third entries

THIRD ENTRIES:

Our deepest fear is

not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that

we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness,

that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be

brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

You playing small doesn’t serve the world.

There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking

so that other people

won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest

the glory of God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us,

it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

we unconsciously give other people

permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear

Our presence automatically

liberates others.            Nelson Mandela 1994 inaugural speech

This next section of writing is called Third Entries.

I NEED SOME TIME TO SCOPE OUT EXACTLY WHERE WERE GOING TO TAKE THE PROJECT. THE NEXT SECTION OF WRITINGS FILLS NINETEEN NOTEBOOKS, WRITTEN OVER THE LAST 30 YEARS.AS I REVIEW THE WORK, IT SEEMS REDUNDANT AND PENDANTIC.  THE NEXT NOTEBOOKS I WAS GOING TO TYPE OUT COVER TO COVER. But that may not be the best investment in time and effort. I have to page through the manuscripts and come up with a plan for this next section of writing.

Hunting and Fishing journal                                                                                                                   7/22/04

Here is a letter from Cousin Sonny.

                                                                                                                                Wed. 8/29/04

      Hi Mike- Good to hear from you. Wow. You can ask a lot of questions. I’ll try to answer them for you. I retired from the University of Maine six years ago and my wife, Betty, retired from her job three years ago. We have been living a nomad existence between here (Orrington) our camp, which we built, on Beech Hill Pond (fishing poor there) and a twenty eight foot trailer we have on Chesuncook Lake which is a remote section of Northwestern Maine. The fishing is fair up there but not a lot to brag about. Mostly we catch landlocked salmon, 14-18 inches, and some brook trout in some remote ponds that we have dragged boats into and leave there. The trout are small, 12-14 inches. I do live on property that was once a farm. (100plus acres). And I did some Farming myself, raising some beef cattle, and cutting and selling hay. Nothing great came out of those ventures but they were fun and educational. We have some woods around us, and some fields. Nino has about 12,000 Balsom Fir Christmas trees growing on our property across the road which are ready to market. We are near some freshwater ponds and the Penebscot  River which have fair to good fishing for bass, pickerel and white and yellow perch but I don’t often fish for them. Depending on the way you go, we are 30-40 miles from the ocean. We are about 40 miles from Bar Harbor the famous tourist mecca but we seldom go there. Prices too high, and too many tourists.

      In Maine we have a moose lottery and while I have never been drawn (my son Nick has been drawn twice), the permit holder can take one other person as a shooter and I have been the other person on three moose hunts, and we killed three moose. Two were bulls 600 hundred and 595pounds respectively and one was a cow (545 pounds- which was the best eating). Most people here don’t go into the woods looking for a moose, they drive up and down the back roads so if you shoot one it is usually close to the road. Many will say that is not sporting, but that’s life. Most hunters have 4-6 people with them (caravan style), so when you get one you can usually get close and drag it onto the truck by hand or with a block and tackle and take it to a butcher. When you get picked on the lottery, you get assigned a specific zone so that eliminates some of the crowding.

       Nino is 32 years old, and besides his Christmas trees, is in the wood business. He processes and sells over 400 cords of firewood each year, and has some wood milled out to various sizes and sells that. He also has a big wood truck with a loader and subcontracts with various people for certain jobs. He keeps pretty busy. Nick is thirty years old and was married last year. He drives tractor trailer trucks hauling big equipment  (skidders, bulldozers, excavators) all over Maine, and some New England States.

      As I just turned 68 years old, I don’t do as much outdoors as I used to. We used to do a lot of ice fishing and duck hunting, etc. but people get older and times change. I still deer hunt but I never had much luck at that. (Nick inherited Uncle Billy’s and Frankie  Olivers skill- I sure didn’t). Now I do some partridge hunting, mostly in northern Maine where they come out on the roads and do some deer hunting. Some friends have a deer hunting camp in the woods and we spend a lot of time there, hunting, playing cards etc. Where we hunt is covered with old woods roads so we can get to many areas to hunt on four wheelers, and we seldom have to drag a deer. I used to hunt deer with a 30-06 but after rotator cuff surgery on my right shoulder, I don’t like shooting that, so I bought a .243. After carpel tunnel surgery  on both wrists, that was too heavy for comfort, so now I shoot a Ruger .44 magnum semi-auto carbine. I love it .If I’m not going to shoot a deer, no sense carrying a heavy rifle. I still have one tractor, a Kubota, and I have a small roto-tilling, bush mowing business.

      I haven’t been back to Portageville or Mt.Morris since my mother died and I don’t really have any immediate plans to do so. Maybe one of these days Betty and I will take a ride.

     Well, I think I have answered all yor questions . Again, it was good hearing from you.

      Take Care,

                                                                                                                                                Sonny

The next entry is a poem I wrote for Dad’s seventieth birthday. Somehow it found its way into a hunting journal.  In his typical grand style, we threw a big bash. Dad was quite the philosopher and story teller. With all his quips and sayings, and preaching and idiosyncrasies.  This poem is a verbal snapshot of Dad, and who he was. Though some of this poem relates personal  family stuff.

Ode to Pappy

“What would happen if we took

a walk down “ the what if trail”?

Would you say” hold still, it’s a dear fly my dear”.

“Your Pappy will never fail”.

 

“Suffering builds Character”.

“You’ve always had enough to eat”.

“We’re in the happiness business”.

“Who’s jump up of the week”.

 

“Are we ready?  Well I guess”.

“Are we ready?  Yes, yes, yes”.

“Get your feet off the davenport”.

“Don’t be a gall darn pest”.

 

“Check the depth of the water, mate”.

“A cold beer on a hot summer’s day”.

“Over sleep and your brain turns to mush”.

“That old hound dog just wants to play”.

 

“If you have a problem,

No matter what its size,

Call on Dad,

And he will equalize”

 

“I’ll tell you a story about Jack and Nory.

Now my stories begun.

I’ll tell you another about Jack and his brother,

Now my story is done”.

 

“ It’s a badger! Dadrattit Brother!

Gee willikers, he’s a good egg”.

Popping champagne corks over the wire,

 

And buying beer by the keg.

 

“I believe Democritus was right.

All things are created from small balls of putty”.

“Put away the tools when you’re done”.

“Oh Mac, stop being such an old fuddy, duddy”

 

“Sharper than a serpent’s tooth,

Is the ingratitude of a child.”

“One no casts out a thousand yes”

“Your wide ties back in style”.

 

“Are we closer to home or the mountains”?

“How many miles to go”?

“I’ll take one turn around the lake”,

“If they’re hitting by that time we’ll know”.

 

“Never a better berry there was”.

“Now give your Pappy a hug”.

“Use the right tool for the job”

“Get your snowy feet off of the rug”.

 

“It’s the witching hour?

Now kids it’s time to go”.

“I can listen to anything,

As long as it’s turned down low.

 

“Now why should I go to church,

And sit among all those sinners?”

“Never leave a thing to chance”.

The Friday fish fry dinners.

 

“If I’d only bought that boat,

Or that piece of land”

“Don’t second guess me”

But that would have been grand.”

 

“Mountain Mist, Rowley”.

“No Monday morning quarter backing”.

Proud to wear frontier towns star.

The sheriff sent them packing.

 

“Your mother and I have paid our dues”.

“Been at this game for a long time”.

“Going to give you back to the Indians”.

“That coupon is worth a dime”.

 

“Another job well done,

By your treasury men in action”.

“Good night”, with the wisdom of Solomon.

Cut the pie to the nearest fraction.

 

“Money’s not the only thing,

But it’s ahead of what’s in second place”.

“Starving Armenians”. Hot egg man”.

“When are you going to join the human race”?

 

“If a little oil is good,

does not mean a lot is better”.

At Buffalo State in the smoking lounge,

That is where I met her”.

 

“The difficult we do immediately,

The impossible takes a bit longer”.

“Mac can’t catch flies, much less fish”.

To Shakey’s for a sing a longer.

 

“At seven o’clock the skeeters march”

“If it doesn’t fit don’t force it”

“If you’re in a marriageable frame of mind”.

An occasional “damn” or a “horse sh…..”.

 

You give us words by which to live.

When you speak and philosophize.

You’ve given us so much to give.

Dad, you’re a hero in our eyes.

 

 

 

THE FIRES STILL BURNING

Last Friday night I went to bed early. We had planned a five am. departure. Justin and I were leaving early for a week of late summer fishing in the mountains. The truck was packed and fueled. The boat hitched up, the food bought and wallets filled with cash. All systems go.

I was in bed too early. I couldn’t sleep, so I came downstairs. It was a warm night. Mom and Dad were out on the porch. The frogs and cicadas  were in full symphony. I listened to the conversation for awhile, and then began to talk. First I shared about a new country song. Private Malone. About  GI that died in Nam. Then I told Mom and Dad that business prospects looked good for the next month. Lastly I shared about my application to the Catholic Seminary. Dad spoke after a moment of silence. “I sense deception in the air”. He didn’t explain.

We were on the thruway by before six am. The sun rose on a clear day. The fall colors had already begun as we got into the foot hills. We saw some wild turkeys along route three as we entered the Adirondacks. There seemed to be a lot of police on patrol, on the highways and in the small towns we passed through as we traveled north.

We got up to Lake Flower, in Saranac Lake, and launched the boat. Justin tooled down the river to camp where I met him with the truck and trailer. We unpacked and began to settle in. The camp was small. Two bunks, four rooms, parking space, and dock. A little dusty. But nothing a good sweeping and a bucket of paint couldn’t whip.

The apple tree by the cabin was full of ripe fruit falling on the ground. Hoof prints told of visiting deer.

We’d been in camp thirty minutes and Justin went down to check the boat. The drain hole in the bottom was leaking. We were taking on water fast. He tried to do a repair. No luck. We were sinking.

I had to lay flat on the dock for an hour, with my finger plugging the hole, until Justin returned with a special part. We drove the boat back into town, and pulled it out. With the part, and some sealant, we managed a good fix. Plans to let the sealant dry, and launch again in the morning.

It was Saturday afternoon. Since fishing would not be possible until the next day, I caught the vigil mass in town. We did take and release several pan fish off the dock.

I did not sleep well on night one or night two. Justin told me I’d been gagging and choking in my sleep. I’ve been waking up feeling like I’ve been beaten up. I know now it’s because I’d been struggling to breathe.

On night three I did not take medicine. I slept without problems. The morning of September eleventh 2001 was clear and warm. We arose and went fishing early. And the fishing had been pretty good. Justin had been lucky, and so had I. We came in with a heavy stringer. The little camp radio was on NPR. There was some talk about a plane flying into the World Trade Center. I figured a light Cessna, but started to listen closely. The landlord called us into the main camp. I tried to call home as the two towers went up in smoke and ash. I felt sick.

Night time came. We took the truck into town. Had to pick up a few groceries. Returning, we pulled into camp. Justin revved the engine. As the engine revved, a flashlight came to the inside of the back shed window. Was some God knows who living in the back shed? We got back inside and I barred the door.  As I fitfully slept and gasped that night, I dreamt the camp was haunted by an evil ghost named Devon Munchley. A very real dream.

For the next two nights in a row, I could not sleep. I laid awake until dawn, listening about the terrorist attack in New York City. My eyes watered all through the night.

Justin was a very challenging friend. There was a moment when I was absolutely at wits end.  By the grace of God my dear friends Lacey and Shirley knocked on the door at that moment. I was very glad for their generous hugs and too short visit.

Lacey and Shirley were remembering Pearl Harbor, as was the landlord’s father. We drove into town to call home. Mom and Dad were panicky. I spoke to an audience of millions that was not there. “Now, my people, is a time to stay calm. Abide within the laws. Be kind to your neighbors. Do take time to pray. And pray well.

I am not afraid of my illness. I know I have a purpose. This sustains me. Last night as I tried to read Matthew 13, my eyes kept catching on the words “the end of the world”. That was only my weariness, nothing more.

We’ve been dueling with our wits, the two of us. He got angry when I threw bread to the ducks. He said it’s not legal. I asked him about street drugs. His response was that we should party and die young.

We rode into DEC headquarters in Raybrook to check out tent camping rules, and ask about bear hunting. There’s bear right near camp, and were bringing them in dumping fish guts. The apocalyptic scenario. “And danger of wild beasts”.  Let’s not overreact in all this. But the sharks.

As we fished this morning I said, “A lot of people have psychic gifts, but they keep it to themselves”. I’m not very psychic, but I sense when others are.

Justin landed a twenty seven inch pike two mornings ago. Today I boated a beautiful thirty one incher. I let her go. I’ve never been one to catch and release. But the twin towers have been hit, and everything is changed. Let her breed. We have plenty in the freezer. And perch and bass for dinner last night.

We’re going home in three days. We’ll see how things go. We’re going to visit Lacey and Shirley today. Find out about a camp down the lake. Move up here with Mom and Dad. Bring our valuables, tools, guns. Get ready for the end of the world. Breathe easy, don’t over react. They said they could see the smoke of the smoldering towers from the space station.

We got back from the lake this morning. They said the fires were still burning.

CAMPING REGULATIONS

150 FEET FROM ROAD, TRAIL OR WATER OR DESIGNATED CAMPSITE

3 NIGHTS TO 2 WEEKS. PERMISSION FROM RANGER DAN FOX 523-1605

1^st COME 1^st SERVE

NO RESERVATIONS

CAUTION: BEARS ARE VERY ACTIVE.

 

 

Here is an excerpt from a New York State DEC publication.

THE BLACK BEAR: a New York State Mammal

The sound of crackling twigs in the woods to my right roused me from my daydreaming as I strolled a dirt road on a pleasant summer afternoon. Instinctively, my eyes followed the sound to its source. There, not more than a hundred yards away was a good size black bear in a small clearing. This was my first glimpse of a wild bear and the encounter made my heart race with excitement. I scanned the woods from side to side with my binoculars until I calmed down a bit, and was convinced that it was a lone bear. Although my first thought was to sneak up quickly for a closer look, I knew the hazards- especially of getting between a sow and her cubs. While the bear gingerly stripped black berries from the prickery brambles, I took a few seemingly noiseless steps forward. Suddenly, the bear stopped and looks in my direction. I froze, and as we faced each other, the bear reared up briefly on its hind legs. Evidently having heard my movements, it was trying to catch my scent. A few seconds later, the bear, probably wiser than I, ran away into thicker and thicker undergrowth until it disappeared.

 

9/15/01

Our mountain adventure continued. We slammed the bass. And a total of four pike, as well. Justin out fished me three to one. In Lower Saranac we used the lucky strike minnow rig. On our last day, I landed three bass.  Then back In Kiwassa Justin landed two more.

It was 5:30pm. The bass were feeding on our shiners. Justin was adjusting the engine, his shiner’s tail just dangling in the water. A bass jumped up and grabbed the baited hook. As he landed that fish, the shiner flew off the hook. Immediately another bass rose and grabbed the floating baitfish off the surface. Then we were out of bait. Except for one shiner, dead, under the gas tank. Since the fish were so hungry I hooked it on. A nice thirteen incher grabbed it. We ended the day early, with six beautiful bass on the stringer.

Friday ended the week. As we sat in the boat on our last day Justin said, “you’re not a great fisherman, there’s no mystery to this”. It took me 43 years experience and a huge gust of luck to bring this day around. Kids these days.

We got back to camp and changed clothes for dinner out. We did Mexican, returned empties, and got back to camp. It was time to start breaking down the poles.

 

Saturday 8:00 am we arose. We were packed and rolling by 9:30. I was to meet Justin at the launch site in town. He drove the boat. I drove the van with the trailer. I bought ice and iced the thirty pounds of frozen fillets on the way.

Ten minutes passed  and along comes  Justin, towing a disabled boat, with two persons aboard. It seems the owner of the boat, a 35 year old man named Greg, was not aware that oil must be mixed in with two cycle outboard fuel. His engine had seized, and he inquiring about  50 to 1 stuff people talk about.

This was their first time out. The second person aboard, a ten year old also named Greg, was bouncing around like a ping pong ball. He jumped from the boat to the dock, then back to the boat as it drifted away from the dock. I caught his arm as he dropped towards the water and pulled him back on the dock.

Justin told him we had caught some bass. He wanted to know how. We told him it was our secret and that if he was a good boy for a whole year, we’d come back and share our fishing secret.

I dumped our extra ice in the lake. He asked why. I told him that the big ones bite better when the water is colder. And I was dumping ice in the lake to bring its temperature down.

The tranny gave us trouble on the way home. We drove the first 100 miles in second gear. It finally kicked into gear in Watertown.

Anyway we got home only one hour late. Dad started right in. We had a short but violent argument. I couldn’t stay. I decided, on my way back to my apartment, that I will move away from Buffalo. I’m going to live in the North Country. I must say that Lee’s little cabin could be really sweet. It seemed to grow nicer each day.

Let me note I never felt wizened and salty before this past week.

On the day of the 9/11 attack, I called collect when I called home. Dad got really abusive on the phone, even after I promised to pay for the call. When I got home, I pushed a ten dollar bill at him.  A huge argument followed. I felt his priorities were wrong. Angry over a short call home in a time of a great disaster. In my anger I told him I was going to leave town. And he could spend the rest of his last years counting his money. I walked out.

Mom called a couple days later. He had taken the attack seriously. He’d been to the doctor and got started on a tranquilizer. The two of them visited the church one evening.  Dad called and deeply apologized. A few days later I finally made it home. He embraced me when I walked in, and again apologized, as best he could.

There was a 9/11 memorial service in front of city hall, in downtown Buffalo. On my way downtown, at the subway station, I was stopped by an old friend. He said he was on his way home from his girlfriend’s house. He couldn’t go to the service because he had his groceries. Then he asked me for a smoke. I quit ten years before. I missed the train by ten seconds.

I started to think. Girlfriend, food, smoke-miss the train. The way of the world.

Battleships are getting into position. The military is poised to strike. Osama Bin Laden is living in Afghanistan. Pakistan is siding with Afghanistan. Pakistan has nuclear weapons. Osama Bin Laden has called for the allegiance of the entire Muslim nation, including American citizens. Our politicians and clergy are laboring to keep our citizens unified.”.

 

Sat 9/22/01

I’m down at Billy’s camp now. Bill has been working hard getting the property together. We hunted squirrel for about an hour today. Bill is not as focused as I am. I spend endless hours pursuing success. Bill is more casual, succeeding mostly by luck.

Abide within the spirit of the law. Let one’s witness permeate the experience. Allow the game harvested bridge the gap between man and God.

Walter, one of Billy’s friends, showed up today. He’s on his way south for the winter. He produced a copy of Nostradamus. It held references to the fall of the “New City”. Too abstract to correlate definitely to the bombing. But still an eye opener.

Wheelehan was banging crows up on Mehlenbachers. He left one dead crow in the woods.

 

Wed. Oct. 17, 2001

I’m staying in the little cabin behind Billy’s. It’s been quite cold and I’m heating with wood. There was only a little dry wood inside when I got here.  I’ve been bringing in wet wood by the armload, and setting it around the warm fireplace to dry. This is my first stay in this cabin. I turned on the power, unpacked my gear, the cooler, and case of water. I was prepared for a week of pj and b, apples, dried fruit and apples. Coffee and cocoa to fend off the cold.

I collected some kindling and lit a fire, It started to rain as the fire leapt to life. Within twenty minutes I was warm and comfortable. The rain a staccato rhythm on the roof. Two tiny frogs snuck in under the door, climbed the lamps, and explored the cabin. As the cabin warmed, lady bugs appeared everywhere. Dozens of lady bugs. All with black spots on their shells.  Each bug had a different pattern of spots, no two were alike.

Over the first week of bow season I saw ten deer. One shot. One miss. I saw deer most every day. On day four I rose early. The stitches on my cot popped as I rolled out of bed. I was up in the frozen predawn. It was about 25 degrees in the cabin.  I scraped ice off the windshield as the truck warmed up. I headed out the drive in my van. A button buck lay dead in my drive. Road kill. It was still warm. I dragged the deer into high weeds, and waited for full light to gut it out. I went down to my aunts place in Portageville to call 911.

A trooper arrived in twenty minutes. I took him up to the kill, and he wrote out a tag. I had a deer. Now I wanted some squirrels. As I hiked back into my blind I nailed a squirrel. The young man who posts the property appeared through the trees. He had his bow. I had my squirrel gun. We exchanged greetings and I killed two more squirrels as I worked my way through the woods and back to my truck. Now I had one deer and three squirrels.

I decided to check out one more woods before closing camp. A squirrel barked as I entered the shady grove. I had a clear shot, but there were houses in that direction. Bird shot rattling on the roof today means posted signs tomorrow.

It was a clear day. 65 degrees. And time to close camp and head home. It took about an hour to sweep out, wipe down and pack. And back to the real world again.

I dropped the deer off at the butchers, and then cleaned the squirrels. Then I took a shower and shaved a week’s whiskers from my face. Next I went to a restaurant  for a hot meal. Then to mend hunting clothes and sort laundry. It was time to get back to work, and plan the next adventure.

11/05/01

Again back at camp for another two days. I had a cord of hard split maple delivered. The weather was good.

It seems the squirrel come out at every dusk and dawn. I bagged two more, could have got more. My little squirrel gun is a charm. It’s a New England 20 gauge single shot.

I went back into Cartwrights. After ten minutes a spike horn appeared and then vanished back in the pines. Then a cautious doe hurried by. A few minutes later two bucks and a huge doe appeared out in the field. One buck was a wide six point. The other was a husky four pointer.

The bucks were jousting and sparring, running at one another and veering away at the last moment. Then cutting over to the doe for a sniff and a rub.

While the bucks were battling the doe marched over to the near field edge. She stood there thirty feet away, browsing, looking around. Three times I raised the gun, leveled the sights, and prayed the gun season would come quickly.

I have to choose which gun I’m going to use opening morning.  I have five good guns now. An Ithaca 16 gauge Deer slayer, A 50 caliber CVA side lock, My 20 gauge squirrel gun loaded with deer slugs. Also a Mossburg 500 12 gauge. Lastly my new 50 caliber Pedersoli  muzzle loader.

11/26/01

The first week of gun season is over now. No venison. I shot at two deer. One at a full run, the other at seventy yards away. Both missed.

I had a chance at two deer opening day. Sixty feet away. I passed it up, hoping for a point blank opportunity. Now I regret not taking the shot. I’ve taken six deer inside of forty five feet. I’d come to believe this was a common occurrence. Now I see it was a rare opportunity. I would think a true hunter must learn to be comfortable with much longer shots. Up to one hundred yards. This means firearms must be set up to reach out there.

Cousin Frank killed four deer this week. Kent, Dennis, Jason and Dale all killed one. Billy, Jeromy, Don and myself have yet to score.

However, I’m looking forward to a squirrel dinner. I killed several orange phase squirrels.

I learned a few new places to hunt. Near the hickory tree and the Whiskey Bridge.

 

On Browning Leaves

Rise before the morning sun.

Into the wood,

And load my gun.

Silently await my prey,

The silent wood,

The dawning day,

under browning leaves.

 

Speaking to 10,000 souls.

Bank the fire,

Stir the coals.

The seasons come,

The seasons go.

Under browning leaves.

 

The neighbors see

corn standing tall.

Plant in spring.

Cut in fall.

Under browning leaves.

 

Known in town

As one who knows.

The way of truth,

And soon the snows

Fall on browning leaves.

 

In a war

‘gainst  darkness powers.

Life and blood shed ,

Final hours.

Fall the browning leaves.

 

My father’s will.

Bring in the sheaves.

Then rest in peace,

My heart believes.

Under browning leaves.

 

Buried deep,

Honor requires.

Ringing bells,

And votive fires.

Under browning leaves.

 

Alive in Heaven.

Earth below.

Blooms of spring follow snow.

Summer warm, then frosts of fall.

Then white on falling leaves.

Then white on falling leaves.

 

Dec. 5, 2001

I took a small doe out of blind one on last Sunday morning. One shot at 35 yards broke it’s back. A second to the head finished it off.

The deer have been seeing me in my camos, from a long way off, all season. I’m beginning to believe in the observations of some hunters that deer can see a glow around clothes that have been washed in ordinary detergents. The season is nearly over. I’m hoping to have a chance to wash my clothes before I go back in the woods.

On Monday evening a spike horn appeared out in the field at blind one. I cupped my hand over my eyes to block out the sun. The buck saw my arm move, 120 feet away, through thick cover. One must be still, very still, and very vigilant when in the blind.

I’m in the process of assembling guns with scopes, so I will be able to make those long shots. And I’m setting up a compound bow. Patience.  Practice.  Proper posture, slow deep breathes, a gentle squeeze on the trigger. I will become a great hunter.

Billy gave me the keys to the trailer, and asked me if I wanted to move in permanently. This is the first winter with the water system in. But the building is not ready for a year round occupant.

I’m praying every day.

 

Tues. 12/18/01 11:55pm.

The last day of deer season closes. Three deer in the freezer.

 

Christmas Prose 2001

Let us live

To do everything within one’s power

To live a full, useful, meaningful life.

 

To worship fully, often.

To nurture one’s body,

as the temple of God’s spirit.

 

To serve and live,

In love and gentle kindness.

 

To work well,

With rigor and honesty.

 

To rise to the call of duty and service,

When truth and justice call.

 

To enjoy life here and now,

As a foretaste of His coming Kingdom.

 

And to be certain,

That one day,

All men and women will know,

We are one family, under one God.

 

One thing I like about the late hunting season is spending long hours and days in the stark woods, barren and cold. And then coming into town.

Coming into town with Christmas trees shining and strings of lights glistening. Into town with carols on the radio, and specials on tv.

The raw perfection of the cold and wild wood, yielding to man’s celebration of a joyful and special event.  One perfect expression of truth melting into another. Life unto life’s beginning. The end of our year, and a new beginning in the celebration of the birth of Christ.

1/09/02

The deer were seeing me from a long way off, all season. I think they were seeing my white face. I’ll have to find some way of covering myself. I don’t like face paints. I’ll need some kind of mask or veil. I’d like to get a better camo shirt and pants. A more evolved pattern.

There’s a flock of turkeys up by Billy’s. If the winter is not too severe, they will be there in the Spring.

I’ll have to go down to camp and check on things, as soon as I can get away. I’ll bring the 20 gauge and bang a few more squirrels.

I just completed a 3600 foot linoleum floor restoration at a private school downtown. I should be getting paid soon. I got in over my head, and had to follow a change order, asking for more money. However, the job came out great, and they’ll not only pay, but want to have me back regularly, to keep things on track.

I’ve been asked to participate in an art show that opens February 24^th. At Empire State College in the Market Arcade on Main Street.  I think I’ll ask Kara, my customer and friend, to the opening.

 

Goals for 2002

First and foremost should be my music. Learn the chord progressions and scales in all important and common keys.

Next would be creating a basic, simple and moving folk act with John, Lance, and eventually bring in Justin on base.

It would be good to begin giving basic piano lessons, that my perceptions would widen through teaching.

Next, would be to assemble a sales book, for the business. Pictures of clients’ homes and businesses. References, procedures, chemicals and insurance certificates. And line up floor work, at .60 sq.’, and carpets at .35sq.’.Done.

Karate training has been a lifelong desire. As well, I’m planning to apply to the seminary.

Also, my apartment is too small for the business, the way I am set up. And, my monthly rent could be paying a mortgage.

I will research the farming of pharmaceuticals, with an eye towards an agricultural project  down in Portageville.

The key, for me, is to provide a quality service at rates that will provide a sufficient income.

This tea doth truly open the mind’s eye.

 

WORKING AT THE CO-OP

Labor, physical and mental, including our art form, helps us to integrate our inner vision with our external circumstances.

To become one with one’s labor is an elevated and joyful experience. Work becomes meditation. Meditation is wholeness, wellness, and fullness of being.

When you’re hungry, tired, or hurting, let it be a prayer. Mom would have said, “offer it up”.

Let the decisions we make here create peace and joy in the next world.

Herbs, crystals, yoga, acupuncture, etc. are remote and unreal to mainstream thinking, but they may manifest a real and useful power. The problem, however, is that they are of secondary importance. A person may become preoccupied with these, and overlook the more important fundamentals. The basic and fundamental  love of God and neighbor.

We were taught, as children of the peace revolution in the 1960’s that all material objects were of no spiritual value. Forty years later I see that spiritual benefit and blessing is often brought through change in physical circumstances.

Even something as ethereal as peace of mind has a biochemical, physical, coefficient.

There can be no peace without clothes, food, and a safe place to live. It is difficult for a holy man to craft his prayer without a Bible, or a holy book of some kind.  There can be no happening without a location.

As we mature, we accept responsibility. This includes not going into certain psychological, psychic, spaces. Or holding on to negative thoughts.

The world says, “if you believe in good, get a tattoo that represents good. If you practice evil, get a tattoo that represents evil”.

The world beckons one to choose their drink.

The world tells us we must have a partner in sex.

I disagree with all of this, and praise the one with no tattoo. The one who stays sober. And the one who finds truth in chastity.

 

1/13/2002

     Dana, my brother in law and I have been discussing scripture for decades. Where hunting and fishing stand in the light of scripture is the subject of this next writing.

Dear Dana,

We’ve been wondering where fishing, hunting, and trapping lie in the grand scheme. Exactly what do I believe about the spiritual consequences of these endeavors?

Look at Acts chapter 10. Versus 10-16. We see the Spirit telling Peter it is OK to kill and consume animals for food. I surmise it is then OK to kill for a pelt that will be used for clothes or some constructive way, as well. John the Baptist wore a leather garment.

But next, I skip back to the Old Testament. Isaiah 11: 6-10. The prophet fortells of a world where all creation lives in peace. “ The wolf shall live with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid. The calf and the lion, and the sheep shall abide with them, and a little child shall lead them.

The prophet is seeing a kingdom of perfect peace on Earth. A world that has not yet come to be. I surmise that all men and women will be living in harmony. I see an inference here that we will not be consuming the flesh of animals for food.

In our present age there is starvation, disease, and all the scourges. In the age to come, there will be only well being. So for the present day, in this imperfect world, the killing of animals is accepted. Though some people, on a high path neither kill animals, nor consume their flesh. Others refuse to bear arms, for any reason. This becomes a personal decision. All life is sacred. All is created by God.

I acknowledge, in hunting, there may be an effect on my walk with God. I accept the consequences, whatever they may be. The important thing is to live close to the Bible. And to give thanks without ceasing, unto God.

 

 

DAILY PRAYER

I’m a gonna get up on up,

And the sun is gonna rise.

I’m gonna grab a hammer,

The rock can tell no lies.

 

Gonna toil, trouble, slave.

Hot sun cross the sky.

The rock, the sun, the hard steel sledge

Can neither steal nor lie.

 

Burning sun, salty sweat,

Endless labor, tears.

I shall be made pure as the sun,

As the day of judgment nears.

 

Hard as the rock I split,

So shall I be too.

New faces ever showing,

To whom tithe is due.

 

Relentless as the hammer blow,

My straining heart pounds.

Ash to ash, dust to dust.

But listen now, clear sounds!

 

Fresh breeze, cool clear water,

He’s coming with the key.

The hour of judgment  passing,

And we, praise God, set free.

 

His hair is caked with blood.

Wounded hands and feet.

The blood that saves and sanctifies,

Life’s heart won’t miss a beat.

 

His hand be strong upon us,

His way of stone and steel.

The kingdom come, thy will be done.

Take the bridge and wheel.

 

Keep a joyful hour,

Celebrate with praise.

Our pains be quickly passing.

Pass quickly, painful days.

 

Until the Kingdom comes,

I shall arise each day.

Take my hammer to the mine,

And crack the rock of grey.

 

Early I awaken,

The sun is going to rise.

Swing the heavy hammer.

Crack rock and tell no lies.

 

I’m gonna swing the hammer,

And the rock is gonna  crack.

The Kingdom come, thy will be done.

Break rock or break my back.

 

Gonna swing the iron sledge,

The rock is going to crack.

The Kingdom and the glory thine.

Until your coming back.

 

The Kingdom and the glory thine,

Until your coming back.

 

 

      There is a barrier between oneself and perfect being. A barrier dissolved by right living, rejoicing, hard work and hard prayer.

 

      The following is an excerpt from a DEC publication on the coyote.

The Eastern Coyote-at a glance.

Description: The Eastern coyote looks like a medium sized German shepherd dog, with long thick fur. The tail is bushy, usually carried pointing down. Ears are erect and pointed.

Length: 4 to 5 feet (including tail)

Weight: 35 to 45 pounds  (males usually larger than females)

Color: Variable, from blonde or reddish blonde to dark tan washed with black. Legs, ears, and cheeks are usually reddish.

Coyotes in suburbia:

The Eastern coyote, commonly believed to live only in the more wild parts of New York, readily adapts to living close to people. Coyotes live throughout upstate New York.  They have been sighted in parts of New York City, and are common in suburbs north of the City. As unlikely as it may seem, human development makes surprisingly good coyote habitat. The abundant coyote food supply (e.g. Rabbits, squirrels, deer, cats, small dogs, garbage and pet food) makes living close to people worthwhile.

As coyotes increasingly adapt to people, more encounters between humans and coyotes will occur, either as sightings, confrontation with pets, disturbed garbage or pet foods, or howling at night. Some background on coyote habits may help people understand these encounters. To minimize conflicts, it is important that suburban residents do their part to maintain the natural fear that coyotes have of people.

The coyote diet:

What do New York coyotes eat? A coyote’s diet depends on one thing-what is easiest to find or catch and kill. During the summer, coyotes will feed heavily upon berries, insects, and rodents. During early fall they rely upon abundant grasshoppers. Small mammals become the prey of choice during late fall and winter. As winter becomes harder and small mammal populations decline, coyotes turn toward their largest prey- white tail deer. Deer killed by vehicles and other causes (carrion) can be an important food source for coyotes. Lacking any carrion, coyotes can, will, and do kill healthy adult deer. Coyotes in the spring time can have an impact on fawn survival in localized areas.

How many coyotes in New York?

After hearing a family of coyotes howl, it is easy to get the impression that the woods must be overflowing with coyotes. In reality it was probably five or six. The coyote population in New York in the summer is approximately 20,000- 30,000.

Young of the year coyotes are driven from their parents’ territory between September and March. These young coyotes travel up to one hundred miles in search of a vacant territory to claim as their own.

How did coyotes arrive in New York?

There are two theories to explain the presence of the Eastern coyote in New York State. The first theory is that coyotes were here before Europeans settled North America. The clearing of the forests for farms and homes forced coyotes to retreat to unsettled areas of the northeast, e.g. the Adirondack mountains. The return of the forest during the 20^th century coincided with the return of the coyote.

The second, and more widely accepted theory, is that the Eastern coyote is a relatively new species in New York State. This theory suggests that western coyotes extended their range eastward, eventually forming a distinct subspecies.

Whichever theory is true, coyotes have been present in New York at least since the 1930’s and firmly established themselves by the 1970’s. They are here to stay.

 

 

Daditudes Platitudes

You gotta be self starter.

Get up, greet the day, get dressed, and get the blood circulating.

Go to work, do your job, get paid. Don’t get emotionally involved.

Your boss may be wrong, But he’s still boss.

Go with it, when you’re on a roll.

Life is like a roller coaster.

Chicken one day, feathers the next.

The best exercise for losing weight is the push away. Push away from the table.

Be true to your teeth, or they’ll be false to you.

It’s impossible to be depressed, with so many pretty girls in the world.

A little ice cream sweetens the stomach.

Integrity. I-n-t-e-g-r-e-t-y

Water on wood. It’s a no good.

Trim up, dress nice, join the human race.

Don’t be afraid to ask a pretty girl out.

Work hard.

Try new things.

Reward yourself.

We’ve all had to deal with the devil from time to time.

No sense beating up the machines, unless you’re making some money in the progress.

Maybe we’ll pull a rabbit out of the hat.

What the world needs is a benign, enlightened king.

Wear gloves, don’t beat up your hands.

Don’t overdo it. No sense hurting yourself.

Strawberry shortcake, food from heaven.

Don’t make a threat you can’t back up.

Don’t make a promise unless you’re going to deliver.

Beware of government, it holds the power to destroy freedom.

You only know what you believe. You cannot prove beliefs.

Gumperson’s law. If anything can go wrong, it will. (I don’t believe this).

The quest always ends in mystery. And some questions have no certain answer.

 

3/10/01

Six months after 9/11. It feels as if the other shoe is about to fall.

 

Tanning Deer Hides and Small Fur Skins.

Guide L-103

James E.Knight,  Extension Wildlife Specialist.

Because preserving hides and furs is a very old art, many successful methods have been developed through the years. Native Americans used wood ashes to remove the hair and used deer brains as a tanning agent. Women chewed the hides to produce soft buckskin, but few hobby tanners would want to try these methods.

Deer hides and small fur skins can be tanned at home. Tanning requires few tools, and chemicals required for most methods can be obtained locally. Because possession of wild life pelts is governed by game laws, consult your local game warden before you begin.

Tanning leather or furs requires time and patience. No tanning formula is foolproof, and success can be attained only through hard work, close observation, care and patience. Inexperienced tanners should realize that their first attempts will not produce professional leather. If the fur or hide is quite valuable, it would be best to send it to a professional and use a less valuable hide for beginning projects.

Deer and squirrel hides and furs are probably best to start with, primarily because they are easy to prepare for the tanning process. Others such as rabbits are thin skinned and require more care to avoid damage.

 

 

Creation of the universe exists in every present moment. Absence of order is not equal to absence of motion. The hypostatic union exists where absence of order intersects absence of motion. Creation exists where absence of order intersects absence of motion.

Order is space.

Motion is time

 

BEAR HUNTING WITH HOUNDS an excerpt

It is 3:00 am. and the alarm clock is ringing. Time to get up. After grabbing a quick cup of coffee, the fun, and the work, begins. Before leaving the house, dogs need to be radio collared and loaded into the dog box. Older dogs know the routine and when let out of their kennels will head to the truck, anticipation there, but tempered by knowledge of the day ahead. Younger dogs will take advantage of the early release when the air is still cool. They make circles around the house, barking up a storm, before finally loading up into the tailgate.

The dogs themselves can range from Plotts to Blueticks, to Walkers or Redbones, to several other breeds of hounds. Our group hunts almost all Plotts. A sturdy dog bred specifically for hunting, known for their stamina in the hunt and their gentleness outside of the hunt.

Each dog has a radio collar, besides its normal collar, with a specific number. These are for tracking dogs during the hunt. Many people believe that this allows the hunters to stay in their trucks throughout the hunt, doing nothing more than riding around until the bear is treed. Not so in the least, but in today’s world, with roads everywhere, they do allow for safety of dogs by letting the hunters know when one has strayed from the group, or is headed for a highway. Dealing with theft of dogs is also a concern, and many people ‘picking up’ the dogs do not know that the collar is in actuality a radio device, and the dog can sometimes be traced in this manner.

Once all the dogs are loaded up, it is time to check the baits. Baits are maintained through the running season and the actual hunting season, usually three or more times a week, depending on the area, amount of bear, days that will be hunted, etc. Baits are set out on stumps or rocks. Bait itself consists of breads, cereals, jams, and other sweets. This can vary depending on the specific area and the law. After all the baits have been checked, bait that has been hit will dropped on.

Dropping of dogs consists of walking a few of the older, more trained dogs into the bait. Once unleashed, they know instinctively what to do. Working the bait, a good start dog will bible to which way a bear came into a bait, and which way he left. Picking up on a retreating bear track, the hounds head out, barking here and there, and exploding into sound when finding the game. Listening for this sound, the hunter can release a few of the younger dogs to join in. Dogs are limited by law, six being a common amount allowed. Once a dog leaves the race, he may not be replaced. At this time, the dog’s main goal will be to tree the bear.

 

 

 

 

4/11/02

We’re down at Wiggens pass today. Judy, Anna, Mom, Dad and I are here. It’s sunny, breezy, and warm. There are several fishermen here today. They’re slamming the whiting. Ten inches, by the dozen.

We don’t have poles today. Alleluia anyhow! Maybe Judy and I can generate enough enthusiasm to do a little fishing while were here. We’re leaving on a Caribbean cruise in three days. We have to hurry.

4/11/02

In the airport on the way down here yesterday, I re-realized the importance of always keeping a Christian demeanor.

We don’t shove, push, or argue at home, work, school, in public or church. So should we act politely at the store, in the airport, on the train or plane. It does not matter if others are rude. We are Christians.

 

A lot of times I hear the word “almost”. I tend to take it wrong, as in “almost good enough”, but not quite. Now I try to reframe the words differently, as in “almost a saint”. Completion.

 

 

 

                                                                                Consider This

Sometimes you hear of a person referred to as a chicken, or a yellow stripe. This means, or is supposed to mean cowardly.

But consider a rooster, a male chicken. (Females are called hens). They are fighters by nature. Born with a fighting spur on the heel of each leg, they can deliver a devastating kick five feet in the air.

They are fearsome fighters by nature. In some places in the world they are bred for cock fights. A cock fight is a vicious to the death between two rooters.

Now consider the nasty and fearless hornet. They have yellow stripes down their backs, but they are created as workers, warriors, and defenders of the hive, able to deliver a devastating sting.

Say what you will. I’ll gladly be a fighter like a rooster, and a fearless defender like a hornet.

 

                                                                Were learning to make friends

Judy said, “everyone wants a friend but no one knows how to make a friend”. For many years now I have been consciously and deliberately building several friendships. I guess I’ve inadvertently developed a formula for making friends.

This formula is based on sharing time and doing things together. Things like going fishing and shooting, cooking a meal, a bonfire, playing music. A camping trip, working with me on the cleaning and gardening projects I’m hired to do. And persevering in this, for years. The roots of friendship begin to take hold, and the pleasure of camaraderie grows.

April 12, 2002

Judy and I went down to Wiggens Pass again. She caught a fat three foot long black tip shark. We had it for dinner. Then Saturday I hooked a large ray. It hit and headed for Mexico, stripping off most of the line on a new Zebco 404. I fought the darn fish for half an hour. A large crowd gathered before finally seeing what it was. Beaching it, another fisherman cut it free. I didn’t think to save the stinger, with the crowd so close and excited. It probably weighed twenty pounds, thirty inches wing tip to wing tip.

 

 

April 16, 2002

Today is Dad’s 80^th birthday. Thirteen of us are on a seven day Caribbean cruise. Mom, Dad, Sue, Mark, Katie, Bob, Sandy, Fia, Judy, Anna, Mickey, Rich, and me. It’s been an awesome trip, so far.

It began with our cabby to the airport in Buffalo. A Palestinian gentleman with family in the combat zone. Our conversation progressed into leaving that war in the mid-east. Not judging on racial lines. Let Americans live together in peace.

I’m supposed to, according to my personal timeline, apply to the Catholic seminary for the deacons program when I get home. It’s a five year program. If one is not married at the beginning of studies, they must remain celibate for life. Also I’ve been told a deacon is not paid for his services. Five years, no wife, no pay? I must be missing something. Perhaps a deacon can take his qualifications and serve a chaplaincy in a hospital or prison.

 

Sunday April 21, 2002 2:25pm.

The cruise was fantastic! No hard feelings, or harsh words. The food was incredible.  2,800 passengers. 1,100 crew members. Seven restaurants, four pools, one hundred musicians of various types.

We made four stops. Stop one was a pic-nic, at Princess Kay. Then at Grand Cayman we dove on a coral reef, and a sunken ship. The color of the fish in the warm tropical waters was amazing. Huge tarpon lurking in the depths were frightening. The ship was a steel hull, sunk in 1940.

I bought two Cuban cigars, at nine dollars American each. Katie and I went to lunch. She had conch fritters, I had calamari.

Our next stop was a little town called Mahahual. It’s a brand new beginning of a tourist town. Native population 400. The shops, theatre, restaurant and facilities are new in the last year. The paint on the place is hardly dry. They’ve just put in an electric plant, power lines, and a paved road. It’s fifty mile to the nearest Mayan ruin. The Mayan ruin is a quiet and spectacular sight. Money is going to be made here. Lots of money, soon.

Next we hit Cozumel. Mark and I went deep sea fishing. There were five fishermen on our boat. We caught one barracuda, and one kingfish. Other boats caught dorado, and one white marlin. I got sicker than a dog, I’m not made for high seas in a small boat.

I brought home a set of jewelry in silver, and a blue topaz. I rewrote my poem to Dad, to read at his birthday party.

 

                                                                Poem to Dad on his eightieth birthday

Communion

White pines whisper.

First light of dawn.

The lake a mirror calm.

 

A crackling fire.

A mug of tea.

A cabin toasty warm.

 

Sunlit days,

with gentle breezes.

Northern forests cold.

 

Whispers deep, waters dark.

What mysteries do you hold?

 

 

 

He swung a hammer, a pick, and axe.

Built his cabin, planted trees

Worked in metal, stone and wood.

Friends and memories.

 

Stained glass windows,

sculpture, writing,

learning of the arts.

 

Wife and kindred,

friendships,

touching many hearts.

 

Regarded

as wise counsel,

by those who knew him well.

 

Carved out

his own philosophies.

Be good,

And fear hot hell.

 

A frosty beer.

A round of song.

That old Manhattan cold.

 

A story, joke,

Or some new thought,

Always to be told.

 

A steak, a roast,

a barbeque,

ice cream by the bowl.

 

A homemade pie,

Perhaps a cake,

Eat until you’re full.

 

I have one dream,

a perfect dream,

One hope, one prayer, one way.

 

One circle, gold,

unbroken cord.

One everlasting day.

 

 

 

 

 

Blood bonds

be everlasting.

Tie that binds be strong.

 

One Father,

light forever.

One heart, eternal song.

 

That we might walk

the sunny beaches,

shore birds on the sand.

 

Forever in joy,

with those we love,

in the glistening Promised Land.

 

Yes, here’s my prayer

For my dear father,

This is what I pray.

 

May we find ourselves

In heaven’s light,

And Everlasting day.

 

 

More than this

could ever be wished,

or hoped or prayed or penned.

 

May we find our way

To heaven’s sweet light,

And joy, joy without end.

 

 

May we find our way

To heaven’s sweet light,

And joy, joy without end.

 

 

 

                                                                                On The Cruise

 

I had extreme difficulty with my left hip. I could not get around without help. I borrowed painkillers, and a hot pad. I got a cane from the infirmary. Judy sat with me and prayed. It’s much better now, though not perfect.

It was great to be with my sisters and their loved ones. The love vibe was strong. Hard feelings could not take hold. I wrote this verse last night at the dinner table.

 

 

 

 

 

SUP

Straight up

See the greater picture

The international picture

The macrocosmic, multi dimensional picture.

 

To be clean in mind and body,

In every present moment.

 

He is always looking down

Be always looking up.

 

It is never “ I”.

Be always  “we”.

 

We shall journey

Forever, together

 

Play, pray

Unite in bonds of love.

 

For His ship

Is a huge ship

Massive beyond belief

 

It’s name is Freedom,

Registered in Heaven.

 

 

Mon. April 22,2002

We went down to Wiggins Pass to bid the great sea goodbye. It was calm, pleasant, and clear. The swimmers out 100 feet from shore were besieged by thousands of darting shiners. The swimmers almost panicked as hundreds of small fish bumped into their bodies. Beneath the thousands of baitfish were hundreds of larger, twelve to fifteen inch fish, feeding on the shiner like forage. The larger fish shot around like bullets in their feeding frenzy.

I’ve been meditating upon the investment possibilities in the small new town, Mahahaul, on Mexico’s Mayan coast .

 

 

 

Situational Obedience

I am conceiving a new thought. First, I am wondering if my reality is my dialogue with God. Yes, prayer is dialogue with God. But beyond this, are the real circumstances I am given God’s answer to my prayer? If I were clean in God’s sight would I be fully and perpetually in His presence? If I were truly holy, would I experience nothing but wholeness and well being?

The foundation of completeness must inarguably be faith. Faith requires obedience. Obedience has different forms. First we must look at the Old Testament’s Ten Commandments. They shall have eternal significance. Secondly are the commandments of the New Testament.” Love God with all your being. And love your neighbor as yourself”. But these obediences are only the foundation. God desires our fellowship. He desires we fellowship, worship him. He desire we fellowship, commune, one with another.

This day, as I write, I see he also asks situational obedience. This means he has a plan for our lives. And I cannot truly be one with him seeking out and living this plan. God desires we commune with Him. While there are many good options for one’s life plan, there only one best option. A solid work ethic is good, but it is secondary to the effort to discern and live God’s perfect plan.

For example, I felt God’s spirit beckoning me to prayer. But I responded with “I’m too busy, business is beckoning”. I ended up lame, walking with a cane for two weeks. I got back on my feet and soon after felt the beckoning again. Again I said, “excuse me God, I’m pretty busy. I’ll get to it later, if I had time”.

And now I have time. Because I am sick and cannot work.

God asks another type of obedience. I shall call it situational obedience. This means putting prayer, as He asks of us, above work. This means putting ministry before job or business.

I sense His spirit saying “seek to obey me fully in every way”. “Seek to always be in fellowship with Me”. “Seek with all your heart to live the life I desire of you”. “And I will guide you through the unfolding of your life’s circumstances.”

He may ask more of one than what seems normal. Sitting in His presence for extra hours. Whether at home, in church,, or some place of quiet peace. Yes, I must put God service first in my life. Even if it requires throwing off good and righteous thought forms for something more perfect. That I might live a brighter light, and a simpler harmony. To be whole, spirit, mind and body. By discerning and living the full completion of God’s call.  By learning to hear and obey His subtle, though powerful beckoning.

 

Sat. 5/04/02

I’ve been battling an illness now for five days. A flu like dilemma, a discomfort and suffering. For me it is more than simple illness. My mind is being cleansed of negative thoughts, emotions and frustrations. I see this sickness is being used to cleanse the lives of those around me.

The discontent and anger I was feeling a week ago over having to serve as a simple laborer is being replaced with a joy in having gainful work to do. My criticizing judgment of my customers is being replaced with a sympathetic understanding. I see that my suffering is directly affecting their minds and lives. I see an obvious and profound relationship. My sickness has taken the form of an intercessory labor. Like the vision of a clairvoyant, it is a gift to be comprehended only by spiritual eyes.

Dad is coming home from Florida tomorrow. He chronically carries negative energies. I see this sickness is directed by God to create light for Dad as well.

The nature of the cleaning business is to spell order, peace, and wellbeing for my customers. This means absorbing negative energies and imparting positive energies. I perform a laying on of hands of my customers homes, bearing the gift of life itself. However, this always eventually results in my becoming ill. Usually very ill, as disease passes from my life and the lives of those I serve.

In the times of recovery my mind sees with visionary clarity. It is a time to scrutinize and adjust my path. It is a time to rest and heal, and trust in God.

Usually my Mom and Dad care for me in my times of recovery. But Dad is eighty and Mom is seventy four years old. I am trusting the Lord will bring to me a helpmate and a spouse. And at my hour of death I pray there be at least one beloved friend to hold my hand.

When I’ve been sick for awhile, as I have been now, my thoughts drift to my dying. Crossing over to the next world. Now it feels like I’m at the end of a chapter. A good place to punctuate with a pyramid, and start a new page.

I’m ready now, fully prepared for a new beginning in this world, or a new life in the next. These times of illness serve well as strengthening, purification, and renewal. In a week or ten days I shall emerge from this chrysalis of illness renewed and transformed.  I fully believe God has a purpose and a plan for my life here in this world. A transformation and destiny only beginning to unfold.

I take a moment now to ask for a good growing season, and a bountiful harvest.

 

History

When I was first admitted to a psych ward in 1975, my new born faith was met with great antagonism. It seemed that anyone with a Bible, rosary, or habit of prayer was castigated and ostracized, outcast and condemned. Prayer or religious talk was considered symptomatic of mental illness, and treated with medications. This seemed obvious and very real.

But looking back on things as I rewrite these journals, I probably would have died early on in the course of this disease without medications. I very likely would have fasted and prayed to the point of death. However the medications available in the early days of treatment caused side effects that were terrible. Truly a purgatory.

Nowadays, as clients of the psych system see, religious expression is permitted and encouraged. Many of the counselors, staff, and doctors have a quiet and powerful faith of their own. It seems the entire system, both employees and patients, has gradually shifted from deeply and powerfully satanic to subtly and powerfully Christian.

We are allowed to share insights, experiences, and convictions. We all share a common belief that all of us were given life to come to know God, serve one another, and work out our salvation.

 

One of my coworkers at the coop had a complaint today. Her boyfriend was on a psych ward. She was upset that he was allowed to have a Bible. That he turned the Bible into something it was never intended to be. However, I believe that this is a common and important learning phase that is facilitated through psychosis. There are times when psychosis is a spiritual journey.

We, as psych patients, have labored long and hard to have religion accepted as an important facet of the process of spiritual emergence. It is discouraging when someone who does not know the history of the system does not appreciate and understand the importance of these hard won freedoms.

 

The Flu

On the cruise I was stricken with severe pelvic pain. I was unable to stand or walk without assistance. This went on for several days.

Arriving back home I was not ready to go back to work. My body was weak. I was emotionally drained by physical pain. As I attempted to resume my scheduled labors my sinuses, throat, and lungs filled with phlegm. My head and chest filled with pain. This flu, over the next two weeks, worked its way through my body and gradually dissipated.

As the flu left my system it took my negative attitude with it. Now my system is clear. My energy has returned. I have clarity of mind and my positive outlook has returned. I found it very interesting learning how the process of a physical disease can be used to cleanse the mind-body of negative emotions. When the physical symptoms passed they took the mental symptom with them.

 

Mon. 5/27/02

Well, I finally got a chance to go turkey hunting. I was in the woods yesterday. In full camo, military pattern, face veil, tan boots. After a couple hours in the woods I heard a “cluck-cluck”. I turned my head to locate the source of the noise. And in so doing scared a turkey into flight. It escaped deep into the forest. Just the turning of my camo covered head scared it.

.       This morning I got a glimpse of another turkey, out on the periphery. It was moving quickly, giving no opportunity for a shot. Therefore I decided to set up like they tell you in the hunting magazines. Sitting at the base of a tree, gun on knee, at ready.

After a couple more hours I heard the loud crunching of footsteps behind me. I thought it was a hiker, or perhaps a visit from the game warden. I turned my head, again too quickly. Just fifteen feet away was a big ole bird eyeballing me. I raised my gun, but before I could level the sights the bird disappeared into the thick cover, and over the rise.

The books suggest setting out decoys. And sitting motionless with gun in position, balanced on a knee. Then waiting for the turkey to walk into the line of fire, as the gun can be raised and aimed with almost no motion.

I should darken my boots. Also a decoy could be good. My camo should be washed in U.V. blocking detergent. I should get a billed camo hat. To help block out the sun. And the billed hat should be washed as well.

I had seven deer come close today. Sitting low at the base of a tree seems an excellent way to escape being seen by deer.

I got the spring cleaning done at the trailer. Everything at the property seemed to be in order.

 

                                                                                                Reflectivity

When we pray,

Things change.

Our external circumstances and our physical world change.

More wonderful than this,

When we pray,

We change within.

We become more Godlike.

Closer to perfection.

 

 

Quote from the early Catechism:

He who does not hinder evil is guilty of evil.

He who shelters the guilty is also guilty.

 

 

Brother Stephen

Brother Stephen was one of the monks at Mount Savior. Over the years we became very close. We would spend time together on my retreats. We would take long hikes, and have long conversations. The hike down to the river was arduous, difficult.

I would help him with the chore of cleaning the guest house. And carrying water into his cabin. He spent a lot of time in his hermitage back in the woods. His cabin was his studio. He had a loom set up and wove prayer stoles. And then an easel, where he would paint. He was a natural. With no formal training, his paintings were compelling. Almost effortlessly his work found its way into galleries.

Through his last few years he began to seriously regard a vow of silence. Our conversations  became few and of short duration. This hurt me, as I loved him as a brother.

When he died I wrote the monastery asked for some relic from his life be sent to me. I was sent a prayer card from his funeral.  He was ninety one years old when he died in 2018.

On the back of the prayer card was a prayer by Thomas Merton.

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. And I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it .

Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

 

Here’s an insight: The Gospel says “be ye not unequally yoked”. This is usually interpreted to mean that a Christian should only marry a Christian. But this is true for friendships as well. A righteous man chooses righteous companions. End of issue. Case closed.

 

 

                                                                The Cathedral of our Friendship.

The cathedral

of our friendship,

where peace

doth always reign.

Doors be bonds,

our lives we share.

Our days,

Our joys, our pain.

 

 

 

Stained glass windows

of our lives events.

The passions

of our way.

The altar,

a kitchen table spread.

We break bread,

and celebrate the day.

 

 

Painted ceilings,

memories,

of things  we’ve said

and done.

Our daily pains

and victories

fused to Christ,

God’s son.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our prayers,

the conversations,

events and thoughts

we share.

The ushers guide us

to our seats.

The knowing

that you care.

 

 

 

The statues

by the altar,

the gifts

you give to me.

Helping with

a chore or task,

A hug

a cup of tea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Incense rising,

loving thoughts.

Warm

and tender heart.

Missing you

a little bit

when we have

to part.

 

 

The laughter

that we share.

The chiming

steeple bell.

Within the chapel

Of our friendship

all is good

and well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The priest,

the goals

were striving for.

Challenges before us.

United deep

in Christian friendship.

The angels

sing in chorus.

 

 

Priestly robes,

knowing

who

we are.

The moon,

The sun,

the earth beneath

a shining star.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friendship

barring

out

the cold.

Protection

from the darkness,

and all evil

I am told.

 

 

The things

we love

to do.

Candles by the altar.

Steady

as the vigil flames,

our friendship

does not falter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The cathedral

of our friendship,

where peace

doth always reign.

Eye to eye,

heart to heart ,

life sings

a sweet refrain.

 

 

The cathedral

of our friendship,

where peace

doth always reign.

 

Steeples rising

to the sky.

Together, soon,

Again.

Steeples rising

to the sky.

Together, soon,

Again.

 

 

An excerpt from the News. Written by Will Elliott.

Bear trackers. Deer search, a volunteer group of dog handlers, served ably during that July 22 incident in North Harmony when a 200 pound bear killed a calf and was then wounded by a shot from a county sheriff and escaped into the brush.

Deer Search members Gary Huber and Craig Frank responded to a call, Huber bringing his dachshund Crystal and Frank with his wire-haired pointer Fritz. Both dogs are 13 years old.

Huber’s Crystal tracked the bear into heavy brush, putting him and Conservation officer Frank Luaracella within six feet of the animal. Lauracella dispatched the animal with one quick shot.

“This was a fitting end to Crystal’s career as a tracker”, Huber said after this too close encounter. The bear carcass has been taken to a DEC lab in Delmar to determine its health status.

Deer search continually seeks experienced dog handlers to assist in recovering injured and wounded animals. Deer top the list of targeted species, but bear numbers, increasing in Western New York, require tracking skills as seen North Harmony. For more information about DS, call 648-4355 or Bob Hageman 493-3225. ( 716 area code).

 

 

It occurs to me, that the mind, properly trained can filter a negative emotion before it becomes an evil deed. A mind, completely cleansed, cannot direct the body to perpetuate an evil act. However, some sins originate in the flesh, not the mind. Sexual desire cannot be obliterated.

 

 

When I was hanging out with the band, I was witnessing to many people. The prayer on my heart for them all was that they would find Jesus.

 

      Prayer

The prayer, this night,

upon my heart,

is for you brother,

that you would start.

 

 

 

That you, dear friend,

tonight begin

asking Jesus

to take your sin.

 

 

And wash your soul

Clean and new

A mountain morning

Sparkling dew.

 

 

And pray thee Jesus

Heart and soul

Heal me, guide me

Make me whole.

 

 

Please pray this prayer

Right now with me.

Sanctify me,

Set me free.

 

 

And show me

truth and destiny,

the way, the truth

true purity.

 

 

He has a plan

If we but plead,

To take his hand.

For he will lead.

 

 

I have

a brand new life with you,

dear friend

amongst the chosen few.

 

 

Get before me,

Completely soon.

A star, a sun

And peaceful moon.

 

 

Come into my heart

Right now, dear Lord.

Guide me

In thy precious word.

 

 

Be our life

Our truth, our way.

Let us begin

In you today.

 

 

Right here, right now

Let us start,

Fill my life

My soul, my heart.

 

 

Holy spirit,

Saving light.

Show us who we are

tonight.

 

 

 

Sweet Father above,

Saving star,

Show us now

Who we are.

 

 

Holy Jesus

Saving son,

Thy kingdom come

Thy will be done.

 

 

Holy Jesus

Saving son,

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done.

 

 

 

Sun8/25/02

I see clearly that I am projecting energies and thoughts. This realization has dawned on me gradually over the years. As I contain my seed, I see my vibes change. This bears on my relationships. And my fishing success.

I conjecture that fish can sense vibes. And that success in fishing is affected by ones vibes. When the vibes are right, the bite is on. Vibes are affected by weather systems, lunar phases, mind altering drugs, and the social dynamic.

 

Mon9/2/02 11:25am.

Labor Day, as I sit in Saint Bernard’s church to pray and write. In Saranac Lake. Ten days on Lake Kiwassa. Battling anxiety. The fishing has been great. Thirteen nice bass. Lots of perch, sunnies, and rockies. Had fish four times. Cooked over at Lacey and Shirleys.  All has gone well.

The eagles are back. Beautiful bald eagles. I talked to Mike Pond. He’s been tagging fish for DEC, feeding the eagles, and killing an occasional bear.

I figured out a new rig. It can be used, with slight modifications, for either pan fish or game fish.  I brought my canoe up here on the roof of my van. Range is limited when your source of propulsion is paddling. But a canoe is small, and quiet and simple. And with care it is perfectly safe, as well.

I have a lot things on the burners back home. My application to seminary. Negotiating to do the carpets at the crown Plaza in Rochester. I’m planning to approach real estate on helping to prepare properties for sale, as well.

Also, I’ll have to check up on all my regular customers. I wish I didn’t have to work. All year as I strain and worry on the job I think “but soon you’ll get a vacation”.  Then finally I get to go away on vacation. And while away I start to stress about work, and what I’ll have to do when I get back home.

I’m very glad that I’ve only to complete one lifetime here. I surely hope the promise of heaven is fulfilled for me and those I love.

I got up the river to my perching grounds. The river will yield as many fish as one cares to take. I took 28 pan fish, and they were still biting when it was time to leave. I caught five doubles on the pan fish rig, and two sunnies on bare hooks. A huge pike rolled at my bobber and tangled in the line. I battled him until he broke the line.

DEC has been pitting 200,000 walleye fingerlings in Lower Saranac each year. We’ll soon have a world class walleye fishery.

 

 

9/9/02 6:40 pm.

Tonight is the first night of classes at the seminary. This course is called “foundations in ministry”. It is the prerequisite course to formal study.

I worked at the co-op today. I wrote a special at camp entitled “ten days at camp”. I wrote it for Anya, one of my co workers. I gave it to her after work. It is very forthright and honest. Now she can decide if she would like to have my friendship.

 

9/15/02

The terrorist acts of 9/11 were just one year ago. The anniversary of the date was observed by all. The papers, magazines, TV and radio were all centered on the date. Our leaders here in the U.S. are concerned that Iraq is on the verge of having nuclear weapons. Our government has demanded they open their borders to weapons inspectors now. If not, military intervention will begin within days. President Bush has been attempting to gain international cooperation. This appeal is being met with great controversy, both at home and around the world.

 

My Aunt Evelyn is 94 years old. She is my dad’s older sister. I received a letter from her two days ago. She’s certain that we are about to enter the most terrible war this planet has ever seen. Just as soon as America has enough oil stockpiled our invasion of Iraq will begin.

Last night I slept at Billy’s trailer. Billy heads home to his Florida home this Wednesday. I drove down here yesterday to spend one more day with him. As I slept mice were running over my feet and ankles. The tickling woke me up. Do you think animals have a sense of humor?

Today’s plan was to check out a new fishing spot. But first the keys got locked in the car. Then, after we drove way back in to the fishing hole, we realized we left the bait behind. Then Billy’s dog Annie decided she wanted to play fetch with our lures, splashing in to the water after each cast. Billy got his line into an impossible tangle. Then it started to rain.  This day was fated not to be a day of fishing.

 

 

9/15/02

I’ve been accepted into the introductory program toward becoming a deacon at Christ the King seminary in East Aurora. The classes meet each Monday eve at seven and one Saturday a month.

I will be doing a business promotion beginning this week. I will be soliciting real estate agents, attempting to find work getting homes ready to show and sell.

The hunting season has begun, with the opening of squirrel season the first of September. Deer season begins October 15^th with bow season. I’ll be ready, and plan to hunt as much as much my schedule will allow.

I have two new guns, and scopes to mount on them. However, I have not had time to work on them. Patience.

9/24/02

Containing seed radically changes who you are. Something powerful happens on all levels of being in self denial. There are moments of extreme discomfort in self denial. The body will get to a point where it demands sexual release. It has to happen. Don’t condemn yourself. Take a shower, say a prayer, and continue on.

There is only one way to totally lock down the need for sex, and that is going without food. Truly, a person could die of starvation endeavoring to totally lock down the desire for sexual release. Starvation is a very difficult passage, and I don’t think God wants this of anyone. I’ve been there. To the brink of death in self denial. More than twice.  You don’t need to go there. I pray this helps you.

 

First Day of Bow Season                                                                                          Oct. 15^th. 2002 9:00pm.

I rolled into camp last night at 11:30. The grass drive and parking area were heavily frosted. I unpacked and did some basic organizing. I set up in the bedroom on the far end of the trailer with a small electric heater. After reading for awhile, I closed my eyes. It was 1:00am.

I arose at 10:00 am, It took me two hours to get geared up and into the woods. At 2:00 a small deer came through. As usual I panicked, but managed to get off a decent shot. It looked like a double lung shot. I could see the arrow had almost completely passed through as it bounded off into the woods.

I prayed and waited for time to pass. After a while I walked to where I last saw the fleeing animal. There was a profuse blood trail. After 100 yards, the trail vanished, but I could see my quarry, laying dead, about seventy five yards away, on the next little rise. I got the deer back to camp, dressed out and tagged, and hung it from a tree. Now it was time for tea.

I needed to go into town to visit my relatives, and maybe find a local butcher, so I wouldn’t have to go right back to the city.

I saw Kent and Terry.  Then I visited with Rose and Dennis. Rose had made a great vegetable beef soup, while Dennis was making a salad. After dinner I went up to Aunt Mishka’s. She fed me too, eggplant parmesan. Steve Jones stopped in, no deer. Then Frank and Jason finally got back, well after dark. No venison in their wagon, either. I’m concerned that it needs to be cold enough to keep the deer overnight. Dennis gave me the number of a nearby butcher.

Now I had to make a plan. If I used a nearby butcher, I’d have to stay on until it’s done. A few days. But here’s the catch. I find myself getting anxious when I’m out alone like this. Would I be able to keep my center if I stayed on? When I was up in the mountains alone last summer, the anxiety was debilitating.

It was Tuesday, I had until Sunday until I had to get home. A storm was due in the next night. Do I make a break for the city, or ride out the storm, and weather the anxiety?

I’m concerned the coyotes will devour my deer before morning. I dragged it up on the porch, and turned the light on.

When I had the deer hanging the rear hooves were on the ground. Ants started crawling up the legs. Not many. Just a few. I brushed them off, and raised the deer.

So I made a plan. “I’ll stay on until the deer is done. I’ll visit family and friends for balance. I’ll take my vitamins, herbal tea, and Benadryl, if needed, to stay calm. Also, this writing has a calming effect. I’m thinking about getting a dog. I can visit the church here, as well”. “Now I’m OK. I’ll be fine. I hunt again tomorrow”.

Wed. 10/16/02

I dropped the deer off at Walbridge Sausage Company, Fillmore address. Then I dropped in on Mehlenbachers. I needed to pick up some hay for Aunt Mishka’s goats.

Mr. Mehlenbacher answered the door. We got into a conversation, all the news. He and his wife, Jane, had just been in Branson. I think that’s Missouri.

When we were loading the hay, they asked me for lunch. I accepted the invitation. They wanted to return the artwork I gave them. “Why”, I asked, “don’t you like it?” Jane replied, “Walt won’t let me hang pictures”. I looked Mr. M. in the eye and said, can’t you break your rule just a little, and hang the these where you’ll enjoy them? I shared what the artwork meant, peace and friendship. And That I had made with own hands, as a gift from my heart.

At this moment the doorbell rang. It was a man traveling from farm to farm installing and repairing lightening rods on barns and farm buildings. And then the phone rang. Jane had to get to the bank in Rochester before its closing at 4:00.

We ate a hurried lunch. Mr.Mehlenbacher took off with the lightening rod tech, after giving me a pail and telling me to pick some of the black walnuts that had fallen from the tree in the front yard.( Dad likes black walnut cookies). I cleared the lunch table then drove down to Aunt Mishkas in the valley.

Frank, Linda, and Aunt Mishka were there. I unloaded the hay, then went inside. Frank didn’t hunt today, on account of it drizzling all day. He said the rain washes away the blood trail. Lynn was cooking eggplant and zucchini. Aunt Mishka was sitting in the kitchen. We visited for awhile. Then I came up here for prayer, and to prepare for the evening hunt.

I realized that hunting, for me, is less and less about killing an animal, and more and more about people. A celebration of the harvest. A celebrating of the awesome power and beauty of nature. A celebration of the love of family and friends.  With each journey down here to the lands I hunt, I come to love the people with an ever deepening love.

It’s not that I don’t love the hunt, and the thrill of the kill, I do, and always will. I will love the friendships, affections, and alliances, as well. When I started hunting six years ago, I did not foresee the forging  of friendships.

 

10/17/02

What a day! I slept until 9:00am. Arising, I went out for two hours, and saw nothing. Then I went into town to make phone calls. Now it was time to get back out into the woods. I took my seat, and began to wait. After half an hour, I stood to stretch the legs. I stood as close to motionless as possible, and kept the awareness going. A few minutes later I saw a bit of the head of a deer, off to the left, and 100 feet away. I postured myself for a shot, and began to pray.

After ten minutes, the big spike horn wandered right into my shooting lane, completely oblivious. I drew and was ready to release when the arrow dropped off the string. As I looked down, I accidently pulled the release trigger and dry fired.

Now the buck was looking right at me. I did not expect another chance, but I restrung the arrow, sighted, and deliberately released the arrow. I flinched as the arrow flew, so I didn’t know if I had scored a hit. I waited just a moment and went to look for the arrow. It was easy to find, and covered in blood, from broad head to fletching. Damn, I’d scored a hit! After marking the spot, I went back to my seat to sit and wait.

A half an hour passed, then I went to look for the blood trail. No luck, no blood anywhere. But down a ways, in a bramble, I heard thrashing. Not the noise of an animal bounding away, but the thrashing of a downed deer, dying.

More thrashing, then quiet, then more thrashing. I knocked the bloody arrow, and starting searching for the source of the noise. Then I found it, not in the woods, but in the corn. I fired a shot to finish the grand beast, but missed. It was down and bleeding out, as I put another through its neck.

I went back to the truck to get my gutting tools. Field dressing done, I was back at Kent and Terry’s looking for help. We took Kent’s 4×4, and drove it as far in as we could. With ropes and lights we hiked the last 200 yards. After closing the body cavity with bungees, we tied two ropes. Around the deer’s head on one end, and our waists on the other.

The antlers were small. Four inch spikes. But it was the biggest bodied deer I’ve ever killed. It was strong smelling, and infested with tick like deer keds.

We loaded up the deer and drove back to Kent and Terry’s. We hung it on the gambrel in their garage.

 

10/21/02 1:00pm.

All set for know. Two deer in the freezer.

One learns to trust God completely as he learns to give himself completely.

 

10/22/02

I repacked the venison I had processed down by camp. I was saddened when I saw they kept all the tenderloins. It breaks my heart.

As well, I am angry over the cost of recent service on my van. They charged for work not done. And attempted to sell me some costly repairs hat didn’t need doing. They wanted to replace the “soft plugs”, which would require” dropping the transmission”, for an exorbitant fee. They also wanted to rebuild the turn signal fluid pump for 3000.00 dollars.

Tomorrow I’ll have to replace the front tires. I bought 70,000 mile tires from Walmart. They  wore out at 20,000 miles.

My auto insurance rates are getting out of control. I’m regularly getting higher bills, and the agent is hostile when I call.

It seems that straight forward honesty is the exception to the rule. If there is a god, and a coming day of judgment, hell is going to be very, very full.

 

11/03/02

Just returned from leg two of bow season. I had a perfect chance at a one horned buck, up on Mehlenbachers. The problem is that I only have doe tags until the gun season begins.

The buck was broadside at thirty feet. I opted not to shoot, as a deer is considered antlered with one three inch antler. I had less than ten seconds to decide as the deer passed through my shooting lane.

When I went back into town with my story, the unanimous response was that I should have taken the deer, and broke the off the remaining antler.

As the deer passed through the shooting lane and into the brush it scented me. Lowering its head to the ground, it peered under the branches to try and see me. After a short while it  snorted and high tailed across the field and out of sight.

The interesting point here is how the law of the land varies from the law of the courts. The people of the valley said I should have taken the deer. But state law would have considered it a crime.

Business has been slow. Just as I must work hard to kill a deer, I must sell hard to find new customers. I’m inclined to tell myself that building the customer base is just too, too hard. But selling is like hunting. One can’t quit simply because it’s hard. And success brings such sweet satisfaction. Take the fortitude required to succeed in the hunt, and apply it toward it toward achieving success in business.

 

Cousin Linda said in conversation that I will suffer much when my parents age and die. I’d never thought about it in such blunt terms. I love my parents very much. Their passing will be difficult.

 

Frankie and Don are upset with me. They think I posted the hickory tree field. I didn’t, but whoever did has claimed a choice piece of land.

It’s funny, last year I heard Kent’s dad refer to me as “the one who sits under the tree”.

Sitting under the hickory tree, contemplating oneness, would be a great way to hunt.