Wednesday, February 12, 2014
New Journal: May 1, 1994 through September 4, 1995.
GOALS:
1. Finish painting and preparing "Seasoned" by May 8 for her sale next week. Still waiting for buyer 6/5/94.
2. Get truck started, possibly painted, and sell. Sold truck July 4th weekend.
3. Pay off land and interest owed with a portion of proceeds from above sales. August 18th.
4. Save $20,000 by May 1, 1996.
5. Buy a sturdy, practical, inexpensive, simple boat for travelling up the Hudson Riveer, through the Great Lakes, down the Mississippi through the Gulf of Mexico and up the intracoastal.
6. Make the trip previously mentioned in one year's time beginning May 12, 1996.
7. Write and sell short stories before and during #5 and #6.
8. Study for G.R.E.'s, Take G.R.E.'s Spring '95. Get scholarship based on scores.
9. Get a PhD. in Biology - Shellfish Biology from Duke.
10. Start up adn runa a small, non-polluting, profitable bay scallop and/or oyster growing company.
11. Build the sea kayak before May 1, 1996.
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May 16th, 1994.
ReplyDeleteMonday.
Phone calls on the boat. One stopped by but I wasn't here. Gary doesn't think the guy is interested. One woman I talked to Saturday said she'd call back Sunday to set up time for looking Monday - no call back. Will drop add in "East Hampton Star" this week, but will continue it in the "Press." I will call Steve at Coecle's Hbr. Marina to let him know about "Seasoned" availability and ask for selling suggestions. Another step I can take is to find a picture of her under sail or take some of her now and make up a sheet to hand in marinas around town.
Raining now. I'm glad the mast and boom are dne and under cover. Ditto for the rest of "Seasoned" being in the garage. I wonder if I'll be without a boat by the end of this week.
May 22nd, 1994.
Sunday - I got in touch w/ one of four callers early last week. He said maybe he'd stop by and look at her. Wood boat scared him off I think. Not to worry. I talked to Steve at Coecle's Hbr. He said he'd keep me in mind. He mentioned that three Townies are for sale on Shelter Island. They've all been built in the last seven years I suspect because he said they're selling for $5,000. Maybe "Seasoned" will fill a niche for someone who'd like a Townie at a more affordable price.
I made a color copy of three pictures of "Seasoned." $3.00/copy. I was thinking about Dressen's, Plain and Fancy and Provisions as good spots to hang up the advertisement. I hope they think it's a good idea too.
She'll sell. I just need to be patient. Maybe I should make those baggywrinkles I've talked about making ever since the beginning of time.
6/3/94
ReplyDeleteMake more color copies: For Sale sheet is hanging in
1. Amagansett Post Office.
2. Maidstone Market (will be hung when they buy corkboard this week.)
3. Harbor Marina, Gann Rd. Mr. Burnett. Hard bargain. Offered 5% commission if he'd let me hang it on his wall inside.
4. Three Mile Harbor Marina - nice guy, board and wall filled with boats for sale.
5. The guy in the Montauk Print Shop in East Hampton told me I could hang one there. I did.
6. Provisions Bulletin Board, Sag Harbor.
7. Coecle's Harbor Message board (10% comission)
8. Skip Tuttle's - Shelter Island Fishing Station (offered comission).
9. Sag Harbor Yacht Yard.
Many thoughts about the boat trip. More specifically about writing. After taling to Ilise, she came out yesterday, I'm learning about the psychology of the AT. Even on the Appalachian Trail there is a pecking order: Through hikers and Weekend hikers. It seems that, of course, those that plan to hike a good portion (more than just a weekend) are afforded the luxury of looking down on those who are out for a weekend. This purely psychological heirarchy on the trail is an interesting concept. As Ilise explained it to me, I thought of the local, outsider heirarchy on the East End. As I walked down Gerard Rd. this morningother orders came to mind: users of the road, ie. truck drivers, car drivers, Sunday drivers, local drivers, city drivers - especially prevalent during the summer months on the East End. Workers: professionals, white collar, blue collar, unskilled, service, unemployed, retired, homeless. Privately employed, government employed, civil service. The heirarchy thought needs more exploration. For instance, what use do heirarchies serve? Are their instances in which heirarchies are more likely to be formed than others...to be continued.
Another writing thought came to me in a chapter heading for the book about, centered around the trip: "Recycling." That word came to mind as I thought about getting the truck started and in saleable condition. Transforming "Seasoned," and the truck into a boat that will take me and maye some friends around the Eastern United States. It's a good metaphor for the trading in of old ideas or dreams or even material stuff. The crushing of a thing's uniqueness to allow or yield the base elements of a thing so that it could be combined with other things which were unique unto themselves but are not crushed into the same basic elements, and then these basic elements are reformed into something unique and new. In this case, my case, the trip's case seemingly unrelated objects a wooden sailboat, a 1965 Ford pick up truck are not crushed physically, but the dreams I had of using them, camping trips or a sail down the intracoastal on 'Seasoned." Driving vegetables to a farmer's market from the truck garden on the land. Or, even, picking up loads of manure from Topping's Horse Farm and bringing it back to the house for composting leaves. Those dreams, unique and separae are dissolved into a common basic element: money to then be used for the purchase of a circum-Eastern U.S. expedition boat. The dreams have been recycled along with their physical manifestations.
"Recycling" I think would be a good title for the first chapter. A good way to start the story of a trip. The changing of dreams, the preparation for an adventure.
20 June 1994.
ReplyDeleteShrt story idea - Boris stories.
22 July 1994.
I need to learn some lessons from this clamming experience.
1. For starters the major lesson was I could've done w/out the bull rake and cull box investment of $200. A scratch rake would've been sufficient at a fraction of the cost. Treading in the Lake and Accabonac have been the most profitable so far. Granted my firs sale was made of animals harvested via bull rake.
2. I need to get over my reluctance to sell.
3.. I've got to clam more often and in more locations.
July 24th, 1994.
Grey, after-rain-in-night morning. Nice as I sit hee on Landing Lane thinking of putting "Seasoned" in the water. After 10 day ad in "Newsday" and no calls I'm happy to have that done with. I look forward to having herin the water. She'll be a place to go away from the hatchery and home. I think I need to have her in the water, enticing me to take a sail.. Even if I stay just in Accabonac. I don't think I'm cut out to be a worker bee. Sure I don't mind work. But if I had my druthers I wouldn't do it. So many other things to do. Having "Seasoned" available will be an elixir. I won't kid myself that seeing the work I've put in to her this year fade w/ sun and salt won't depress me but it'll be a good lesson. I can make my own cover to keep some of the rains out. I know she'll help me get through this summer at the hatchery, a reason to get out of work early and use everybody there to get my job done that much faster.
August 14, 1994.
ReplyDeleteNot much journal writing going on here since March. Nor reading of loafing. I've been the epitome of efficiency in my own mind of course, these growing and vacationing seasons. After reading over last year at this time I notice a similar refrain of too busy. Then about August or late July I rediscovered the beauty of pen and lined paper. It is enlightening to read back over notes and thoughts written at about the same time a year ago. And having first drafts of letters in here is a good thing too.
Even though i've been "busy" this spring and summer, I haven't really felt upset about it. What's upset? Well, you know, frustrated, angry. I think I managed t get my head into the mode of simply accepting the fact that Saturday's would be devoted to the hatchery. And up until the last week in July, long days beyone 5:30 were an anomaly. It was pleasurable. The frustraion and anger appeared on the scene when the clams began showing no growth, or more, when we became willing to accept the fact that the clams were dying. I spent a couple nights at home going over the hatchery and upwelling growth logs trying to get a handle on which spawns the animals came from that were dying adn when we first had indications of no growth. The anger actually came in discussions w/ John where I got the feeling he was ready to "write off" the rest of the clams. Fortunately, paradoxically, quite a few of our scallops died in the hatchery system. So we were able to have the time to set up two more sets of upwelling tanks and another 1 h.p. pump at Gann Rd.
Being able to go to church to ask for outside help has really helped me deal w/ my anger. It's been a way of putting these problems outside of me and saying, "well, it this is the way you want it, I won't fight you." I'm definitely not a Bible toting Christian. I don't want to be, but thinking in terms of a power that's greater than me can havee some soothing effects.
Ed went into the hospital in Colorado Springs this past Monday with chest pains. They've held him for observation and now moved him to Denver. The dye test will show what arteries are blocked and will give an idea of what method will be used to deal w/ any blockages or build-ups. This is a scary occurrence.
8-20-94
ReplyDeleteSaturday morning -
My stomach feels knotted as I think about yesterday afternoon at work. The scene: Napeague Harbor, a grey, drizzling afternoon as I head from launching ramp to field site. "Ed" (aluminum skiff) is loaded w/ a bund of pearl nets plus five small buckets of scallops to be placed in pearl nes. Boris and I make it to the big boat, for lack of a better name, and are greeted by sea grapes hurled at us in anger/frustration at the fact that we're on he scene at 3:30 in the afternoon.
I tell Tom that I'll help him get the clams back in the water and then he can split. He insists that he'll help w/ the scallops. Halfway through geting the clams volumed and back int the blocks, Tom is very angry at having to be working "late' on a shitty, rainy Friday. I can't blame him, yet at the same time I don't think it's fair for him to push me in to rushing through what's left to be done. If he wants to leave, which he is perfectly entitled to do tthen he should.
A letter to Tom would help me sort my thoughts.
Dear Tom:
I've been thinking a great deal about yesterday afternoon. First, I have to accept responsibility for getting to Napeague as late as I did. It's not fair of me to duck behind John in dodging your anger. I was equally aware of the weather, time adn day of the week. And, I was equally responsible in deciding that the scallops at the hatchery should go in to pearl nets instead of trays, of course this would take more time which I was willing to do myself.
Second, and this is important for you to remember, I don't begrudge you the fact that you have other engagements outside of work. Even if you don't have other plans, but just want to be ut of work after 8 hours, I understand. It's not a question of fairness as I see it. I came to Napeague, late, you needed to leave Napeague at a reasonable time. So, the solution to me seemed that you should leave, and I could finish up. You say that is unfair. I disagree. I think it's unfair for you to get angry at me.
Dear Mrs. Rattray (Editor "East Hampton Star.")
ReplyDeleteI feel compelled to express my own thoughts regarding Mr. Penny's opinion. Of course, my opinions do not reflect those of the remainder of the hatchery staff.
I am writing in response to Mr. Penny's statement in 'Nature Notes' of August 18th edition of your paper. The compiler notes Stuart Vorphal's prophetic observation of all things marine coming in cycles and then opines: "The bay scallops willbe next, and not because we planted them, but on their own!" As an employee of the Town Shellfish Hatchery, I must take issue with Mr. Penny's opinion.
The unfathomable order and awesome productivity of nature is unparalleled. A fool or egotist would claim that the small but dedicated restocking efforts undertaken by East End Baymen's Associations, Environmental groups, State, County and Town governments will cause a bay scallop recovery. However, I question the unsubstantiated assertion that bay scallop restoration programs undertaken since the brown tide will have no positive effect, albeit small, on shellfish stocks in Mr. Penny's statement.
To an innocent reader, unaware of Mr. Penny's former connection with the Town Shellfish Hatchery program and his avowed support of public shellfish hatchery seeding efforts, prior to his removal from hatchery oversight, my concern and interpretation of Mr. Penny's opinion may appear over sensitive. But, as a Town employee producing shellfish for restocking purposes, Mr Penny's casual, passing opinion comes as a calculated shot with no purpose other than to wound a project which, under other circumstances, he would be happy to praise. I urge Mr. Penny to remember that a spirit of cooperation and constructive criticism would allow greater progress in the production and enhancement of natural resources.
(this took nine pages of the journal in drafts)
August 30, 1994.
ReplyDeleteDuke University Medical Center, Durham, NC. 10:03 a.m.
Mom's tour of doctor's offices continues in to day two. Wilkens, Tucci, Fowler, Tourian on Monday. I met Wilkins after Mom's appointment only to shake his hand. (Mom had pain in the back of her head over Christmas 1993 that steadily got worse. It was due to an accoustic neuroma, tumor on the right auditory nerve. 'Brain' surgery included removal of the tumor in 1994 with some side effects including cutting the auditory nerve to the right ear, thus no hearing in that ear and no input from the effected inner ear to help with side to side balance causing her to list to starboard/right. Bell's Palsy was another side effect, many follow-up visits were needed to address the consequences of these issues.) At the time I couldn't think of any questions. The fact that he had scheduled two appointments for Mom to respond to her feeling pain and the drawing of her right-side facial muscles upward (Bell's Palsy) was a good sign. The appointment with Fowler, eye doctor, seemed a waste, long wait, no response to Mom's expressing a discomfort in her right eye (as if an eyelash or other foreign object was inside.) Fowler noted that Mom has a condition called Fuch's Syndrome which is a genetically -based condition where the cornea starts to degenerate. Commonly seen in elderly women. He didn't think that Mom was in eminent danger of that she would need cornea transplant surgery in the future.
Dr. Tourian (pain dr.) stayed late to examine and talk w/ Mom about the pain she was feeling. Before we saw him Mom was given a 16-page questionaire on pain. I think we were on page 11 or 12 when Mom was called in to his office. He seemed like a good guy. I say that because he spent time talking w/ Mom about the pain. He vigorously put down the ideas of 'alternative medicines' such as massage and accupunctrue as "gimmicks." His approach would include a psychological evaluation w/ a Dr. Crowvitz (who we're seeing today) in an attempt to answer whether Tourian would be able to help Mom w/ the pain. He took time to ask about medications prescribed since the operation and noted that dosages of pain relievers should be gradually increased and also that a 70 year-old would react differently than she would at 20 to the same dosage of the same medicine.
August 31, 1994.
ReplyDeleteDidnt' get out of Tourian's office until close to 2:00 p.m. After a frenzied trip from Duke to New Bern to catch a plane (me), we arrived too late. Mom and I were cruising @ 70 to 75 m.p.h. worrying about cop cars and even ran a red light. Stupid. Probably caused Mom much stress and anxiety. Valuable lesson in that. Finally one of those rushing around, desperate attempts fails. Will this be the lesson that teaches me to take time, chill out, not try to squeeze too much in to too little time? I hope so.
One feeling I come away from the Dr's visits with is that of being overwhelmed. If I feel that, and it's not my pain we're talking about, how must Mom feel? Are we (Mom) supposed to treat Dr. Tourian as the main Doc at Duke now? And, if so, how does he coordinate w/ Wilkens, Tucci and Fowler? Especially if they are prescribing medications and other Docs to help Mom w/ the pain?
All this talk about anxiety is making me anxious. I can't pretend that Mom's condition is going to completely clear up. If anything it seems that it's only a matter of time before Mom's ability to drive is further restricted and/or Diane's ability to keep up w/ Mom's needs is stretched beyond it's natural limits.
My living in New York, carefree of all family considerations seems unfair. I don't feel right about it.
I think a lack of exercise is starting to take its toll on my mental state. I don't feel as well equipped to deal w/ what's going on around me. I miss Boris my fur therapist.
September 4, 1994.
ReplyDeleteSunday - Labor Day Weekend.
Wedging myself in the fork of a tree trunk - a maple- what kind of maple I'm not usre. She's uprooted, but enough of her roots are still in rock soil next the Delaware River that she's still living. I'd guess that she's been in this uprooted state since last year, no more than two years at most. Her side, small branches on the light side are growing straight up away from gravity. Brown blotches and a few holes mark some, but not all of her leaves. Our camp site is ideal. A small, but high, island after a bend in the river. This pointed island splits the river into a deep half with placid speed and a shallow half burbling over rocks and around rock and grass islands. The maple/chair is on the shallow side, the east.
I was starting to think that a site without pesky mosquitoes and/or humans was a fantasy. At this beautiful spot no signs of mosquitoes linger, yet. Too bad we couldn't say the same for Homo sapiens. The grassy/dirt flat spot about 15' up from the river on this picturesque island was not without early settlers. How early, I couldn't say, but the last ones were gracious enough to leave two cans of vegetable beef stew further up the trunk on the chair maple. Also, not more than twenty-five feet from the newspaper, cigarette butt, aluminum foil and what look like perfumed sheets that are thrown in w/ your clothes in the drying machine, beerstrewn-fire-pit-garbage-can was what appeared to be a relatively new (I'm guessing) turd of the human kind; complete w/ what looked like (?) undigested peanuts, the shells of which laying not more than ten feet away, along w/ corn husks. Maybe those light spots were undigested corn kernels. I didn't examine the defecant for too long before I whisked it into the brush w/ a stick.
I realize I'm assuming a good deal in attributing the complete mess to one party. A more thorough examination of the feces would have helped in determining if peanuts and corn were related to the same person. Boris is an excellent travelling companion.
September 18, 1994.
ReplyDeleteA full two weeks from the Delaware entry. The next day of the canoe/float trip was idyllic. The river was surrounded on both sides by park land. Deep ares of the river provided glimpses of schools of trout lazily swimming. I thought I saw what looked like a monster carp easily a good two feet in length.
Boris spent Sunday night inside the tent and seemed well aware of the eminent possibility of being evicted w/out a moment's notice if he was not still. I moved more, by a long shot, through the night than he. Boris hardly moved and it wasn't till early morning that I noticied his shivering. I covered he and myself w/ my sleeping bag which helped us both stay warm, but cost me a mild case of poison ivy on my arm and face. No once could accuse me of being smart or even intelligent.
Monday morning the river had a fog rising from it until at least 8 o'clock. It was serene and peaceful.
The trip to N.C. and canoeing coming so close together felt like an extended vacation. As with any vacation I needed time to get readjusted to the idea of work. Although working in the field really doesn't require much adjusting to get used to. The last two weeks, while occasionally windy, have been beautiful September days. The Terns have been gathering in large flocks on the rafts. And, at times, all take to wing at seemingly unpredictable moments. Then a few minutes later are landing again on the rafts. Each day as we motor out to the field site I wonder if the Terns will still be there. It'll be quiet and sad when they leave. I enjoy having them as neighbors and squatter/guards on the cages and strings of buoys, even though they do cover everything with guano and fish parts.
Last week we noticed a swarm of birds over by the cranberry bogs in the Walking Dunes. After peering through the binoculars we figured they were tree swallows. Yesterday, riding down to Gerard Point, I noticed a big swarm of tree swallows in the marsh elder alongside the road - the fall herds readying for their trips.
Sunday night - same day.
ReplyDeleteAn urge to connect w/ old friends overtook me this evening. I called Mr. Hanscome, Lisa's Dad. He filled me in on some of Lisa, Scott and family's news. A son, named Noah, born three months ago. Sold "Pegasus" for a 31' fiberglass boat! What the hell is going on??? I'll have to write them directly. Then on to a phone call w/ Mrs. Flo er Rich's Mom - got Rich and Karen's new phone # and address. After a short lecture and remonstration for not writing to thank her for the pictures she sent after the wedding, the conversation took a lenghty route down the question: "So what do you think about Karen?" Of course, the question was a mere formality. The next 15-20 minutes of conversation centered on Flo's relationship w/ Karen and Rich then she swore me to secrecy. Maybe Gary was right when he said I was a glutton for punishment by calling Flo in the first place. It was a stupid move. I am an ass.
Another example of my direct and immediate likeness to that of an ass is my performance yesterday after the Giant Clam Contest w/ regard to the Greek lady from Queens who came all the way from Queens on the train just to go to the Giant Clam Contest! Of course my curiosity was piqued and the price I paid for finding out her real reason was an hour's worth of time and probably a gallon of gasoline. Not too bad a price, I suppose, to find that the woman was actually stalking (at least the way I saw it) some Greek guy or God (for all I know) that she knew for 20 years but didn't have contact w/ too recently because she didn't remember the name of the boat that he just bought. She had his address: ???# Scrimshaw, Amagansett and phone # but it was his parent's house and hse didn't like them and vice versa. So I drove her to Three Mile Harbor to check for the boat: "Full Moon," "New Moon"...something w/ moon it it, I think. She worked for a band and was wearing a black sun dress w/ black shoes and a black blazer. I figured she was in her late forties or even early fifties considering her father died when he was 80. Her mother had just died 5 months ago which was why she was wearing black because she was still in morning. Every time she saw a church, she crossed herself and pressed her hand to her ches. I was curious if that practice was carried out with a particular denomination or any old church. After pointing out several churches, it seemed that the practice was for all churches which gave me a little fun in testing the practice and my theory. She was an extremely stong-willed Greek woman. I didn't offer to take her to the train station, Three Mile Harbor or wait with her by dring her around until her train came at 5:22 p.m., but I did all of those things but for the life of me can't remember her name...a long one, hard to pronounce let alone understand considering her accent.
October 10th, 1994.
ReplyDeleteMonday - Civil Service Vacation Day - Columbus Day!
This might have been an excellent opportunity for camping on the land; although, the trip is hard to get motivated for when staying only one night. Gary, Jenn and I had planned to go to the land, but alas schedules, time frames, laziness wouldn't allow a three day trip. We went to Jenn and Dan's in Poughkeepsie instead. We had an excellent hike around a marsh/pond to the east of Stissing Mtn. I want to call it Thompson Pond, but I don't think that's correct. The map's in the car, I'll check it later. After the walk we drove to Hudson, really city. In transition, but not clear whether on a rebound or a downturn at first glimpse. After strolling along the river-walk overlooking the Hudson, which was two rivers at this vantage point due to an island, and driving back uptown past a house where people were sanding a front column and talking to a used bookstore owner who was fiddling w/ a guitar, I got the impression that rebound was the correct description.
My rock by Fresh Pond is getting hard and the wind is getting cold. I'll head back to the car and finish later.
Some time and place between putting this last journal entry on to the blog on Saturday, February 15th, 2014 and today, Tuesday, February 18th, 2014 I miss placed that journal. It's a typical black and white Marble Composition book, complete with my certificate of baptism from Springs Community Presbyterian Church.
ReplyDeleteNot having been a part of a church as a child, I needed to get baptized to become a member of Springs Church and opted to get baptized by immersion in beautiful Accabonac Harbor.
I was first introduced to that beautiful harbor in ~October 1985 helping snorkel for bay scallops with S.U.N.Y. - Stony Brook graduate students of Dr. Monica Bricelj. I held my bay scallops in the water in cages at L.I.U. - Southampton's marine station and looked at overwinter survival from 1985 through 1986. Each month through the winter I assessed mortality and made wax slides from various organs of animals that remaining alive. That was when Brown Tide first came on to the scene on Long Island.
Working at the hatchery and seeding our seed bay scallops, clams and oysters into Accabonac Harbor/Creek also made Accabonac a logical option for my baptism. Nice folks from Springs Church and Pastor Joe, plus Boris, swimming around as I was "dunked" made it one of the high points of my life.
Within the last couple years I joked with friends and family that I self-baptized in Homasassa Springs, FL at age two when Diane and Bob got married because Uncle Gene called it Homosexual Springs...