MY GOLDEN POND

                                                         

 

It was many years ago. 1981 to be exact, when Katherine Hepburn and Henry Fonda made a movie called, “On Golden Pond.” I was intrigued by the movie for a couple of reasons. Number one was Norman Thayer, alias Henry Fonda who played a part I loved so much. That of a cantankerous old man, living with a conciliatory wife on a small lake in the wilderness. For some reason I wanted to be that way when I got old and maybe I have. I always got a kick out of grumpy old men like Walter Mattheu or maybe a Red Foreman or Archie Bunker. Maybe it was because my father was often that way. He was the king of the one-liners and those one-word answers, which when it involved me was often just a “no.” He wasn’t that mean but he would threaten a little whoop ass if things came to that. At least you knew where you stood with him and I never challenged him. My step Mother was that conciliatory woman who rarely let her feathers get ruffled. Yeah, those two, they played those parts to a tee.

 

But what intrigued me the most in that movie was that old log cabin and that little lake they called their ‘Golden Pond.’ Three years later, after the movie came out, my wife and I found such a place and it wasn’t a log cabin it was a trailer house and it wasn’t a pond but a small lake. Never the less, the idea had been hatched and I made a sign that said “Our Golden Pond” and hung it right outside the back door. Today there is a modern home in its place but sometimes I wish for that old trailer back. It was just a simpler life then I have now. As I look around me tonight, I can feel her presence in the house she designed and from the mailbox out by the road, to the lakeshore out front, it seems to me like I’m on almost hallowed ground.

 

My neighbor lady, likes to sit out on top of her boat house at night with her camera and wait for the exact moment the sun has set just enough to be gone, but still shining enough to be at the right angle to color those clouds in crimson and yellow hues that enhance their beauty. They in turn seem to reflect that picture right back off the surface of the water like some eerie oil painting that only a Michelangelo could do justice too. Along with all this comes the mirrored images of the bluffs across the lake, also reflecting off the water in the waning light. This is for me so indicative of my own diminishing life cycle, that I can’t help but take it personally sometimes. Throw in the cry of a loon and the soft kiss of the water on the sandy shore line and you have peacefulness personified, right here on my own Golden Pond. 

 

I have through the generosity of my friend and his luxurious pontoon, spent hours on the chain of lakes just drifting by the homes that ring them. I often wondered what it would be like if we could stop at the ends of their docks and meet people and say tell me about your life here. Your kids, your grandkids and great grandkids and maybe your parents or grandparents that settled here, back when the shorelines were dotted with simple cabins and not that many mansions. It was a time when the evening silence was not punctuated with the roar of wave runners and speed boats but just flickering campfires, reflected in the bright wet eyes of children roasting the perfect smores. The old people sitting with their coffee cups, trapped in their Adirondack chairs holding hands and feeling like I do tonight. Here on my Golden Pond.    

 

SUMMER OF 2020

                                                                                             

 

It seems like only yesterday that I turned into my driveway, the culmination of an eighteen-hundred-mile journey from Arizona, where we had spent the winter. Now back home in Minnesota, the pandemic was on and I knew that things were going to be different. I guess I never thought it would be this different. I am part of that segment of the population that has had to respect the safeguards that have been put in place because of health issues and I’ve tried but it isn’t easy. But it wasn’t just the pandemic proving to be different this summer. There was racial turmoil, riots and a bitter election that was pitting us against each other. In many cases what was simply a disagreement before, was no longer just simmering heat under the surface; someone’s turned the burners up.

 

There were so many things that I used to enjoy at the lake come summer. Grandkids and family get togethers. Suppers out with my friends and our families at one of the many restaurants. Even hugs and tender moments, all put on hold. There was church and all of the activities that went with it. Fishing with my son and grandsons. Yes, what had once been unbridled fun, was now fun with an asterisk. The virus was always, seemingly, just lurking around the corner.

 

It’s August 2, 2020 and every other word seems to be Covid 19. What was once In New York and then Florida, Texas, Arizona and California moved. We had for a while largely been spared here in God’s country. But then the dam broke and now the clock is closer to midnight. Reports of friends dying with it and business being closed down. I am sure there will be an epilogue to this story. Just not sure when or where or how.

 

There have been good and bad stories. People volunteering by the thousands not only their time but often their money. Doing what they could to make things better for the less fortunate. Then there were the dissenters. Someone was stepping on their precious rights they said but in reality, it was just a matter of playing follow the leader with their party of choice. After all they couldn’t be a hypocrite. Their tone softened as the causality count rose and the leadership morphed into admitting that caution was a better choice. But a lot of damage and heartache had already been done.

 

Then there were the people that wouldn’t give up their social life. “Close the churches if you have to but not the bars.” One whole summer of not saddling up to the bar was a bridge to far for them. They were strong and they were tough and the virus was no match for them and for the most part maybe they were right but I said for the most part and not all were strong enough. Even if they survived, they had compromised their health to the point, of never being the same and unwittingly they took some of the most vulnerable down with them.

 

But that’s life isn’t it. There are those who live their lives as if everyone’s lives are just as important as theirs. Then there are those who live their lives as if theirs is the only one that matters. Who is who? I’ll let you be the judge of that.

 

 

I DREAMED A DREAM

                                                            

I have always been a dreamer of sorts and for me there has always been two kinds of dreams. Conscious ones and unconscious ones. The ones that come at night, although involuntary, can be scary or unnerving but sometimes if you remember them when you awake, there can be a hidden message in them. Often, it’s something your mind won’t let you forget. As a former first responder, I have a lot of them. We talk a lot about not being able to remember but for me not being able to forget, can be just as big of a problem. However not all nighttime dreams are scary dreams and some of them can be beneficial and happy. In the popular song I dreamed a dream. the lyrics say, “There was a time when men were kind, when their voices were soft and their words inviting.” That’s the kind of dreams a lot of us long for now, because it’s something that seems to be in short supply today. But our dreams are telling us that even though its in short supply now, it once existed in our lives. Your mind is like a computer. It didn’t just dream that stuff up on its own. It once knew it because it was there and you downloaded it.

 

But it’s the daytime dreams that seem to be the most productive ones because we seem to have more control over them. Often, they can be a visionary path to fulfilling your wildest aspirations. Every invention, every work of art, every piece of music, started as someone’s day dream. The longest bridge, the tallest building and the lengthiest tunnel all started in the dark recesses of someone’s mind. That something, that got its start, as maybe only a whimsical dream and then became a serious idea and then finally a reality was made possible by someone who had the idea to dream about it and live that dream. Don’t be afraid to be a little capricious my friends. A teacher once told me to always dream big. “You can always whittle them down if they become unmanageable” he said.

 

So, I ask you if we could sit down and dream about a better world for all of us today what would it look like. What do we need to get rid of and what would we need to get better at? Let’s start with the things the things to get rid of first. Greed and selfishness come to mind and it’s not just money I’m talking about. It’s when someone else’s likes and dislikes become trashed just because you think you know better. We simply have no right to tear someone else’s dreams apart because they don’t align with ours. It’s the height of selfishness. I think often about the dreams that have been silenced by bigots in charge, who refused to see it any other way but theirs. The nicest people I have met in my life were most often the quiet doers who went about their way, undeterred by those who tried their best to squash their dreams. I think how much bigger and better their dreams and the world would have been if they had been left alone. What we need to keep in our lives first and foremost is love and understanding. Greed and selfishness beget anger and an evil uncompromising attitude. Love and understanding begets empathy and a path to working through our biggest problems.

 

Back to the song I dreamed a dream and the words of the songwriter. “There was time when love was blind and the world was a song. And the song was exciting. There was a time---. Then it all went wrong.