Imposter Syndrome Kicks into Overdrive

 

I went to UMaine on Friday for a couple of ceremonies. One gathering was for two friends--great professors--who are retiring. Go, Susan and Jim! Susan works with teachers of little people. Jim has been an administrator for maybe a decade but started out working in special education. Our university has been a better place with Jim and Susan sharing their writing, teaching, and kindness.  

Part of the other ceremony was for me. I've been directing our online graduate program in writing for the past 3 years, serving on the President's Council for Retired Employees, serving on doctoral committees, advising grad students, serving on a half dozen state and national boards, and working with the Maine Writing Project... all pro bono.  I've also taught six or seven online courses and have been paid well for that work. Thus, this service award.  

Our school's director,  Professor Shihfen Tu, introduced the The Apple Service Award. During her talk about me, a gigantic picture of pale-faced me loomed on one side of the stage on a huge screen. Shihfen read some of my past accomplishments from my vita. This made me uneasy... 

Once she finished, I grabbed my fancy box and started to dart back into the audience. Nope. "Say something," she said. The dean said, "Oh yes, do say something." People clapped. 

^%#$!

I began this way: 

"I live in the western Maine mountains. For the past 3 years, 7 days a week, except for one ten-day period, I've gotten up at about 6 a.m. and read for two hours. Then, I write for four hours. In the afternoon, I'd hike with my dog. In the evening it's email and Netflix. This is to say, I've lived alone with my dog for 3 years doing exactly the same thing most days––I love it––so if you're looking for thoughtful, inspiring words this afternoon... they're not coming." 

Then, I tried to thank our dean Penny Bishop and Shihfen, mentioning the positive presence the college's Facebook account showcases; same with the college's website. Finally, I recounted a story of my first day on campus: 

"On my first day at UMaine, I was walking from Shibles Hall to the Union for coffee. I was on edge--the whole professor-thing made me nervous. On the sidewalk, I ran into our associate dean, the quite wonderful, Anne Pooler. With a big smile she said, 'Good morning, Professor!' and I returned, 'Good morning, Dean.' a few steps later I stopped in my tracks and my imposter syndrome kicked into overdrive." 

I have no idea what I said after that other than "Thank you." 

Afterward, a very polite Academic VP and Provost came to my side, shook my hand, and congratulated me. He said something like, "I'd like to know your secret to a happy retirement." 

I answered, "Come to the mountains of western Maine, and I'll show you." 

I should avoid public speaking at all costs.   

  

Clean desk and six mountains

Ready. Set. Clean Desk.

Since hiking Bald Mountain in the Rangeley area on April 26, I've hiked 6 small mountains in the local area, including Whitecap, Red Hill (2), Mystery Mountain, Glassface Ledges, and Black Mountain Ski Resort. I loved yesterday's loop on Whitecap. I ran into a hiker with two friendly labs and three young women who  probably just finished college classes. Talk about happy pups and hikers on this brilliant spring day.

Yesterday, before Whitecap, I spent three hours cleaning my work desk. This is all in preparation for a new book, One Dog's Writer: Writing, Hiking, and Cruising with Bailey Tuckerman. Not sure if this project will end up with that subtitle, but I am convinced the main title works... and it has been in the works for the past fourteen years.        

Bald Mountain, Oquossoc

                       

Mid afternoon on this Friday, I trekked up to the town of Oquossoc and headed to Bald Mountain. No one was on the trail or, pretty much, on the roads in this tourist town. Bald is fairly benign for the first 80% and then ice, snow, and mud took over on the steeps. I probably should have brought microspikes with me, but then again, the trail was pretty firm. I remember hiking this mountain several times with Bailey. When I got to the tower at the top, I tied Bailey to the metal beams at the bottom. No way he would have climbed the stairs to the top. It's high! 

That's Mt. Washington in the distance

Saddleback Ski Resort

The Rig

Cataracts Trail

 

The Cataracts Trail parallels the Appalachian Trial just up the road toward East-B Hill. The heavy rain and flooding of December and January caused a lot of damage to the road and the trail. One thing about Cataracts, the green moss on the rocks and trees is mesmerizing. It's a bit like a fairyland. I'm not sure I've captured that in my photos. 

With each new hike I take these days, I recall Bailey's "way" on the trail. He loved Cataracts for the smells, of course, but in the summer he had boundless opportunities to slip into the river for a quick swim. Yesterday, he would have been a mud ball once we left the trail. 

Lots of damage on the trail. 

 

Can't help but thinking...

Hudson S. Kent, April 2024, San Diego

 

In the local mill of the 1960s, Oxford Paper, my dad rotated shifts each week: 7am - 3pm, 3pm - 11pm, 11pm - 7am.  As you can imagine, it's a grueling work schedule. Closest I ever came to such a schedule was as a police office during college. In the summertime, I worked the 8pm - 4am schedule at Old Orchard Beach and during the quiet times of the year, I worked a wide array of shifts as a reserve police office. Because of the changing sleep patterns, I felt like a zombie, especially when I had to stay awake for classes. But that didn't compare to my dad's life. 

Along with rotating shift work, my father had five kids at home along with a boat load of other responsibilities... I don't remember any moments of joy in his days, especially after my mother fell ill with cancer when I was 11 years old, and he battled heart disease and diabetes. Those illnesses claimed his leg, any chance at happiness, and his life.      

I can't help but think that seeing this picture of little Hudson trekking off across the baseball diamond would have brought my father great joy. In fact, I can't imagine he would have allowed himself to dream of seeing his name emblazoned on the back of a baseball jersey worn by a razor-sharp little boy whose questions amaze his parents and grandpa Rob and whose energy is an unending fire.  

Play ball, Hudson! Both of you.  

Crashing on Whitecap

 

After our February 6, 2024 hike

I slogged up Whitecap last week thinking about Bailey and feeling sad about him. I probably had the beginnings of allergy symptoms. When I abandoned the hike, I turned, walked 10 steps down the mountain, and slipped in the mud onto my butt. At lest I could smile about that. I said something like, "Stupid dog." I should have said, "Clumsy dad." 

HYOH. 

Great hike on Whitecap

Sunday River's Whiteheat

A few days ago I had a useless hike of Whitecap. In fact, I abandoned it and slogged back down. Yesterday, however, I shot right up to the Yellow Trail overlook to Bailey's cairn in 2:12 hours round trip.