Hello from Martha’s Cafe . . .
At the moment, I am back in familiar places, and also leaving familiar places. I am sitting at the coffee bar, with my computer on a piece of wood that was milled by a former student, fellow veteran, and co-journeyer to Poland with me. Martha’s it seems was the name of this location before it was a Starbucks, and Fog and Flame as I knew it for most of the time I lived in Bloomsburg. The past few days have been a whirlwind of reconnecting at moments as well as pondering the sort of next steps that might be in the wings. I have learned that planning is important, managing one’s schedule and future are of significance, but much like when tradition can stifle progress, when one becomes too regimented, often opportunity or change is squandered. I remember when I was first interviewing with the bishop about possible parish assignments, and I told him that while I realized the importance of tradition and parish practices, finding a way to help them see new possibilities was important. Some of that might need to be revisited in a situation I could be placed in again soon.
When it seems that everything that has been a given in our daily lives is up for debate, up for reconsideration, and simply being tossed away, the idea of precedent seems to be gone (and the redundancy of that statement does not go unnoticed). This morning I met with my morning coffee klatch (the old white guys), and it was even a bit surprising to hear there concerns, particularly about the situation in Ukraine, though as many are veterans, I would hope that to be the case. As I learn more and more about the Ukrainian land, the people, and the culture, there is little doubt of its complexity. Perhaps that is, in part, why they (and we) are in the current dilemma, but I cannot help but believe in the sovereignty and dignity of people. That is part of our struggle as we seemingly swing to and fro regarding how alliances and democracy work in our current global situation. . . .
It’s a couple days later and I am at The Family Table in Pocahontas for a final breakfast. It was a whirlwind week in Pennsylvania between doctor’s appointments, a dentist appointment, and some unexpected developments there in another area. Nonetheless, all the infamous stars seemed to have aligned, and there will be some changes. I am always amazed how little we control of some things. The time in Iowa has been both busy and reminiscent of thoughts, feelings, and emotions that have been mixed. Iowa has a beauty to it, often overlooked, especially in the winter, I imagine. One of the things changed since I grew up are the incredible number of wind turbines that dot the fields and bluffs of the landscape that is my home state. The cold, the smells, the flatness – for the most part, all of that was expected. I had forgotten about the strength, intensity, and frequency of the wind. It is really life-altering. When it is blowing and there is no place to avoid it, it changes what you can or cannot do. It changes what you want to manage or stay away from. Even as I drove, it buffets you across the highway, particularly when it is a crosswind. And going back to my hometown and my old neighborhood was eyeopening. There are a number of things I remember that are now only memories because they are no longer there, and some are significant (e.g. my grade school, some of the neighborhood stores that were such a vibrant part of my area of town, even some of the houses I remember). On the other hand, there are other parts of town that are renovated and really quite amazing. What was Sunset Plaza when I was growing up is now called Marketplace, and it is really quite nice. What was called Lower 4th Street, is now historic fourth, and it is really very different. Some of that has been decades long in the making and I experienced earlier iterations, but all in all, it is good. Then there was seeing old life-long friends, speaking with childhood friends, and even making a new ne or two. That was both unexpected and wonderful, and then there was the reality of both being bug lovers (you know who you are)!
Returning is taking a chance . . . that is reality. What we remember is clouded by time, and there is the reality of what we choose to remember and believe. I realize even when it comes to simple things, it is easy for us to put our own spin on the memories. As I returned to the streets of my childhood, listened to those who knew me as a child, it was stunning to realize what they knew, what went unspoken. And yet rather than feeling sad about that, it offered a sort of solace, a comfort that what I remember is more accurate than I perhaps wish it was. I will get back to Sioux City a couple more times before I move on to the next dot on the proverbial map. The returning raised a number of significant realizations and the subsequent emotions. What I do realize is Sioux City will always be home. That is important when it comes to understanding who I am as well as why I am that person. I will note that I have rewritten this blog about 5 times. I am thoroughly frustrated with WordPress at the moment as it seems to randomly delete my work, and finding the drafts that I have previously saved seems to be impossible. I actually went to WordPress help, but it was not that helpful. This morning I had to renew some of my prescriptions and it was a potent reminder of how f-ed up our medical system is. Three prescriptions cost almost $750.00, and one of those does not even apply to my $2,000.00 out of the pocket expense that is the max this calendar year because of the IRA. Also this morning, I ran into someone I know who is on Medicare, and they were verbalizing they are afraid they will lose their coverage. I want to be empathetic, and I did not say, but you voted for this, though I know they did. President Trump is doing much of what he said he would. So there should be little surprise.
One of the last short phrases in the title above is about the reality of our lives. We are always moving, transforming, changing, reimagining. It is easy for me to see that in my own life, in part because I have not remained in one place very long. My time in Bloomsburg was the longest. And yet, I think it’s been my return to my roots, to my hometown, that clarified this reality for me. While I have been anything but geographically static, I saw life-long friends who are, or have been. They’re content, and that is good they can be. One of the people I reacquainted with is the older brother of my best childhood friend. Our families were close, and there is a generational connection. Our mothers were friends in high school, and my grandparents sold his grandparents their house. It was interesting to spend time with him after 50 years. He is two years older, and in high school was a standout at most everything he accomplished. And that has continued in his life. He is an incredible man. It was so wonderful to have conversations with him to share memories and consider our current world. Our fathers were stalwarts of our church congregation, and I worked on their farm at one point. What was most intriguing to me was how our lives have changed, but that our shared memory of our childhood demonstrated how we have gotten to where we have. It was a significant gift to spend time with him. We addressed our consistent thread of connection in spite how our age difference pushed us in such different directions and paths. The constant in the change of life is the fact that does not stop. There is so much to be grateful for, and that is something I am continually reminded of. Everywhere I have been has shaped me . . . everywhere I have been has blessed me . . . and there are more adventures to take, more journeys to begin. In the return to something previous we find an opportunity to better understand who we are. When we leave we take something with us, but we also leave something behind. Hopefully both things are positive in some way. And in the moving on we create new possibilities. We are offered opportunities, and too often we miss them. One thing I have tried to do throughout my life is be grateful for those I have met along the way, not merely leave them behind, but to hold on to them in some way. That has served me well, both in creating memories, but in establishing gratitude. I would like to believe I am a gracious person. As my father once said, “No one owes you anything.” What he was saying implicitly was everyone is a gift in your life, and it is best to treat them as such. Thank you to my Iowa friends and to the landscape for the memories and the opportunity to be back. Thank you to Bloomsburg for the gift of 15 years and all I learned there, both about myself and others. As I continue to move forward, I am not sure where it will all go. Indeed, the bus will be the vehicle, but the road is open. There is still work to do, but I am grateful for a number of people already in this building process. So much yet to do, but it will happen. One of the pieces I have listened to lately to offer me a sense of comfort and peace is what is below. From the movie, The Last of the Mohicans, this version is both beautiful and soothing. I think perhaps I need to learn to play the tin whistle. Something else to do as i am traveling.
Thank you as always for reading.
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 