left from, and then head off in multiple skeins, or wedges.





Caring for Others – Family Vol. 1

“The purpose of life is not to be happy,” insists Ralph Waldo Emerson. “It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”


I have been a solid fan of Emerson – a brilliant and comprehensive American essayist and philosopher of the mid-19th century – ever since I was relieved of the duty to read him for school, but could instead navigate his pages at my own pace and for my own purpose. More recently, I have been honored with a gift from my mother of a 100-year-old volume of Emerson’s philosophical explorations and essays, where I found the sensible words I’ve quoted above.


“[T]o be useful … honorable … compassionate … make some difference …”

This expression is found in writings from the ancient to the contemporary, from Ovid to Pink Floyd. It is simple and with care it can grow into something to guide a life to profound value: Care for others, and you are caring for yourself – caring for others can bring you the health you seek.


Life has not been conventional or routine for any of my daughters; all three struggled in school – in particular, in high school – in ways that managed to roughly mimic the paths of my own rocky trek through my high school career.

High school was not easy for my eldest, nor were those years very kind to her. The many adjustments some adolescents manage over time did not settle out for her as they are meant to – all the moreso because several of the key people we called on to help her were of no particular help at all – or worse.

Still, she encountered people during those years who were kind to her – a few people who saw in this conflicted and gifted young woman what her parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles saw – and who were able to offer productive support, who offered models for resolution and growth.

My eldest daughter did not always follow their examples during high school, but once she had escaped that orbit, she grasped the value in their models and strove to emulate them. It did not take all that long before she was focused on pursuing a career doing for others exactly what the people in her life had tried to do – or failed to try to do – on her behalf.


Now, after years of struggle, after years of restoring her balance, she is licensed in her home state as a mental health counselor, and is already working as a supervisor of a team that provides support to adolescents struggling in life; and she will soon be adding therapy clients of her own to the mix. From any angle, it is an extraordinary resolution of the years when she largely rejected support, seeking instead just places of comfort and emotional safety.


One of Emerson’s contemporaries, Henry David Thoreau, offers his own words that illuminate my daughter’s experience.

“We should be blessed if we lived in the present always,” Thoreau writes, “and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities … We loiter in winter while it is already spring.”

My daughter is no longer loitering, but is deeply engaged in positive work, providing to those who struggle some compassionate and productive support and guidance so that they will someday be able to manage their own opportunities. She is their model.


Emerson’s words, Thoreau’s words, my daughter’s work and recovery – they all bring to mind a work by Walt Whitman, found in the 1891 edition of Leaves of Grass.

ME imperturbe, standing at ease in Nature,
Master of all or mistress of all, aplomb in the midst of irrational
Imbued as they, passive, receptive, silent as they,
Finding my occupation, poverty, notoriety, foibles, crimes, less
important than I thought,
Me toward the Mexican sea, or in the Mannahatta or the Tennessee,
or far north or inland,
A river man, or a man of the woods or of any farm-life of these
States or of the coast, or the lakes or Kanada,
Me wherever my life is lived, O to be self-balanced for
To confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as
the trees and animals do.


Happy Birthday, Lauren Rousseau

I never met Lauren Gabrielle Rousseau, who was murdered in December 2012 by a disturbed young man who had likewise never met her, but whose doting mother had provided him with access to high-powered firearms and who had made sure he was well trained in how to use them. Continue reading

RIP Gregg Allman

“Will the Circle be Unbroken”

Performed by Gregg Allman


There have been many verses written for the Gospel hymn “Will the Circle be Unbroken.” The original was written in 1907 by Ada R. Habershon, with music by Charles H. Gabriel, but the song has been reworked and rewritten many times, most notably by The Carter Family. Among the probably hundreds of recordings of the song is this one, featuring Gregg Allman – founder of The Allman Brothers – from his first solo album, “Laid Back.”

Gregg Allman passed out of this life on Saturday, May 27, 2017.


James Mercer Langston Hughes – (Feb 1, 1902 – May 22, 1967)


I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—
I, too, am America.

Stop for Flashing Lights

IMG_3848When I tell people I want to live in a school bus after I retire, reactions run the gamut. But it’s OK. I’ve already driven a bus – The bus I was riding home from school one Spring day in 1972, in 9th Grade, supervised. Actually, I wasn’t supervised at all, but only watched by the licensed bus driver who gave me her seat so that I could drive my bus down my street. Continue reading