Dodging the Rain Drops (and lightning bolts)

Click on Photos to Enlarge. 

We've had some pretty rotten weather lately. On Wednesday, after rain showers through the morning, I checked out the radar and saw a break in the action. So, I threw on some hiking cloths, packed a few dog treats, and headed out to Whitecap's Connector trail. We hiked this time--running felt impossible!

I love the artistry of the Whitecap cairns. The trail crew and other hikers have had some fun with the rock markers. My favorite is a Buddha-esque formation near the summit.

Bailey did suck some air on the way up, and I encouraged him to jump in the various puddles and drink from streams. He did. Rolls of thunder and then a light rain came as we headed down the East Andover Parking Lot Trail. On this hike I brought my collapsable LL Bean hiking poles. Naturally, they're metal, so when the thunder began to sound, I thought about lightning rods... and collapsed the poles. I don't have a PhD for nothing!

And so it goes. We were both pooped when we got home, but the Red Sox were on, and dinner was already made: a good evening with well-worn bodies.  

My Buddha Cairn on Whitecap's Connector Trail.

Carins lining the traverse from the Connector to Main Trail. 

Double water falls near the base of the Connector Trail. 

Bailey's cooling mechanism at full function. 

Looking out toward the White Mountains. 

 

Magazine Article Interview

Writer Phyllis Hanlon interviewed me his spring about the place of journaling in sports, including the sport of cheerleading. Also included in the article are former US Olympic Bobsled athlete Alexandra Allred and Track & Field Olympian Roisin McGettigan from Ireland who said, "When you record your training, it crosses the line between being casual or serious about the sport. I was able to track my program, learn what worked and what didn't. I could figure out why I was tired and see if I over- or under-estimated my training." For my friends who coach cheering and for their athletes, this article found at the bottom of my WritingAthlete's webpage may be of interest.

I've been wanting to upgrade my High School Writing Center Resource for a number of years. Now, I have a draft of that website. (3 of 60)

Click to visit website

A poem about ski racing in the 1960s (#2... of 60).

For several years, I've wanted to write a poem about skiing back in the day. I decided to try my hand at mirroring George Ella Lyon's fabulous poem, Where I'm From. If you're not a skier familiar with the sport c.1960, this poem could leave you wondering.

WHERE I'M FROM

I am from long thong straps

and Marker-Nevada combinations.

I am from wooden Kneissls, plastic K2’s, and the

cold black steel of Head Competitions.

I am from boot-top fractures and hand-held timing,

from leather boots and bamboo slalom gates

whose many colors and random sets

tested our memories.  

I am from the opening day at Black Mountain:

4^th tower, red hotdogs on a bonfire, hot chocolate,

and hay bales piled near the sleek new T-bar

that carried us toward the sky.

I’m from Scotty’s Mountain and

the hill in our backyard below Liberty's,

I’m from the graveyard ski jump at Sunnyside Terrace

and the night trail at Chisholm Winter Ski Park.

I’m from Titcomb, Saddleback,

Sugarloaf, and The River—

from Wild Cat and Cannon, Cranmore and Loon.

I’m from The Suicide and The Aurele Legere ski jumps

that we packed and packed and pack some more;

I’m from High School Hill and the Lower Quirion Loop,

            from Tuckerman’s and Hillman’s Highway…

And once, kept out of school, the slopes of  

Mt Abram with my mother and brother Rob.

I’m from the Telstar Shuush, the Wes Marco, and
the Saddleback Cup; from Mack Miller and Herbie Adams,
from Lufkin, Lutick, Miller, and Chenard,
from Blackie’s and Hamann’s ski shops, 
rope tows and poma’s, chairlifts and T’s.

I’m from the shores of the Androscoggin and Swift Rivers

where our fathers fit pipe, tested pulp, and

sucked in sulfur to make paper for our skis.

I’m from expert trails and community, from real snow days

and hissing radiators lined with mittens.

I’m from the western mountains,

the River Valley… my home.  

Celebrating 60... with 60

For a year now, I've been thinking about a way to celebrate turning 60 years old this October. One thought was to train well and then to do a long run/hike in Weld across Blueberry Mountain over The Jacksons down onto Tumbledown Mountain. Another idea hit me today while, after a couple of good training days, I ran the Connector Trail loop on Whitecap Mountain. I say ran... I maintained some semblance of a run for 70 percent of the 90-minute trek.

After running the Connector Trail on Whitecap Mountain. 

While running across the rock face of Whitecap with that fabulous view up the Androscoggin River toward the White Mountains, I thought of undertaking 60 activities that make me happy and/or challenge me in some way. As I ran down the East Andover trail, with blood dripping down my forearm (the old man fell on wet rock), I decided that the activities would not all have to be physical in nature. If you know me well, I'm about as social as a dust mite in a dryer's lint filter, so attending a party (oh gawd, I'm not doing that), would be a challenge. However, having friends over for dinner or working on a new writing project would certainly count.

I may make a list of the 60, or I may not. But for now, check off #1, baby! Now what?

It's either sucking up Lady Bugs and Cluster Flies, or cleaning and reminiscing: Ways Not to Write.

I should be working on one thing or another with my writing--but, no... if there are no Lady Bugs or bloated Cluster Flies floating around the house, I clean. And when I dig into a desk drawer, anything can surface.

Take this lacrosse ball from our first-ever game (and first win) back in 1990. I stopped my cleaning and sorting ...  took a photo ... and posted it on Facebook ... and then read and responded to feedback from former players and friends.

It's a rainy Friday afternoon, and I have the author's ambition that's the size of a dust mite. But, my bathroom is clean, the laundry's done, pages upon pages of "stuff" has been filed, and I've enjoyed chatting with some former student-athletes on Facebook.

In the great scheme of things, I suppose that's not such a bad way to spend an afternoon.

MVHS Lax Seniors and their stylish coach... 

Climbing Whitecap

View west toward the White mountains.
Click on Picture to enlarge.  

We climbed Whitecap Mountain on Wednesday, the quintessential late spring day: the bluest skies, temps at 70 degrees, minimal bugs, and a light wind. The round-trip hike takes around 2 hours with a bit more added on for summit pictures and assorted gawking. Being on top of this mountain and taking in this view is yet one more reason why I live in western Maine A hike like this does a lot for my energy level, happiness factor, and caloric burn! As you can see below, Bailey was some tuckered out when we returned. Following his after-diner bone,  he curled up on the cool hardwood floor and napped for hours. For all the photos, click on this line.     

After dinner bone. 

Post-hike nap. 

Tuesday: 42 degrees with the furnace on... Saturday: 94 degrees

From 2011

I suppose that's Maine. It's just so odd to have the weather fluctuate so dramatically. But then again, I'm a Mainer... this is what happens.

We drove over the the White Mountains in hopes of escaping a bit of the heat, but no such luck. Still in the 90's at the base of the Mount Washington Auto Road. Even though there were spots of snow between 4000 and 6000 feet, no hiking for us.

So now this afternoon Bailey has taken up his morning place: under my work desk, sound asleep. And me? A to-do list that just won't quit.

Could be worse.

Hiking Mt. Zircon in Rumford

White Mountains, NH. Click picture to enlarge. 

Bailey and I hiked Mt. Zircon on Memorial Day. What a day... blue skies, cooling winds, and near one-hundred mile views. As you can see, the White Mountains were snow covered.

Most of the woodlands around Mt. Zircon are now owned by the Poland Springs Co. In the 1800s, the Mt Zircon water company was known as Moontide Springs. The so-called medicinal waters attracted people "from away"--folks we Mainers like to call flatlanders.

Back in the 1960s when I was a boy, Mt. Zircon bottled soda made all of us local kids smile. In my neighborhood, we bought our sodas at Potvin's Store just a 100 yards from my home. This little penny candy store had a red Coca Cola ice water cooler; that ice water kept those sodas chilled perfectly... Mt Zircon Grape, Birch Beer, and Orange were my favorite flavors.

Concord Pond, Peru ME

The old Moontide Springs spring house, now wrapped in barbed wire to keep out people and wild things, is still at the base of the hiking trail. The 50-room hotel is long gone. Up on top of the mountain, the fire watch tower has been toppled so hikers won't scale it and put themselves in danger. It'd be great if the forest service would take apart the metal structure and remove it.  

The last time I hiked Mt Zircon was 10-15 years ago. Back then, I mountain biked from the Rumford Point side of the mountain and then tried to ride up the hiking trail. That was not happening. I pushed the bike as far as I could and then hiked the last 15 minutes up to the summit.

Mt Zircon is 2 miles outside of downtown Rumford just off the South Rumford road. The round trip hike is about 2 hours.

Rumford and the Androscoggin River

Mt. Blue in Weld ME

"Take the picture and give me a treat, Human... please." 

Western Maine mountains

   

Making commitments

Committing to a book project is daunting. Usually, projects like Writing on the Bus or A Guide to Creating Student-Staffed Writing Centers take about a year to draft, working with my editor-friends Anne and Gayle. Then, I spend about 3-6 months in the revision process with the editorial staff of a publishing house. These ballpark figures focus on the writing (i.e., note taking, drafting, author revisions, publishing house revision). The hemming and hawing of choosing a project can take from one to five years. Why? Living with a book project is kind of like getting engaged or for 21st century teenagers it's like asking someone if, in Facebook lingo, they should simultaneously post "In a relationship with..." Heck, that's big stuff.

Maine Team 1984... after a stunning loss in the mud. Note:
The only boy smiling is Mark #12--he's now an undertaker. 

Right now, I have two projects on my mind. First, I've wanted to write a book about taking the Maine State Team to England during the 1980s and 1990s. Over those two decades, 500 Maine athletes on 30 Maine Teams played soccer in and around London. And imagine, only 7 kids got arrested, no one died, and only one player went home because of homesickness. Oh, and we always won (!). I have a ton of data connected to these trips; I asked kids to write me about their experiences on the way home on the plane. I wrote follow-up trip letters to the kids' families--these were 8-10 page single spaced accounts of our days. And now I'm connected to quite a few of the guys through Facebook.

I'm afraid of starting this project for several reasons. One is that it's probably going to end up having to be a memoir. Tying together 500 kids, 30 teams, and 13 years of trips probably means the focus will have to be me. I don't like the sound of that. I suspect there's another way beyond memoir to write this book, but I'm not enough of a writer to know what that is and I don't know that I want to go and learn (I hate saying that). Second, I'm thinking this project could take 3-5 years to write. Can I make that kind of commitment of energy? That's a lot of living time--which is to day, I'll spend every day, every vacation, and every weekend writing.

The second project I've known I'll write might be called One Dog's Writer: Living a Writer's Life as a Teacher. I know from my days as a National Writing Project site director that a lot of teachers, especially English/language arts teachers, really want to write. I've done that fairly well, and so have many of my friends, so I thought I'd write an encouraging and helpful book on establishing and maintaining a writing practice.  This project is a one year deal. I know who I'd interview; I have notes; I even have a rough outline. Not that the book would be easy, but I do know that it's doable and I do know that my editor at Peter Lang would be interested.

Thing is, I'd really like to write the soccer book.

Birthday Boy!

Happy 3rd Birthday, Bailey Tuckerman Kent. 

Happy Birthday, Bailey! The BIG 3!

Yup, the little guy hit three today and wouldn't you know that our friend Jane Cicala from Slovakia, a veterinarian, remembered to send greetings and so did Simon, Bailey's brother from Denmark. Very kind. Man, he was a little guy when I first met him in June of 2010. I think what a friend of mine said holds true, "We never know how much love we have to give until we get a dog."

June 2010

June 2010

Bailey's mom Maggie. 

New book for soccer players out soon!

Click on picture to enlarge. 

Amy Edwards of Gonzaga University and I have just about completed a new notebook/journal  for soccer players. Smaller than Soccer Team Notebook, Pitch Notes Soccer Journal still has journal prompts and Match Analysis pages. Thanks once again to Gayle Sirois for her editorial expertise. We were to have finished up the book today with a conference call, but Amy fell ill and we'll get to it over the next few days.

Back at it

After several weeks of having my leg elevated and a week on antibiotics and one short but painful visit to the doctor's, I am on the mend. Talk about a depressing few weeks.... Anyway, we started with short  walks and then headed off into the mountains for four hikes in a row followed by a 40-minute run just last week. I love getting out into the woods with Bailey. He nearly exploded the first time I took him on a walk, off leash, out behind the house after our internment at home.

Guarding the yard from inside

Here's what Bailey looked like when I wasn't able to take him for our regular jaunts.

Later, we started hiking Black Mountain and visited camp for the first swim of the season. Yahoo!

First swim

Last snow

Mountain stream swim

Make yourself at home

Bailey disappeared the other evening from the first floor during a Red Sox game. I searched the first floor and then up on the second, including his bed... no Bailey.

I took a second sweep around the house and this time turned on the light in my bedroom where Bailey's bed is on the floor. Seems he's decided his LL Bean bed doesn't quite cut it any more.

That's right: I set him straight.

Being boring

On his blog Daniel Coyle posted a piece about the lives of creative types. It's a fascinating look at the rituals of the super creative. I'd never describe myself as being uber-creative, but I have a few entrepreneurial whispers that might be considered original.

Coyle says, "To be truly creative, you have to be brave enough to be boring." I couldn't agree more.  Take a look at his post; it's worth a look. If you scroll down below the post, you'll see my response. Just click on this title The Talent Code to get to his blog.  

Six-word memoirs & novels

Hemingway is thought to have written one of the first six-word novels over a bet with friends. The manuscript reads like this:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.  

There's something really inviting about the six-word stories. Such writing forces us to think deeply about our words and to play with a variety of combinations. Composing these short-short stories gets at the notion of revision when working with young writers--with any writer, for that matter. Here are a few of my favorite six-word stories:

Kiss gone astray, hell to pay. 
We thought the gun wasn't loaded. 
One gun, two shots, three dead. 
Sheik wins bachelorette auction, "prize" absconds.
After she died, he came alive. 
My husband is invisible. No, really. 

My friend Tanya Baker of the National Writing Project, a former UMaine colleague, showcased a few websites that feature six-word stories. A fellow NWPer, Paul Oh, created one of the sites. For me, the videos featuring high school kids and their writing brought back a slew of memories. Check them out:

Clarity Through Brevity: Integrating Six-Word Memoirs  

Making as Writing/Writing as Making: Six Word Memoirs

Now try a few of your own. You never know:

Pulitzer winner credits six-word novel prompts.

Vegetable Soup

Rich's Vegetable Soup!

I'm a late bloomer. Take dogs, for example. I decided to adopt Bailey nearly three years ago. Since then, as if I'm the first dog owner on the planet, I have written, talked, and photoed him endlessly. All my dog friends have been so kind. They've smiled and "Oh really'ed?" for the past 3 years. Then there's cooking.

I can make simple fare like lasagna, spaghetti, and chicken dishes, but when it comes to real cooking, well...

I've been trying to move away from eating meat. Recently, I visited my friend Anne and her husband, Joe, and sister Betty. They served a delicious meal starting with a selection of hors d'oeurves followed by a delectable vegetable soup. I admitted to Anne that I'd like to learn how to make  soup and she followed up by emailing me the recipe.

The next Sunday, I headed off to the supermarket to buy the ingredients. The shop had rutabaga, but not turnip. Duh! Who knew they were the same! It gets worse: I'd never opened a garlic clove or used barely in any form. But, step by step I just pushed through. Honestly, I love this soup! It's hearty and filling... I had so much that I froze two big containers after three meals.

Now my soup and cooking friends have to listen to me, "the cook," talk the game I just learned. I have such good friends...

Here's the recipe Anne provided:

Click to enlarge

Monica Wood and Basic Story Structure

On Saturday at UMaine, we hosted Monica Wood, author of novels, books for writers and teachers, and a 2012 award-winning memoir, When We Were the Kennedys. A long-time friend, Monnie has been living the writer's life for many years. Novelist Ron Carlson wrote, "The writer's the one who stays in the room." Monnie has stayed in the room crafting her stories. She's paid her dues and now she's enjoying some much deserved recognition.

Monica Wood

During her writing workshop on Saturday, she spoke about Basic Story Structure, an element of sound writing that all writers need to be reminded of. Going back through a draft of story and identifying the basic elements can help any writer with story development and revision.  

Click to enlarge

Orono Buddy

Bailey has a new caretaker/buddy in Orono. Sam is the 8th grade son of Heather Pullen, one of Rich's colleagues at the University.  Bailey and Sam hung out on Saturday while Rich ran a conference. Clearly, Bailey had the best time.

Bailey & Sam

"Do I have to go home, Dad?"

The Architect

Fall 2004, Western Mountains of Maine

I learned this week that Michal Cicala, my 2004-05 Slovakian exchange student, graduated from college as an architect. Fantastic!

Michal studied for six years at his university in the Czech Republic. During summers, he worked out on the west coast of the United States managing a sales team of international students. He learned a lot from that experience, especially managing people.

Michal used his exchange in Rumford to the max. He had a slew of friends, joined sports and activities like soccer and ski racing, and left a lasting impression among many folks in Rumford.

Over the years, Michal has kept in touch via email, Facebook, and letters. I share email letters each month with his family. Michal's sister Tania did a yearlong exchange in Maine just after Michal, and now their little brother Martin is gearing up for his year abroad.

I look forward to the day that I'll visit Slovakia and meet Michal's wonderful, warm, and successful family.

Here's to Michal... Happy Graduation! Much success! I'm proud of you.

2005

2010

   

Life's simplicity

Really, life's as simple as this: you roll in poop, you get a bath.

We had our first run of 2013 at Black Mountain today. The cross-country trails are snow covered and firm perfect for running or for skiing (with Universal Klister as a kick wax).

On the highest point of the XC trail, Bailey discovered a ripe, wet poop. He rolled and rolled in the mess until I saw him and screamed. Then, he rolled some more.

I tried to clean him up with snow, but that did not work. I tried tossing a treat in a stream--he got the treat but the water didn't affect the mess. So, as always, off to the back deck with buckets of warm water and an oatmeal dog shampoo with a lemony scent. I know it looks like he's smiling in these pictures, but I'm thinking he got some soap in his eyes.