Saturday at the Salty Dog

This is my bookstore!!  I have been drinking the IPA beer here almost before you were born or at least before your legal drinking age.  Where is my seat? Who are all these people?  What happened to some young lad saying... old lady, do you want my seat?  

 I have my book and I want to sit and sip my brew and not be bothered with PEOPLE.   I could get very grumpy over this situation.  This is my bookstore/brew house.   Who are you ???

Funny how we take possession of what is not ours to possess.  I felt this way about Margie's back home.. .that is my bar.. who are you?  The Salty Dog Bookstore was my refuge when I went to the farm.  I often went there after dinner and thought, how do they stay open?

 This Saturday not only were they open, but there were also no available seats.  The average age was 30 and no one rose to say...old lady do  you want to sit?

 They sat.. they sipped... and I stood.  They drank and I slipped and turned the pages of the book.

 I later found out that there was a rock concert in town and these were the folks that came to listen and camp.  It was raining, they were cold so they came to the Dog to sip a brew and get warm.  They drank and left.  I drank and read.. and in the end it was the quiet sleeping salty dog and my familiar brew house.

Final Farm Visit

This weekend I faced my Rubicon.  On the way to a unique wedding, I went to visit the site of my friends family farm home in Claverack.  To many that came to prepare the house for sale, it was a mess and needed a major clear out and clean up.  To my dear friend, this is where she lived the reclusive life she wanted with her best friends the dogs and horses. 

The first time I went to the farm, I was about 25 yrs old and had just taken a job with the Division for Youth.  My assigned institution happened to be in Hudson, so I looked up my skiing buddy.  Over the fifty-year friendship, we moved to Rochester, lived together, she bought a house in Henrietta, I moved to Irondequoit Bay,  she moved back to Hudson, and we spend a few days each season golfing and then working on farm projects. 

I knew every nail on every fence post, cut miles of lawn and bush and went through many physical issues and cancer treatments that she endured.  We made the last of the 25 Christmas Cards in the basement,  buried our pets in the yard, and enjoyed our picture taking trips to the river.  In the end, she lived on little money but her animals had everything they needed and she was resigned if not happy.

When she past,  it was time to get the farm ready for new owners.  For much of the time, I worked alone with some great help from Rochester folks on a couple of weekends and two local brothers who painted and plastered.  While the 1957 house was “dated” with the financial resources, it could be a spectacular home.

This weekend I went back and drove up and down the country road in front of the house slowly in the rain. It was a Bergman movie experience for me.  This was my friends home, but she was not there and now new owners were home and the lights were on in the now grand front room.   I could see that the wall from the dining room to the back bedroom was now floor to ceiling glass panels overlooking the mountains and river.  I am sure the modern kitchen and lights make the place spectacular.  It looked like a beautiful grand home... on the side of a hill on a country road.  I drove down the road and went to Baba Louis, her favorite eating place and lifted a glass of Blue Moon and had a great salad... And drove on.

I could feel in my bones, that I was not the same person that I was in the morning.  I did not feel alone but more in the company of an authentic self not worried about who was on my path, weather I was the person someone else wanted me to be, etc.  My head was not jabbering and I was just listening to the rain and feeling my heart beat.   It was just NOW, it seemed very real and I drove off and will probably not return.  And it’s ok

[I am changing my email distribution list, so for some who have never responded, this may be your last bonny email to just delete from your mail bin. Farwell to you...have your life to the fullest.  Try not to judge or hold on to what doesn’t work anymore.. just listen to the rain and drive.]

New Year....New Day.... New View

A long pause between blogs

I needed to get off the slide and sit quietly in the canoe. Sometimes see myself trying to connect to people and places but I really don’t have an interest in the connection.  It is like taking a raffle ticket for a tricycle.  Why.  So I have been taking some time to ask where I am going, who is in my boat and how did I feel about my journey, not any destination.   

Some elements just had to go. The first shoved out was the voice in my head. You don’t know how much babble is going on until you start to answer and have conversations with the voice. The worst is when you change what you want to be doing to something the voice thinks you should be doing and someone with whom you really do not mean to be doing anything.

I am in the last section of my life and in intend to live as if it is my last week. I have come to realize the VOICE is part of every insecurity I have ever had. It stores a long list of how I should be and what I need to do to be the person someone else thinks I should be. The voice appeared to be intent on raining on my parade and I am now intent on enjoying every drop if rain even if I am out in the storm alone.   It is my journey.

Therefore, who should be travelling in my life will be there. To the others, have a real life.

You are on your own.