So things are going along okay. The finest kind of situations and pretty even keeled living for you my friend.
Excellent. Good enough, glad to hear. Or do you seek to never get too comfortable? Not an Eeyore or malcontent but keep knitting on it. To peel back the layers. To expose, get to the heart of the matter of what is important. With as close to absolute clarity in your thinking, living as possible needed to do it. No Neighbors, The Wind In The Trees. Crunching Fresh Snow, Bringing In An Armful Of Stove Fire Wood.
So what level are you at?
How do you keep personal score to know if you are on track, waylaid or a few exits up the pike? To pause for refreshment, let go and relax along the way. But still in the background. Like a metronome you slide the weight up or down. To where you want it to counter balance and set the tempo. To keep, set the pace.
From where you want are now, wish to be, need to be to live life more fully. To improve all the complex relationships, the easy ones too. Not to just get by, or “game it”. Or to get complacent. Stay on a breezy ledge next to a scrub pine. Somewhere halfway up the winding mountain path. But to be more, live greater, love longer, deeper. You keep climbing.
In a game someone keeps score.
Complies with the rules or helps in bending them. Watering Holes, This Kind Horse Used In Market Square. Now Flowers Rent The Space. There are win, place, draw results. Or buzzers. When it’s so sorry, parting gift loser pins, badges, ribbons time handed out. You stubbed your toe. Johnny, tell the studio and at home audience what we have for all the contestants heading out through the double steel doors to the parking lot today.
But the harshest judge can be yourself. Because like a healthy addiction that is fueled by a passion, thinking too hard is not an option. But cranking your head around, exceeding expectations takes awareness. Reshuffling the deck of priorities, responsibilities. To juggle all the objects all of us do and try to avoid dropping. Losing from the rotation.
Stripping away all that robs that 20-20 focus.
To close your eyes. Then clearly see, hear, feel, smell. Just overall sense which fork in the road ahead to take. To lean into. Trusting your gut. Having faith in yourself from experience recall about which certain puzzle pieces have a vaguely familiar shape to them. Maine Highways, Not The Only Access Route, Option. Float Your Boat. To A Safe Harbor Visit.
Seeking something much higher. Because eternity is a long time. The next stop in this dress rehearsal to practice. Run the drills, hear the whistles, lean back in the whirlpool or sauna. When another session is done.
Athletes call the disciple shutting down the mechanism. Tuning out the hey batter batter batter swing. Those that call you a chicken. Asking if you are scared? Smell the fear of insecurity. If. If you let some take a toe hold. Give them an inch and they take a mile.
Maine is a place where you become more self reliant because when you study the landscape.
She pulls all of your heart strings with a determined tug. You get to see unspoiled, all natural in this place with the space. Clean water, wall to wall wildlife and rolling countryside. Less voices outside to distract. More of the ones inside to guide and direct. It is hard to please others knowing they drift in and out of your life like rudderless ships. But you are stuck with yourself and born to improve, crack the code, do the hokey pokey. The best way for you.
Not sweating the small stuff details. You do only go around once in this life. If you let others do your thinking, worry about displeasing someone in the crowd, that is kind and considerate. To a point. But friends, acquaintances, business partners and even family can come and go. Drift in and out. Because of disagreements and misunderstandings. Or simply the work to maintain them becomes unhealthy or distracting from something you need to achieve for your own personal reasons. Maine, she understands and clears the table. Tidy spiffs up the place. Sets the simple stage setting for the work ahead of you. To do what you need to do. Do it in Maine.
What happens when you remove the glass, slide it down by hand crank or electric button in Maine.
And happen to need directions to get from here to there. Asking one by one of the few souls you see populating sparse small rural areas of Maine. Excuse me, would you happen to know where the farm potato house on my bill of laden list destination in Aroostook County is hiding?
You are a truck driver a long way from home in Maine.
Who has delivered the last of a five stop load in the 53′ long stainless steel Great Dane reefer trailer. The one pulled by a twin screw Freightliner, Peterbilt, Western Star, Mack or some flavor of tractor cab over or conventional long snout work horse. With the Thermo King unit humming on the front of the box to preserve the temperature. The air ride bags charged fully to cushion and protect the freight. Small Maine Farm Sustainable Agriculture. Hard Wood, Highly Rewarding Lifestyle.
And looking, needing to get loaded.
Not the in a glass with ice or bottoms up chug-a-lug. Not out of a bottle, can man. Not the last call at a bar kind before the arch welder bright deer in the overhead lights happens either. No no, the responsible kind.
The back haul to avoid dead heading empty. That frost heaves on Maine roads torture, tease the leaf springs. Jars the machinery that needs to flex, work, pull loads both ways. To pay for your diesel fuel saddle tank on each side. Pull over, top those aluminum tank stops. The reach down or easy pass roll through turnpike tolls. The long as your arm individual state road use permit taxes that need to be kept current.
All the expensive ones in an office somewhere overflowing, never ending stacking high. For over the road repairs, truck and trailer payments. In all the heavy ones you carry. Along with the load in the back following you like a shadow in the day and night driving.
Plying back and forth, testing way way positive for the white line fever.
On the road, turn it up again restlessness journey across the hill and dale. Shake and bake. To keep the coverage enforced on insurance boosters for the legal load limits. Everything right side up avoiding black ice, in the red ink from flowing.
For something needing to be hauled, taken someplace you boldly go. Hooked to the fifth wheel behind you still release control by hand. Even if your sleeve does have the unavoidable stripes to prove it. Gets painted with a recurring tattoo for you line of red lube grease patterns. From reaching in the tight slot space exposed to the weather.
To pull, push, do something with purpose to the lever. When the landing gear is cranked down or hoisted high. Because you don’t want to chance losing a precious cargo load. In the stop, drop, lock and load shock and awe that’s a big 10-4 good buddy.
So back to directions to the off the beaten path long tall dark bin spud house.
That the first guy you ask for help says easy as the nose on your face to find. The potato packing shed to lift the pair of back handles up and out. To open wide those twin rear doors, back into a loading shed roll away is so close by you can taste it. Easy to spot he reassures, promises.
This is your lucky day. Just pass a big red barn on the left coming up, just after a large trout pond on the other side of the drifting roadway. And swing a wide arch. Signal your intentions. Take your next right. Honey we’re home. Hey hey, how was your day?
Off you go and more lost you get.
Because yeah, there was a red barn on the right coming up. Twenty years gone occurred though. Failed to mention, provide that important tidbit of information on the “A” to “B” twist and shot direction tale telling roadside assistance. The time is a-wasting, pin the tail on the back haul jig donkey, dog and pony. Keeping Small Maine Town’s Running Smoothly. Calm Is Nice, But Ripples Happen.
And that fish pond, yes, it is still there.
But where, how would you know? Carefully covered over by Mother Nature with help from the weather channel. Only three feet of white crystalized water.. the kind called a blanket of fluffy snow obscuring it.
Crank your head and scan slowly squinting. Nope. That snow piling up makes the entire pasture / field combination look pretty much just more of the same white out expanse. From high up in a feeling low and lost long way from family and home eighteen wheel highway jockey ride. Get on your knees, you need your garden.
When you live in Maine, you remember everything like the back of your hand. But the new to the area traveling motorists may have to ask a couple folks to get it right. Parked, placed where they need to go. For the all important destination spelled out in the log book load manifest paperwork.
The way the grass looks, the shade of green in what you see from afar.
Maine is a mystery to many. She is not a place to compare to another in explaining the state to someone new to these parts. Where do you begin and usually it is easier to start the Maine photo slide show. The images of Maine do the job easiest. No talking, just gawking.
Your Neighbors Four Legged, Furry, Curious, Shy. The photos of Maine reduce it all down to what is real, natural, special. Because so much of the unspoiled space is foreign to people that have lived without it so long. And it is easy to forget places like this exist except in books, high budget movies that can transport the city mouse far from the noise, smells, worries and rat race.
So back to the Maine blog post title and the skeptic eye someone not familiar with the Pine Tree State sometimes casts.
Some that have never been here wonder how do the locals do it. Do what? Stand the deafening sound of quiet when on the top of Mt Katahdin. You explain when the man made sounds, billboards, all the clutter of commerce is removed, you see what hides behind it.
Maine is undeveloped and straight out of the box Mother Nature, Jack Frost, God and a host of others that cherish woods, wildlife and waterways create. Like the Mainer who is after more than a healthy credit card limit can begin to buy that will last. The Connection With The Audience. Seeing Each Member One By One. Get real, get Maine was a slogan I think a few years back. To get to that place, you had to back away from the spending table of out of habit.
The fear of having enough savings to fuel the store bought lifestyle of artificial insecurity.
The urge, itch to flaunt your success. Replaced with more dig deep and rely on yourself, your skills, talents. Than your wallet or purse used to drive the show production. That shift when realized is what makes Maine an “ah ha” moment. And you blush, go still, become humble.
Maine now has you wrapped around all of her fingers.
Not just the little ones on the ends that go wee wee wee all the way back to the big city, bright lights living. With the tail between it’s legs. One hand on the fully charged taser.
When someone utters, sputters but what about culture, got any of that? Tell them about the water ballet performance. Of a pair of Maine loons in love and displaying it. In a private sunset show on a Maine lake with you alone or a partner Unplugged, Hard Wired Into Maine’s Outdoor HBO. In a VIP box seat shore front lawn folding canvas chair feeling hit hard. Deeply by the display.
What matters most in life rises to the top when you remove all those layers that insulate, distract and waste precious time.
In getting to the heart of the matter, what really pulls on the strings to the ticker. The settings where man can not drive a car. You don’t pay for parking. Are the spots to find what is missing. Less is more in Maine. More than enough.
End the day getting off an antique tractor you thank for hanging in there. Getting that back forty planted, cultivated and hoed. Or another very important day of a critical harvest time in the books. You appreciate more that someone that only values things with a dollar sign attached misses. That stack of racked, stored firewood for next winter in the shed. The root cellar busting at the seams for winter dining.
You are content because you made your life that way with gratitude is riches thinking.
You are blessed with what matters that you need, not thinking you do out of wanting something but the hankering goes away as soon as you possess it. We chase different moving targets in Maine that don’t come in a catalog, can be ordered online at Amazon.
Maine is humbling, sacred, real and to be protected.
The home made love and appreciation passed down to preserve it taught to the kids.Taught How To Fish, Survive Early In Life. Missing His Mate, Crying About It Heard On A Maine Lake. Whether at a woods camp hunting, trail hiking or biking. Plying the water of a river, lake, pond or in a sea kayak with a friend. Paddling out to circle a near shore Maine lighthouse like a NASA capsule orbiting before it’s return to Earth.
The picnic lunch of what you grew yourself. Sliced, layered and enjoyed more because hunger improves the taste.
The setting all around in Maine is not easy to describe. Because it is more than what you see, take in. More about what explodes, detonates and resonates within that propels your day. Makes your life in Maine oh oh so worthwhile and enjoyed.
The way we talk, what you are expecting to hear when a true Mainer (pronounced MAIN-ahhhhh) meets and greets.
Shoots out, extends a friendly hand Chummy. Just as you cross the big green iron bridge to the south. The one with the slight rise in the center and windy curve to the right. As you cuff along. Bee line, bomb in from the granite state. Whew. You made it and see the blue Welcome to Maine sign. The announcement we are full throttle, wide open for business let me tell you Bub. Isn’t that cunning. The Digger Bed Needs Racketing To Remove The Field Rock. She Sprung Froze Up , Went Plumb Sideways, Off Kilter She Did.
But the way we shoot the breeze down at the corner Mom and Pop convenience store.
Where we get our fix of freshly squeezed local and national. The in between news news too strained, filtered through the Maine grapevine. Dressed comfortable.
Never to impress in Maine but warm, layered. Giving freedom. The ability to move freely pretty much unrestricted in our work and play recreation. When are lucky as all get out to be spending, logging hours in Maine.
Unplugging to recharge. Gain perspective away from all those friggin’ people in your face and what what what? Wanting something that somehow you are sole responsible for holding them up to get. Honking horns, making not so G rated hand gestures. Sputtering, foaming at the mouth and hold your ears subsonic shouting. Majorly ticked off and don’t care who knows it. Stress kills, robs the moment, is just not fun. Not like Maine.
Unwrapping, gnawing on a pumpkin chocolate chip whoopie pie.
All mutant, the size of 55 gallon drum or manhole covers. Made with boat loads of love poured, stirred into the batter. And pretty much near as big as your head size wise. Generous helpings to nibble on. As you slurp tons of coffee.
Getting wired to almost levitate levels. And hear other locals chew the fat. Sling the hash about this and that. Things and stuff don’t you know. Sitting Pretty, Living In Maine. Knowing, Liking, Needing Your Neighbor. Pitching In Back And Forth In The Barter.
Hey, got your next year’s winter wood all in I see. You really put that wood splitter through it’s paces this past weekend. Notice you on the sling shot trip buzzing by your property to the hardware store. Prowling, hunting down stove bolts, lathes, my plastic rolls of house banking.
Your brother in laws, the cousins, all the kids, wives and girlfriends bundled up. Caught in the act. Pitching in for the many hand, community woodpile production.
Stacked BTU’s of maple, beech, ash, birch, elm 4x4x8 packages. Nice and neat, done up slick as a whistle. Ready for old man winter’s appearance. Nice. Wicked nice. Pretty decent. Bet you’re some kind of glad to have that geezly process behind you for another year no?
In Maine it is always hard telling without knowing.
Because you have to racket it back a notch or two. Slow down, listen good and come up with the logic between the lines. Of what is actually being said around you. In a state where the awareness meter pegs. Way over and bent sideways. Slammed to the right like no tomorrow. Up against the post.
Because everything is kept simple. Tests positive for pure, natural, real. Down to Earth friendly. And sometimes nearly raw, cool pink in the center. Grilled to perfection in the sizzle on the outside. Like the meat served up with laughter, the cribbage board slid to make table room.
As the cards get put away from the 15-2 pegging the lanes at a deer camp. Pass that Uncle Henry’s will you Sparky? Gotta head to the little shack out back for some quality time alone for a spell. If you get my drift. To see a fella about a horse.
Easy, not complicated. Not because Mainers themselves are simple, but the lifestyle and traditions they maintain is easy does it. All over that balance, moderation. Live life, don’t race through it. Kept and preserved that way with respect for nature.The Unique State Of Maine Hand Drawn, Creatively Depicted. Like The People That Are The Fruit Of The Tree. Enjoying life, the drop dead gorgeous surroundings that wrap around and help us stay insulated. From the rat race roller derby that is not Maine. It is not like this many other places just so’s you know.
And boy do we know and appreciate what we have in Maine.
When the “back in Jersey, back in Jersey” transplant makes us wonder. Scratch our head when it is always talking about “back in Jersey”? Why did you come and when are you going to turn the corner and talk about how lucky you are to live in Maine?
So Maine, what to say and how to speak the language? For starters, not everyone lives Downeast. The coast with the clam diggers, herring chokers, berry of blue rakers is one pocket of characters. We have lots more in the deck. Travel further… like Anthony Bourdain who has done time, logged days in willy wags of Maine. Lucky he did not get seriously dismembered, stove up his ice rocket on the trails around Milo Maine.
The ice is out, the local small town Maine sports team is heading to the big city.
We only have a handful of those in Maine. We are survivors and don’t need a large stash of cash to pull it off. Because the volume on spending is turned way down. The one labeled with laundry market on duct tape reading “Lets Play Outside” is turned all the way up. To the far right. The knob ripped off, thrown in the corner. Like a cork plucked from a bottle of something to celebrate an event that will never be recapped. Make it back for the tight fit.
The talk is local in Maine and the way we do it creative. One of a kind home made, colorful lingo like the state, the people.
Refreshing Maine Water, Does Your Involve Boats? Talk About Lobstering, Tourist Excursions? Formed inside from a different angle. As we twitch line choker cable a bundle of horizontal long wood. Heading, goosing it down the skidder winding trail. Sliding in the fresh, dank smelling muck toward the yard.
To prune the limbs before the grapple operator is tapped, gets the nod. We describe the process from first hand experience. Our work is sacred. We strive to be the best on all levels and to be never called lazy. Well now. That is hitting below the belt.
Call me crazy, a loud mouth, a horse thief, anything but that “L” word in Maine.
Don’t label me, saddled me with that toxic low blow label.
Or the guys, gals down at the paper mill toting fully loaded dinner buckets and are all smiles. When a new owner breathes fresh air into an old closed up idled factory. Or you hop out of a cab over Freightliner, Pete, KW or Western Star ay Dysarts. Swing from the door grab rail. On the rig that is lit up like a Christmas tree with glowing amber and red marker lights. Chrome wheels blinding as the tractor jake brakes to a stop hauling the flat bed of lumber, the stainless reef full of God knows what 53′ long box. Hey, how’s my driving? Call 1-800-let-know.
All spiffed, shined up pretty as a Maine smooth as glass, like a bottle misty morning lake.
Maine, Outside, Another Season. Just Dressed Different. Inner Communication Going On With A Higher Power.
(Cue the Maine loon call Sport will ya right about now? Appreciate it. Owe you one.) Wearing the chain drive wallet. Some girlfriend or kid’s names on the side of the sleeper in vinyl lettering to match the rig’s color scheme. Kicking, clubbing all 18 of the wheels and checking the fifth wheel pin still done by hand. That’s a big ten four.
Fresh powder snow to snow sled, ski across or carve long deliberate turns down a challenging Maine hill.
The expressions seem foreign without adding a lot of spin because the way we live is so different, strange sounding to someone without all this space. Cities have little. Life is noisy and man made smells, of industry, of fear, of watch out where you move next. Use that deadbolt and slide the chain. Fire up the cameras to protect the perimeter around you in the concrete jungle.
Maine, the “wurds” we use when we have “idears” are all about the accent.
You can tell right away where this cat or dudette is from as soon as the trap opens. The words come out. Folks from outside are hard for us to understand too. Talk like a Mainer when you are lucky enough to hang your hat here Slim.
You’ll find your groove, we won’t have to draw you a black and white picture Darlin’. Once you do some time in Maine. And we’re not talking making lobster plates down at the state pen. Hey, we getting low on the Allen’s coffee brandy? Better pick up an extra jug, gallon with the can and bottle money we turn in from the empties piling up out in the shed.
Maine, whole new angle on getting more out of life. Not for everyone but the ones that discover her inner beauty, are hooked for life. She grabs your heartstrings. Tugs, playfully yanks and you know there is no other place you need to go.
I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573 info@mooersrealty.com
Not just flit in, out like a globe trotting vacationing hummingbird. Brief, sporadic visits miss much. You’re not fully you, start to show drastic withdrawal symptoms. When MIA for long from the Pine Tree State. Maine Weather, What To Wear Means Whatever Works, Protects, Is Comfortable. Does Not Put You In The Poor House.
Because Maine full time, your order is up please means you get all the fixin’s. Get to sample more than a small plop cafeteria corner compartment of her richness.
Don’t settle for a measly, dinky side order of all she offers. Or worse end up with just a no thank you helping of the good stuff. Dig in, go deep. Cover me. We’re going outside in Maine.
But as the Maine expression rings true, it is hard telling without knowing Bub.
In what to wear when you are in Maine but feeling like a fish out of water.
Fashion conscious worry goes out the window, is left at the back door like Dino. Not allowed to come back in. No one is out to impress. Maine’s drop dead natural stunning beauty has that shock and awe routine wrapped up in aces, all the suits. Tight as a drum, the whole nine yards Chummy.
The simple small Maine town approach to living strips away, sets the stage. Starts Out Nippy Early Wearing Long Underwear And By Noon Stripped To The Waist . Sweating During The Maine Fall Farm Harvest. For a naked, less complicated, over layered Maine experience. That approach that is not fueled by a big wasteful spending production. Keeps everything from artificially bloating. Taking everything, everyone off course. Distracting from the true experience reward the Maine outdoors delivers if you just keep it simple.
Warm wearing insulated flannel, waffle cell long underwear beneath that.
Waterproof boots that breathe so your piggies don’t swelter or drown. And something for an outer shell that lets you move unrestricted in a Maine winter.
Whether swinging a mall to wedge apart, split next year’s firewood. Or heading to the fall farm fields of Aroostook County to one, two, three and more potato.
Or leaving a protected harbor, Maine craggy lined shore of a Maine small fishing town. Plying the open water swells for the denizen of the deep. We are talking being warm in winter because hibernation is not an option. Adding a hearty chowder, soup, stew to attack any hint of cold from the inside out too.165 Pounds Is The Weight Of A Full Maine Farm Potato Barrel.
Thrift stores finds at Sally’s, the good as new, second time around and hand me downs work just fine in Maine.
Reuse, recycle, don’t buy when you already have more than you need. Things held onto, appreciated, put into service. Pulling from your stash the tried and tested green or red plaid wool jacket. As you head off to the wood’s hunting camp.
Or down to the local diner, corner convenience mom and pop Maine store. To hook up the IV to the purple juice from the local grapevine. For a hit, push, dose of the latest press run of what’s happening from the Maine man on the street reporting. Standing next to the Uncle Henry’s rack. Slurping a coffee and nibbling on a fresh piping hot wedge slice of breakfast pizza.
We’re not talking dressing like Don Knots with light blue leisure suits when we go out either.
LL Bean is in Maine remember?Maine Small Towns, Family Is Everything. Polar fleece for a chill of early spring, late fall can do just fine. As we take in a high school sporting event where we know or are somehow related to most on the bleachers. The steel toe work boots for safety get left at home. Hiking or cowboy boots, sneakers, deck shoes, tevas or anything but hush puppies are applied for the walk this way in Maine.
When your weekend dining is something grilled outside. Pulled from inside an antique farm house kitchen wood cook stove. Five star dining also happens down at the local sled club, grange hall, church bazaar. Where the many in the kitchen wearing aprons create with loving hands together. A medley of tried and tested, handed down the generations to die for family recipes.
Come as you are, as long as you are warm, you are comfortable.
Not hung up on stylish means develop your own look. Maybe the mackinaw was your grandfather selected today. The lid you wear Uncle Bob, the character who was a decorated veteran. Shot up but not talking about it much after he returned stateside. He was the Schaefer drinker. Like Freeman Taylor, the local postage child for that brand of reaching for more than one when you’re having fun.
The t-shirt and shorts, swimsuit, flip flops and sand of a Maine summer beach outing. The Dickey’s, Carhartt’s when working in the shop. Running a Maine farm or woodlot chainsaw means tough stuff that holds up needed. Like Janet, no one wants a wardrobe malfunction. When working, playing, living outdoors in Maine where all the fresh air and high test scenery surrounds us.
Maybe our blood in Maine is pretty much like motor oil, 5W-30 weight.
Thinner viscosity on the wipe, dip, pull, reading of the stick. Perhaps we are heat intolerant. Maybe we work too hard, are so industrious so Maine weather clothing is not so important.
We fuel up with the right home made food that dresses, sticks to your ribs from within. Our work ethic industry labor is like someone cranked the ten, twenty or more thermostat degrees. Added an extra layer of clothing or wool blanket on a cold Maine winter eve. A winter night’s Noreaster that is revving up to full RPM gale force levels. Where the Maine country bedroom windows sound like kazoos when inward blasts, gusts pick up speed. Pummel, rock and roll the Maine house.
Maine, don’t worry about what you wear. Just enjoy where you get to go with whatever threads you have. And whatever works for the application from your own field study experience. With what you have hanging in the closet, in the chest of drawers.
I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573 info@mooersrealty.com
Thanksgiving, the word can mean football, parades, large stuffed turkeys, many pies of all kinds.
Laughter of family and friends around a pretty house, large dining room table setting. The Lonely Stretch Of Woods In Haynesville Maine. Been There? In a warm clean home and everyone truly feeling blessed, grateful. You have a diploma, provide for your family, have a home. Savings, a healthy growing retirement account. Take vacations. Belong to a country club. Drive something late model, clean, sharp. You have opportunities. A future.
Plus toying with what to beeline to first, second, third with a squeaky wheel wire cage shopping cart.
On Black Friday to not miss out on all the big clock ticking away loudly deals. Hell bent to scratch lots of items off the neat hand written list.
Of what everyone wants for the ho ho ho Christmas racing toward all of us. Ready or not. It’s happening with or without you. Camping out, hours spent in a parking lot all bundled up, shivering. Looking to save ten, twenty dollars. Cash in a coupon or two.
Continue the tradition of tailgating with other merry some scary intense shoppers.
To arm wrestle, fist fight if you have to in the scoring the two or three deals of a lifetime items. Advertized to cause the whipped up stampede from each of the local big box stores. The Cattle Are Munching. Hay, Not Turkey This Thanksgiving. To pacify, lure, tease hundreds, thousands of hopeful happy happy snappy holiday gift buyers. Crowded in long lines shoulder to shoulder.
(Record scratch sound, then silence.) Hold it.
Shift gears pilgrim. Because when you think beyond how hospitable the early Native Americans were to the early settlers. The ones landing in the Bay State, on shores off boats. That were rag, tag, green. A long way from their last home the other side of the puddle.
Pretty disorganized, suddenly “ta da”, in a new strange land. With cold temperatures, ill prepared for the snowy hibernation in the next many calendar months in America.
Think of the guy or gal at a correctional facility.
Overseas in gray, olive drap green, blue, dress white. Out of country serving in the armed forces. Fighting for freedom, the American way of life Uncle Sam spreads like peanut butter around the globe.
Separated from loved ones this Thanksgiving?
You can say you can relate to that person’s loss, suffering. Grateful, Happy Now? Thank You! Thank Somebody. Can you with all you have stocked pile around you? When many have nothing. Saddled with depression, that are hungry, unemployed. Living in dysfunctional hook and by crook spur of the moment lifestyles. Bumping along with addictions on their backs. Cold, broke, tired, sad, hungry and so so alone. Going on and on.
Lost ones in your family this year too.
Not picking white, dark, any Turkey meat off the big heavy platter. And who won’t be at that attractively arranged Thanksgiving table this season. Pull the other chairs, place settings closer. Or invite someone alone, a long way from their real home into fill that slot.
Prepare a meal with loving hands of hot, tasty, in abundance plate servings for others. Include those less fortunate or just out of the loop. Home alone like Kevin.
But without the store bought tinfoil TV dinners.
Or delivered curbside cheese pizzas to give a whirl, try out. Like the fabric softener bought with a coupon to be frugal, thrifty. Before the walk home with two heavy plastic bags that let go, add to the frustration. Of being all alone for the holidays. And a kid on top of all of that.
Life is better with a large supply of hope, plenty of faith. Lots of regular sleep in a clean, warm bed. New Snow, Maine Winter Holidays. Happy Thanksgiving! The same bed, room, spot, routine. Not couch surfing, sleeping in your car, or hitting a homeless shelter. Shivering on a park bench for the night. Or under a bridge, out of sight to be just left alone. And told you have to leave, move along. Or getting robbed, harassed. Pick your poison.
It is easier to be happy, grateful when it is plain to see how much abundance you have.
The many blessings counted one by one Of the stuff that does not take money too. That is not the latest, greatest, plastic shiny trending for gift giving this Christmas season.
I’ll be home for Christmas blue blue oh so blue songs, if only in my mind. Reunions after being miles apart. Someday. Absence does make the heart go fonder. But broken hearts, lacking hope, locked in despair mode lonely individuals that are defeated. Desperate, ready to hands up, give up. Or commit a crime for the three hots and a cot.
These people are probably not part of your holiday celebration for Thanksgiving right?
Make you uncomfortable, can we change the subject please? Hey how about those Patriots, the Bruins right? Parents passing the kids please. Divorce proceedings recent, raw. Emotions high and the healing not happening yet in the routine of back and forth. In a public place. Tears, hugs, back packs and suitcases bucket brigaded. Handed over. To return in two days.
Or kids, half the parent equation, grandparents totally gone or off and on awkward, disruptive. And suddenly the child estranged. You the parent kidless, sleepless but not in Seattle. All over the land it happens. In the I don’t love you anymore. Somebody is moving out. Like it or not.
Reach out, do what you can for those that have little. In a tight upside down spot this Thanksgiving. Especially for the kids. To make holiday memory traditions that are bright, warm, peaceful. Tie on an apron for the public suppers for the elderly. Delivering food to the shut ins. Make, take time for others this holiday celebration season. In a private, not grandstanding sort of way.
