Every season I say the same thing…

Posted on March 29, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

29 March, 2012    Every season I say the
same thing… …”THIS is my favorite season.” Every season I mean
it. My last post was March 21 – I’m startled to realize. My only
post for March, wow. Last March (2011) was my first full month of
blogging and I put up fifteen posts. Now March is almost over and
this is only my second post! Anyway, it’s early Spring and this is
definitely my favorite season. Until summer arrives. The
philosopher (that’s one way to describe him) Joseph Campbell said
“life lives on lives.” So many things are bursting out and being
born now and consuming and being consumed, it’s difficult to tell
where one stops and another begins. If you’re in Richmond, VA now
it’s difficult not to notice pollen and inchworms. I read up on
inchworms on wikipedia and discovered this outstanding sentence:
“They are seldom hairy or gregarious and are generally smooth.” I’m
going to work that sentence into a conversation at some point
today. I wonder if the person I’m speaking with will know I’m
talking about inchworms. Gregarious. I certainly didn’t see that
one coming. Flowers are everywhere and Pony Pasture is (as we’ve
already seen) full of  beauties. I’ve done a lot (to put it
mildly) of hiking at Pony Pasture yet somehow remained unaware of
these gorgeous flowers. Not sure how I could have missed this:

I’ve posted other pictures of these on
fb so maybe you’ve already seen them. Some seeds (I presume) have
washed down the river into the park. But the inimitable Ralph White
and I presume the Friends of the James River Park planted hundreds
a couple of weeks ago. They’re Virginia Bluebells, a.k.a. Mertensia
virginica a.k.a a lot of other fascinating names, e.g. “Lungwort
Oysterleaf” (!?) and “Roanoke Bells.”

Many flowers (and many other outdoor
sights) say “Spring” to me but it’s possible Redbuds (Cercis
canadensis) say it most sincerely. I have many positive
associations with redbuds stretching far back into my childhood,
perhaps into the Spring of my life, and redbuds never fail to evoke
those good feelings.

Believe it or not (I can hardly
believe it myself) there were no dogs in our home when I grew up.
Always cats, from before I was even born, but we didn’t get a dog
until I was leaving for college and for good in 1979. That was the
incomparable Cassie, a dog who foreshadowed Ivory in many ways. I
hope someone in my family will send me a picture of her so I can
include her in a future post. If you’re familiar with Greek
mythology, you may recall Cassandra as being granted the gift of
prophecy, but cursed never to be believed. We didn’t know much
about dogs when we first had Cassie. She didn’t have a name yet.
She would give us plenty of signs – she prophesied – that she had
to use the bathroom, but was cursed never to be believed. We in
turn were cursed with many wet spots on the carpet until she
finally convinced us of the accuracy of her forecasts. Cassandra
was her perfect and perfectly inevitable name. Anyway, a favorite
book of mine in that era (before Cassie arrived) was written in
1961 (the year I was born) by a man named Wilson Rawls. It was
called – a little more foreshadowing here – Where the Red Fern Grows –
The Story of Two Dogs and a Boy. Who could possibly
have seen this coming. I may have read it twelve times. Or more.
This time of year I am reminded of a particular passage. I am
reminded every Spring  since I would imagine sometime in the
early 1970’s when I first read it. Rawls opens the book with this
passage – in this case it is classic foreshadowing – and closes on
the final page: “In the spring the aromatic scent of wild flowers,
redbuds, pawpaws, and dogwoods, drifting on the wind currents,
spread over the valley and around our home.” – Wilson Rawls
(2011-01-12). Where
the Red Fern Grows (Kindle Locations 153-155). Random
House, Inc.. Kindle Edition. There is already no shortage of
wildflowers in this blog and in this post. My homage to Mr. Rawls
and to the book and to all of the dogs that have influenced me.
First a redbud from Pony Pasture:

Followed by an infant pawpaw I found
clinging to the south bank of the James River at Pony Pasture this
morning:

And this glorious dogwood gracing my
front yard.

Boy. I
totally didn’t outline this post. Does it show? I just sat down and
started typing. You may even say this post is organic. Somewhat
less organically, my friend and I were at the tracks yesterday and
got this picture of an eastbound coal train rolling past a work
crew. Each of those coal cars weighs ~100 tons. The biggest guy
standing there probably about 1/1,000th of that. They sure do look
relaxed. I guess you get used to it. Back to the river.
Back to this morning. I could have done a little better with this
shot, but I like the geese on the water in the sunrise: It is just a
treasure to be down at the river early in the morning. The latest
sunrise of the year here in central Virginia is around 7:30 in late
October. The earliest is mid-June, when it comes up around 5:45.
That is really early. But these days it’s coming up very close to
7:00 and I get the privilege of seeing this: I’ll close with one
more shot I enjoyed a great deal. If you’re so inclined, try to
take a picture of a spiderweb some time. It is really difficult.
But this one was sagging from the weight of the early morning dew
and the sun was coming up behind it and everything came together:
I hope you’re
enjoying this magnificent early spring as much as we are. Have a
great day, Jay and friends

Posted in Flowers, Fun, Rivers, Trains | 7 Comments

Quick!

Posted on March 21, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

March 21, 2012    Quick!

“Quick!” as in “I’d better get a post up really quick or another day will pass!”
My best laid plan is to put up a lot of blog posts but I have allowed myself to be  thwarted. I’m still thwarted and not taking the time to do the text I’d like and to  elaborate here and there. But it’s been a long time since I’ve put up a post and if nothing else I’ve got some pictures I enjoy. I’ll put up a “real” post (your guess here is as good as mine) in the non-distant future. But for now, some of the pictures that have accrued since my last time on here.

First, however, a leftover picture from February that I enjoyed. This is one of the rear “trucks” of a General Electric ES44AC locomotive:

We arrived at the river shortly after sunrise on Thursday, March 1. I like this shot because it’s an angle I don’t often post:

And  I enjoyed this lovely yellow flower:

These three weren’t at the river at all; they are lending fragrance and beauty to my driveway:

 

My driveway smells and looks so beautiful

Lee and Lucy joined us at the river on Sunday, March 4 – he was kind enough to take this picture. I wish all my dogs had been kind enough to pay attention! I think they wanted to keep hiking:

The sun is coming up earlier every day. Although we’ve switched to Daylight Savings Time. I took this picture on the morning of March 8, the last Thursday before the time change:

A buddy and I made it down to the tracks the following week; we were fortunate to see a “double” parked there. Notice neither locomotive’s headlight is lit. #19 is an AC4400 and #5254 is an (obviously newer) ES (or “Evolution Series”) 4400:

We made it to the river again on Thursday the 15th. The flowers are becoming quite prolific. This yellow one and this purple one are beautiful examples:

A purple beauty
(Identification also welcome)

And we can’t forget the delightful wrens!:

I make it a point to get to the river as often as possible in this weather. A friend and I went down the very next afternoon and saw these beauties:

So much to enjoy!

I have a few more pictures to put up but this post is over-full. I’ll put up a brief addendum post.

Speaking of addendums, I’ve been adding a brief narrative at the end of each blog posts. I’ve got one partly written but I’ve put off posting too long. It will be here soon. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy these pictures.

Have a great day,

Jay

Posted in Dogs, Flowers, Fun, Rivers, Trains | 8 Comments

Dancing about architecture

Posted on February 26, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

26 February, 2012    Dancing about architecture

The comedian Steve Martin says that “writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” More about that in the second section of this post. First, Turner, airborne:

Roux & Mackey discuss weighty matters while Turner goes airborne

If you’re in central VA, you know what an odd month it’s been. Weather wise, anyway. Friday afternoon I was at the river with a buddy and it was 82º and you might have said it was humid or at least muggy. Distinctly un-February like. Saturday at noon – less than 24 hours later – when I got on my bicycle it was crystal clear and 45º with 20 mph winds gusting to 35. I’d planned a 50 mile ride but after practically having my bike blown off the top of my car on the way out there, I opted for my 30 mile route. Click this link if you’d like to see it: Wind Fest. It took a lot of effort to average 14.6 mph for 2+ hours. Normally that’s one of my fast routes and I average in the mid- to upper-16’s and occasionally average 17. Not Saturday, that’s for sure.

On a ride like that, sometimes the best part is the end. I start and finish at a little church in eastern Goochland. I love daffodils and there are hundreds on the lawn:

Daffodils on the church lawn

It’s awful that it’s been two weeks since my last post. I’ve wanted to do ~1 post/week but life has intervened, as it sometimes does. Things are going well, just busy, which I never mind. I don’t know if the readers of this blog miss my posts – but I sure miss putting them up!

It’s been nearly a year since I began this blog, and I recall a picture of a dandelion being one I especially enjoyed. Dandelions will outlast us all; when there is nothing else, there will be dandelions. I saw this one on Wednesday. It’s only a dandelion – king of weeds in this area – but it’s a very pretty flower:

“Just a weed” but wow!

The dogs and I got to Pony Pasture a little late on Thursday; daffodils are blooming there too! Spring is early this year. It sprinkled a little the night before. This one is still wet, and perhaps even more lovely, if such a thing is even possible:

Beautiful!

On an entirely different note, we cross the James River to get to Pony Pasture on the 50-year-old Huguenot Bridge. It is in the midst of a multi-year replacement project. The base of the new bridge is girded by girders. If you were wondering. They bring them down on 18 wheelers. This picture is taken from the Starbucks parking lot. One end of the bridge has Starbucks and the other end has Pony Pasture; we use it regularly!:

That’s a lot of girder.

Daffodils and dandelions are only a few of the flowers brought out by this early spring. These hyacinths are already opening up beside my driveway:

First hyacinth

I have an obligatory dog picture at the top of this post and I like it a lot. I will close with one more. We had a nice hike this morning and I grabbed this picture of Turner speeding down the trail behind Roux. I don’t know why one is in focus and the other is not, but it’s still a cute picture:

Fast and fun

= = = = = = = = = = =
I began this second section writing about people I spend time with. I’ll return to that intermittently as the blog evolves. Today I will dance about architecture. I have a lot of friends who do a lot of yoga. I read about yoga. It occurs to me that reading about yoga is like dancing about architecture.

A friend gave me a great book called The Wisdom of Yoga (2006) by Stephen Cope. At the beginning of the book – even before the Introduction – Mr. Cope quotes another author from a work of hers. The quote is from a book called For the Time Being (1999) by a woman named Annie Dillard. The quote resonates for me:

“There were no formerly heroic times, and there was no formerly pure generation. There is no one here but us chickens, and so it has always been: a people busy and powerful, knowledgeable, ambivalent, important, fearful and self-aware; a people who scheme, promote, deceive, and conquer; who pray for their loved ones, and long to flee misery and skip death. It is a weakening and discoloring idea, that rustic people knew God personally once upon a time – or even knew selflessness or courage or literature – but that it is too late for us. In fact, the absolute is available to everyone in every age. There never was a more holy age than ours, and never a less.“

I hear a lot about how rotten things have become and I find it discouraging. It’s not discouraging because I think things have become rotten. It’s discouraging because some of us allow ourselves to think that way. Bad things happen regularly – but, as Ms. Dillard notes, they always have. And they always will. Things weren’t great back in the old days, and they’re not rotten now. She is much more eloquent about it than I could ever be: “It is a weakening and discoloring idea, that… people knew God personally once upon a time… but that it is too late for us.” In my opinion, this is the best time, and it is our responsibility to make it better. At the risk of sounding preachy and abrupt, to buy into the notion that “it is too late for us” is to be part of the problem – not the solution.

I have to get up early and work tomorrow too. I have a hard week ahead. But, just as they do every year at this time – you can count on this – each day will be a little longer, a little brighter, perhaps even a little warmer. The dandelions and daffodils and hyacinths shown here are just a taste of the riot of flowers we’ll see in the coming months. I will enjoy it all. Have a great day,

Jay

Posted in Dogs, Flowers, Fun, People, Rivers, Smiles (including "dog smiles"!) | Leave a comment

Don’t fence me in

Posted on February 11, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

11 February, 2012        Don’t fence me in

I began this a few days ago – when it was stunning. Today is something other than stunning, it’s drizzly and damp and gray, but the air tastes good. Lots of oxygen. It’s Saturday, also nice.

Today [Tuesday, 7 February, not actually today] is stunning. And I’ve had the opportunity to get on my bike some, thank goodness, although not yet today. My post from Saturday, 4 February (FINALLY got to take a ride) was about getting back on my bike. Which was nice, it was a 45 minute ride, but it was in an office park, which is only a tiny bit better than riding a stationary bike. Tuesday I had some free time and it was clear and 53º so I got to ride in the country. I named the ride “Don’t fence me in” for two reasons:

1. Since I finally got out on a real road ride for the first time since before Christmas and
2. Since I took a really neat picture (neat to me, anyway) of the top of a fencepost.

There’s a link to the ride route here. It shows the roads, the hills, my speed (or lack thereof), my heart rate, calories burned, etc. It’s fun if you like this kind of thing: Don’t fence me in

If you click on that link, you can see a map of the route, it’s really a beautiful ride. It wouldn’t even be a bad car ride on a nice day, if you like it out there in the country.

This is the picture I took:

I
I just love this picture. I took it way out in Goochland on a bike ride last week.

As I was leaning against that post I took this picture; views like this are one of the reasons I like riding in places that are not office parks:

Better view than an office park. But an office park is better than riding a trainer.

I took both of those pictures with my camera phone, by the way. Those cameras take decent pictures when the light is flawless like that.

A year or so ago my friend Grace, a.k.a. “my blogging muse” told me she was looking at fence pictures. I took a picture of that fence then, only in a more linear fashion. On my ride I’d just stopped to admire the view and I liked the way that post looked. I liked where the old board and the new joined together.

There’s a link to Grace’s blog on the side of my page, but I think it is often overlooked. She’s been blogging a year longer than I have, and she is an excellent writer and a superb photographer. Take a look at her outstanding blog here: Life 2 Seriously

I’ve been dog sitting recently for these two gorgeous little girls; they’ve accompanied me and my pack to the river on a couple of walks. This was from Sunday. Lola is the brown girl with the sensitive eyes. Luna is the colored more like the moon; she is slightly blurry because she never stops moving. And because my shutter speed was a little slow. They are excellent companions at the river. Speaking of never stops moving, look at Luna’s tail. Or should I say at the brown blur where her tail is.

Luna is more lunar colored. Lola is less lunar colored. Both are wonderful.

Blue is the color I notice most at the river, but it’s difficult to look away from a green like this:

How to tell the north side of a tree

We ran into our friends Susan and Steve at the beginning of that walk. Susan is an excellent photographer but when I handed her the camera, I still had the shutter speed set too slow. And this time it was Lola who was moving and Luna stood still. And Turner’s running straight for the camera:

Lola, Luna, Mackey, Roux, Turner, thanks Susan!

I was going to the river with a friend on Monday and he’d heard of Old Gun Road, but never been on it. It was only a few minutes away so we went for a spin. As I understand it – and from the sign on one of these pedestals – it got its name from cannons dumped in the river during the Civil War. If you can’t read that writing, it says “Gun and gun mold recovered by C. Merle Luck from the James River on August 16, 1962, having been put there during Col. Dahlgren’s raid during the Civil War.”

The Old Guns on Old Gun Road (one is an Old Gun Mold)

That’s only ~5 or 10 minutes drive west of Pony Pasture if you want to look at it. It’s right on the side of Old Gun Road.

When my friend and I went to the river, we went to Huguenot Flatwater, a mile or so upstream from Pony Pasture, where we normally go. We were hiking through the woods and smelled an amazing smell for February. We saw these lovely flowers blooming beside the trail:

This Lonicera is highly fragrantissima

My friend Evelyn and I ran across some when we were hiking at the pet cemetery a couple of weeks ago; the smell is amazing. It is entirely surprising to encounter in February. Evelyn said they’re winter honeysuckle, a.k.a. Lonicera fragrantissima. They may or may not be Lonicera, but there is no question they are fragrantissima.

I also got down to the train tracks yesterday [Wednesday] with a buddy. On my blog “dashboard” I can see what drives web traffic to this blog. I’m always surprised how much traffic comes from people looking for train pictures. Often for specific locomotives, these AC44’s and ES44’s. From the front, you can’t tell them apart. Probably not from the back either, but I learned yesterday you can tell by looking at these grills under the radiator. I accidentally got this picture that shows the comparison perfectly. The front locomotive is an AC44CW running “cab forward” and the rear locomotive is an ES44AC running “hood forward.” That way you can have a crew person looking ahead on the tracks and another looking back over the train. Wikipedia has an entry about the ES44 and under “Identifying features” it says: “unlike any previous GE locomotive the grills under the radiator are at two different angles.” You can see that perfectly in this picture, with an otherwise identical locomotive next to it for comparison:

AC44CW in front (left), ES44AC in back (right)

The river was blue and sparkly and lovely again this morning [not today, obviously], and I had my five dog pack with me too. Here is 80% of that pack, plus my shadow, plus of course the sparkly blue river:

Pretty February river with dogs

Addendum: That fence picture inspired this blog post and title. I enjoyed the experience and the picture. Here’s a link to the song, written in 1934 by Cole Porter performed here by Bing Crosby and The Andrews Sisters: Don’t Fence Me In

On to my musings:

= = = = = = = = = = =

I enjoy this second section or addendum to my blog. The slightly different direction. Sometimes it feels I wax a bit too philosophical, but most of the people I spend time with are very philosophical in their way. I usually pre-write this section, but today is slightly more spontaneous. I think about it a lot, mostly when I’m riding or swimming, but haven’t written much until now.

My teachers have come at me from every angle over the years, beginning of course with Mom and Dad, two of the world’s great teachers. A primary lesson they instilled – though they never put it this way – was that teachers are not always found in schools. Perhaps more precisely, you are always learning, although you are not always in a classroom. Maybe that’s a wordy way of saying “keep an open mind.” I feel very young, but I could easily be a grandfather now. Wow! Keeping an open mind is flexibility, and inflexibility is the surest marker of old age. Physical and intellectual inflexibility.

I’ve got a friend at the Y named Jim. He was born in northern Maine in 1920. To save you the math, Jim’s 91, and as intellectually flexible as anyone you’ll ever meet. We were having a heated discussion at the Y a year or so ago not long after Gabby Giffords was shot. Jim took vehement issue with President Obama’s flying out there and making a speech about it, said it was political grandstanding, he could have delegated that duty, etc. I took vehement issue with Jim’s perspective, and offered reasons why I thought it was Obama’s duty. And Jim thought about it for a few moments and changed his mind and discussed with me some reasons why that may be a good perspective. Political points do not interest me here – Jim’s open-mindedness and flexibility and willingness to entertain the perspective of a person half his age interest me. That’s the fountain of youth. Plus he skis, he exercises, he’s bilingual, he’ll talk with anyone, he’s exactly how I want to be if I have the great good fortune to still be on this side of the grass when I’m 91 years old.

When Jim and I were having this discussion, we were in the shower at the Y. It was packed, I think there were six of us there. Later that day I spoke with another friend of mine from the Y, Kay, and told her about my experience. She knows both of us. I told her we were having this discussion while wearing nothing but “a smile and a pair of flip-flops,” and that in my quarter of a century or so as a member of the Tuckahoe Y, I’d had many discussions like that. She said I should write a book with that as the title. But I never have a pen and a paper! Perhaps that makes the discussions more memorable.

Posted in Dogs, Endurance, Flowers, Fun, People, Rivers, Smiles (including "dog smiles"!), Trains | 13 Comments

FINALLY got to take a ride.

Posted on February 4, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

I broke my arm on Christmas day, a mere 39 days ago, although who’s counting, seriously. I finally felt good enough and the weather was good enough I was able to get up to West Creek and crank out a couple of laps. It was a slow ride and very short, but it was nice to finally shake off the feeling of sitting around doing nothing. I mainly wanted to go through the motions, i.e. putting my bike up on my car, getting in the aero position, using clipless pedals, etc. All the stuff that can result in a fall or hurt your arm worse than it already is if you’re not careful, but it was all flawless. Next ride I’ll go out on the road for my favorite short loop, a 19.5 mile spin in eastern Goochland. Glad everything’s working. Have a great day,

Jay

This link is to today’s ride route: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/147051371#

By the way, some of you may have seen the “Sh*t _____ [fill in the blank] say” series. My friend Andrew sent me a link to “Sh*t triathletes say”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KTEgLKhjIw

It’s great between ~:25 and :35 seconds when they talk about… following my blog. Right.

I also like the guy wearing the aero helmet on his trainer.

FINALLY

Posted in Endurance, Fun, Smiles (including "dog smiles"!) | 3 Comments

We didn’t see our shadows

Posted on February 2, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

2 February, 2012        We didn’t see our shadows
Roux and Turner and Mackey and I were a few minutes late getting to the river this morning but we still arrived before sunrise. We stayed a long time after sunrise but it was gray and misty and drizzly and we still never saw our shadows. Not being groundhogs I am uncertain if that holds any meteorological significance, so you’ll have to decide for yourselves. Speaking of forecasting by groundhog, I just read about Punxsutawney Phil on Wikipedia. The entry was notable for this assertion: “He is considered to be the world’s most famous prognosticating rodent.” Is it just me, or does anyone else wonder about the identities of the other, less famous prognosticating rodents. That category, “prognosticating rodents,” is one I confess  I am not familiar with.

This picture of the river this morning will give some indication of why there were no shadows:

Notice the lack of shadows

I also got a picture of a hawk when we got back to the parking lot after our hike. My friend Kim thinks it’s a juvenile red-shouldered hawk, although a precise ID is difficult in this light from this angle. Any of you birders, please offer your opinion:

Attractive, whatever she (or he) is

Gender is very difficult to tell without knowing the precise size or (as Kim pointed out) watching it lay an egg.

I haven’t put up a post since my “Day tripper” post of a week ago today. Evelyn and I have been to the river a time or two since then; we had the opportunity for a rare Saturday trip last week. We would have seen our shadows that day:

If you don’t like a. rivers or b. the color blue, (or c. dogs), perhaps this won’t be your favorite blog

I “caught a wave” that day too; this is a pretty picture:

Isn’t it easy to imagine a 1″ tall surfer hanging ten on the front of that wave?

We made it to the river again on Sunday. The light was beyond compare but I didn’t take a lot of pictures. The light was so white it even seemed tinged with blue. But this was the only picture I saved; it’s not colorful but I like it:

Betsy, the “ball” is in your court – what is this? A hickory? I don’t know. Please enlighten me.

I went again on Monday with a friend; my broken arm has me walking at times I would otherwise be swimming or cycling. I got a long-distance shot of this duck Monday; I haven’t asked anyone for an ID yet. So – can anyone identify this attractive bird? Let me know:

Nice racing stripe. That’s a very fast looking duck. Any idea what it might be?

I was so focused on the river I almost forgot a picture I took yesterday at a friend’s house. I had just stopped by for a minute to drop something off and fortunately I had my camera under the car seat. She’s got a little bird bath or water bowl outside her house; there were robins everywhere. It was very small and I guess only one robin could use it at once; perhaps that’s what these two were discussing:

I can’t tell for sure, but that doesn’t look very polite.

A final shot of the hawk from the beginning of this post:

If I was a chipmunk and that eye was looking at me, I’d want to disappear fast

= = = = =
Client 2, the prequel. Or maybe this is the sequel; I’m confused:

I never like referring to the people I work with as “clients.” They’re my friends – without exception. But for the purposes of this blog I’ll stick with the more generic form. In the 18 years I’ve done this work, I’ve had close to fifty “clients.” Every one has been my friend.

In the future I will write more about the first person I described. The first person I “worked” with. I’ll always refer to or at least think of this as “work” in “quotes”  because it’s not labor. It’s where my education and training and experience have led me, but it is not work. Since the first moment I did it I’ve always looked forward to it. I’ll get up tomorrow morning at 5:00 to do it again, eighteen years now, and I’m looking forward to it as much tomorrow as I did on that first day. That’s why it’s difficult for me to think of it as work. It’s just too rewarding. Every time. It’s a privilege, not solely because of the people I get to work with. It’s a privilege to have the opportunity to support myself in such an enjoyable fashion. To not “work” for a living.

The second person I worked with came around not much after the first one, I suppose early 1995. He was much different from the first person. If he heard voices (“auditory hallucinations”) he couldn’t tell you because he couldn’t speak. He could make noise, and he was a gifted communicator, but he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t walk either. He couldn’t crawl either. But smile. Wow. Unless you’ve ever really come across a real, true, elite level smiler, you have no idea of the power. This guy really only had one limb that worked like most of ours do, his right arm. It’s not easy to get around with only one arm. But that smile could get him things that all your limbs and your charming voice put together can’t get  you. I used to say – I still say – he is the only person I ever met who could get a date going through a toll booth – even while using an EZPass! He is unreal. He lives in North Carolina now and he turns 33 a week from today. Unfortunately (for me, anyway) we don’t get to hang out as much as we used to. But I first met him when he was fifteen and we were usually together a couple of days a week until he was thirty. That’s when he moved down to NC.

His mother and his grandmother are both unbelievable cooks; every meal is a feast. The ingredients were always fresh, the kitchen smelled fantastic, I’m amazed even now. They were organic and local long before everyone else was. But he loved to go out on the town for dinner, I think because he liked to meet girls. He loves to eat. We ate at Fuddrucker’s a lot; he could put away some hamburger. Pizza was another huge favorite; we were regulars at Bottoms Up. We ate a million slices there. I have no idea how many waitresses he charmed. You’ve never seen anything like it. If George Clooney took him out for pizza the waitresses wouldn’t give George Clooney a second glance. This guy is magnetic. He’s a true individual in an era where it sometimes seems they’re becoming harder to find. I’m fortunate to know him.

He taught me a lot; I am a mobile person and he isn’t. I can talk a blue streak; he can only babble. He knows how to be happy. And the things we think of as making us happy are inconsequential to him. He doesn’t know the difference between  buddhism and banana cream pie but he could teach any of us about living in this moment. He never thinks about the past or worries about the future. When we’re coming up to that toll booth, he’s not thinking about it. But for that instant we’re stopped, he draws people to him. After we pull away, he doesn’t think about it again. He’s not thinking about what we’re going to do next – he’s thinking about what’s happening right then. In “The Present.”

We’ve spent a decent amount of time together since he left here in 2009, although not as much as I’d like. But a scene from our last dinner together always sticks with me. I suppose it was a coincidence that it happened on our last meal together. Maybe since I knew he was about to move, it stayed with me more. Because when I was with him, people said stuff like this a lot. I know they all meant well, but I also always knew they were misguided. It never bothered him at all, and that was something he always taught. If it didn’t bother him, it obviously should be of no consequence to me. But on his last night in town before he left for NC, we had our last meal together and of course we went down to Bottoms Up. You can eat pizza with only one hand but it’s not easy. Try it next time you have a slice. If you were dying of starvation you’d figure it out but it’s a hassle, so I always fed his pizza to him. And just as I’m feeding his pizza to him on our last night – I just looked in my journal, this was Friday, April 24, 2009 – I feel a heavy hand rest on my left shoulder. I turn and it’s a grave, jowly, earnest, concerned, sixty-something man, walking with his wife between the tables at Bottoms Up. She may even have been his sister; they might have been twins. He was very sincere. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says in a somber, approving voice, with a knowing nod of his head, “God’s gonna’ bless you.” I just nodded and said thank you. I was incensed. My buddy wasn’t; if I were  a better student I wouldn’t have been incensed in the first place. That’s why he’s the teacher and I’m still practicing. Because in my head I’m saying “God is GOING to bless me? This IS God! THIS is the blessing – right here, right now, at Bottoms Up, with the pizza, and with that pink lemonade. He loves pink lemonade. You probably didn’t know that.” Probably if my buddy could have talked he would have told me to switch to decaf.

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Posted in Fun, People, Rivers, Smiles (including "dog smiles"!) | 7 Comments

Day tripper

Posted on January 26, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

26 January, 2012    Day tripper
I’d love to, but I don’t spend every free instant at the river. Or with my dogs. This week I had an unexpected opportunity to take a trip to the mountains – specifically Harrisonburg, VA, in the beautiful Blue Ridge mountains – and spend a little time with my parents. I would have liked to stay longer, but I did have a nice lunch with my Mom and got to spend some time with Dad also. Next time I see them I’ll get to spend a little more time. It was a stunning day for a drive, a nice break in what’s been an otherwise gray January. A lot of the time on the road it was 60º and the sunroof was wide open.

It hasn’t been too long since my last post but I’ve taken a few pictures I enjoy. I got a couple of fun ones on that trip. I stopped in a rest area on Interstate 81 on the way back and this excellent looking 18-wheeler was parked in there:

Is it just me? I think this picture is so much fun.

A friend of mine once showed me a photography tip. When you’re taking a picture, look and see what’s behind you. I was sitting on a guard rail in the rest area photographing that truck. When I turned around I saw these thistles; it’s a nice contrast:

Not like a Big Red 18-wheeler

Wednesday my buddy and I went down to the train tracks. We were running a little late and we didn’t get to see the front of the train. But there was a big coal train parked there; I like the way the sun is gleaming off this wheel:

Shiny!

The detail on the cars was stark in the sun. Some of the cars were old and rusty but this one was brand new; look how clean it is:

Fresh off the assembly line

And how could I ever put up a post without a river trip. I could, but the dogs and I got down there a few minutes before sunrise and enjoyed the early morning today. I took this picture a few minutes after we arrived, probably fifteen minutes before the sun actually came over the horizon:

Every dawn is enchanting

We hiked down a little bit to where a small island breaks off from the main bank and a little canal flows behind it. I posted a picture similar to this one on my fb page; perhaps you saw it. A friend commented on the image, and I noted that, at that hour on a weekday at this time of year, it’s like having your own private place. It’s a treasure:

Public parks become private in January before dawn

We had to hike for a while to actually see the sun come over the horizon. This is through a tangle of branches, reflecting off the water, it’s a nice picture:

Sunrise in the sky and in the water

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If this is your first time following this blog, I’m experimenting with an unconnected (or only partly connected) section after each post. This is the third in the “series.” The first is at the end of the post “A lot of life,” 13 January, 2012. They’re on the end of each post now. I plan to keep it up for a while. We’ll see how it goes. Please let me know if you have any feedback. Email, comment on here, etc. Have a great day,

Jay
Client 2 – the early years
My time with Client 2 spanned nearly fifteen years, most of both of our adult  lives. It’s been a couple of years since he moved to NC, but his influence on me was and continues to be tremendous. I met him and his grandmother and his mother right at the beginning (of when I started this work), back in the mid-nineties. He could make a lot of noises and gestures though I didn’t know what any of them meant. If you didn’t know him, you would have no idea. His mother was wearing a black sweatshirt with a quote from Emerson. I will never forget. White arial sans-serif all caps: “IT IS A PLEASURE TO BE UNDERSTOOD.” It’s odd how stuff like that can pop up out of nowhere and guide your path. We learned to understand one another very well as the years went by. It certainly was a pleasure for me, and I hope it was for him too. The pleasure of learning to understand and to be understood was perhaps his greatest lesson to me and his greatest gift. Just this morning – nearly two decades after that early experience with understanding – I spent time with a friend who survived a severe brain injury. He whispers a lot and we are diligent as we learn to understand one another. It’s as much a pleasure now as it was then. I hope he too is getting something out of it.

Client 2 and I learned to understand one another in many ways. He has always been very patient with me, which perhaps was his first and most graceful lesson. He would try to tell me and I wouldn’t understand, try to tell me and I wouldn’t understand, try to tell me and I wouldn’t understand, I know it drove him crazy. It would have driven me crazy if we had traded places. I may not be as enlightened as he is. But he’d keep working at it until I figured it out, and next time I’d pick it up a little quicker. More often than not, anyway. Of course he was fifteen years old when I met him; he’d had a lot of practice. I was a relative newcomer to this patience game. But we’d be at Fuddrucker’s or at the Food Court or Kabuto’s or Hooters – he loved them all – or the park or for pizza – wherever we went. And I’d see the way people would react to him. To his smile, to his charm, to his laughter and enthusiasm. To his obvious and unmistakable in-the-moment-ness. Teaching about communication and understanding and patience are fantastic, but that in-the-moment-ness, that now-is-what-matters, that’s a lesson that only comes from the most enlightened ones. He is the one who helped me learn that “this is why it’s called ‘The Present’” and that “our presence is our present.” He taught me well; I’ve forgotten a lot of other things, but not that.

I could write a book just about him. I hope you’re all fortunate to spend time with someone like him some day. You will be a better person. Even though I’m sure you’re already excellent.

I’ll write more about him next time. I was going to move on to another person I’ve spent time with, but I’m going to revisit this guy. He’s too much fun for just one post.

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Posted in Flowers, Fun, Rivers | 14 Comments

A Perfect Day for a lot of things

Posted on January 22, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

22 January, 2012    A Perfect day for a lot of things

I’m happy more often than I’m not happy, and currently I’m happy it’s winter. It is sometimes cold and gray and dreary. This morning when I got up it was 32º and drizzling and there was ice on my windshield. I took the dogs to the river and they couldn’t have been any happier. Their energy was amazing. They ran non-stop. It certainly was a perfect morning for them.

It was also a perfect day for sleeping in. A perfect day for reading, for writing, for a warm fire, tea, blog posts, toast with butter, hard-boiled eggs, January has a lot to recommend it. As some of you are aware I took a five-week vacation to the Yukon Territory in northwest Canada in 2006. You drive (I drove) to Seattle then turn north for ~2,000 miles. I kept a blog on that trip; I’ll put a link to that blog here. If you like the pictures on that blog, click on them to make them larger. If you like the subject itself, click on some of the other links. It was an amazing experience in every way. Ivory and Nicky were my canine companions for that journey; they’re no longer around but I couldn’t (wouldn’t) have done it without them. The reason I brought it up is I thought about temperature this morning. I thought that 32º on a damp, gray morning at the river felt much colder than -10º on a crisp, still, sunny February day in the Yukon. Even though, at least by the thermometer, this morning was 42º warmer.

I digress. A little. As noted above it’s a perfect day for blog posts. And I haven’t put one up since January 13, much too long. Since it’s January – I’m really happy it’s January – I haven’t gotten out much. My broken arm is still slowing me down some, although I hope for not much longer. When the January weather is dreary, like it’s been today, it’s really dreary. But on Thursday (19 January) we got to the river just as the sun was rising; it was 24º and clear and crisp and cold and the river is almost never more beautiful:

Pre dawn. Hard to believe it’s about to get even MORE beautiful.

We headed off (east) down the river and enjoyed ourselves the whole time, as ever. When we got down near the golf course we turn south for a while (with the river at our backs). There’s a creek on our left and the 567 yard par 5 5th hole of Willow Oaks Country Club is just across. It lets plenty of morning sunlight shine on the bushes to our right; this cardinal is taking advantage of the warmth:

Watching the sun come up. I know he's enjoying it as much as we are.

I was fortunate to come back that afternoon for a hike with a buddy. We saw buffleheads (I’ll spare you), seagulls and a sweet pair of mallards. This was the female, being shy or keeping warm or hiding. Likely some combination of those:

She's being shy. She shouldn't be; look how pretty she is.

We also saw a coal train headed east. Trains are all the way across the river when we’re at Pony Pasture and it’s difficult to get decent shots. But I pointed-and-clicked anyway and saw CSX locomotive #1, the Spirit of West Virginia. I think I’ve seen that locomotive downtown before, stopped. And much easier to photograph. I learned today on Wikipedia that “It is also the first AC4400CW ever built.” Pretty neat. Also according to Wikipedia those locomotives (AC4400CW’s) were first built in 1993. So that’s ~19 years old:

CSX's locomotive #1, "Spirit of West Virginia"

It’s difficult to believe – even for me, and I took the picture – that these lilac buds were in the backyard the same day. I’m looking forward to April when the flowers are in full bloom and you’ll be able to smell them anywhere:

The darling buds of... January?

When we were at the river this morning (Sunday, 22 January) it was 33º and drizzling and it looked like this. If you think it looks cold and dreary and uninviting, you’re right:

Unbelievably, it was even colder than it looks. And it looks pretty cold.

When we got home from the river the cats looked like this and so did the woodstove. Kite’s expression (foreground) says “you left us with this ‘fire’ looking like this. Do the right thing.”

This woodstove is just so wrong.

We were all much happier half an hour later when it looked more like this:

The way it's supposed to look

Keep warm and enjoy the season! That’s why they call it “The Present”! There will never be another one like it!

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I don’t know what to “title” this section, these musings, these reminiscences. Perhaps NEWFAZE, reflecting my deep gratitude about the new phase my life enters with each breath. There’s also a line I enjoy from an obscure Tom Petty song; it’s The Future Ain’t What It Used To Be. I’ll wait until this section has a little more shape, a little more definition, perhaps it will title itself.

I was fortunate to begin my “work” with a very kind person in 1994. He was having a difficult time dealing with challenges in his workplace and it spiraled into severe depression. His parents were understandably reluctant to put him on medication. The side effects of antidepressant medications are not benign, and his doctor felt he could benefit from a less drastic intervention. His doctor was a remarkable man named Don Mayfield, who I regret to say passed away in 2008. Dr. Mayfield was acquainted with an early mentor of mine, Dr. Paul Wehman, among the most influential people I know in the field of rehabilitation and disability. Dr. Mayfield felt that the young man needed to get outdoors and move around and be more active and his problems would resolve without medication. He asked Dr. Wehman for a recommendation and fortunately Dr. Wehman suggested he call me. That is how the path of my employment and life and friendships and education led to the “work” I do today.

I like to say that exercise has a “benign side effect profile.” I.e. instead of the weight gain and lethargy commonly associated with many anti-depressant medications, exercise helps keep up a healthy weight along with a healthy appetite. And the closest symptom to lethargy is a good night’s sleep. Spending regular time outdoors walking fast is plenty of exercise for anyone, and we did plenty of it.

For a while in our early acquaintance, back in the mid-nineties, it was rough going. He was hearing voices, or having auditory hallucinations. They weren’t violent and didn’t direct him to do bad things, as we often hear about auditory hallucinations. They were more of a scolding nature, or that was the way he described them to me. They would accuse him of petty things that he hadn’t done but, being a good Catholic, he felt guilty anyway. So once we were walking along and he was responding aloud to the voices he was hearing. This was a regular occurrence. I said “who is talking to you?” He was gazing off into the distance – he did that a lot too.  He replied in a faraway voice “the manager of the oceans.” He hadn’t been well for some time, and non sequiturs of this variety were nothing new. I enjoyed the vague, fantasy quality of the concept that there was a “manager of the oceans.” Later his family took me to stay with them for a weekend at their condo at Virginia Beach. We pulled into the complex and there was a large sign welcoming us to – you guessed it – “The Oceans.”

His parents and family were dogged and determined and they never lost faith in him. This pattern of behavior – hearing strange voices, depression, apathy, lethargy, inattentiveness – were one hundred percent out of character for him. And they dragged on day in and day out for month after relentless month. And one morning, with no explanation, he woke up and got out of bed and it was as if there’d never been a problem. Every single symptom vanished without a trace. They didn’t slowly get better – they were just there and, suddenly, they were not. We were all on pins and needles for some time, waiting for them to reappear as suddenly and with as little explanation as they’d vanished. But it’s been almost eighteen years, and I had a nice chat with him last week, and he’s still doing perfect. A treat for all of us.

That was the person who built the foundation of my career. He and his mother gave me a nice referral to the second guy. I’ll write about him in my next blog entry.

Posted in Flowers, Fun, Rivers, Trains | Tagged | 5 Comments

A lot of life

Posted on January 13, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

13 January, 2012    A lot of life

I finally made it back to the river for an early walk yesterday. We hadn’t gone early in quite some time. The dogs and I were fortunate to have Evelyn join us; we picked her up at 7:15. The weather’s been up and down and very uncertain. Thursday dawned cloudy and cool but the barometer and the thermometer were rising and there was a lot of life, everywhere we turned.

Just as we got to the river’s edge we saw this attractive trio enjoying the morning. One of my polymath/wildlife identifying friends (Kim) tentatively identified them as Common Mergansers (Mergus merganser). This picture shows two males and a female. If anyone identifies them as something other than mergansers, please let me know. But the ID is solid:

A handsome family of mergansers

The buffleheads were a little more cooperative yesterday morning – but only a little. This picture’s okay:

Lone bufflehead

I took this one just as a duck dove. Or perhaps this is an elusive freshwater killer whale breaching:

A bufflehead - or an orca? Hard to be certain from this angle.

I wrote a post in mid-December called “Don’t look down!”, sage advice for drivers in our family (and elsewhere). The post consisted entirely of pictures taken while looking  down. Fortunately Evelyn looked down on our hike this morning and saw this little reptile. I’m not certain if that’s a little boy or a little girl but it sure is cute. Kim thinks it’s an eastern river cooter (Pseudemys concinna concinna):

A fetching January visitor on a fetching glove

We got all the way around to the other side of the pasture before I asked Evelyn to take this picture of the four of us:

Roux on the left, Mackey is black, Turner on the right. What a great crew.

So, ducks, turtles, dogs, people and more. That all falls under the “fauna” category. When I think of “flora” I think of green plants, i.e. chlorophyll and photosynthesis and all that excellent stuff. Does fungus count? Evelyn thinks this fungus resembles a daffodil; you can see why:

Daffodil sans chlorophyll

Followers of this blog will know the flora and the fauna is in the foreground, but the river itself is always the backdrop. The flora and the fauna come and go but the river is eternal. Early morning, early winter, captivating as always:

Early morning, early winter. Wow. What's not to like?

My arm is getting better, although it’s not back to Christmas Eve (the day before I hurt it) form yet, which I suppose will take a while. I swam once last week and although it was slow and awkward, it was nice to be back in the water. I have  another checkup on January 30 and hopefully can remove my sling. I’ve already regained a lot of mobility and the pain’s gone away. I even drove my stick shift (my “dog car”) yesterday for the first time since I hurt my arm. It was a good thing; we took the dogs to the river in it and things were muddy down there. Fine for my dog car (2001 Subaru Forester with >200,000 miles). For my “people car” (2011 Subaru Forester with <1/10 that mileage) not so much.

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13 January, 2012    Bird by Bird

I’m juggling things on the blog for the new year. I’m doing minor rewrites to my “More about me” and “This blog is about…” sections (links at the top of the page). To lend a somewhat clearer perspective on the direction I want to go with my blog. I’m also compiling brief character sketches of the fascinating people it’s been my privilege to work with for the past eighteen years or so. Of course it will be entirely anonymous, although many people who know me will know these folks as well. Most of them are like my second family.

I first met them in the hospital. When I got out I was still moving slow but wanted to be active. In 1993 began coaching Special Olympics swimming at the Tuckahoe YMCA. Special Olympics describes their mission as providing sports training and competition for “children and adults with intellectual disabilities.” It took around five minutes in that environment to realize I had as much to learn as I did to teach. That realization carried me into my education in Rehabilitation Counseling and to the work I do today.
My first night in the hospital was in the ICU on Tuesday, April 5, 1988 and I have zero recollection. Including my five days in a coma and another eight or ten in post-traumatic amnesia, I have no recollection of my first two weeks or so there. Little tiny memories begin to emerge as the days go by, but they’re fuzzy. I was discharged for good some time in mid-June. I have a very, very crisp recollection of a conversation with a male nurse shortly before I left. I was gaunt and haggard and my head was shaved and my scars were livid. I had a cast on my right arm and one on my left leg when I was discharged. I was using a wheelchair. I remember that nurse clearly. He was middle-aged and chubby and very, very, very effeminate and vaguely maternal. He put one hand on his hip  and with the other hand waggled his index finger at me and said “Remember. We’re all a lot more the same than we are different.” I never, ever, ever forgot that. In April it will be twenty-four years since my accident and that’s a lesson I’ll never forget. We’re a lot more the same than we are different.


When I work with people with disabilities I don’t learn about the theory of relativity or economic analysis or climate change and zero about religion. I don’t learn about fine dining or sustainable agriculture or artificial intelligence. But I get unvarnished looks at what makes people happy. A lot of the people I work with say what they think and feel – with zero spin. It’s refreshing and enjoyable and instructive. Many people I work with don’t spend time on the past or the future – the time they’re interested in is now, more even than the most enlightened arhat. You don’t find people like that everywhere you go. I get to spend time with them every day. What a treasure.

More to come.

Posted in Dogs, Flowers, Fun, People, Rivers, Smiles (including "dog smiles"!) | 10 Comments

“Blue” or “The Fog is Lifting”

Posted on January 7, 2012 by Jay McLaughlin

7 January, 2012    “Blue” or “The Fog is Lifting”

I’ve been in a little bit of a fog since I hurt my arm walking the dogs on Christmas. More of a fog than I am normally, I should say. The fog has been a result of being out of my routine, from the pain, from being unable to do the things that normally clear my head. I.e. spending lots of time outdoors, moving around a lot, playing with firewood, etc. The fog has also come from my pain medication, which was a near-lifesaver for the first week or ten days. But yesterday I was finally able to go without it, and it feels as if the fog is lifting. The river didn’t look like this today:

The fog is lifting

That was from November.

Fortunately today it was more like this:

I can see clearly now

Evelyn and Mackey and Turner helped me celebrate the lifting of my personal fog and the gorgeous weather with a hike at the river that was beyond compare. It was 67º and clear and sunny and dry and lovely. Some may say this is a sign of global warming. Allow me to remind you that in the three months between December of 2009 and February of 2010 we got twenty inches of snow. This is a glitch. Or that was, I am uncertain. Today was sublime.

This time of year when it’s clear and there are no leaves on the trees, the river reflects the sky and the blue is powerful and pleasant and pervasive. I am reminded of a song from Paul Simon’s 2006 album “Surprise” called Everything About It Is a Love Song. The verse I am reminded of says:

“Early December, and brown as a sparrow,
Frost creeping over the pond.
I shoot a thought into the future,
And it flies like an arrow, through my lifetime.
And beyond.
If I ever come back as a tree, or a crow,
Or even the wind-blown dust;
Find me on the ancient road
In the song when the wires are hushed.
Hurry on and remember me,
As I’ll remember you.
Far above the golden clouds,
The darkness vibrates.
The earth is blue.

And everything about it is a love song.”

Click on this picture to see the CD

Another song invariably comes to mind on days like today is Regina Spektor’s Blue Lips from her 2009 album “Far.” She says “Blue is the color of our planet from far, far away.” Boy is it ever blue and lovely and oh it is so nice to see with no fog. There’s also a song by Creedence Clearwater Revival called Green River. I love that song, but it certainly wasn’t inspired by a view like this:

Blue River

Evelyn and Mackey and Turner and I weren’t the only ones enjoying the blue sky and water:

Many seagulls enjoy our blue river

A handsome goose also enjoys this blue river

A Bufflehead. They dive the instant you focus. Is it blue underwater too? Marine blue would be my guess.

Taking pictures of that bufflehead in the last picture was like fishing; I have several stories of “the one that got away,” i.e. the “perfect picture” of a bufflehead that I continually missed. Each story is identical; one will suffice. It’s early in the year but there are already lots of buffleheads up here. I usually don’t see them in numbers like this until February. But there was a big, big flock down there today. The whole big flock was on the other side of the river (near the north bank). 250 yards away, give or take a yard. I was zoomed way in, so the image is not crisp. I’m not at that level of camera yet. Buffleheads are diving ducks. I zoomed in on three different ducks, for three flawless images, and pressed the shutter half way to focus. The instant my camera focused, the ducks disappeared underwater. They were the ones that got away. You should have seen those images. They would have been on the cover of next month’s National Geographic. Oh well.

Also I see my last post was 30 December, so this is my long-awaited (by me, if no one else) first post of 2012. So Happy New Year! I hope your year is off to a good start. I even have a new person following my blog, my niece Phoebe, which is extremely exciting. She got her first email address for Christmas and I’m thrilled to have her looking at my blog. Her sister Clare already sees it and gives me excellent feedback. I’m always pleased to hear responses about my blog, so don’t hesitate to use the “comments” section at the bottom of the blog, or just send me an email. I make an effort to respond to 100% of the notes I get. If you’ve made a comment or sent a note and haven’t heard back from me, I apologize, it is no doubt due to my lack of organization. Please contact me again and I will be certain to respond.

I am also interested in hearing suggestions for blogging topics. My intellectual range is limited but I know about a few subjects and am rarely shy about holding forth if someone is interested.

Have an outstanding New Year,

Jay

PS What I enjoy most about the river is the river itself. Fog, no fog, rain, snow, anytime I’m there I can just stare at it and not tire. I’ve mentioned in the past, the river is always different and always perfect. And like life, it doesn’t stop. Images like these help me remember:

Never hurries but never stops.

Posted in Fun, Rivers | 8 Comments