160: Culture Shock, September, 2021
The year was 1953. I was 11 years old.
We had just moved from the suburbs of Boston to Grandpa and Grandma’s farm outside Stony Ridge, Ohio. My father had died two years before. Mom moved us back to the family home largely to provide…
159: A guest essay by my son, Matt. (8/28/’21)
Dear America-
Please knock it off about Afghanistan. Say thanks to the women and men who served. Acknowledge the sadness of the situation and do not belittle yourself and your country in recriminations.
Twenty years ago, America struck a blow against…
“Hi, Grandpa. What ya doin’?”
“Just sitting here on the deck looking out at the Bay.”
“What ya lookin at?”
“Memories.”
“Grandpa, you can’t see memories.”
“I can, Punkin. I look out and see the Bay the way
it used to be.”
“Hasn’t the Bay always been this way?”
“No…
Save Our Bay
Poverty sucks! It literally diminishes our ability to be ourselves, to do the right thing. It compromises opportunities for education; for a healthy diet; for medical care; for employment; even for longevity. This should come as no surprise to us Mainers. At $55,602 our beloved State of…
152, Ockham’s Razor
There is an ancient principle of reasoning called “Ockham’s Razor” named after the philosopher/logician, William of Ockham, (1287 -1347). Simply stated, it maintains that “entities ought not be multiplied beyond necessity”; more straight-forwardly: the simplest explanation is usually the right one.
I have always suspected that Ockham…
The year was 1777, over 243 years ago. Maine was still a part of Massachusetts and would remain so for another 43 years. Perhaps the most distinguished citizen of our then-combined state was John Adams. His, more than any other, was the clarion call for independence. …
150: Patriotism
The nineteenth century Danish philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard, challenges himself: “Hast thou uttered the definite message quite definitely, and if I have not done so, what then”?
Soren was speaking about Christianity, but I am hearing patriotism.
Patriotism takes various forms in different times and places. Two hundred and…
There’s an old joke:
An elderly woman has died in a small Maine town. Friends and neighbors come for her funeral. Afterward the mourners join the 90-some year old widower on his rickety half mile walk to the cemetery at the edge of town. Burial complete, they are slowly walking…
I don’t understand life — the hummingbird at our feeder, the urchins in our Bay, the pine pumping sap fifty feet high to support a bald eagle — it is all a full-of-wonders mystery to me. And yet, as Susan struggles for breath I find myself reflecting more and more…
A Lesson in Patience
As a young man I used to marvel at the time it took my elders to accomplish a task. Patient, deliberate, thoughtful: they proceeded slowly while I flitted through the chore. But, of course, they got the job “done right” while I was typically condemned to…
