Struggling and Happy

     An archeologist in town unearthed bed curtain rods. They'd been used by Puritans during the 1600's. 
     The revelation surprised me. Beds with curtains, I had assumed, were luxuries for the rich. Those Puritan colonists were anything but opulent. They practiced simplicity.
     Turns out, those colonists weren't delving in extravagance. They surrounded their beds with curtains to keep warm.
     Here are other measures they took to ward off the cold:
     Embers from a fireplace were placed in a pan. Before going to bed, people rubbed the hot pan along cold sheets to warm the fabric.
     Bricks were heated, wrapped in cloth, and taken into beds.
     Getting up in the morning meant dressing oneself under blankets.
     Suffice to say, those colonists struggled. But I'll bet they were happy. Puritans were known as well grounded people with a strong work ethic.
     Perseverance in work offers more than tangible rewards. It improves one's well being.
    I have endeavored to become a novelist. It's been a struggle. My first novel took years to write. The manuscript garnered rejections from agents and publishers. I shelved it.
     My second novel is still in the making. Last year I brought an earlier draft to a writers workshop. The manuscript received a slew of criticisms along with positive feedback. Since then I've been working hard to improve it.
     Even though I haven't succeeded as a novelist--at least not yet--I am not unhappy. Like those early colonists probably learned, happiness doesn't necessarily derive from success, but from the struggle to succeed.

Anger and Restraint

     "Look, there's a turtle in the road," I told a companion while driving my car. The animal crawled on the opposite lane.
     I wasn't surprised. One month ago I photographed another turtle (seen in photo) a few blocks away.
     Concerned for the creature's welfare, I drove to the top of the road and turned around. My plan was to carry the turtle off the pavement.
     Just before making my turn, another car drove by. I watched it approach the turtle. I hoped the driver would notice the animal. He did. The car slowed to almost a stop. I breathed a sigh of relief.
     Accelerating, the man's car veered leftward and drove over the turtle.
     Horrified, I proceeded up the street. The turtle's shell was crushed. Blood and guts covered it.
     The driver drove a few yards farther and turned around. He wanted to view the remains of the turtle. I slowed down and eyed him.
     He was early twenties in age with a beard. He was grinning. His demeanor confirmed my suspicion--this act of cruelty was deliberate.
     Boy was I mad!
     We made eye contact. I glared at him. His face revealed unease. He sensed that I had witnessed his sadism.
    He left the scene.
   I pursued him in my car. Chances were, he eyed me with alarm though his rear view mirror.
    Holding a cell phone to my ear, I talked and gesticulated in the direction of his car. I even held up the phone as though a photo was being taken. It was all an act. I was messing with his head. Perhaps he thought I was recording his license plate and calling the police.
     He pulled into a driveway. It was a ruse. He wanted to shake me off his tail. It wasn't his driveway. It belonged to a friend of mine.
     At this point I had a decision to make. Do I pull into the driveway and confront the guy? Or do I drive away?
     I chose the latter. Escalating the situation wasn't worth it. At the very least, the driver would have claimed that he had driven over the turtle by accident. Worst case, the guy could have gotten violent.
     I'm glad I threw a scare into that young man. Next time that scumbag considers perfuming an act of cruelty, he might reconsider.
     Sometimes revealing anger is helpful, provided it's done with a measure of restraint.

A Stranger's Kindness

     Something was wrong with my ticket.
     The fare gate to the subway in Boston didn't open. I inserted the ticket into other turnstiles. Still no response.
     A train pulled in. I contemplated jumping the gate but thought the better of it.
     Frustrated, I asked a passerby for advice. He swiped his long term pass into the bar code reader of a turnstile. The gate opened. He invited me to pass through it, and I did.
    His act of kindness would draw $1.75 from his account with the transit authority. I offered to reimburse him. He smiled, declined my offer, and walked away.
     His random act of kindness made my day. My reaction to him calls to mind a quote by the late Joshua Heschel:
     'When I was young I admired clever people. When I was old I admired kind people'.

Modesty Versus Modesty

Mennonite couple and children visit Boston Common.

     I asked a Mennonite women why she wore a long dress.
     "Modesty," she replied.
     She and fellow Mennonites were singing hymns on Boston Common. They are known for wearing plain attire.
     Modesty isn't only about clothing.
     Some people believe that modesty is an awareness of one's limitations. They assume that talents and achievements are nothing special in the scheme of things, so they do not talk them up.
     I think modesty is just the opposite. A modest person knows darn well he's got talents. He knows that his achievements garner admiration. He or she might even realize their talents are superior.
     Knowing that one possesses talent is not immodest. What's immodest is talking about one's talent.

Mennonite Women Sing Hymns on Boston Common.

Salon Styled Lives

For historical context, The Museum of Fine Art in Boston features a salon styled gallery.

     Where on that wall does the eye focus?
     When museums crowd their artwork, the display is called 'Salon Style.' This approach was popular until the 1930's.
     Curators made a change. They eliminated the clutter. Less artwork enabled patrons to better concentrate, and to better appreciate, works of art.
     Nowadays we're bombarded by artificial stimuli. Television programs feature quick frame rates. Radio personalities motor mouth their presentations. Billboards project LED imagery. People bounce from one internet link to another.
     Some people are hooked on this data feed. Their brains process gobs of stimuli. It's mind numbing. Their lives are salon styled.
     They ought to eliminate the clutter.

Undeniable Truth

     A rope swing dangled alongside a lake. It beckoned me to pendulate over the water, let go, and plunge into the depths.
     No way I'd take the bait. The gap in the branches was too narrow. I wasn't sure what lay below the surface. And the water in June was still too cold.
     My excuses were logical. But they exposed an undeniable truth. The older I become, the more risk adverse I get. Years ago I would have mounted that swing.
     I'm in pretty good shape for someone fifty-seven-years-old. I play basketball. I envision long backpacking trips in my future. And I still believe in some risk taking, but not the rope swing kind.
     Aging gracefully is like pulling the reins on a horse. Do it gradually, from a gallop, to a canter, to a trot, and to a walk. Don't dismount too early.

Sucking Out The Charm

     Has downtown Boston lost some charm?
     I stood near a corner in the heart of the retail district. Chain stores caught my eye. They included AT&T, Marshall's, TJ Max, Sleepy's, Foot Locker, T-Mobile, and Payless (seen in the photo). It was like visiting a mall. The district had become homogenized.
     Years ago, locally owner stores pervaded this area. They gave it a character.
     Something else caught my eye. Several storefronts were vacant. Signs advertised retail space.
     Fewer shoppers visit this district than in years past. Blame it on chain store homogenization. There's little unique charm to lure shoppers from their homes in the suburbs.
     There's still hope for a turnaround. Internet spending is hurting sales at corporate brick and motor stores. Perhaps these chain stores will retreat. Mom and Pop stores will rise again. The district will regain a character of its own.
     In the photo up top, notice the bag carried by the woman. It identifies a boutique she had patronized a few blocks away. Downtown Boston needs more boutiques and fewer chains.