News From An Acorn

A Thanksgiving Table

There was one Thanksgiving I’ll never forget when I was a kid.

We lived in Madison, Maine for a short time, a two year break from growing up in Boston. The funny thing was we went from a tenement in Boston to a three decker tenement, of all places, in rural Madison, population three thousand.

To say that we had no money was an understatement. So there we were on the second floor on a dead end road. Fortunately for us we had become good friends with the folks above and below our apartment. When Thanksgiving rolled around it made sense to combine forces and share a meal together with our neighbors.

My mom had determined that we should all sit together at one table, which, given the fact that we only had a modest sized round kitchen table, seemed impossible to make happen.

But Red, my mom’s boyfriend, who in time would become my stepdad, had a plan. From somewhere he got two large sheets of plywood and fastened them together. We cleared out the living room and juxtaposed the now extra long sheet of plywood out from one wall. A sawhorse on one end provided the “legs” of our makeshift table, while the end against the wall was screwed down fast atop the wall’s trim board that conveniently ran the length of the wall at a perfect table height.

Various dished began arriving from above and below our place and before long we were all sitting, about a dozen strong, to enjoy a Thanksgiving meal together. The turkey got carved, drinks went around, stuffing got passed and all seemed well.

We kids were situated on the inside close to the wall, I suppose to keep us away from the other end which, because the makeshift table extended so far into room, put those at the outer end rather close to the gas-powered space heater that kept our apartment warm. Of course another reason may have been just to keep us contained!

There was the usual chatter that accompanies holiday meals, when suddenly we heard a loud ear-piercing ripping sound as the entire trim board, to which our table was attached, broke aw from the wall! Before any of us could react our table dropped on one end and landed square on our knees. Anything liquid, milk, adult drinks, gravy and whatnot cascaded downward splashing over plates and onto the floor next to the wall.

Everyone froze in place, though as memory serves me, none of us could move anyway with the weight of a Thanksgiving meal, and the plywood, directly upon us.

Red, who was sitting at the other end, with sawhorse still in place, was up in a flash, grabbed a chair and jammed the back of it in by our knees to hold up the works from falling any further. We, mostly the kids, were soaked but relieved that our meals were more or less intact!

In no time at all gasps of horror turned into laughter. Plates and glasses were righted, the floor got wiped and our Thanksgiving meal continued.

Near the end someone said, “Hey, at least we won’t have to wipe up the table!”

_______________________

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Kevin Lee 

 

Webs of Time

I recently led a retreat at Woolman Hill Retreat Center for Quaker children in which our theme was “Giving Time Time.” On Saturday morning we were about to circle up for morning grace and breakfast when Zosia, age 11, came bounding up to me and said, “Kevin! You’ve got to come right now and see the light shinning through the spider webs in the field!”

Given Zosia’s insistence, my love of photography and having a sense of where the morning light was at that moment, I knew she was right. Besides, I thought, I should follow Zosia’s lead and live into our weekend theme of  “Giving Time Time.” I had no choice but to step away and check this thing out.

As anyone who knows and watches light, it does not wait. At eight in the morning the dew and fog was quickly lifting from the old east-facing pasture, and within minutes the full intensity of the sun would have claimed the land for another day. When I arrived I found not one, but several webs, each waving ever so slowly in the morning breeze with a riot of light and colors passing through each.

Here, giving time time,  was just that, and thus these images. Enjoy.

 

Kevin Lee

Nine-Eleven Since

Ten years ago, in the days following the attacks upon our country on September 11, 2001, our nation was in collective shock and deeply grief stricken. For weeks it was unclear whether or not other attacks were coming, and so I decided to cancel our first fall retreat of the new school year for Quaker children. I felt strongly that it was more important for children to be with their families during the early throws of our national tragedy than for them to be on a hilltop retreat center at Woolman Hill in western Massachusetts.

Understanding how evil can manifest itself in the hearts and minds of the human psyche is challenging enough to unpack among adults. It is ten-times more difficult to make sense of  something like this with children who ask and worry and draw what they felt and saw on that crystal-clear day ten years ago tomorrow. Those of us who work with, and minister among, children and teens in all sorts of tender life situations had our work cut out in the weeks and months following that day.

Weeks later while riding my bike, which was only a week away from our next planned retreat, I was pondering how best to present what had happened on Nine-Eleven. What would be our collective response to the Quaker children in our community? And how would our Quaker peace testimony hold up in these scary and challenging times among Friends overall?  These children, in grades two through six, would certainly want to talk about what happened. And they’d expect not only responses, but honest and direct answers.

During my ride it was especially windy and as I rode through a grove of hardwoods, an even stronger gust blew through. Suddenly it began raining acorns, that fell from the trees, bounced noisily off of my helmet and literally covering the road ahead of me. For several seconds I could hear nothing but acorns bouncing about and I had all I could do to keep my bike from skidding into the ditch.

As fast as that happened it was over. I peddled out of the grove and instantly knew what our approach would be at our retreat on the following weekend. I was struck by the clarity that somehow came to me at that moment, knowing that through reflection and collective prayer, we’d somehow make sense of it all.

As I peddled onward and thought about the “raining acorns” just moments ago, and the clarity that came out of it, I thought, “news from an acorn!” It made me grin. And it was from that moment and phrase too,  that the idea and title for this blog was born.

Now, ten years later, I’m a week away from our first fall retreat at the same location and just as many days after the anniversary of Nine-Eleven. Nearly all of the children coming to this retreat were not even born ten years ago. It’s a wonder just to think about that, knowing all that has, and has not happened, since. Ironically, the theme for our upcoming retreat is “Give Time Time,” which in all honesty was chosen months ago with no deliberate thought to Nine-Eleven. But then again, maybe something else was at work there too.

Last week I asked one of my clients at work what his thoughts were about the upcoming anniversary. “I was three when it happened,” he said. “I wish they’d just stop talking about it, really.” When I asked him why he said, “Because it makes me scared.”

The next day I ran into an old client who is now in college. He’s tall, handsome, bright and confident in his third year of college. Eight years ago at age thirteen he was dismantling and rebuilding old pc’s that people had given him.

When I asked him what he was majoring in he said, “Cyber Security and threat analysis.”

“Threat analysis?” I said. “I’ve never heard of that as a major.”

“Yeah, well…things have changed,” he said. “The next time we need to be ready.”

“The next time?” I said. “I’m hoping there won’t be a next time.”

“That’s why I choose that major,” he said with a grin.

And I believe him, and I believe too, that time brings healing, hope, new acorns and in time, new understanding.

Kevin Lee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gift of storm and sand

In our area Hurricane Irene got demoted to tropical storm Irene, with modest amounts of rain and winds that could have been far worse by anyone’s measure.

For those of us who live on the coast and frequent the ocean regularly, Irene also left a little gift in the way of sandy little mounds just off-shore beyond the low tide mark. The reshifting of sand, which amounted to little plateaus thirty feet off shore,  changed the topography just enough to provide unusual little pools of of water that attracted hoards of hermit crabs, small fish,  living conchs and of course alive and robust grandchildren.

Rather than just sit on the beach and watch, we dragged our chairs and coolers and whatnot to the center of the action. At dead low tide, there we were, sitting in our little paradise just off-shore. While the storm caused damage elsewhere, here,  on this south-facing beach in Fairhaven, between the rock weed on one side and a jetty on the other, mother nature stirred everything up, creating a smorgasbord of sustenance for things that crawled, swam and flew overhead.

There is a briny, salty smell that lingers along the shore when storms like these roll through and leave. Things look and feel different. Partly stirred and scuffed and strangely cleaned up too. It’s as if the dunes and rocks and shorebirds are at rest, are calmed and quiet and breathing easier after the roar of the day before.

Around my feet, while sitting in the luxury of my chair on our twenty-foot island, hermit crabs scurried about in water only inches deep, leaving little “crab trails” in the watery sand as they scooted about. To my left a conch raised itself off of the bottom and began moving slower than slow, and upon sensing the shadows of grandchildren watching close by, stopped and dropped stone-still, until the threatening forms dashed off to discover new delights.

We adults, as grandparents and parents, take in and savor the seaside for all it’s pleasures. But children, all children it seems, are able to blur the lines without effort between their human world and that of the sea and sand and wind all around them. In their beautiful skins they swoop and splash and dig and crawl about as if, for a time at least, they belong to the wet and wild of the shore. For them, like the periwinkles and salty air, there is no time, no clock, no this or that. There’s a tugging, a genetic homecoming that flows without the need of being taught or told. It  simply is. They are not wet and visiting, it seems, but rather are here, belong and fit in perfectly.

It’s amazing the things one sees and understands while watching hermit crabs at work.   

It was just an ordinary day on one remote little beach. It didn’t make the news.  the Weather Channel truck was long-gone too, apparently uninterested in the rest of the story, the post-hurricane party in the salty pools and clumps of seaweed washed ashore and the gulls that feasted with abandon through the pickings.

But nothing stays as is. Soon the incoming tide reclaimed our sandy island inch by inch. The chubs and blue crabs found their siblings and beyond the rocks, a quahog, exposed by the shifting bottom around it, exhaled and breathed anew the tide’s return and got scooped up by a hovering gull, got dropped, broke open and was eaten just like that. The sun, now low in the western sky served to remind parents that tomorrow was coming fast and that beach bags would be swapped for backpacks and the first day of school.

We dragged our chairs and gear (and took the children too!) back to the seashore, packed up, headed for the path and left this timeless beauty once again, promising to return.

Kevin Lee    

    

Ten things I did when the power went out during Hurricane Irene

1. Turned the same light switch on at least ten times while walking by.
2. Heard my wife say while on her laptop, “What good is wireless if you can’t get on the Internet when the power is out?” Exactly!
3. Read a pile of magazines I meant to read at the beach this summer.
4. Watched the birds at the feeders…all the birds…who chowed through wind and rain, then filled the feeders the second they were empty. (Normally, they’re lucky if I refill them in the same week.)
5. Took a pre-nap,  and after awhile a real nap and another nap later on just because I could.
6. Began mild hallucinations on how to find a hot cup of coffee (I don’t usually drink hot coffee in the afternoons) when nothing was open.
7. Used my cell to call a friend, then texted another for no apparent reason.
8. Cleaned out two bulging file drawers that I’ve thought about doing for two years. Made two stacks: A little one and much larger one and threw the little one away, of course.
9. Got to the bottom of my work bench in the garage. Even put things away with labels, and thought about the OCD’s classic line: “String too short to use but too long to throw away.”
10. Passed the ultimate geek test: Sat in my van that has a 110 plug (when it’s running) to charge my laptop so I could keep on writing! 

Kevin Lee

Back To School, Continued

It was mid September when the high school guidance counselor called asking if I knew of Matt’s whereabouts. It seems he never showed up when school began two weeks ago. Efforts to find him, or even to get his step-dad to respond to calls from the school, wasn't happening either.

In July Matt texted me saying he found work helping a local lobsterman doing day trips. I had the boat’s name still on my cell, but not its location. Matt’s doesn't have much family, and I also knew that his stepfather couldn’t care less whether or not Matt ever returned to school, so I focused my efforts on finding the lobster boat instead. A week later I finally spotted Matt off-loading traps from his boss’s truck onto the back deck of the boat. He seemed glad to see me and oblivious to why I might be stopping by.

“So here you are!” I said, trying to appear more casual than concerned. “You’re still lobstering?”

“Yeah, how ‘bout that?” Matt said. “I’m fishing and stashing cash in my pocket, too!”

“You like it, then?” I asked.

It’s pretty good. My boss is cool and pays mad good, too.

Sweet… so Matt, what about school?

Oh yeah….that., he says, as if it were a brand new thought.

Yeah that….you’d be a junior this year. Don’t you want to get at least a high school education?

Oh…I planned to go back…just not yet…been out everyday…the catch is good right now.

Doesn’t your boss know you’re still in school?

He sorta thinks I finished high school.

You mean you told him you graduated, right?

Yeah. You gonna tell him?

No. You’re nineteen, damit…you’re making life choices right now.

Matt continued off-loading traps as we spoke.  After heaving eight or nine more traps, Matt said,

“I’m not sure about school, Kev. Look, I’m 19 and still in high school for Christ’s sake. If I go back I know how it goes. It’s all good for three weeks. Then I start mouthing off, get pissed, get suspended, loose more time and just keep falling further and further behind. Fuck, why bother? It’s not like I’m going to Harvard, yah know?”

But you need a basic education, Matt, unless you plan to flip burgers for a career.

I’ll fish… I’ll do what I’m doing now… just stay here and keep working.

Where you staying? You stepfather doesn’t seem to know where you are

He doesn’t give a damn where I stay or what I do, Kevin. You know that.

I know…but your mother did? If she were here, would you be dropping out of school?

But she ain’t here, is she? So what’s it matter now?

Sensing that the tenor was going south fast, I tried another angle. “How about night school then?’ I asked.

Thought about it. Maybe.

I was about to follow up on night school when Matt’s boss walked up. “You friends with Matt”, He asked?

“Sure  am. He’s a great kid,” I said.

He’s the best damn worker I’ve ever had,” he said. “Always on time, quick learner, easy to get along with. Matt, we set to go?

All set boss.

In a flash the lines were dropped and the lobster boat backed up and out of the slip. Matt waved in my direction and yelled something I couldn’t make out.

As the boat went out of sight I thought, best damn worker, always on time and easy to get along with? Maybe Matt was going back to school after all?

Kevin Lee

 

Back to School In America: Part One

Labor Day is a glorious holiday because your child will be going back to school the next day. It would have been called Independence Day, but that name was already taken. 
                                                                  - Bill Dodds
The reason you want your children to pay attention in school
is because you haven’t the faintest idea how to do their homework.
                                                        - Babs Bell Hajdusiewicz

It’s happening.
The college athletes have returned to town and are clogging up our local coffee shop.Their lean and muscular forms belt back 900 calorie drinks like nothing while the rest of us gain weight just walking in the door. Next week the freshman class stagger in, starry-eyed and flush with ATM cards their mommas got them yesterday.

At the next table two middle schoolers discuss trading flip-flops for the latest high top sneakers while behind me their moms, at their own table, of course, discuss signing up for spinning classes at the Y in September.

On the periodicals rack by the door, a stack of weekly freebies, already yellowed in the August sun says, “ Prep your child for first grade in five easy steps!” Five easy steps? First grade? Frappuccinos for freshman at four buck a pop? High tops? Good lord, I should be drinking more than black coffee. 

And that’s my snapshot from one town barely making it in America.

Kevin Lee

Have I got the boat for you!

 

 

Listen. This is it. Now’s your chance…

Why pay thousands of dollars on a new boat? Why, with just a few hours of your time after work, you could have this little baby in top-notch shape ready for hours of boating fun on the water!

…Don’t delay, calls and offers are coming in as you’re reading this!

(I don’t think anyone is dumb enough to actually call me…it’s a joke!)

Truth is, I’ve been watching this boat embedded in briars now for a few years. When the leaves are gone, from late fall until early spring the boat is visible for all to see at the back of someone’s property here in town. There’s a kind of graceful, yet sad, symmetry between the lines of the boat, its faded green paint, and the swirl and shape of the briars that are slowing pulling the boat down into the earth. As soon as the leaves come out in mid May the boat disappears from view until fall.

On the day I took this photo, I got out of my car, studied the light and angle for the best shot, and then noticed an older, large bellied man across the street standing on his porch, wearing pants, a white tee shirt with suspenders and smoking a fat cigar.

He puffed away on the thing while watching me and I figured he had the better story to tell his wife about some nut stopping and taking a bunch of photos of a dilapidated old boat! 

The boat is not mine…but if you really want to buy it, I’m sure I can hook you up with the owner…for a modest finders fee, of course!

Kevin Lee

Sun Runners

It’s mid August and the signs of summer winding down are everywhere.

Back-to-school specials flood the airwaves and printed media, and parents exhibit that strange mix of sadness to see the season end and moments of delight to know they’ll soon have some time to themselves again…or so they hope, anyway.

Yesterday, a rag-tag band of summer castaways stopped in to visit. Two boys and two girls, ironically, each as tall as the next and all headed into the eighth grade within two weeks.  I asked if they were sad that summer would be ending soon.

August Clocks

“Dude. I’m mad bored. Can’t wait for school to start,” says one with hair to here in skater clothes and shoes.

“I wanna see my friends,” said one of the girls. “But it means I have to go to bed earlier…no more sleeping in ‘til noon for me! Can we get something to drink, Kevin” she asks.

“Sure,” I say, “Help yourself. You know where it is.”

They dropped their skateboards in place and headed for the fridge, revealing the real reason for the visit. Coming back, as if in unison, they draped across the couches, boards on their laps and just sat there, sipping, saying nothing.

These were not the kids you see in back-to-school circulars and ads. They looked hot and grubby and thoroughly happy with themselves. The scrub-up fairies for school had not caught up with them yet. They needed haircuts, even the girls. And one boy looked like he’d been doing his best to grow something on his face since last Christmas. More hair than beard for sure.

Skater merit badges

One boy had a nasty scabby mess from the side of his knee down to his ankle. “How’d that happen?” I asked.

And when he told me, that’s all it took… a tour guide’s explanation from each teen unfolded, explaining every scab and scar and where they came from and what trick they were attempting to master when they wiped out. They were so happy I asked. Secretly, I hoped they’d ask about my boyhood scars too. But of course they didn’t and instead got up to leave.

“Where you off to now?” I asked.

"My mother dropped us all off at Fort Rodman this morning, said one of the boys. We skated along the beach on the bike path, then to Cushman School and now we’re headed to Taco Bell and then to UMass. Tara’s mom is gonna pick us up there when we call."

On the way out the boy with the hairy chin asked me when teen group was starting up again.

“September 12,” I said. “I’ll text or Facebook you and the rest of the group soon.”

“That’s cool... Later.”   

No GPS required

I walked with them out to the parking lot to see them off. Without breaking their stride or even bending they dropped their boards, hoped on and off they went in unison, the same way they came in. Their wheels echoed off the stone wall behind Town Hall on one side and the parked cars on the other, creating  a little roar of four until they rounded the corner and skated out of sight.  Not one looked back or said goodbye…a skater thing, too cool for old dudes and giving up emotion.

The sight and sounds made me smile as I walked back to my office. Returning to my desk I spotted a note on the white board that read, “Kevin, thank you for the drinks. see you soon <3, Tara.”

Kevin Lee

 

 

Mr. Boehner, my hero!

Thank you, Speaker John Boehner (R-Ohio) you have inspired me. I can’t believe it’s taken me all these years before I too, got it! You are a true leader, an American legend, a swell guy.

Starting tomorrow, I too am going to take “The Pledge.” Following the example set by the honorable members of the US House of Representatives, I’m gonna stop paying my credit card bills when they come due. Yep, I’m done.

While it’s true that I bought a nice new van last year, that was then and this is now. I have less disposable income this year than last, so when that bill comes due, I plan to tell them I’m not paying it. I’m sure that the car company won’t mind if I miss a few payments. I’ve always been a good customer down through the years. Like my country, not once have I ever missed a payment. So I’m sure they’ll understand and keep my credit rating intact, too.

And I appreciate that every one of the 435 members of the House of Representatives have worked very hard to arrive at the place they’re at today. Such a sacrifice. They even worked straight through the weekend! It was very nice and all that Mr. Obama tried to help you out along the way, but John, you were right, this is your piece of legislation to craft, not the President’s. In fact, it even says so in the US Constitution!  So good for you for walking out of that White House and going it alone. You’re the man, take charge, swagger on and show them your moxie, Mr. Speaker! 

Tell those sorry-ass old farts hanging at the senior center to stop whining about their monthly checks and go get a job. I’ll email my cousin serving in Afghanistan and tell him not to worry, that the bullets will keep coming, but his pay will be delayed just a bit. And you and I both know, John, that food stamps and WIC vouchers do nothing but breed more Democrats. So right on, dude, shut them off and set them straight right now! As for me, the only social security this boy needs is my daddy’s old Winchester, a twelve pack of Bud and my Ford 350.

This is America! We’re Americans! And if we decide to default, who the hell’s gonna tell us we can’t? Keep a stiff upper lip there Johnny, we’re behind you 100%!

Kevin Lee