Letter from the Vineyard 15 January 2020 A little break…

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My life on the Vineyard has a rhythm, a predictability which has been unusual in my recent vagabond life.

Sometime between six and seven, I wake, make myself a cup of tea, usually Irish Breakfast, sit on the couch, read news, delving sometimes more deeply than other times — last week being one as we teetered on the edge of war with Iran.  I write a few personal emails, choose what I’ll wear for the day, shower, have a little breakfast and head down to the bookstore.  Days run into each other and I lose track of the days.  I called a vendor to discuss a damaged book. Only when I got a recording saying they were closed did I tick to it was Saturday.

We didn’t go to war with Iran, tensions calmed, and the focus is on them with the tragic downing of a Ukrainian airliner.

Put aside those hard things, it has been a lovely week, swinging from heavy wet snow to a high of nearly sixty degrees on Sunday.

Friday, I visited with Shirley Mayhew, discussing the vagaries of aging, she, at ninety-three, more expert than I.  On my way over, I wished I had something to give her though hadn’t a clue what, but our conversation directed me to a book I’d like to share with her, which I will take the next time I make the pilgrimage to her.

It has been hard to concentrate enough to focus on reading a book; I have started three and not progressed far on any.  If I look at one of my now many streaming services, I find it hard to want to watch anything, generally clicking off, returning to journaling, playing some solitaire.

It has been a time of reflecting, of reaching out to people who are far away, a way of comforting myself as I still know so few on the island though I sense it is beginning to change.  Twice this week I had meaningful exchanges with island people.

Sunday, at St. Andrew’s, I sat, as I usually do, in the front pew.  That way I can hear Father Chip clearly, his voice being in the range my aging ears find hard. The gentleman behind leaned in, asked me if I had lost a cap?  Mine eyes widened, I nodded; now returned to me after several weeks is the lovely cap I purchased in Ireland.  I had wondered where I had left it; never occurred to me it could have been at church.

St. Andrew’s is working on revitalizing itself, as was Christ Church in Hudson, as is probably every mainstream church in North America, and there was a potluck brunch and group meetings after church.  As I had joined St. Andrew’s after the process had started, I belonged to no group and was invited by Chris, a customer at the bookstore, to join hers, outreach, which is what I would have chosen.

It has been a blissfully mundane week, spared from the world angst which assailed me last week.  We need these weeks more than now and again to survive the rub of everyday life, challenging in so many ways these days.

As my fingers tap on the laptop keyboard, New Orleans jazz is playing on that modern marvel, an Echo, better known by her name, Alexa.  Alexa, play me some [whatever you want].  These parts of the 21st Century I enjoy; they help revitalize me for the other challenges of 21st Century life.

The Industrial Revolution is over and we’re entering another challenging epochal transition period which will challenge us all to the nth degree – what will Artificial Intelligence do to our lives?

Given a little rest, some good jazz, a good night’s sleep, a bit of good food, good companionship, and some natural beauty, which this island provides, we can better face our challenges and they are many, personally, nationally and globally.

 

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