Heading Home

Once upon a time, I lived here in California, near Monterey. It still feels like home in many ways; I have great and loving friends, work to do, and I love the landscape, weather and flowers. But my 'people' are in New England for the most part, and it is time to go home - though it is still freezing at night, in East Boothbay.

When the father of my children decided many years ago to pursue careers which located him, and then us, outside of New England, I understood what a grand adventure life might be. I thought it would be good for my 3 boys to see and participate in a larger world, and that it would be exciting for me. It was all of that and more. We travelled the world; the boys were educated as well as is possible these days. I started and then stopped more projects than most people ever get to even begin, and for the most part, I loved it.

But when the marriage fell apart, I was caught in Paris, France, and had few resources with which to deal. I have never felt more isolated, and trapped. I knew I had to get home, and for me, that has always been Maine. It took me 3 years - 6 months in Paris, two and a half years

in Pacific Grove, California, and now I'm finally living back home in Maine. It feels good even though spring never comes soon enough, and it feels even better when I can get to California again each winter.

Home has been a lot of places for me: Orono, Maine, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Montpelier and then Middlesex, Vermont, Arlington, Virginia, Marina, California, Paris, France, Pacific Grove,

California, and now East Boothbay, Maine. I am a little bit urban, and a lot country. I loved all those places for very different reasons. I may get too old and decrepit to stay in my current house in Maine, and have to move near some family - a very nice concept I think. But Maine will forever be my geographic anchor, and I'm quite happy to be heading home again - even if I have to leave California.

Tsunami!

It was 4:20 in the morning when friends called from Cambridge to let me know, here in California, that I was about to experience a tsunami. It wasn't, however, until 5:50am that I got the first of two reverse 911 calls, saying that there was a tsunami coming and if I was in the zone, I should go immediately to higher ground. I'm not in the zone, but the second call was more relevant: at 7:15, a second reverse 911 call came that said that the State had decided to close all the beaches in Monterey County, and that we should not try to access the shoreline at all.

Perspectives on tsunamis here on the West Coast are considerably different than on the East Coast. I do not ever remember, in all my months and years on the East Coast ever being told I was in a tsunami zone, or ever seeing a sign such as I used to see in Pacific Grove, that I was then in a tsunami zone. But the threat is real here, and is ever present. The same kind of subduction zone that caused the earthquake in Japan, exists off the northern coast of California, Oregon and Washington. It is a not-so-theoretical possibility that something like what happened in Japan, could happen here. Especially as we consider the "Ring of Fire". With one devastating earthquake in New Zealand in February, another in Japan in March, where might the next one be?

News organizations out here are quite specific now, that they are letting us know what's happening so that we may be prepared. But they also say, quite specifically, that they are not trying to "scare" us. What? What is this news if not scary, that the Japanese still do not have control of the 3 reactors in Fukushima? Authorities are saying that after a meltdown, it will take 10-14 days for radiation to reach the West Coast, and by then it will have dissipated in the wind

to a level that will be tolerable. Really. It brings all those things to mind, like well, I've lived a good life. If God wants me now, he will have me. There's not a great deal I can do about things. and Que sera, sera.

The situation has caused some conversation about the difference in people's behaviour on the East and West Coasts. It has been generally conceded out here, that people in the East are better at knowing their neighbors on an ongoing basis, than people on the west coast. But that when a big one happens, people on the west coast are better prepared. This shows up in interesting ways in the budgets of non-profits and governmental agencies. Back East, we really worked hard on the school boards, United way agencies, and other boards that I have experienced, to balance the budgets fairly precisely each year. Here on the West coast, those same sort of agencies always have a "reserve" of 3-6 months, left in their accounts, or generally set aside for just such things as tsunamis.

I think it is in the way of the weather in both places. The seasons back East demand that people be always at a relatively low level of preparedness, whether it be for hurricanes or blizzards or torrential rains. Out here, the weather is usually not the problem. Devastating earthquakes, tsunamis and radiation from far away places are the problem - less frequent, but more disruptive. So we people adapt to our situations, and organize ourselves accordingly. Let's hope those reserves are not necessary at least while I'm still in California!

Being Away

The advantage of being away for March, from Maine to California, is that you get to witness spring twice. Here at the entrance to my tiny cottage, the Japanese maple is leafing out right by the door. Not that I wouldn't like to see the 2 1/2 feet of snow that my granddaughters just got in Vermont, but I'd really rather see the leaves coming out and the orchids blooming - at least for now.

The other advantage is that time slows down. There are fewer things to do out here - no spring cleaning to be done, no snow to shovel, no Boards and committees to attend. I find my own agenda each day, and somehow I get more done. Life is simpler, and for me, that helps sort out what's important versus what is simply time-filling activity.

For instance, I've been reading poetry this week. When I first arrived, I bought Barbara Kingsolver's book, 'Lacuna,' and read it and really enjoyed it. Then I found a first edition of Jack London's 'Valley of the Moon' for $5.00 in a little shop in Bodega Bay, and read that. Sonoma is the Modoc (Native) name for Valley of the Moon, and I am always pleased to know the meaning of the names of places I love. Then I rediscovered Willa Cather's 'Death Comes for the Archbishop.' and read that. Now, I'm reconnoitering a collection of Robinson Jeffers' poetry.

Jeffers' house and tower are about 8 blocks from my cottage. They are right on the edge of Carmel Point and overlook the Bay. He lived and wrote here in the first half of the 20th century, and his works reflect the dark history of that era. I'm finding they resound at the beginning of this century, too. He likens the cities crowding along the coast of California to a purse seine gathering in sardines, flashing in the light as they leap for freedom and are restrained: "...we have built the great cities; now there is no escape."

But rarely is all lost in his work. There are glimmers of how to behave justly, act kindly. I found one line this morning, in a poem called "The Great Sunset." The last line of the poem, in which he turns from the "glowing west" to the "cold twilight," he says, "To be truth-bound, the neutral detested by all the dreaming factions, is my errand here." I can think of no better description of how a life should be lived, than to seek truth, to balance judgement, and act compassionately. A great thing to be reminded of, when we have time to slow down, and read poetry.