Ah, the final beach cigar.

We arrived at Burt's Point for a run at about 4pm after hiking Four Ponds in Rangeley. Temperature: 72 degrees. Cousin Ian is spending his last weekend on the point and, looking at the weekend weather report of rain, this Friday evening was probably Ian's last on the beach for 2012. Ah, the final beach cigar.

Byron Notch, Fall 2008

     

Hiking Four Ponds and Finding Those Words

Who knew? For decades I've driven up through the Height of Land to Rangeley. At the scenic turnoff, there's a quintessential Maine view of Mooselookmeguntic Lake. About one quarter of a mile before the turnout is a gravel road on the right marked with a partially-built rock wall. This deteriorating road winds up through the rolling western mountains. Bailey and I hiked down several ATV trails on the left to Long Pond, one of the Four Ponds (actually, I read here there are six named ponds and a bog).        

View from the Height of Land––October 5, 2012

Down one trail, we found a cluster of boats, a rustic, backwoods marina. These boats are owned by true fishermen--I suspect they come to this rural outpost for the quiet, their friends, and the fishing. Long Pond has several cabins on the shores but no electricity. It sounds cliché, but Four Ponds is a hidden gem. Next up for us will be a hike of the AT from the Height of Land across to Four Ponds.

While on this hike and leaf-peeping tour that ended with a 40-minute run in Weld, I thought of a new writing project to undertake and worked through several others that are percolating. Although I know that "The writer is the one who stays in the room" (Ron Carlson), it's not news that sometimes you have to get out from behind your computer screen and leave your room to find those words.

Remember to click on the photos to enlarge! 

 

Loving the tire toy

Just about every toy Bailey receives, he destroys. This past spring I ordered a Buffalo whose advertisement claimed, "Indestructible." That Buffalo met his maker within the day. Frisbees, balls, squeaky toys, even some heavy-duty machine that distributed treats... all annihilated.

However, Bailey may have met his match with a BIG rubber tire that he received last summer as a gift from the Jensen Family. This hunk of rubber is massive... good luck with this one Bailey Tuckerman!

"This is a tough mothah!"

"I know I can chew this rainbow thing to pieces."

"I ain't giving up... I'm just taking a breather!"

    

Glimpse of an old dog

On most Mondays and Tuesdays Bailey stays with Sharon at daycare. There, he goes for long walks, hangs out with other pups in the backyard, and plays with a happy-go-lucky Golden down the street. He's got the run of the house, and even sleeps in Sharon's and Mike's bedroom. He's one lucky mutt.

This last visit, Bailey got bossed around by a nippy little dog overly protective of his food bowl. That anxiety, coupled with extended walks and rough housing with the Golden, tuckered out poor Bailey...

When I picked him up on Tuesday afternoon, his entire body wagging, I figured he could handle my 45-minute run on Black Mountain's cross-country ski trails. Not so.

Right from the get-go Bailey had little interest in what is usually an all-out sniff fest. He climbed out of the car, sat down in the parking lot, and stared.

"Come on, Bailey! Wanna treat?" I held up an Iams lo-fat biscuit and he unwrapped himself from the pavement. Nonetheless, the whole run would be pretty much the same: I'd run, he'd sit, and then finally, as I disappeared from sight, he'd follow reluctantly.

About 30 minutes into the run, Bailey lay down in the tall grass and watched as I headed up the trail. As I rounded the corner, disappearing from sight, he stayed put. Usually, when I disappear, he finds me. Not this time.

Over the next five minutes while running a small hill, I kept turning back and hollering "Bailey!" Finally, after hearing dogs barking in the distance, I ran back down the trail. No Bailey.

I jogged the half mile back to the parking lot calling his name. I didn't hear the barking dogs and that gave me an uneasy feeling. But once I got in sight of the lodge, there, hunkered down beside the Subaru, lay Bailey. When I got about 100 meters from the car, he crawled to his feet and walked toward me, tail wagging... another glimpse of the old dog that Bailey will be.  
   

Hiking Rumford

Click pix to expand

Click pix to expand

Teaching writing

An English teacher friend and former graduate student wrote on Facebook today:

to which I responded....

The next project

My Sunday morning assistant. Click on picture to enlarge. 

When I moved back to Weld/Rumford in 1979, I dreamed about being published on a regular basis. Now, that dream is reality.

This morning I sat on the side porch with my assistant as I tried to focus in on the next project.  I found myself getting a bit frustrated with the many choices I have.... but then I thought of the privilege I have in my writing life. After 30+ years in the writer's room, I have earned a say, and that feels pretty good.

Time to write.

Look at sunsets and talk about the Patriots

Sunset over Stevens Hall, September 10, 2012

During class this evening, the sun began to shimmer in the clouds out beyond Stevens Hall. I turned my head back to the class conversation. A moment later I saw a student's eyes widen as she looked out the window.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but---LOOK!"

My cell phone's camera may not have captured the beauty of the moment, but each of us in class had.

"Thanks for taking the time," said Denise, a K-6 literacy coach.

Three minutes later the sky turned dull gray without the slightest hint of what had just occurred.

Earlier in ERL 540 Writing and the Teaching of Writing a student said something like, "This morning, one of my students started to talk about the Patriots. A dozen hands shot up, each student desperate to talk about New England's victory. But, there was no time in the schedule ... I had to move on with the day's plan." She felt guilty.

RTI, CCSS, NCLB.... Vivian Gussin Paley said, "The first order of reality in a classroom is the student's point of view."

In other words, look at sunsets and talk about the Patriots.

Ry-Ry's medical school essay: We write to discover what we don't know about what we know.

Jesum crowbars! 

Ryan is applying to medical school after 5 years at Stanford. He asked if I could help him with his "Why do you want to be a doctor? essay. Naturally I said yes. But holy flying cows... it's difficult! This whole writing and revising deal is time consuming and messy... and when it's with a person you care deeply about...? Someone help me!

A few days later, we'd gone back and forth a couple of times. I ended up writing a revised version of his opening paragraph and Ryan wrote, "Jeezum, that paragraph is exactly what I want to say but for some reason when I try to put it on paper it keeps getting more and more complicated." 

Boy, didn't I understand that! So I wrote back on Facebook:

• • Sometimes my own editor Anne writes a paragraph or two for me to help me get on track. I have the idea but I can't find the exact words. So she gives me a few and then away I go. Do you remember ever watching the movie Finding Forester? City basketball player meets a reclusive writer? The writer gives the kid the opening paragraph and away the young kid goes. Interesting scene... pretty true.
    
    Getting this on paper is about living with it for a while and learning what it is you really believe.
    
    We write to discover what we don't know about what we know.
• 
  

  Thursday

  Ryan Kent

  • I'm quickly finding that last statement to be very true.
    
    I don't get off work until about 10pm EST. Maybe I'll step out of work for a while tomorrow morning, are you free around noon? Or I can call whenever this weekend. Thanks again.

Hiking Whitecap with Luiz

Writing Charlie's Words: a Research Article

Writing research articles can be a hoot. Really. No--really. 

There are several routes to publication for researchers. Sometimes I have an idea and wade through the basic research protocols and write... then, I submit the article to one publication and wait several months for a response. If it's a "no" (a.k.a., a rejection), I send the piece on to another publication. If it's a "yes," I wait to hear about revisions. 

For Charlie's Words, the editor Dr. Tom Hebert invited me to write. He wanted an article for a special edition of Gifted Child Today that focused on my research with athletes and their writing. For several years I'd been working with Burke Mountain Academy's ski coaches and racers helping them institute various writing protocols. I had the idea of doing a case study of one of the athletes and his use of journals. I wrote a proposal and pitched it to Tom. His "I love it" had me off to UMaine's IRB (Internal Review Board). 

For this board of colleagues, I wrote a research proposal that addressed the project's rationale. The proposal also included a Study Plan; a summary of the project's Personnel; statements about Subject Recruitment, Confidentiality, and potential Risks and Benefits; and Informed Consent forms for all subjects who will participate in the study. Pretty much all IRB proposals come back needing to be revised (well, at least the ones I've written). Charlie's was no different. The 15-page document landed in my inbox with suggestions and demands, so... 

I revised.  

Once the proposal was accepted, I began collecting data (e.g., interviewing, reading articles, mining our own understandings of a topic). Usually, researchers have favorite methodological approaches to analyzing data. So, we  identify a methodology and get on with it. (I'm a qualitative researcher and often use a grounded theory approach. I'm quite partial to narrative analysis. I like stories.) 

Once the data collection nears completion, I start analyzing. For this article, I interviewed Charlie, his coaches, his teachers; I also analyzed his writing from a trip to Chile and asked him do some writing. From my time with Charlie and his Burke mentors as well as my time analyzing the data, a story began emerging... from that story an article takes shape.

Obviously, most writers revise their writing during the composition process--these days I figure that revision process means 10-50 drafts of words, sentences, paragraphs, sections.... Really, who knows, but revising in the composing stage is a fascinating dance. Once a full draft is completed, I send it on to my personal editor and a trusted reader/editor. Then, these two good souls suggest revisions and make corrections (I'm notoriously dumb at using "like" and "as" for example and often tend to overwrite in first draft). Usually, I take their advice and...

I revise. 

Once that draft is complete, I return it to my editor and reader for another opinion. They always have second thoughts and those help me work toward fine-tuning the piece. 

Now the draft moves on to the journal editor and blind peer reviewers. At about 3 months--right at the Christmas holidays--I received my draft article back with a list of suggestions that needed to be addressed before mid-January. This feedback feels like a slap upside the head. Now, I have six different people making suggestions and corrections... and in the case of this article I had one reviewer saying that the article is bullshit and who do I think I am? After that... 

I revise. 

Charlie's Words got accepted in March and then moved on to the copy editor and production person. These folks often help you see how stupid you are when it comes to the proper use of citations from the 700th edition of APA. After that...

I revise. 

About 16 months after the process began, Charlie's Words was an article. (Click on the page below and you'll be taken to my website... scroll to the bottom of that page to find Charlie's Words. Click on "fullscreen" next to Scribd to read the entire article.)

Click on this page to be taken to complete article. 

     

Parker Ridge Trail, Tumbledown Mountain, Weld

We had a great hike today up the Parker Ridge Trail on Tumbledown Mountain. The best moment had to have been when Bailey found a large pool at the top and turned it into his own Summit Pool. To see all of the photos, just click on this sentence.

Summer Happy

Photo by Alex

Photo by Alex 

The day after... one pooped pup

I think the high altitude rock climbing took its toll on Bailey. He slept in and after breakfast he assumed the Berner relaxation position on the kitchen floor, paw shielding his eyes from the bright kitchen lights. Whether he knows it or not, we're off to run later on this afternoon! Below is his picture from Facebook and a few initial comments from my pals....

Hiking the Presidential Range

From the online weather forecast of Mount Washington, I knew today would be a perfect day to hike around the family mountain. So, I packed up the Subaru--neglecting Bailey's water bowl--and headed off to New Hampshire.

I call it our family mountain because in the 1880s my great-great grandfather Henry Burt started a newspaper on the top called Among the Clouds. His son took over the newspaper. Then, years later, his son, my grandfather F. Allen Burt, wrote the mountain's history up until the 1960s in a book titled The Story of Mount Washington. That family connection brought about the naming of a ravine after my grands: Burt Ravine.

My brothers and I worked on the mountain's Cog Railway in the 1960s and 1970s. I don't think they named much of anything after us... though, in our own ways, we left a mark. (Picture 30+ teenagers and twenty-somethings in a large dormitory at the bottom of the mountain with minimal if any supervision. Yup--exactly.)

Along the way I stopped in Gorham, NH to buy a water bowl for Bailey. I went into a "thrift shop" to look for a cheap bowl. The guy I followed in wore a pistol strapped to his hip--he was not a policeman. The man behind the counter wore a gun, too. In fact, the place had a lot of gun equipment.

Wouldn't you know, the only bowl I found was white china with hand-painted flowers. A steal at $3. I  stood next to the two holstered men and purchased my pretty bowl. The guy must have felt bad for me because he said, "Just a buck--we're having a sale." I probably should have bought a shooting target or a beer mug.

A few minutes later we drove up the 8-mile Mount Washington Auto Road and parked at the top. After a quick tour of the summit, we trekked across a small portion of the Presidentials.

The first mile is tricky, steep rock. Bailey weathered it well. Near the top of Tuckerman's Ravine, Bailey TUCKERMAN Kent and I had lunch and welcomed a few hikers with wagging tails and the old nose through-the-crotch greeting that is Bailey's trademark (I'm convinced he's just trying to get his gentle leader off).

The hike back up to the top of the mountain was uneventful. I'm sure there won't be a warmer day on the summit for the rest of the year. We both enjoyed traversing the mountain, chatting with the hikers along the trail, and in a small way, reconnecting with family.  

Lake of the Clouds

Hiking Whitecap

On Saturday, August 18, we hiked White Cap... up and down in less than 2 hours... a new record for me. And I only fell 3 times! Man, I'm getting old. Bailey learned a good lesson--as often happens, on the descent he went ballistic and started sprinting through the thick woods off trail near the top.  Soon, I heard a loud cry from him--it didn't stop--and there he sat next to the trail with his hind leg in an odd position. I felt him over for a broken bone or dislocation--all seemed right and no whimpering. Then checked for thorns or sticks or torn pads. Nothing. He probably tweaked something-- or got jabbed, the knucklehead. Anyway, after checking himself out a bit, he headed off down trail as if nothing mattered... again, I say, the knucklehead.   

See you later, God-Dog-Dad!

Bailey's God-Dog-Dad headed home to Sweden last night. Bailey will miss Alex's belly rubs and songs. Now, Alex is off to music school in Stockholm where he'll immerse in songwriting, guitar, singing, and performance. He also promised his neighborhood fans a new YouTube video after he runs a 10k on Saturday!

Here's to one of the good guys of our planet... Alexander Szeps.

Niagara Falls, New York, August 2012 

Bailey and Alex, Belly Rub Heaven, August 2012

Soccer Team Notebook published!

Click on cover to see ordering information. 

–from the Introduction of Writing on the Bus:

A dozen years into this new century and just about every athlete I know is writing.

Some keep blogs and others maintain Facebook sites––it’s mind-boggling how many use Twitter. Professional athletes work with sport psychologists, fine-tuning their mental approaches to training and games through talk, imagery, meditation, and writing. If you played basketball at Duke University for Coach Gail Goestenkors, 2006 US Basketball National Coach of the Year, you kept a journal. If you played college soccer for Mike Keller at the University of Southern Maine or Amy Edwards at Gonzaga University, you kept a Team Notebook. Olympians and world-class athletes in all sports keep training logs and exchange reflective email with advisors, coaches, and training partners.

As you’ll read later in the book, tennis champion Serena Williams pulled out her journal book for the press at Wimbledon in 2007, and for those baseball fans who followed the phenomenal Red Sox teams of the mid-2000’s, they witnessed all-star pitcher Curt Schilling on the bench between innings… writing.

In England, 16-year-old soccer players who become apprentices to professional teams are required to keep a journal about training sessions, games, diet….  And if your goal is to make the US Ski Team and are fortunate enough to land a spot at the renowned Burke Mountain Academy in Vermont … there’s a good chance that writing will be a part of your training. What’s this all about, you ask? It’s about learning.

Michael Phelps' Journal

Great timing for my current projects.... You can read the whole article and listen to Phelps by clicking on this sentence.

UMaine Today article

My research is being featured in this fall's UMaine Today Magazine in a four-page spread.  

Road Trip without Bailey

Bailey's GodDad and I took a 1400-mile, 4-day road trip this week around Lake Ontario. Holy flying cows... what were we thinking? Highlights... Niagara Falls and Lake Placid... and the upbeat college town, Burlington, VT. Bailey's happy to have us back and to have his belly rubs on demand. He would not have enjoyed this trip... lots and lots of car time.

Alex at Niagara Falls

Rich contemplating life in Lake Placid.

Bailey gives his GodDog Dad a lesson

Bailey surprised Alex, his GodDog Dad, by leaping up on the paddle board the other day. Bailey's gotten quite adept at the paddle board after practicing with Jan and Simon as well as with Ryan, Tyler, and Victoria.

Seminar in Nonfiction: Summer 2012

What a wonderful writers' community we created. And, oh yes, how we suffered.... 

Click on photo to enlarge. 

One Writer's Life

On Friday, our last class, I spoke about my journey as a writer for the past 34 years. These few moments reminded me how time has slipped forward. I enjoyed thinking back to my first article about skiing "Indy" written for the Indianapolis Star. And then remembering some of the poems, articles, columns, and books that have marked the time of this writer's life. Thanks to my classmates for letting me talk through my journey; you were very kind to listen.

Road skiing the Indianapolis Motor Speedway c. 1978

The books of my life not including the 6 unpublished books that sit in the over-sized closets of my home.

Kate Kennedy

Kate's writer's cabin in her backyard.