Dunkirk, NY – I spent most of today attempting to consolidate my digital presence. It was not as onerous a task as I had expected. I was feeling way too scattered on the internet, and I no longer wanted to have to maintain so many different types and styles of site. As a result, I decided to bring as much as I possibly could into my original personal name domain, and make use of whatever tool I had available here to bring everything together.
The Yankees are no longer, I think, the “Baby Bombers.” They are pretty much growing up fast, with the possible exception of Miguel Andujar and Gleybar Torres, both of whom had a great night last night. It’s getting to me something of a common occurrence to see these two come through in the clutch and win games from the bottom of the order.
But I am truly concerned about the pitching overall. Tanaka did not look dominant again last night. He gave up too many home runs (at least they were solo shots), and seems to be afraid to throw his fastball at all. I don’t know how much longer he can rely on his breaking pitches if he can’t set it up with his fastball. Jonathan Holder had been pitching well, but like many of the relievers, he comes in and then lets in runs. It seems that with almost every game one of the relief pitchers has a potentially explosive inning. Last night turned out OK, as the Yankee offense again provided more runs, but when starters can’t go six innings, and at least one reliever comes in and lets in runs, trouble is brewing ahead. With Boston also playing terrific ball (perhaps they will slump with Mookie Betts on the DL now), the pitching situation needs some shoring up if the Yanks expect to win the division as opposed to being one of the wild cards. -twl
NB – This essay first appeared in the ezine The Rain, Party, and Other Disasters in 2016. It is re-printed here with permission of the editor. -twl
As with any of life’s notable “firsts,” I can remember vividly my very first experience of staged Shakespeare. It was a rollicking, no-holds-barred commedia dell’arte interpretation of The Taming of the Shrew, complete with slapstick comedy, rude sexual innuendo, innumerable physical shtick, and a cast that seemed to have inexhaustible energy. One unintended moment sticks out among them all. At one point during the famous Kate/Petruchio wooing scene, in what would now be called a “wardrobe malfunction,” one of Kate’s breasts came flouncing out of her low-cut Elizabethan dress. Completely undaunted and totally in character, the actress grabbed the exposed mammary and stuffed it defiantly back into its place, daring Petruchio and the audience to give even one scintilla of acknowledgement that they had seen what they had seen. I was hooked.
Dunkirk NY – The last three weeks have been all about travel. First, a visit to my parents for a few days, and then, a trip through the Outer Banks down to Charleston SC. I was searching for some sunshine and warmer weather, as the weather here in western NY has been quite cold, grey, and depressing. Regrettably, I did not find much of the weather I was seeking, as it appears the whole east coast is experiencing a colder-than-normal spring. Only one day got up into the 70s, and I got to tour Fort Sumter in a driving rainstorm. I have historically had bad weather luck when I travel. Right now the best thing I could do would be to travel to Oklahoma, because if I went there, rain would start to fall, which would ease their current drought and wildfire situation. Four days in Charleston yielded only one rain-free day, on which the temperature reached a high of 52 degrees. Not exactly what I was hoping for.
Dunkirk NY – The bird feeder in my back yard has seen a lot more action in these past two weeks. I’ve been more consistent in filling it with seed, so the birds are now aware of its presence. I don’t get many songbirds, like finches, at my feeder. Mostly it’s brown birds; sparrows, wrens, and the like. I like to think of them as “working class” birds, sort of in fitting with my neighborhood. Other species include blackbirds and mourning doves. They tend to feed on what falls to the ground, although the blackbirds try to eat directly from the feeder. They have a hard time of it because they can’t crane their necks around if they land on the perch, and their beaks are slightly too big to fit in the feed opening.
My challenge has been keeping the squirrels off the feeder. Squirrels are quite determined creatures. They know the seed is up there, and they will try any number of options to get at the feeder. I have placed the feeder in a location where there are no branches from which they can jump, and there is a domed baffle attached to the pole on which the feeders hang, so they can’t climb up the pole. They have tried leaping up and over the dome, and grabbing onto the pole above the dome, and have been successful at times. So I have had to find the right height to keep the dome higher than they can jump from the ground. I discovered with this last snowfall that they have gained 18″ in height, so another adjustment became necessary. Once they accept that they cannot get over the dome, they nibble away at the seeds that fall from the feeder as the birds above eat.
In recent days, though, I have thought about this intent of mine to keep the squirrels away from the feeder. Squirrels have to eat, just like the rest of us, so why do I find myself feeling resentful when they succeed at getting at the feeder? Why do I take the position that the feeder is only for the birds? Why have I taken deliberate action to keep the squirrels from stealing the seed? Birds and squirrels seem to have the same diet here, so what’s the big deal? And why is there a prejudice towards feeding birds and not squirrels? I don’t dislike squirrels (although my wife does, and wishes them all sorts of harm when they appear in the yard), yet I don’t feed them. They are very smart, persistent and clever, admirable qualities, and yet I take no steps whatsoever to make them feel welcome in my yard.
Exclusivity is a very interesting human trait, the idea that “this is mine and not yours.” In its most concentrated form we call it “discrimination,” when we believe the intent is based in a dislike or even hatred of someone or something else. Feeding birds and not feeding squirrels seems to me to be a form of that human urge to discriminate. I like birds, and I seem to believe they are fragile and helpless, so I feed them. Squirrels, however, seem more capable to fend for themselves, and sometimes can be destructive (squirrels, for example, gnawed away several holes on the plastic top of the gas tank for my lawnmower, making it difficult to operate, as the gas kept sloshing out the holes). So they don’t get fed.
I wonder whether or not I should re-think my position on squirrels. Probably the best solution is to give them a feeder of their own, which would really be no additional trouble, as they eat the same diet. I wouldn’t want too many squirrels to congregate, as they might become more destructive. I wouldn’t want them in my attic, thinking that would be a good place to live as it would be closer to a food source. It’s always a complex question, that balance between protecting what I consider to be mine while not impeding your attempt to get yours. Seems like nature, as it always does, mirrors our own human tendencies, for better or worse. -twl
Amherst NY – My life, it seems, has been one of resistance. From resisting the draft to resisting fried foods, I find I’ve spent a good portion of my life resisting this or that, standing opposed to one thing or another. These days, when I hear the call to “resist” the current president, I cannot help but ask why. What will come of more resistance?
I am sure there are many people out there who would be more than willing to offer me a whole host of reasons as to why. Good reasons, too. I would probably find myself nodding in agreement often as they went through their list. But at a deeper, more fundamental, more existential level, I would probably be thinking about the futility inherent in their positions.
I have been entertaining the notion that the path of resistance inevitably leads one to a gradual withdrawal from society. I have been puzzling over what to do with myself to fill the void left by retiring from my job, and more and more the answer I come up with is – nothing. Nothing at all. I have several options open to me, but none of them are, to me at this moment, very attractive. Part of it has to do with my sense of the futility of action, and part of it has to do with my sense that very little can, or will, change human behavior.
Perhaps it is because I have spent so long saying “no” to so many things that I am now incapable of saying “yes.” Perhaps I have said “yes” to too many things I should have said “no” to. Like a resistor in an electronic circuit, perhaps the very act of resistance can only lead to burnout.
I have been sitting in a grocery store cafe for about an hour now, killing time, having had a small meal in preparation for opening night for a show. For the past 25 minutes, I have been observing an older gentleman, perhaps in his mid-70s. His physicality and movements vaguely remind me of Art Carney. He has been fussing with a handle-less plastic coffee mug he has in his small shopping cart. He spent 15 minutes at a sink obsessively washing the mug. The past ten minutes have been spent meticulously arranging and re-arranging the elements of the mug: the plastic top, the foam pad insulator. He has inspected the mug upside-down and right-side up over three times. He has now filled it with water and is heating it, I suppose for tea. I am imagining that these are the type of moments that fill his life. I think he has nothing he needs to resist. He’s done.
And I envy him. -twl
Dunkirk NY – This blog post has gotten a lot of attention in academia in the past week. Dr. Erin Bartram, an underemployed PhD in history, wrote about her unsuccessful attempt to land a tenure track teaching/research position at a four-year college and her intent to quit looking for one. She received some media attention for it (Inside Higher Education, The Chronicle of Higher Education, The Long Reads), got some pushback, and consequently wrote a defense of her piece in a subsequent post. I bought her the requested cup of coffee at the end of her first post; two, in fact. But there is a well-known saying among those who take meals at soup kitchens: if you want to drink the coffee, you have to listen to the sermon.
Dunkirk NY – Baseball’s spring training begins today, as pitchers and catchers report to almost every MLB training camp. For me, it’s the earliest harbinger of spring, and the most welcome one. My passion for baseball remains as one of the few things that has been constant throughout my lifetime, and as such I have a fierce devotion to it.
Since the days of Mantle and Maris chasing the Babe’s home run record, I have been a fan of baseball and of my hometown club, the NY Yankees. This year they look stacked, with a strong lineup, a deep bench, a talented farm system, and quality pitching. I think the pitching is probably the weak link, but we shall see how far it all takes us. Hope is the key ingredient for a successful spring training. Continue reading →
Dunkirk NY – A bucket list has been shaping up in my head these past few weeks. I think this is a positive development in terms of trying to shape a retirement future. Here’s what the list looks like at the moment in no particular order of importance:
I think that’s it for now. If I come up with anything else I’ll edit the post and mark the update. There’s something about writing this down that makes it a bit more real. I know I won’t get everything on this list accomplished, so I will have to think about priorities. But it’s a pretty nice list as it stands.
The next step is figuring out some concrete actions to get them done. Money, of course, is an issue, as are travel logistics. Since retirement savings are so necessary to continue to support yourself in old age, I can’t afford to take what I’ve got and blow it on everything. Yet, some of these projects do carry monetary potential. How much monetary potential, I don’t know. I also don’t know how much other life factors will interfere with accomplishing any of this. But it’s good to have some plans, and writing down those plans is a good first step. It gets the information out of my head, and once they show up on a page there is then a certain level of commitment. Anyway, we shall see what transpires. -twl
Dunkirk NY – Tonight’s supermoon has risen, but I cannot see it due to cloud cover and a temperature of 16°. The region is in the grip of an extended cold spell that promises to continue for another week. I have to go to work tomorrow, driving cars around in this weather. With high winds expected, the wind chill could be quite cold, maybe -5° to -10°. I’m not looking forward to that.
The new year is supposed to bring with it a promise of an improved future, and in some way I think it’s a well-intentioned notion. But resolutions wane, and winter becomes a struggle to survive, as the cold limits one to indoor activities. You get that “hunker down” mentality, as even small activities become chores. Winter activities such as skiing, snowmobiling and snowshoeing all require expensive gear to keep you warm. You feel that by 4:00PM the day is over, darkness will arrive, and there is little left but TV or a book.
I find the wintertime to be a time, not so much of considering the future, but evaluating the past. Right at this moment, in this retirement limbo, where the past is over and the future is uncertain, I find it difficult to be still. I would like to be still and listen; winter is a great time for stillness and listening. I catch myself staring out windows, surveying a landscape that is hauntingly monochromatic and strangely desolate. I listen to the wind, the sound of which gives me the chills. I can think of many things I might want to be doing, but they all require leaving the house and getting outside. I peruse web sites with newer RVs I’d love to trade for, and I glance furtively at temperatures in Arizona. I have the time to reflect on the whole of my past, since there is at the moment no immediate future that requires preparation. The pieces, as I perceive them, do not begin to add up in the way they used to.
For the rest of this winter, I think I shall be pitting old habits that will not go easy against desired new habits that have no concrete form. Winter is young yet; while I can sense the opportunity it holds, I hope I can hold out while caught in its icy grip. -twl