Category: What’s New

A place to track links to new posts found in other areas of the site.

New Normal

As the 2nd anniversary of Pam’s passing approaches, remembering and, in some cases, reliving what has transpired over the past five plus years, I recognize that I have, in deed, settled into a new normal. I realize that what goes on from day to day in my life centers around “normal” chores, tasks, challenges.

This does not change my love for Pam nor feeling of loss. It does not stop the memories and their associated feelings of love, pain, and anguish. They are now, however, intertwined with my “normal” life.

In these times, one is almost expected to question what “normal” is. In this context, normal is what most people live with and feel as part of their every day living. Normal includes a wide range of activities and feelings, thoughts and actions. People normally deal with aging and loss. We normally have health issues and interpersonal challenges. We laugh, we cry, we enjoy good times, and rue the bad. Feelings of doubt and craziness are part of being normal.

My aging aches and pains are normal for someone my age. My self-reflection and perception are normal. My feelings of love, gratitude, frustration, self-doubt, sadness, and loneliness – are normal.

It is normal to go to bed tired and often reflective of the day’s events, sometimes satisfied, sometimes with anxiety. It is normal to wake up pondering what will transpire, both planned and unplanned, psyching up for whatever the day might bring.

Feelings of happiness, sadness, frustration, contentment, and want are normal. Taking care of home, car, body, all normal. Sharing with friends and family, neighbors, and passers by are typical daily events.

And yet, for me, it’s still a “new normal.” Normal used to be experiencing all of the above with someone so close that you can know, without speaking, what the other is going through. Normal used to be buffered with the love and understanding of the one who loves you more than anyone, and with whom you love. Normal used to be softened by feelings of love and compassion for your partner, your soul mate, if you will.

Now, for me, normal is living alone, accepting this fact and being okay with it and myself – warts and all. Many daily tasks and experiences are the same as they used to be, in the “old normal”, but now I experience them alone. The old normal is captured in a poem our daughter framed for us for our wedding. It is attributed to Apache/Indian folklore, but is actually fake lore (fakelore).

Now you will feel no rain,
for each of you will be
shelter to the other

Now you will feel no cold,
for each of you will be
warmth to the other

Now there is no more loneliness

Now you are two persons,
but there is only
one life before you

Go now and enter into the days of your life together

from the 1947 novel Blood Brother by American author Elliot Arnold and popularized in the film adaptation, Broken Arrow, released in 1950

Poetic verse, prose, or lyrics describing what is MY new normal are still being written. After all, I am still grasping the scope of it. As the anniversary approaches, I suspect that I will contemplate its meaning with renewed intensity. For better or for worse, this, too, is part of my “new normal.”

Do Unto Others…

I’ve been influenced by religions of various forms my whole life. At times fervently pursuing various dogmas and at other times, heightened spirituality. I grew up with mainstream Judaism – Old Testament – teachings and liturgy. After dabbling in Eastern religions, I converted to Christianity during college, which led me to intense immersion into New Testament teachings and new liturgies, with many allusions to my Old Testament understanding, albeit with new perspective.

As my life has unfolded, I have experienced various levels of faith and spirituality, ultimately questioning whether God even exists. Is there some omniscient being managing the entire universe while keeping close tabs on this little blue ball spinning around in its midst? Or are we all just part of the same universal energy taking on different animate and inanimate forms of matter? Those questions I will leave us all to ponder.

But through all of the teachings I have figuratively ingested from the time I began to walk and talk until now, I realize that I attempt to live my life with this one basic tenet:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you…

Matthew 7:12 (NRSV) – “In everything do unto others as you would have them do unto you; for this is the law and the prophets

Sometimes it’s in the small things, like just saying hello to a passer by. Or picking up some recyclables blown out of a bin in a neighbor’s yard. I enjoy it when I look at someone, hoping to engage, and they look me back in the eye. A connection, even with a stranger.

Simple gestures acknowledging our common humanity go a long way to treating others with respect, with care, with love. Opening doors. Waiting for and on others who do not enjoy the same abilities as I, knowing that it could easily be me at some time in the future. Or my favorite pet peeve, using my turn signal – even when no one is in the area – making sure I am in the habit for when there is.

These are all fine and dandy and make me feel good too. But doing unto others as you would have them do unto you is much larger and more complicated than simple daily gestures. There are millions living with hunger every day. The homeless are always with us. People with disabilities. The elderly and infirm. What level of empathy and compassion do I incorporate into my inner being, into my daily living? At this level, how do I fare? Let’s just say I’m a work in progress.

Clearly, I have ample room for improvement. From swearing at drivers who don’t use their turn signals, to not literally giving the shirt off my back, opportunities for treating others as I would want to be treated abound. Where’s the balance? What are the boundaries? This is the tension I face daily as I travel through my life. And I know I’m not alone in this struggle.

Here’s another one for you:

And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

First Corinthians 13:13 (NRSV)

Please don’t read too much into the fact that both quotes are from the Christian New Testament. I am NOT trying to proselytize nor tout any organized or unorganized religion. My own faith is at the least shaken, if not completely gone. My hope is limited to what I can see and perceive of the universe.

For some reason, though, I believe in love. As I’ve said before, I didn’t understand love until I realized the depth and breadth of my love for Pam and, probably more importantly, her love for me. I recognize love. I want to love. I love the planet and the cosmos. I love people, and all living things. I even love myself – most of the time.

I’ve been told that loving self is precursor to loving others. Maybe so. If loving self is necessary for doing unto others as you would have them do to you, then I’m all for it. It seems so simple. Yet it’s a life-long process. I wish everyone felt and strived for the same. The world would undoubtedly be a better place in which to live!

Strength for a Reason, Strength for a Season

Another from the vault of future topics on which to write. This one, not a quote that I know of, conjures up many potential meanings, none of which I can directly attribute because I did not flesh them out when I added it to the list. I am, however, confident that it had something to do with my grieving process. The need to be strong. The potential that the need may have a finite time frame.

Back from two weeks and 2,400 miles away from home, I begin the process of mentally preparing for the upcoming second anniversary of Pam’s passing, two short/long years ago. I am putting possibly too much weight behind the date. As with my many backpacking trips during which I hope or expect some sort of epiphany about life, I feel the need to attribute some rite of passage to visiting the site in Nebraska where Pam’s ashes were scattered.

Could it actually be a milestone in my grief journey? Have I been strong for this season to culminate in a literal and figurative step forward in my new life without Pam? Based on past experience, I’d say no. Yet somehow I feel like it should. Like it will.

There have been plenty of milestones since May 12, 2022. First it was days, then weeks. Counting months seems to have subsided several months ago. But two years! Is this one particularly significant? In a way, I think so. Not because of a date. But because of how I feel and the way I view life at this juncture.

Being strong through the pain and sadness, clutching almost without hope to the need to play music in Pam’s honor and absence. With the incredible help of family and friends I have come far – much further than I thought possible – through my grief journey. I recognize once more who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. And though the two of us were another amazing being together, Pam never lost who she was, nor did I.

We are no longer the same being, nor will we ever be again. Pam is gone. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Evidenced now only by a bridge to visit on the back country roads in rural Nebraska. I live on with her memory. She lives on through the memories of so many family and friends who knew and love(d) her. I/we cannot change this reality.

Is this the season of transition? Is it the season of change? Of course. There are many impactful changes taking place here and around the world. They are constant – change. I certainly feel that my life’s journey is in transition and that I am ready for change.

I suffer no delusions that transition and change are linear. My emotional ups and downs confirm that change and seasons are cyclical or, as some say about the grief process, a spiral, moving up and around through time. We all live with them. I choose to accept them.

So on I go, embracing each day, remembering yet not living in the past, not afraid of what the future holds. I am thankful for this outlook and hope to continue being strong for good reasons, strong for any season.

May you all find strength and peace amidst life’s changes and seasons.

“Fear is the Thief of Joy”

This is not my quote. I think I saw it on Facebook and liked it – a lot! I retrieved it from a list of future blog subjects I keep online. I’m finally claiming it.

“Would have, could have, should have”, is similar. Often spurred on by fear, the regret this saying suggests is the result of fear retrospectively. Though regret is not always triggered by doing something or choosing not to do something out of fear, it often is the result of it.

There have been plenty of times in my life that I forged ahead into some unknown, fearless of, and often ignorant of, the consequences. We all have. Some are simply bad decisions. In every instance, I have learned some major life lessons as a result. But the decisions I remember so clearly are those when I chose not to pursue something or someone and have since wished I had.

Fear can be a weapon or a power tool to usurp control. This kind of fear certainly robs the victim of Joy. I suspect that it brings no joy to the oppressor, even if there is some sort of satisfaction derived from wielding it.

My education tells me that there is, in fact, healthy fear. Fearing the unknown is entrenched in our instinct for survival. We most likely would not have risen to the top of the animal kingdom without it. Healthy skepticism sometimes can keep us alive.

But we will never know what we would learn, or what pleasure, joy, or satisfaction we would gain, by choosing to let fear dictate our behavior and/or decisions. Like coming to a fork in the path. By choosing one, you never know what was down the other. It is not always the path that looks easiest, flattest, brightest, smoothest, that brings good things to our futures. Sometimes it’s the scary, rough, dark ways where we find our greatest joy.

And that is not always the situation. Sometimes we choose not to do something, say something, offer something, for fear of being rejected, laughed at, ostracized. Social norms, peer pressure, self doubt, keep us from performing such acts as saying hello to a passer by or offering up a compliment to someone who looks nice, speaks well, sings on key. Who amongst us has failed to ask a boy or girl to coffee or a date for fear of a negative response. Fear keeps us from following through. Fear drives us to do things we know we should not. Fear of being alone. Fear of fitting in. Fear that our opinions will meet with resistance, or worse yet, physical harm.

Fear is the thief of joy. My recent experiences have forced me to view life altering decisions in a different way. I am no longer so fearful of taking reasonable risks that might improve my quality of life without harm to others. Another new mantra is “life’s too short.” I cannot afford to delay venturing out, trying new things (something my OCD psyche hates), expanding my circle, making new acquaintances. No one knows what tomorrow will bring. And as I’ve said before, I cannot, and do not live in the past.

That leaves only today to decide what influences my decisions. I choose to be open, kind, empathetic, engaging. I choose to realize that every person is just that. Another human being trying to live their life as best they can with what has influenced them, what they have been given. It’s really quite liberating.

Sure, this MO has its risks. It might even be dangerous. But if the alternative is living in fear, robbed of the potential joys that accompany human interaction, to me it is worth the risk.

What can I say?

It’s late Friday night and I’ve just started this post for Saturday noon release. I’m sitting in a motel room, 100 miles from home, trying to put something together worth your valuable time to read. Not sure I can.

This brief overnighter to visit family is the first of several travels planned over the spring and summer months. More trips to see family, an anniversary trip to Nebraska, and one to celebrate a milestone birthday. Likely more on all that later.

The week went by so quickly! Between appointments, household chores, and much more time playing music, it just seems to have slipped away without enough attention to my faithful readership. Unfortunately, with my upcoming travel schedule, I worry about publishing on a consistent schedule. On the other hand, I hope gather more read-worthy material to write about.

Either way, I’ll do my best to consistently post on Saturdays. For now, I hope you had a quality week and have an even better one to come. After all, wut else javia to do? 😉

PPMI Smell Test Participation Opportunity

Although the Parkinson’s Progressive Marker Initiative (PPMI) Smell Test is only offered to those who are sixty years of age and older, and live int the United States or Canada, I choose to use this platform to convey this opportunity because, quite frankly, a majority of my readers do qualify.

I have been participating in PPMI research, via online questionnaires, since 2022. I receive an invitation every three to six months. The smell test is different. I am actually asked to spread the word, inviting qualified individuals to take part in the study. Here is what they had to say:

Dear Keith,

Thank you for your contributions to the Parkinson’s Progression Markers Initiative (PPMI). Through PPMI, we are learning that ongoing smell loss is one of the most important signals of risk for Parkinson’s disease.

PPMI is exploring this link toward prevention. As a participant in PPMI, you’re our best ambassador. We need your help getting the word out. PPMI is asking everyone age 60 and up without Parkinson’s disease to take a free scratch-and-sniff test.

Encourage your loved ones to follow the steps below:
IconVisit mysmelltest.org/ppmionline.
Answer a few brief questions to receive your scratch-and-sniff test in the mail.
Take the test and enter your answers online.

Please also feel free to use our smell test toolkit, which includes an email/letter template, talking points, a flyer and more.

We are grateful for your participation in the study that’s changing everything. Thank you for helping us spread the word about this important initiative.

Sincerely,

Your PPMI Study Team

Should you choose to participate, you will be asked to create an account at PPMI where you can decide your level of future participation. You will be asked general questions about where you live, your contact information, your general background, and your ties to PD. Assuming you complete the required fields, you will be told that a Smell Test Toolkit is forthcoming.

Obviously, I encourage you to participate if you qualify. I have relatives, by blood and by marriage, who have PD and may already be participating in other PPMI research opportunities. Please add yourself to the list of those who are fighting to find treatments, causes, and cures for this insidious disease.

Those of you who are too young to qualify for the smell test research, I encourage you to go to PPMI, look into other research opportunities for you to participate in, create your account, and help with this program.

Thank you in advance for your efforts!

Smell Test Link

Smell Test Partner Toolkit (PDF)

What Can’t We Do?

Fire was used beginning approximately two million years ago and was in constant habitual use by about 400,000 years ago. The discovery and use of fire by Homo erectus is tied to the evolution of the human species and helped propel human civilizations from the Stone Age into the Bronze Age.

Study.com

No one knows for sure when language evolved, but fossil and genetic data suggest that humanity can probably trace its ancestry back to populations of anatomically modern Homo sapiens (people who would have looked like you and me) who lived around 150,000 to 200,000 years ago in eastern or perhaps southern Africa [4,5,6]. Because all human groups have language, language itself, or at least the capacity for it, is probably at least 150,000 to 200,000 years old. This conclusion is backed up by evidence of abstract and symbolic behaviour in these early modern humans, taking the form of engravings on red-ochre [7, 8].

BMC Biology

Agricultural communities developed approximately 10,000 years ago when humans began to domesticate plants and animals. By establishing domesticity, families and larger groups were able to build communities and transition from a nomadic hunter-gatherer lifestyle dependent on foraging and hunting for survival.

National Geographic

There is some evidence of human worked metal from as much as 6000 BC but not firmly dated and clearly a “tool”. Simple copper tools were probably made as early as 4200 BC. Only rarely were identifiable harder tools made from meteorites, dated to 3200 BC.

Quorta

The wheel was invented in the 4th millennium BC in Lower Mesopotamia(modern-​​day Iraq), where the Sumerian people inserted rotating axles into solid discs of wood. It was only in 2000 BC that the discs began to be hollowed out to make a lighter wheel. This innovation led to major advances in two main areas.

Citeco.fr

As early as the third century BCE, they were using crucibles to smelt wrought iron with charcoal to produce ‘wootz’ steel – a material that is still admired today for its quality. Chinese craftsmen were also manufacturing high-quality steel.

The Steel Story – woodsteel.org

I could go on and on. Development of the calendar, mathematics, astronomy, the scientific revolution, the industrial revolution, technology and the digital age. But this isn’t meant to be a history lesson on the development of humankind. Rather, I had hoped to keep it simple. Mankind has learned or made progress in a multitude of advances that keep us at the top of the evolutionary ladder. It seems there is nothing we cannot do – except live together in peace!

However, as I pondered this further, maybe it isn’t so simple. Or maybe it can all be rolled up into that one thing we have made no apparent progress. We have developed the ways and means to feed the world. But we don’t. We have cured many diseases and found ways to mitigate the effects of many more. Yet we don’t make the cures and treatments available to all. Shelter, clothing, water, space, all are basic human needs. And we don’t think it necessary to provide them.

I believe in capitalism. But greed is antithetical to living together without hatred for those who have, by those who do not. History also tells us that, as our world sets obstacles in the way of survival, humans’ survival instinct, the one that got us to the top of the ladder, turns further inward, toward or against each other.

We dominate every living thing on this earth. We have mostly mastered every inert object on and within it as well. We are even trying to dominate our atmosphere and environment. Based on our past successes, we may just be able to do it.

Yet it begs the question. With all our abilities to reason, communicate, manipulate, master all that is set before us, why can’t we figure out how to use them to benefit all humankind, not to mention every other living thing? From what I have seen in my short lifespan, we have made little, if any, progress.

It’s not that some don’t try. But when push comes to shove, the shoving is done by those who believe that the only way to survive is to control or eliminate everyone else who is either different, in need, or unable to provide for themselves. It seems that it is true that history, particularly human history, is doomed to repeat itself. I wish I had some answers.

With so many physical, environmental, health, and political challenges facing us and our posterity, it is easy to be discouraged or cynical about our future. But you and I do have a say as whether we destroy each other and our planet. This is my say! There may be dark days ahead. No doubt there will be natural obstacles to challenge our survival. We can choose to help as many as possible, or just a chosen few. What will I do? What will you do?

In the not-so-eloquent words of my wife on her death bed, “This [too] is bullshit!”

Sunrise and Sunset in the Winds

I took this photo at 8:54am on August 19, 2017 just East of Peak Lake, the Green River Water Source on the Northern side of the Wind River Mountains in Wyoming. This was my son’s and my second trip to the Winds, having climbed to Titcomb Basin in 2012. I see this pic whenever I turn on my computer as it is the background for my lock screen. It’s one of my favorite backcountry pics.

Camp Site to the left, Knapsack Col to the right

Just to the right of the emerging sun, along the ridgeline, is Knapsack Col. My son and I had seen it up close from the other side in 2012, but turned back in the interest of safety. In 2017, as we stared at the Col from the West the evening before, we once again decided not to attempt traversing it to get into Titcomb basin from this side. It was mostly my decision. I still had haunting memories of the boulders, the size of cars and houses, that we tried to navigate on the other side. On this, my sixty-third birthday, I no longer had the will to try again.

On our way up to Peak Lake, we camped at Vista Pass, one of our all-time favorite backcountry camp sites. Level ground, lots of space, and the vistas are truly awe inspiring.

Vista Pass to the left, Peak Lake camp site to the right
Camp site on the right, kitchen was the big triangular rock just above
Camp Site at Vista Pass
Vista Pass Kitchen
Vista Pass Pond
Sunset from Vista Pass Camp Site, August 17, 2017

We returned on the same path on August 19th, once again passing Vista Pass, until we got to upper Green River Lake, where we chose to go around the west side on the return trip. What took us two days going up, we trekked in on day coming down. It was dark by the time we got back to base camp. It was a long day.

These are only a few of the visual experiences we had on this monumental trip. I hope you enjoy my pictorial reminiscence. Our 2017 Wind River adventure includes many more fun experiences that I hope to share, including, but not limited to, viewing a total eclipse of the sun. Maybe next week.

P.S. Coming up with a topic for this week’s post was difficult. There is so much going on in the world that I think about every day. Much of it is disturbing and even frightening. I’ve tried hard not to politicize or religionize this blog. But as time passes, I find it more difficult to hold back. So don’t be too surprised if I don’t. Hopefully, I won’t lose too many followers if I choose to offer my take on world affairs. Maybe next week – maybe never.

Assessment and the Amanas

I was still assessing and evaluating last week’s performances while driving between routine medical appointments Wednesday morning, the latter being in Hiawatha IA on the north end of Cedar Rapids. As expected, I had the initial letdown through last weekend. But the funk lingered into this week.

I was pleased with my performance on Friday of last week. I played as well as I hoped. Not completely error-free, but with only minor hand coordination mistakes that I doubt were noticed by the audience. I did, in fact, remember all the words. Everyone stayed for the entire performance, allaying my second deepest fear that people would just get up and walk out. “And the first?”, you ask, was that I would get lost mid-song and freeze up. How embarrassing!

But I was less than satisfied with people’s response to the songs. One person’s comment was that old people don’t want to hear sad songs. I thought I had left those out of the playlist! Another clearly disliked what is probably my most popular song, Bad Habit Creatures. But I suspect it was a political dislike. Most who attended liked it over the other songs.

Returning home that afternoon, I felt numb. Part of it was having worked so hard in preparation, just to have it over in less than one hour. But it also felt empty. Of course, I had achieved what I set out to do, play in public, having an opportunity to share my stories through song.

What I realized over the next few days was that I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t enjoy having to pare down my playlist and manipulate it to fit what I thought was the audience I was playing to. I didn’t enjoy practicing only specific songs in hopes of playing ‘well enough’ for that particular crowd. I didn’t enjoy worrying about whether my music would be accepted or appreciated.

By Wednesday, the conclusion I came to was that, though I accomplished this project that I set out to do, I was not being true to my original goal and commitment of just playing what I want, when I want, where I want. What I want is to be able to just play. Play the songs I want as my mood dictates. Like it or don’t. That I can handle.

Still, I was unsettled as I sat in the parking lot in Hiawatha trying to figure out what to do next on this Wednesday afternoon. I had no reason to rush home. I decided to make the trek to The Amana Colonies about 20 miles SW of where I sat. I had read an article in Only In Iowa just that morning about a hotel in Homestead, the only Amana Colony without the word Amana in its name. I thought it might make for a little get-away sometime where I could stay as a base for branching out to tour all of the colonies. I’d been through them, but only briefly in most.

My second motive for going was to pick up some wonderful smoked salami’s at the Amana Meat Shop and Smokehouse. That place is so much fun for a guy like me. So many meat, cheese, and kitchen gadget choices. Plenty of other tasty morsels as well. As usual, I came out with more than I went in for.

Having increased my groceries and decreased my bank account, I sat in the car again, planning to head for Homestead, just a few miles away. But it’s almost past lunch time. Surely there are places to eat in Amana. Then I remembered that Millstream Brewing Company, the first craft beer establishment in Iowa, had added a brew pub, “Millstream Brau Hous.” Since I’d never been there, I decided to go.

Somewhat typical in style, but with the cultural design on the exterior as well as the interior, I was greeted and ushered to a window-side table. Sitting down, my eyes immediately fixed on a blonde Ibanez guitar hanging on the wall on the other side of the room near the bar. There were few people in the room. I asked if someone played it. It belongs to the owner and is there for anyone to play.

That was all it took. I quickly ordered my burger, fries, and Widow Maker hazy IPA, and headed for the guitar. Nice tone. New strings. Sounds good. I planted myself on a bar stool facing the bar, and began to play. It came easy. It sounded good. I was having fun. I barely noticed that my food had arrived across the room.

However, the beer was not at the table. I finally went to the bar to ask for it. The server apologized, saying he was distracted, enjoying the music, and forgot. I took that as a compliment.

After enjoying the food and quaff, I went straight back to the Ibanez. I noticed the bar tender tapping his hand on his thigh as I played an instrumental riff that I enjoy. Turns out he is also a musician.

Returning to the table to pay the tab, the two ladies at the table next to me expressed their appreciation of my playing. That’s the effect I am going for.

My assessment complete. My analysis spot on. I never wanted to be a performer, though I like to play for people, hoping they enjoy and get something out of the listening. I just want to play my songs whenever and wherever I can. Be it in the garage, in parks, in brew pubs or coffee houses. I’m not in it for the gigs. Now I remember the vision and the commitment. I hope to be true to it.

On to Homestead Iowa. Home town to Ashton Kutcher. Homestead is literally a one street town with its homes and businesses lining it. Stop signs only at the two ends of the half-mile long road. I found the hotel about 3/4 of the way through town. It had a for sale sign on it. So much for that cozy getaway.

Just drive on home. Play my guitar. It’s a good day. I’m back on track.

Wut Javia on a Break

Hi all. It’s 11 a.m. this Saturday morning and I am still processing this week’s performances and want to wait on the report. Please stay tuned for next week’s post. No need to “Read More.” It isn’t there.