15 Amazing Looking Back Pictures

The last 3 posts I published had more energy to them, I suppose, than what I had previously been trying.  I did that by taking a post I’d been editing and breaking it into three parts.  The anticipation for readers that there was more to come helped with the posts, I think.

Also, I used original photos for the posts, which are more interesting than stock photos, although I also enjoy selecting those, or photos saved from Google Images, if I want, in specific cases, to illustrate a film, for example.  Here I am going to show fifteen original photos with copy. I am also including a story I’ve written. If you find the post agreeable, you’re welcome to like it, to comment, or to follow.

My mother taking my arm at a family wedding.  It was the wedding of a sibling

I think my mother underestimates the satisfaction that I gain from my lifestyle.  I think in this photo she is feeling self-conscious because she knows she is being photographed and we are trying to look nice.  If she looks like regrets have occurred to her, and she didn’t say anything about it, I don’t know if that is what she was experiencing, if it is me that is causing remorse.

I remember looking through the shelves of the children’s section of the branch of the library where I most frequently got my books, as a kid.  That library isn’t there anymore.  As a child, I sometimes thought it would be great to grow up and be the kind of person that might write books and get them sent into libraries everywhere.

As it turned out, there is a lot of competition to be that kind of thing.  What I positively didn’t anticipate was the popularity of Internet in the nineteen nineties going forward into the future.

With the invention of social media in the early 2000s, and in particular the gold rush on ebooks in the 2010s on Twitter, there is no reason I couldn’t have turned my hand to trying that kind of thing.  Hindsight, as it’s said, is 20/20.

Today I renewed a five dollar donation to Wikipedia.  While five dollars doesn’t sound like a lot, if enoug readers do that kind of thing it can make a world of difference.  I felt good making the donation.

My father peering at the floor space that we intend to complete.  Concerns about the strength of the floor of the church, my dad Peter mostly single-handedly rolled back the interior, you might put it, and found himself challenged by the handiwork might best suit the building’s needs.  I’m meaning the church that for years maintained a congregation of the devout.

When we took on the operation at Maple Lawn Cemetery, my fathers seemed convinced that the building would fall in upon itself if we didn’t attempt repairs.  The church had disbanded in the year 2006.  While appearing nice from the outside, the building houses junk now, although it provides us with shelter when we are there in cold weather.

When I was in college, I learned the definition of the word amortization, costs incurred when necessities of a business go to seed.  This is certainly an instance of amortization.

Completing a calculation in the field of Louth United Church

The riding mower in the photo is the first we one we had, which lasted several years.  Although my dad is in the background, what I think he is doing, looking at the photo, is looking at his phone.  The sign behind him, next to the tree is the sign that once indicated that you are at Louth United Church.

That’s the name of our Facebook page, too, Louth United Church and Maple Lawn Cemetery.  You can see the vineyard across the way.  https://www.facebook.com/LouthUnited/

My dad does things like measuring the lengths of cemetery plots so that families that own adjacent plots of land in the cemetery get their fair measure among the graves that have already been laid.  I don’t know what occurred to him that I took this photo, but from the distance I am away from him, I think he must be checking his phone.  We aren’t heavy into the phone arena at Maple Lawn.  I do a lot of my social media and things of that nature on a desktop, decreasing functionality but also working with a fair handicap.

Many of the people I interact with on the Internet are elderly and sometimes lack some of the same insight I have into social media in 2021.  It is funny, as, in the 2000s, I wasn’t adequately trained to get the work I wanted, when even people who landed office seats thanks to their good looks had, perhaps, less understanding of getting the job done than I have in my own right.  Life isn’t fair in that regard.

I think of that when I consider my mother’s consternation for my lifestyle.  While I believe she would prefer that I work a straight job, I don’t know how to convince her that what I do is right for me.

From the inside, a look at a window as night comes to take the light

Once Dad and I handled an afternoon funeral that ran so long, that afterward, it was turning to night by the time we wrapped things up.  It was spooky.  Both Dad and I felt it.

Inside the church, where I’d never yet been after nightfall, and have not been since, I though to take a photo of one of the windows in the twilight.

This is a photo I edited, two photos actually, one a photo of the church and cemetery in the snow, in wintertime, and one a picture of the sign, inserted into the picture as a whole.  I thought it produced a neat visual effect.

A rowboat abandoned in the creek back behind the cemetery

My father pointed this out to me one day years ago.  Someone dragged a rowboat, I presume, into the creek at the bottom of the hill behind the cemetery.  I take it it was probably intended as landscape art, ingenius, I suppose, if laborious.

A book of photographs illustrating cemeteries

This was a Christmas gift from my mother several years ago.  I also have a calendar beneath it, in the photo, and an old photo of a girlfriend’s bedroom, which I held onto from when that girlfriend gave it to me.  You can see she was a creative soul.

Righting a headstone

More ingenuity, my father here has devised a contraption to get an old headstone upright.  He has a mind for invention.

The street where I live

I took this photo to illustrate where I live, along with a caption I inserted that is meant to be a little cheeky and a little funny.  I like how this photo turned out.

The interior of Louth United Church

Unfortunately, the interior of Louth United Church looks a little like this.  Our repairs have never been completed.  Occasionally I press my father for an idea of what will happen in the future, but he has never told me.

The strange globes of light in the air I can’t identify for certain, but I am not above the speculation that they could be informing the supernatural.

At home in my apartment, I took this selfie, which is blurry but not too bad, I don’t think.  I have a look of intensity on my face which I have seen on myself in other photos of me.

A selfie with a Batman cap

I am channelling my inner cartoonist, you might say.  This is a selfie which I coloured blue.  I have a dopey smile on my face, and I am holding my face with my hand.

I think my idea is that it is a “night” selfie.  That I am wearing the Batman insignia on my cap gave me the idea that I was in the act of being a creature of the night, like a vampire.

The Louth United Church sign after a car drove it.

We never found out who was responsible.  When I made it known on Facebook, a few voices of outrage sounded at once.  It was a lesson for me to watch the tone of what I project in a Facebook post.

We’ve never done the repair to the sign, so in a sense the damage became permanent.

My dad checking the lay-out of the cemetery

Dad here is looking for a specific grave, I think.  You can see the back of the church in the background of the photo.  That’s frost on the grass, if you didn’t know it is cold.

The colour tones of this photo have a pretty aesthetic to them, I think.

Digging a grave for a casket

If ever we need to dig a grave for a casket, my father rents a backho and handles the dig himself.  I was on hand this time, too, and decided to take a photo of the action, although with the glow of the sunlight on him, and the distance from the camera, the image of my dad is out of focus.

Photo by Monoar Rahman on StockSnap

Having put together here a sample of my photography, I thought I would go the extra mile and give you a draft of what my fiction can be like.  It is only part of the story but I do have a complete draft that I am a little unwilling to post for free in the event that I could actually make something of the story.  It is one of a few stories that I have written.

Having heard warnings but shaken them off, the main character refuses to heed the warnings and signs when they learn of the dark lord that steadily grows in power that seeks to consume all in their path.

Photo by Joshua Ness on StockSnap

“One for the books,” Jake Sullivan thought, “made the first bus for a change.”  The bus rolled toward him where he was waiting at the stop half a block up from where he lived, Jake feeling glad that he had made the effort to get downstairs and to align him in the path of showing up at the office.  He worked for Cryptodel, it was even kind of a choice job, in the sense that he did a lot of what he wanted and that there was a video game arcade around the corner among the magazine retailer and the laundromat.  Jake was in his twenties and had held the job as a designer for two years, since finishing college and beginning his career in computers.  Jake worked a lot, but that arcade grabbed his attention time and time again.  It got purely mesmerizing for Jake when he started to win at whatever particular game he was playing at the moment when he was in there.  Jake seldom put much distance between himself and computers, but he did like to forget about the hustle and frequently put himself in recreational visits to the arcade.  The escape kept him happy.

The game Jake liked to play at the moment was Vanish into thin air, and it scrolled horizontally and Jake could see he was among rocks and vines beneath an expansive sky.  He was jumping and running.  Blinking occasionally, as he coolly manipulated the game environment with the joystick, Jake suddenly saw in front of him an unusual-looking tree, gnarled and knotted, and as weird as anything else he was interacting with inside the game.

How do I make that vanish? Jake wondered as he came nearer.  The tree was odd because of its incongruency with the other plant growth in the game, Jake could tell from his experience in the simulated game environment.  There hadn’t been other trees looking like this one, and it indicated to him that this tree was likely special, being one of a kind and therefore significant.  Jake expected to find a treasure chest beneath it.  Suddenly the image of a hand appeared between him and the tree.  Jake was amused.

The hand clenched, forming a fist, and then pointed, and Jake was startled.  Instead of pointing at Jake’s avatar inside the game, the hand from the tree was pointing outward from the game to exactly where Jake was standing on the arcade floor, where he was comfortable and relaxed.  The techie who had drawn the hand had done it in the sweeping curves of vector graphics, to be a shape in the game that was clearly representing an organic hand.  How do I get inside the treasure chest? Jake wondered.

“Jump now,” Jake’s instincts told him, and his avatar rose into the air.  The hand of the enemy opened then, palm up, and snatched Jake from out of the air.  Jake thumped the game trying to get his alter-ego free, and it retreated, the vector-rendered 3D environment scrolling as Jake cheered mentally, his character free from its opponent’s grasp.

Jake blinked as his game icon steadied itself on the ground, only partially under his control, he felt.  Bonus round? thought Jake.  Light flashed about the video screen before Jake and it became visible what was opposing the character on the screen.  It was tall walls of stone and a single source of light in the air, a flame in the air, guiding forward to where the bony humanoid had retreated to and the focus of Jake’s concentration.  Jake began to proceed to the cave floor.  Was there a “boss” near indicating progress had been made in the level?  Friend or foe? Jake wondered.

Let’s make it foe, Jake reflected briefly, readying his high-power fireballs, levelled-up and sorcerous weaponry Jake had at his disposal.  He looked at how he would explore the cave, when suddenly an instinct occurred to him that he hadn’t previously known was coming.  What was that?  Briefly adjusting his consciousness as his gaze scanned momentarily the arcade, he saw the sunlight behind her in the door peaked like a shaded window, the game in front of him asking him to fight briefly lost to him.  He reevaluated what he was doing.  “I was ahead that round,” Jake lamented out loud.

A cell phone ringing.  A girl’s voice speaking cutting through the hubbub in the arcade.

Jake’s attention returned to the illumination of the game he favoured once more, asking him to play a reset round.  He didn’t quite feel like jumping back into it.  The girl he’d seen was on the phone.

“Spaceship,” Jake’s unconscious said to him.  Was that sight real?  Wait, he thought.

She was at the controls of a game twelve feet away, her attention completely intent, by all standards, on the game she wanted to play.  She knew videogame action.  There was something urgent about her intentions, something that clued to Jake that there was something different about this individual, something saying to him internally to pay attention.

The energy in the arcade was usually palpable, like a group of mostly aimless young men mulling about looking at games, sometimes with girlfriends among them, sometimes not.  Jake seldom took much of an interest in what the others were doing, anyway, and he always had to leave before too long to get back to Cryptodel.  This one was a little different.  It was obvious, anyway, that despite whoever she was on the phone with, she was by herself, in a game arcade.  The other factor Jake was aware of was how naturally controlling the game came to her.  He was impressed, taking an almost childish interest in her.

Jake’s attention was diverted and he thought of leaving the arcade.  An unusually pretty girl or not, he had work to do.  With only a shade of reluctance, he stepped away from the game and strode outside, where the sunlight illuminated his vision the way only afternoon sunlight does, when the day has begun to go and, work notwithstanding, ultimately evening will come and the day will resolve as it always days.

It was fifteen yards to the office building of Cryptodel, a two-storey building completely occupied by the computer vendor.  Inside Jake got on the lift and rose to the second floor, got out and walked down the hallway to the door to his office.  Inside it was quiet as always and still, unlike the bustle that he’d mostly ignored in the street outside.  He sat down at his desk, his computer blinking to life as he commanded it to boot.  Information signals silently bouncing back and forth in the computer, it became as alive as a tool like that does and he opened a browser, waiting to resume his work.  A notification window opened in the bottom right corner of the monitor for the computer and his attention briefly turned to that, as it was an odd message that reminded him, a touch, of the game he’d been enjoying playing.

“If you can get to your loved ones, it is highly advisable to take measures as though under a state of emergency.”  A photograph of the heavens above was invisible with the odd message, where among the blue and white a NASA-looking vessel appeared to be kind of hanging in orbit, an irregularly oblong design with pyramid-shaped wings extended at either side of it.

“There’s… a spaceship?  In the sky?” Jake looked more astutely at the computer notification, talking out loud to himself.

He opened his computer telephone software and selected Leo as the recipient, his friend.  Six rings and the call was diverted to message-recording.  “Stay safe, bro,” Jake said.  “I’m in the office but I’ll call you back.”

Another quick call out and he got his wonderful girlfriend, Rosalie.  “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

Rosalie was beautiful.  Whenever he was near her, he felt inspired in a way different than working for Cryptodel inspired him.  Rosalie was brunette, buxom and tasteful.  She had more than her share of tech insight, which Jake loved about her, and her brown eyes when she looked at him spoke to him on the level of being soulful.  He really was in love with her.  They got along great with each other and when Rosalie spoke to him, he felt a rush that was better than just about anything else he had going on for him.  He enjoyed his work, it was true, and he put in a lot of hours at it, but the time he had to be with her when the two of them were free and together, was some of the best times of his life.  He felt like she was a very good part of his life.

“You know what’s happening?”  Like Leo’s, it was voicemail.  Jake wondered where’d she got to.

“This can’t be for real,” Jake said.

Outside in the street running past the Cryptodel office, the day was oddly quiet.  Even the arcade, where often a pack of kids would be hanging out given the chance to play some choice videogames, was mostly quiet.  Jake wasn’t aware of the locale any longer, but the girl coming out this minute might have continued to interest him, dedication to Rosalie or not.  She was staring at her phone.  Somebody had linked her into the news broadcast.

Another invasion… she was idly aware.  If she’d cared more, she probably wouldn’t be alone.  Ezezzud, the newcomer to Earth said his planet’s name was.  Sounded grim.  She needed something and she didn’t know what.  Bicycling away, she felt oddly mixed up, as though something had intersected with her and she hadn’t bothered to notice.  It wasn’t this business with the interplanetary visitor.  Something in her instincts was talking to her.  What was it saying?

Components, she decided.  That’s what she had coming to her, fingers crossed.  Might as well give it a go, she was thinking.  You never knew what to expect.

Suddenly a male voice filled the air.  “Sullivan,” said the voice.  Was it from the computer?

“I am riding a Variable Atmospheric Light Bomber, with effectiveness so complex that experimentation is required to fulfill its capabilities.  Your planet, Earth, will be at the mercy of a rapid assault of high-intensity if you refuse to assemble the hardware I need.  I assure you this will be of relatively minimal trouble to you if you agree to cooperate with my wishes.  The alternative is death for you and for every species of organism on this planet.”

Jake was emotionally and intellectually stunned by the threat he was hearing, and in Jake’s life he rarely gave up without a fight.  “What is this all about?” he managed to ask.

“It is in your hands, Sullivan,” intoned the voice.  It continued.  “To bring to me what I need.  You are in a rather unique position, among your kind, to have access to a very specific facility, that will give me back comprehensive control over my ship–and return to me the power to return home.  If you want your planet to continue to exist, you must bring me the computer function you know as Hound Rippersnapper,” the voice finished, not without an impact.

In this case, the impact was the sound of rapid car-honking from down in the street, not an unusual sound.  Hound Rippersnapper, Jake reflected.  That’s April’s AR design.  Cryptodel had at least a few advances in progress when it came to consumer computing.  April was another programmer working at Cryptodel.  As with any female in a male-dominated profession, April had to work hard to compete with the boys, and she did.  She always went the extra mile at all times to make sure her work was as good as anything that her co-workers were doing.  Hound Rippersnapper was her concept for an augmented-reality framework whose main facility was to be on top of an organization scheme for office environments which permitted layers of data to be explored and accessed through an AR infrastructure making working with data much more pliable than the functional apps that were more typical of what the Cryptodel bunch were working with.  What would an alien creature want with something as relatively mundane as that?  It must believe Hound Rippersnapper would give it restored power to the bomber spacecraft.

“What will you do with that?” Jake asked.

“I will use it to forward-drive, Jake,” the voice said.  “To leave your skies and return to my own galaxy.  Otherwise, there will be…” A pause permitted Jake’s attention to shift.  “…Consequences.”

“No more than a half-hour, Neal, I mean it.”  Something was occurring to Jake that made him think of more down-to-earth business than the conversation he was having with this… –alien monster?  Was this for real?

“Just band me for a half-hour of access to her lab and I’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“There is no need for threats,” Jake said out loud, suddenly subdued.  “I can get you Hound Rippersnapper.  It’s still in the test stages, you understand.  A brilliant design.  Let me just get April on the phone and maybe I can explain to her what I need, putting Hound Rippersnapper into your hands.  If that’s what you want…” Jake finished up by saying.

“With that strategy, I anticipate resistance,” said Degub.

“What?  Resistance?  No, April will understand.  I know her.”

“You must do things a different way.”

“A different way?  I can’t just stroll into April’s workstation, and put Hound Rippersnapper in my pocket and walk out.  I need her sign-off.”

“There will be no sign-off,” said Degub.  “You must act as catpurse in this matter.  You must steal Hound Rippersnapper for me and bring it here for me to recoordinate.”

“Recoordinate?  Okay, I’ll just get a key pass from our security office and go in quietly and get it.  I can do that.”  The offices at Cryptodel were protected by remote security officers who could look in to see when and where doors were unlocked and by who.

“Good,” Degub intoned.  “Don’t let me down, Sullivan.  The fate of your planet is on your shoulders.”

“I thought that’s what that was,” Jake quipped.  “Let me get somebody from our security team.  Don’t worry about a thing.  And please, try not to detonate any bombs in our solar system.  You’ll have an army of government if I know a thing or two about bureaucracy.  It just won’t be pretty.”

“Get me Hound Rippersnapper,” Degub said.

Under the circumstances–Degub claiming he would spare Planet Earth in exchange for Hound Rippersnapper–Jake was starting to feel worked up.  It wasn’t that different from playing Bomber in the arcade, he told himself.  Degub had been persuasive, though.  It wasn’t just the threat of complete planetary destruction that had Jake worried, it was the fact that Jake personally was chosen to take care of this.

In another neighbourhood in the city, in Phat City Café, a certain arcadehead sat and ate her soup.  There was something different than what she normally felt playing at the arcade.  She couldn’t quite put her finger on it…

On the phone with Cryptodel’s security agency, Jake got a person in no time.  That’s what they paid them for.  It was Neal, who Jake didn’t know personally but understood the protocols established to keep Cryptodel’s offices secure.

“Neal, how are you?” Jake asked.  “Keeping tabs?”

“Well, yes, Jake.  Everything all right?”

“Yes and no, Neal, yes and no.  It’s April, Neal.  She asked me to grab something from her station.”

“Let me just call there and see if anyone answers.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure she’s there.  She just asked me if I would come by and get what she needs.”

“Let’s see, Jake, I’ll just give her a ring.”  Jake could tell Neal wasn’t aware of the situation.

“To tell you the truth, Neal, I was kind of hoping to surprise her.  I didn’t want to come back here but something occurred to me that I can put with her pet project that might just sell it to upper management and make it a go.”

“Really?” Neal crowed.  “Upper management.  Now, what do you know?”

Neal must like her, Jake thought.  “It sure would help her out, Neal, and you know she could use a home team advantage.  Budgeting, you know.”

“Well, I know, Jake, but I”m not really sure…  I mean, I haven’t had any advance warning that April was even making a pitch.  It’s not like she’s said anything.”

“Well, she is and she has, Neal, to me.  It isn’t nice being turned down when your heart’s in it, eh, Neal?  And you know, if I could work some magic, it could make a real impact on her future here at Cryptodel.”

“I always did like that April,” Neal said.  “Sure would be nice if she was planning on sticking around.”

“She is real nice, I know, Neal.  Just think about it.  I mean, I just need the key pass to her lab and if I could get in there…  Well, then, who knows what the future might hold?  I could drop a friendly remark.”

“Well, tell you what, Jake, why don’t I just put a time-sensitive access code on your key pass that will band into her security lock.   You can get in and out of there as long as the access code is active.  How much you think you’ll be up there?”

“No more than a half-hour, Neal, I mean it.  Just band me for a half-hour of access to her station and I’ll be out of here again before you know it.”

“I always did like that April,” said Neal.  “Sure, I can do this for you, Jake, just give me your membership ID for your keycard and I’ll put on an access code override.”

“I appreciate it,” Jake said, “I appreciate it more than you know.”

Diagnostics for Jake’s keycard complete, it was now authorized for an hour of access to April’s lab, having the understanding, between Jake and Neal, that Jake was doing April a favour for the company.

Keycard ready, Jake made his way to the lift which would take him up to where the engineering staff at Cryptodel had their workstations.  Jake was counting on access to Hound Rippersnapper.

The software was at the other end of the floor, in April’s station, he reflected.  Making his way to her door, Jake swiped his card for access and the door to her station opened.

In Cryptodel, the laboratories, which number two, were secured with excellent keycard technology.  Both “operators” of the keycard system had specific accesses to different parts of the building, and as April was the other senior technician at Cryptodel she had private access to her station, which meant that Jake was not supposed to be there at all.  He tried not to think that Planet Earth could be on the verge of major trouble, but that seemed to be the case and if he wanted to avert the threat of destruction, he needed to get in April’s lab and get Hound Rippersnapper.

He tried a knock in case April was there.  The resulting silence told him she was not.  “Spacecraft troubles,” Jake said to himself, not wondering if Degub was listening.  “I’m going in there.”

Inside April’s work quarters, the room was neat and clean, around the perimeter of which were a number of computer components and, apart from those, sink, door to the bathroom, and desk.  Hound Rippersnapper was the name of the design April had come up with the end result in mind of providing a comprehensive VR organizational structure for office managers to better structure their employees.  Jake knew April was ambitious, and that she was working so hard on this project to climb the corporate ladder at Cryptodel.  Jake didn’t envy the hard work she did for the company, but frequently had lunch with her at Phat City and found her charming.  She was also well-liked at Cryptodel.

Her Hound Rippersnapper was the VR facsimile of a spreadsheet or a database, depending on what application you required.  Jake knew from past conversations with April that the beta version was finished.  And he knew from what Degub had instructed him that he needed to take Hound Rippersnapper, as it were, to the stars.

The heroine mistakenly burns the evidence, believing it to be the forgery.

Looking around the lab, Jake could see which was the master of the systems working there and he sat down on the chair at her desk, where April sat to do her most focused of work.  “I got to make this quick,” Jake said.  He logged in.  An outpouring of letters and numbers ran across the monitor that was central to April’s station.  Jake himself was really quite a good programmer, and he knew a little about circumventing digital security, in addition to busting ass at the arcade where’d been playing earlier.

If his presence in April’s computer was detected, Jake could get into trouble.  It was a possibility Jake would get caught, but there was a chance he wouldn’t.  He was hoping for the latter eventuality.

Jake was thinking solely about what he had to do.  He manipulated April’s computer files with relative ease, understanding intuitively what to do, as he knew April was as good a programmer as he was, although he didn’t like to admit it.  He needed to transfer Hound Rippersnapper to a flashdrive, so that he could provide it to the alien for its spacecraft, and optimistically, spare the Earth from Degub’s threat of destruction.  Hound Rippersnapper began to write to the flash drive in the node, and Jake tried to relax as he grappled mentally with the severity of the objective he was undertaking.

Photo by Matt Bango on StockSnap

Taking Steps to Infuse Life With The Ingredient of Maturity

The self-awareness in my life I am fortunate to have lends itself to taking a neutral stance. Self-awareness is one of the primary characteristics of someone acting maturely.

Years ago, in the late 2000s, when I was thirty-ish, I heard a public speaker who was talking about someone I took to be the famous philosopher of relationships, writer John Gray. The man proposing Gray’s books appeared certain about his suggestion.

Not too long before, a lady had given me Gray’s blockbuster, Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. If you’re sensitive, you’ll have experienced coincidences of that same sum and substance. I chose to peruse Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, and I enjoyed it enough to get intrigued to discover what else Gray had said in his books.

Photographer: Stephen Rahn

At our library, I found Gray’s very first book, which is What You Feel, You Can Heal. I read what Gray wrote about surviving homelessness when he was in the springtime of life. He talked with individuals he met en route, asking himself what was genuinely upsetting these individuals. Gray evidently thought he might be able to light the way for those struggling.

Gray thought of life experiences that he felt are universally true. He wrote, in What You Feel, You Can Heal, that when people reach their mid-thirties, it is time for them to get down to raising a dependent, whether an animal, or a person. And at the age of 42, individuals are ready to experience what it’s like to be in a community, people together forging more than the sum of their parts.

I was reading my favourite blog last night, the title Beauty Beyond Bones, and I saw she wrote she was just so tired of men who wouldn’t grow up. It didn’t sound like she was having the most splendid time at the moment.

As she is confident in saying, God is good. Beauty Beyond Bones can be found here: https://beautybeyondbones.com/

She is also a Patreon creator. Look here: https://beautybeyondbones.com/support-bbb-on-patreon/

I like reading her blog on a Monday or a Thursday evening. She also does a Wednesday evening post, where she shares recipes, but I’m not such a talented kitchen hand.

Incongruously, I’ve got an interest in Star Wars. I like cinema, I think Star Wars is absorbing, but it crossed my mind that it might not be the kind of priority that’s too impressive for someone of my level. I’m evaluating how mature I am.

I’ve tweeted a few times about Disney. I enjoyed most aspects of the task–my dear mother reading my thoughts on the Star Wars movies, told me I must be an expert! Thanks for that.

On the subject of Beauty Beyond Bones, last night that blog cast back what it’s like going into the 2020s. The author’s a beautiful young lady. Her blog has many thousands of subscribers, and of course, she doesn’t need to be concerned unduly with undeserving men.

I like reading her because she’s Catholic, and she lives in the Big Apple, and she has charm. She’s a great blogger.

There are changes I would like to make about myself, in light of the number of years I’m racking up, but I do need a strategy to get there (somewhere better than here, ostensibly). I like some of the YouTube videos about motivation or strategies to make life improvements.

Photo: Jonas Svidras @ STEP.CAMERA

You’re welcome to like, to follow and or/to comment on this post. Do take care, and may there be happy tidings.

I am grateful to the Beauty Beyond Bones blog, for its inspiration. It’s Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.

Why Looking Backward at 2019 is Worse than a Bad Valentine

I wrote this three months ago, the beginning of the winter that changed lives around the world. I realize that despite my intention to offer kind wishes, nobody got what they wanted when the last month became unprecedented in history.

I didn’t factor into the equation how long we would be at the same task. Speaking in terms of temperature forecasts, some days were more tolerable than others.

Today the Canadian provinces of Quebec and Ontario ordered all non-essential businesses closed. They had already begun reacting to the new restrictions. When I raised the point with my dad the last couple of times we spoke together, he said that a cemetery is considered an essential service.

Photographer:
Elliott Chau

My dad has a business and we have an agreement that I will do some work for the cemetery which the business operates. The agreement is becoming strained, of course, because of the recession.

My mom asked me quietly why I seem disinterested. I wasn’t sure how to emphasize sympathy was the issue, given that the present events around the world are tragic and discouraging.

I decided to update this because that was kind of one winter I might be happy to put behind me. Seeing a copy of TROS was nice, though.

A week or so after a lovely Christmas rest and a pleasant New Year’s Day, we finished last year rather indignantly when a brushfire spread to one of our trees, a fire which we had to extinguish.

    My mother turned seventy years old in December.  She has been enormous for me, obviously, beyond what I can succinctly talk. She said she was pleased when she saw for herself this post.

    I remember when Mom was asking me as Christmas approached what Christmas TV programming I might get to see, and she reminded me that a lot of the network TV shows are having their mid-season hiatus.  It’s sort of in their absence, especially, that the network shows feel relevant and add heaps of joy to the calendar year.

   I don’t have the foggiest idea whether you have a sentiment for January, or if nothing else be alongside associates with who you can explore the winter month of January.  I know from the weight of popular interest in romance, and relationships, that there is something intrinsically human and good about the romance of winter.

Seeing the tree that had been alight

    While I’m a Canadian, I live in the southern ranges, where lake impact temperatures are generally sensible, while keeping you inside a greater amount of the time than you may somehow prefer to spend. Some people have that flair to form a unit that stops a problem, and sometimes, even if it is as routine as waiting for the cast of, for example, The Bachelor, to reconvene.

    I risk appearing to be dismal if I reflect what getting in some Bachelor may accomplish for me.

    It could prove, by the fact that I help at a cemetery, that being morose lives for me in a heart of darkness, but tempering that with an appetite for uplifting and curious experiences, you have in me, not a pack animal nor a reptile, but, I feel, an effusive human being, making a sound perceptible in its absence.

No Perceptible Difference By Its Presence or Absence – Aristotle

You don’t have a clue what you have until it’s gone, maybe, but I don’t know now that our certainties for the future have been upset what to expect entirely, nor, I take it, does anybody. Remember that prayer often provides relief.

Welcoming #spring at the cemetery

Maple Lawn Cemetery

I enjoy the odd book bringing up self-management.  I look at ideas of that kind on Publishous.  I was pleased to see Publishous’ newsletter today, published yesterday, highlighting the spring season now that March is here.

Publishous readers are evaluating what they are doing in the month of March.  For my cemetery job, we will tend to the grounds soon, by collecting fallen tree limbs and wrapping up the majority of our activities inside the church, which is where we make our efforts in winter.

I’m not aiming to write for Medium, but I like the specific design of the Publishous newsletter.  I am turning forty-two this month, and I am thinking about Lent and Catholic worship.  Years ago, in the 2000s, I read the first book by the American writer and pop psychologist, the Women are from Mars, Men are from Venus author John Gray.

It is, in Gray’s estimation, a sequence of the seven years of one’s life, between the ages of forty-two and forty-nine, that one sees in his life the influence of community upon him.

I don’t think there are many guarantees in life, but we have, as the next seven years begin, the outlook of keeping organized a little cemetery.

Louth United Church

The work I do, the most distinctive work I do, is to help a small cemetery and to do odd jobs around the church that is on the property.  I am also an SMM–I do a blog which I connect now and then to the work I carry out on the cemetery grounds.  This is the site you’re on.

I am also curious about the group of bloggers which who explore “tea parties” that assemble participants into thinking about what the hostess of the tea parties has suggested for the month of March.  You can find the tea party hostess’ site at https://www.thelittlemermaid.site/

You’re welcome to like, comment, and/or follow, if you are interested in what’s going on.

We’re on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/LouthUnited and posts include photos and links to articles which could be of interest.  It is a small page, but the people are good.  The tone of the feedback I receive from people following the page helps me decide what will be well-received and what won’t (what to avoid).  All of this I practice as a skill set.

I updated the profile picture for the cemetery on Facebook August 1 and I enjoy curating content for the page. We will continue with as much aplomb as we can muster going into the future from here. All the best to you, and have a safe and spooky fall.

Prayer can be an effective remedy for what ails you.

Mermaid’s February 2019 WordPress Tea Party

The very courteous Little Mermaid returns, for another tea party. Her theme, this month, is making confessions. The tell I want to bring, to the party, is how roadblocked, I’ve been, by Zork.

I know I am in a sense very old. Have you played Zork? It’s a game where you explore a dungeon and combat monsters.

Your commands for playing Zork typically consist of two words apiece, often a verb and a noun, short and sweet.  It commands hours of your time if you are among the dedicated.

Did you run Java? It once boasted a solid three billion devices did. I’d sit, sometimes, on the main page of a Java site, to read chat remarks.


Photographer:
Elliott Chau

In college, a savvy young woman from Scarborough got to know me a little. Her name was Julie, and she was a singer. I’m sure she knew nothing about Zork.

All the same, Julie was outright a rock star on Livejournal. Her email was routed by beer.com, appropriately fashionable for that subculture.

When she wrote, ”it’s called myspace, and there are millions of brilliant people,” I was taken aback. I’d played Zork, in a retro edition. Facing the myspace site, I had a silent question.

“How do I move to the next room?” It was weird. Years later, Christmas, 2016, my very smart nephew referred to that, nonsense in the distant past.

I remember, because of Rogue One, a Star Wars Story. About IRC, “Justacrap,” my brother’s boy pronounced with scorn. Discounting me?

For wasting time with websites? Can you believe that? Sure, I made friends one way or another, but those people are now gone.

It wasn’t the sum of my activities, I guess. Truth be told, I was rotten at Zork, too.

The tea parties are great. You can find that blog here: https://thelittlemermaid09.wordpress.com

How Struggles Can Make You Sick

Abandoned supermarket cart

Too much stress, “bad” stress, can weaken you, deplete your resources and waste scarce time if you are not dealing with your lifestyle well.  Everybody endures stress.

 

Getting older, I believe that lifestyles of Generation Z are significantly common, but I am from a small town.  It is important to obey the Biblical commandment, to honor thy mother and father.  As the father did before you, if you are of a certain age, you too need to heed that you are following appropriately in his steps.

 

That being said, there is lightness.  I think with a touch of envy of the comparative ease of the generation of young people often collectively referred to as Generation Z.  That doesn’t mean that I can compete with the energy of the young and of the attitudes which characterize them, different than for someone my age.

 

Someone like me, I feel, is part of a culture that values stress, that putting a great deal of work into a lifetime is a necessity.  There’s nothing wrong with that.

 

Abandoned supermarket cart
Shopping cart

However, it means fulltime people endure an enormous amount of stress.  The more hours of work we take on, to make ends meet, the more stress we cope with.

 

I believe stress can easily bend one to its will rather than the other way round.  It is all very hard to manage.

 

In the film sequence preceding the climax of the 1978 feature film Superman, Lex Luthor conquers Superman with a chain of Kryptonite, until Superman makes a personal promise to Luthor’s beautiful assistant in order that she remove the powerful amulet–but a promise that puts at risk the woman who has his heart, Lois Lane.  All in all, it is an excellent film.

 

What I did, in my life, is an irregular passage through the years.  In 2008 when my employer closed its doors, I went on to work a part-time job while reflecting on what to do with my future  Then I went full time on government disability, as it was felt that I’d been “compromised” enough to give up on making a living through the avenue of work.

 

I had been reading some books on self-management and I didn’t think the stress of a new workplace was going to benefit me enough to do it.

 

A few years later, my father, perhaps frustrated by my reluctance, had an idea.  He was retiring from many years with a municipal cemetery, where he’d helped manage it from its offices.

 

A small cemetery in our town was searching for new operators.  It attracted him, and the trustees of that property were pleased to turn it over to him, so that he could direct it, pleased to have a focus in his retirement.

 

To my surprise, my dad invited me to help handle the operation of the cemetery.  We commenced in 2011.  The church at the cemetery, formerly of the United Church of Canada, had disbanded in 2006.

 

Headstones under repair
Important headstones of family generations in Maple Lawn Cemetery

We maintain the property ourselves, and work in the interior of the church in dire weather, setting our sights on attending to the cemetery once a week.  We made a not-for-profit out of it.  While I am junior, and there is no certainty how matters will proceed, in the seven years or so, lucky seven, that we’ve handled the cemetery, it has been a luxury of time and experience for me and an opportunity to enjoy the company of my father in his golden years.

 

We have had outside help from brothers of my father, my uncles.   On a few brief occasions we have talked about growth, but I don’t know if I can turn this venture into something in which I can continue in the long-term.  This post is intended to be expository writing, but working for a not-for-profit, when financial gains are generally hard-won, can lead to burnout, and to a minor degree that is what I am experiencing.

 

You see, I contribute several hours a week of work to the cemetery, and as my dad has spoken reassuringly of the flexibility to set our own hours, I have lately started to reduce my workload to a four-day week rather than a five-day.

 

I can’t help, for example, but want to relax on Saturday.  I think the decision to work less on Fridays is somewhat deleterious in that if you want to get ahead, you should probably be hustling with the same energy on a Friday that you do on a Monday.

 

I couldn’t help, in the past several weeks, to admit that the stress of putting nonprofit work at the center of my life, was making me feel a touch sick, by which I mean I was experiencing burnout.  I am sure this is common.

 

Dimensions: 5456 x 3632
Photographer: Ylanite Koppens

Whether this transition, to four days of focus on the cemetery rather than on each and every business day, will contribute to a soul-searching decision by my dad to relieve me of my work, I don’t know.  I think what will determine my chances of staying on are the quality of work I can produce in the time I devote to the not-for-profit.

 

How this has me feeling, perhaps, “sick,” is that I do care about working and I do feel some prestige enjoying the privilege of doing work that is shaped by our own efforts.  This is in contrast to working for a firm that is structured in predictable ways, with employee equity and positions and demands which could easily contribute to a high-stress load.

 

I am taking this risk because I believe I can do better work if I make strategies to cope with the burnout before there are related consequences.  I am counting on my own experience and abilities to do the same quality of work in a four-day structure than I would be getting done by committing the entirety of the work week to headway and progress.

 

I am sick to think of losing what I have worked for, and I am sick to think of bringing shame onto my father if the quality of my work does suffer because I am having trouble being afield of all that we do.  I feel like I should write something about feeling troubled by what I have to do to manage my role as operator, and maybe even think on how I could express an appropriate apology for how I am feeling.

 

Writing is the act of discovery. – Natalie Goldberg

 

Dimensions: 4635 x 3090
Photographer: Freestocks.org

If my father does finally decide, which I know he won’t do lightly, that I should be dismissed, it will be a sad day and for that, I will pay a price, of having the failure on my shoulders.  If that scenario comes to pass I will take time to mend.  It may be a self-centered attitude, but the best that can be done in the face of failure is to learn from what happened.

 

Everyone has experienced failure, and usually many, many times, sometimes with adverse consequences.

 

If you have never failed, you have stayed well inside your comfort zone.  Life needs to change and grow.

 

If my role in the not-for-profit does end in failure, I will at least have work experience.  I think I can draw on the time spent at this to draw conclusions that will inform my life in the future.  The situation that I think could result, however, is not going to be completely ideal.

 

It will be back to being “sick,” resorting to making ends meet with the help of a pension for disability, and with the support of my mom and dad.  Ain’t no one got time for that.  I will have then have the opportunity to look for a job if I feel I can weather the stress, or return to freelancing and try to find my niche doing that.

 

Dimensions: 2500 x 1995
Photographer: Rawpixel.com

Many members of Generation Z work as freelancers in the digital economy, and I would be competing with all of those people, which is daunting.  That being said, there are a few paths ahead for me to take and I will have to ask for guidance from fate and the intentions of The Lord.  I know I shouldn’t emphasize feeling sick about all this and I know I shouldn’t take on a job post that gives me more additional stress than I can handle.

 

For now, I will bide my time–for as much clarity as I can muster.

 

You are welcome to like, follow, and/or comment if you have feedback.  Lately, the blog has been fairly quiet, in terms of visits it receives, but you never know when some I’ve published here will pique the interest of a reader.

 

I appreciate the time of those who are visitors.  I have been tying my blog to the not-for-profit, and also trying to be jovial as I know it is as yet an amateur effort.  I feel blogging will continue to play a role in the time I have to write, as it is a splendid little spot of fun that has a pragmatic purpose.

Verbal Confirmation: Assigning a Speech Label

For a long time WordPress hosted The Daily Post, a prompt to help WordPress users get something published. The Oct 1, 2014 Daily Post, Verbal confirmation, can be explained by delineating what you’re saying, showing the precise position of (a fringe or limit).
I do a little work for my father at a small cemetery, in our care.  https://www.facebook.com/LouthUnited
We have a ledger outlining in orderly fashion who rests where, in the cemetery. Maple Lawn Cemetery delineates other aspects of my life. I like to delineate. Social media delineates people, in the sense of them characterizing qualities they have.
https://help.twitter.com/en/using-twitter/twitter-lists
When I feel like going on Twitter, I typically take a half hour of time, and I glance over what people have been tweeting. The different declarations of this and that is lively, and remarkable. When someone tweets a great recommendation of an article, it is good fun.
There is more in life that you can delineate. Compartmentalizing tasks on an ongoing basis is delineation. You can change from one objective to another, by delineating each objective.
I don’t play cards, but another instance where you can delineate is a hand of Solitaire. If you play Solitaire, you know you delineate a deck of cards into piles. The challenge of the game, I imagine, is how chance itself rules the game.

Linus
Peanuts

“To be observed, a response must affect the environment — it must have an effect upon an observer or upon an instrument which in turn can affect an observer.”– Skinner, B. F. (1969). Contingencies of Reinforcement: A Theoretical Analysis
Points of interest in a travel situation can be delineated. When somewhere new or far from home, you can explore a little, and many do, by delineating spots you can go. In January of 1991, my parents took me and my brother and sister to Florida, driving from here to Orlando. 1,952 km · Moderate traffic · 22 hr 34 min
With only a little time and energy, you can enjoy the sights and sounds having delineated what is near to you. To many people, that is rewarding, and you will have stories to tell back home. I would like to feel that the verb to delineate characterizes me.

Both productivity and efficiency interest me. Every Monday morning I try to spend an hour on YouTube, watching videos, to motivate myself. Ironically, I don’t place a lot of importance on spending time in full force, or with efficacy, and that kind of thing. I just like to think about it! I like to delineate.
Thought and action may well be the name of the game for delineation. That is why I choose, as my favorite verb, to delineate.

April 7, 2019 #WorldHealthDay