The Six-Eyed Sleuth & Society

Yeah, I decided this morning to go and have breakfast “outside”!
I ordered a Greek Omelet with an order of bacon at Famous Toastery
nearby. While I sipped my tea I had time to read a couple of chapters
in a very funny 1904 published booklet “Stealthy Steve, the Six-Eyed
Sleuth" by Newton Newkirk.
Occasionally I looked up and noticed plenty of new customers joining
the breakfast crowd and suddenly it struck me how varied in shape
and form the human race appears. In these times with minimal clothing
very little is left to our imagination. Heavens, the well proportioned, the
good looking ones are few and far between. Very few and very far!
And I wonder, when dogs, hawks and porpoises observe others of their 
kind, do they come to a similar conclusion?

Is that one of the reasons we decided, long ago to start covering our 
bodies? Probably we should re-introduce that rule again!

4th of July 2020!

This country is in turmoil and we shoot off fireworks all

night long.

People are fearful of the virus without knowing how to

protect themselves against this invisible “thing” and we

shoot off fireworks all night long in celebration of being

part of this country with all its lofty principles.

There was a time when I looked for the place from where 

all the colorful and varied fire crackers were launched.

This evening a neighbor asked me to join them and 

celebrate the crackling sparkles in the street. There

was no coordinated center with thousands of people

admiring the range of colors illuminating the dark sky 

for just moments. This evening bangs and explosions

were spread all over town and they weren’t impressive.

I didn’t have that spark in my heart to celebrate, this

year, though I laughed and chatted with my neighbors,

students (young couples) having small-time fun without 

masks and proper distance - no fear!

What’s going on in this tumultuous world? Distant Bangs

and explosions slowly fade with the night preparing for

another day!.

Happy fifth!

The Secret Life of Elephants vs The Elephant Whisperer!

On a warm June day in 2020, I met with a new person in

my life. We met in the shade provided by Wally the Walnut,

the tree in my care from its beginning and now 34 years old.

We had decided a few days earlier, when we really first met,

that we would gather and would watch birds at Latta Park in 

the Dilworth neighborhood - my home turf.

Paul Anderson, a South African native arrived at the appointed 

time and I led him to “my” tree and I told him the Wally-story.

We took a seat nearby and we continued our conversation.

Yes, we saw a Robin-Redbreast and we heard the Catbird, but

Paul’s binoculars remained otherwise in-active.

We talked about raising kids and ourselves and what events had

made strong impressions on us in our past. We spoke of how we were 

brought-up and that we were admirers of trees and Nature in general.

And when I found out that he is from South Africa I brought up a 

remarkable story from the book “The Secret Life of Elephants” 

(I was convinced that was the title) and I began:

“Well Paul, recently I read a story about a Brit who acquired about

7.000 acres just north of the Republic. Several years into this ownership

he was called by a representative of another reserve: “ We have a herd 

of destructive, mean elephants. We want to get rid of them and we’’ll 

deliver them to you free of charge. And if you don’t  want them, we will 

otherwise get rid of them! 

To the Brit (I couldn’t come up with his name) there was no choice - he 

accepted, because destruction, he felt, was not an option.

The transfer was a tumultuous success and the matriarch and Lawrence

connected with each other with admiration and affection.

Three years or so into this love relationship, the reserve’s owner was 

called to attend a meeting 500 miles away in Durban. When the meeting 

was over and he was ready to return by plane North, he found out the 

flight had been cancelled. He called the chief warden with the bad news:

“Charles, the flight has been cancelled!”

Charles: “Yes, I know!”

“What do you mean -you know-?”

C: "The matriarch and the other elephants left the entrance and went 

back into the bush!”

“WOW! Really?

C: ”Really!”

So, the next day he arrived on the revised schedule and guess where the

elephants were?

Paul guessed … no, he KNEW the answer! 

Why?

Well, he not only read the book (“The Elephant Whisperer” by Lawrence Oliver)

he lived NEXT  DOOR to this reserve and he went on talking about his time

nearby! I was taken-aback and asked him to repeat all of that!

What makes it so almost unbelievable? Here is a man sitting next to me at 

Latta Park in Dilworth, Charlotte, NC and he could confirm from personal experience

happenings from his youth, 6,000 miles away in South Africa and I read about

some of that by chance in that wonderful book! 

Two souls coming together on a bench in a nearby Charlotte, NC-park.

Paul from The Republic of South Africa and I from Amsterdam, The Netherlands

What are the chances!

Flat Out Stunning - talking about a small world!

Conclusion? Keep on meeting new people! I may find out more extra-

    ordinary folks and stories!

Cheers!

On an Island far, far away!

On an Island far, far away!

The island is called Squirrel Island and it is located off the coast

of the state of Maine (ME). I was invited to visit it by Walter and 

Rosemary. Rosemary’s family has had for many years a family

stead there and these two go north maybe once a year to feast

on the peace and quiet … when the weather cooperates.

My trip has become an adventure with distinct happenings/experiences.

So, let me tell you about some of them:

I made reservations months ago and on THE day my neighbor

Diane picked me up early and drove me to the Charlotte Airport.

After the drop-off, I walked up to the boarding-pass booth, searched

my pockets for my wallet and … NO wallet! (Yes, this happened

months before too, but then I didn’t have ANY idea where it could be 

found!)

Dumb-founded, I searched all possible places where the darn thing 

might be. Nothing there, but …

I had my passport with me (a last minute addition) and therefore

I could continue the boarding pass process. Lucky coincidence!

Then I called car-driving Diane and she promised that she would search

my house and indeed she found the thing on the dining room table.

Why I left it there is a total mystery … still!

With all documents on me, I decided to forego the wheel chair reservation

and walked as speedily as my legs permitted to the gate.

As it turned out, I would have been fine without the darn dark green

thing, because when Walter suggested getting a cup of coffee first

before proceeding to the Squirrel Island ferry and I offered to pay

for it, Walter told me sternly: “Uh-Uh, your money is no good here!”

Boothbay Harbor is about an hour-and-a-half North of the airport

at Portland, ME. There, Walter parked the rented car, purchased oysters

on the shell and some other groceries, bought two return tickets and

shortly after, the small dual engined ferry “Novelty” took us and some 

other folks via a kind-of “Harbor Tour” across the bay to our destination: 

Pier 8 at Squirrell Island, ME, the Atlantic Ocean island.

      (Established around 1871)

It was about 72*F with plenty of sun shine and little wind on calm waters.

Rosemary welcomed us and Walter singlehandedly carried all 

luggage up the ramp and dropped it in one of the many two-wheeled push 

carts commonly used by everyone on the island.

See, there is no form of public transportation allowed here. Not even

bicycles. All travel is done by foot - not my best talent any longer. So, all

the walking was a challenge for “back-and-feet":

My activity count on my cell phone “clocked” a proud 9,000 steps

and about 3 miles two days in a row. Yes: proud!

The three of us walked up the incline to the three story wood, Wyman

family residence. 

Well, you can imagine the routine: 

“Welcome to our summer family home!”

“Oh, what a nice place (and it truly is!)!”.

“Here is your bedroom!”

“How was the trip!”

“Put up your feet for a while!” etc.

To make the experience more complete, I left my computer at home and 

only made occasional notes on a tiny pad.

The island is occupied mostly from May until October by mainland vacationers. The roughly two-by-three mile island has about one hundred NE-styled homes, a library (in season open: 10 am till 11:30 am), a post office, two small sand beaches, and plenty of well designed wood walk-ways, criss-crossing the island. No grocery store - so that’s where the regular daily ferry service comes in.

Strategically located, there are a few “phone”-booths equipped with a cell

phone with a set 911 number.

Water, sewer and electricity are fed/dealt with from the mainland.

Aside from evening time in and around the kitchen where the host and hostess concocted various meals, including twice a delicious appetizer of oysters on the shell, we took walks in all directions under almost ideal weather circumstances.

One evening I was invited to participate in a Scrabble contest. From experience, I have come to realize that every household has its own rules.

Here too, there were two ways to compliment one’s own vocabulary. The possibilities were thereby greatly expanded - quite frankly not to my liking

(and here you can replace “liking” by all kinds of expressions of dislike) and

yes, I lost both games - I still hate to loose!

At night it could get quite chilly!

One walk around the southern peninsula, accompanied by Walter, I wanted to repeat the next day and afterwards I realized that the two, though mostly identical (day-time and weather) were experienced radically differently because of … COFFEE!

The first time around with the coffee everything looked brilliant and great,

and walking was comfortable.

The next time around, without this “drug”, it all seemed just good looking and the walking went OK!

All because of the coffee? Yes, all true!

I have been aware of some of this kind of extreme, but not with this clear comparison. I am now going to use this “Phenomenon” to my daily advantage. Especially when I need more clarity: Coffee!

At one of the tiny beaches nearby, Walter and I sat on borrowed fold-out chairs and watched a “local” take a cold Atlantic Ocean swim, while we discussed and observed.

The sea remained calm and Walter almost jumped out of his low positioned chair, when he claimed seeing a Bold Eagle with catch fly by. I can’t swear he did.

The island is mostly rock based and high tide is pretty clearly marked by the dark brown remnants of sea weed. Plenty of dense and varied, colorful flora and fauna. I recognized a few birds, like the Osprey, the Catbird, the Song Sparrow, plenty of Gulls and Cormorants.

Nature’s silence is only interrupted by hammers on nails by workers at neighboring homes, lobster boats pacing up and down the bay and an occasional sail boat.

While sitting on the veranda a few crickets tried to distract me while the sun is setting with plenty of color.

I am clearly a thousand miles away from Charlotte, NC.

On the day of departure, we visited the Post Office with “Office Dog”, strolled slowly to Pier 8 and waited for “Novelty” with skipper Heather. The weather held and the ferry sped smoothly to Boothbay Harbor. Walter drove the rented car after a coffee stop to the airport for the last leg, ending this wonderful Maine adventure.

The trip back? 

I didn’t need the wheel chair service (coffee!), AA provided me this time with absolutely NO leg room (Yes, I filed a suggestion), but the smiling face of Joyce in the Charlotte airport arrival hall made me forget all this and I gave her an ear full of an unforgettable long NE-sea-side resort week-end with superb hosts.

—————————————

A trillion of a trillion of a trillion of a second!

At the Olympics humans are running faster, brake a week old world record skiing down hill, the 400 meter freestyle is now covered in 4/10 of a second faster, the newest Trans-Atlantic Ocean Liner has accomplished the fastest crossing ever and the universe was created in a trillion of a trillion of a trillion of a second.

So, I ask you: "What is left?"
Oh yeah, Wall Street traders can now make split second speculative decisions mostly favoring themselves. So, is capitalism on the verge of burning out. Are we as a species?- simply since there is so little to do faster, quicker, better, grander?

While pondering that thought let me point to our inability to truly recycle. The oceans are being used as a dumping space for the maritime world - ships dumping excess oil and plastic material. How do I know? Remember mystery flight 370? While searching the Indian Ocean, the only things being picked out by satellite and radar was trash from fishing trawlers and debris from freighters. Just imagine what lies on the bottom of these oceans.
We already know that world's big cities are struggling with traffic pollution and industrial smog, and that Duke cannot control its coal-ash reservoirs - now spilling over into streams and ponds we (and all the other life around us) need for drinking water.

So again: "What's next?"
Have I mentioned world's overpopulation? No, not of rats and roaches, but of humans. Currently, the
overall total stands at 7.5 billion and in a couple of extra decades there will be 9+ billion of us.

See, all we seem to focus on is $$$$$. Lotteries, fraudulent manipulation of funds, theft and the huge bonuses for CEOs, while the lower end of out society is getting poorer.

What does the reader think? What comes after capitalism? Where do we go from here?

So, what's my future going to look like?

Dear reader,
J.D. Salinger told his editors: "Don't!"
He is totally right. Why change the story? This is the way I have experienced it all. Now, you may not like my writing, however, by editing it, i.e. changing it, it will inevitably become someone else's interpretation and that's NOT what I intended. So DON'T!

I checked my e-mail at my favorite coffee house "Mugs"- I do that regularly, and found a "Thank you!"-note from my Dutch friends living somewhere in the center of France. I replied expressing my state of being. They were apparently quite moved that they decided to call via "FaceTime" and pointed out that maybe, just maybe I should do more of the writing they had just experienced - Good stuff, really worth while reading. "Stop searching! Do more Writing! Not for anyone or a particular publication. Just do it! We think you have a distinct talent!"

I am still at Mugs with lots of laps with laptops, paper coffee cups, people conferring around rectangular tables. I see and hear things differently than others do. I see red running shoes, knees,
absent minded stares, two hands embracing the cappuccino. The TV high up near the ceiling shows people running their mouths inaudibly. It is a cozy place with lots of chatter and islands of silence around an oval table with comfortable arm chairs where study and reading are the main occupation.
I observe a string of women who have truly studied their outfits at home, trying to look relaxed and sexy. High heels with knee reaching boots and I can't see their tops through the waist long blond colored hair. They want to belong ... well, that's what I think.

It's Sunday and everyone wanders or is focused or anything in between. It's time for me to leave and start cooking for my evening gathering. So, Cha-Cha for now!

Friends come and go!

Friends: They seem to come and most notably they seem to disappear. Some are there for an occasion and then fade away. I have had some that I had for decades - at least, I thought I had them for that period, and then come to find out, they are no longer in the picture. Then there are the newcomers. I met a person at a coffee shop. We had a fine time together and then ... Phoof! Gone! Yes, I can insist meeting that person again, but that doesn't seem quite right. The reverse is true also: I drop people from my circle of "friends". Surely, with age, some die or move to far away places and I lose contact that way. And then there this: At different ages/times needs change, asking for different connections and they grow intense or stop when the needs are met or fade away.
I have lots of photo albums with documentation identifying the important folks in my life. So I can glance back and reminisce or cherish, but in the end, yes, toward the end of my life, I come to realize that I can only continue to be my own best friend. I have to get up in the morning with myself and at night time, close my eyes certain that I am still best friends with myself. That HAS to be the ever present balance.
Now, I am on my way to the next unexpected encounter. Life is full of surprises.