Mack Ames Books and Maine Moose Patrol

https://html5-player.libsyn.com/embed/episode/id/21680738/height/90/theme/custom/thumbnail/yes/direction/forward/render-playlist/no/custom-color/000000/

https://marvinrose.libsyn.com/website

There’s a young man on Instagram who’s from Germany but is living in London, or he was when I encountered him on the social media platform. I was looking for suggestions on how to become physically fit, and was suddenly inundated with reel after pose after real of men and women working out in as little clothing as possible without being banned. Suddenly, there was a reel of a shirtless man playing the piano. @vmrose, Marvin Rose, the pianist of the podcast I hope you are listening to now. Reels are short, so the music was a teaser, and I had to click to hear more.

The more I clicked, the more frustrated I became, because nothing was lengthy enough to enjoy fully the skills of this performer, sometimes shirtless, sometimes not (his other IG account is @idontfindmyshirt). I finally discovered his YouTube account, where I saw the link to his podcasts. I’ve listened to all of them multiple times, but none as many as the January 2022.

He is an attentive Instagrammer; when I’ve commented on his posts he’s responded. On one recent occasion he defended himself against a rude (crude, really) comment from a ‘fan’, and I sent him supportive messages, which he expressed appreciation for. Amateurs in the public square, no less than professionals, do not deserve to be treated crassly.

I love his music. He posted one video of a ‘day in the life of’ that was amusing to me because it showed that he is apparently completely unable to cook, and people that have followed his account for the last several years already know that about him. He proved it in the video. It was sad and funny simultaneously.

He’s not a Christian as far as I can ascertain, but his music skill is amazing. If you like piano, then I recommend that you listen to Marvin Rose. He composes his own music to lead into and out of cover songs on many of his podcasts, but if you want to hear a piece that’s all his own, then choose the January 2022 podcast. Delicate one moment and powerful the next, his music comforts my hurts and inspires my creativity.

January 12 is Dad’s birthday. Had he remained on Earth, he would have been 89 years old today, but last April, he left this mortal coil, shed his earthly troubles, and entered glory. Psalm 116:15 tells us that “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” I’m glad for that, because it means that Dad did not slip from his Savior’s notice as he lay dying. No, Dad was in his heavenly Father’s control, carried by the Holy Spirit from this life to the next, from the land infected by sin to see Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of his faith, face-to-face.

Today, we who loved him–his widow, his brother and sister-in-law, his other adult relatives, and his children and their spouses, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, plus hundreds of friends, acquaintances, former students, and pretty much anyone that ever met him–have another reminder of his absence from us. With that reminder of absence we have a choice to make: Wallow in our sorrow, or grieve a little as befits us, and then recall with joy what made us love him.

We loved Dad, and he loved us. As one of his children, I speak with authority of the love my siblings and I had for him. We miss him. As I have said on these pages before, grief has no timetable, a truth we learned when Mum died 35 years ago. There are nearly constant reminders for us of the man God sent to raise us, and even as we acknowledge that he wasn’t perfect in all his ways, neither are we. Ultimately, Dad provided us a biblical example of fatherhood to follow.

So, today, January 12, 2022, I sang “Happy Birthday” to Dad on my way to work. I used to call him on the phone and sing to him. He’d laugh and thank me. He often called me on my birthday. For several years I kept a recording of his singing Happy Birthday to me that he left as a voicemail, even as I changed from one cell phone to another. Then, inexplicably, it got deleted. No matter. I have his voice in my heart, just as his love remains there.

Truly, though, today is Dad’s FIRST birthday in heaven, not that such things matter there. Time has no impact there. He has no thought of me or anyone else he left behind; his thoughts are consumed by worshiping his risen Savior! I envy him. No more weakness, no more illness, nor pain, nor strife, nor sin of any kind or its effects; he is not tempted by anything. He simply glorifies God, which was Dad’s greatest desire in this life. Oh, may I aspire to be like him!

Happy birthday, Dad! I miss you, and I love you!

Bill

Say Anything assignment, Week Three, Dr. Melissa Crowe, Introduction to Creative Writing.
September 22, 2013

Tortuous Delight

Simple pleasures of glorious creation,

Childish giggles and delight.

Ambling articulation

Methodical, pausing, selecting,

Purposeful and intentional,

Bogged, paralyzed, flogged, beaten,

Train derailed.

Amusement garbled, happiness mutilated.

Ramblings expand, frustration explodes,

Grasping, plotting, scheming, grabbing,

Unraveling, chaotic climax!

Inspiration resurrected, confusion forgiven

Excursion resumed, deliverance,

Mission accomplished.

Taking Measurement

Glass half empty

Faded paint

Water leaks

Broken sheetrock

Dripping faucet

Stained carpet

Graying linoleum

Peeling trim boards

Flooding basement

Failed electricity

Endless junk

Overabundant toys

Limited storage

Tuneless piano

Addled computer

Childhood mayhem

Adulthood doldrums

Overdue bills

Curtainless windows

Aging automobiles

Persistent mess

Developing children

Loving wife

Faithful friends

Supportive Barbershop chorus

Promising work

Bountiful blessings

Glass half full

 

Bill MacDonald, 9/1/13, for Melissa Crowe, Introduction to Creative Writing

(Week Two assignment for Dr. Melissa Crowe, Intro to Creative Writing. 9/14/13.)

The first time I saw someone dying,

Gone long before the end.

I knew the day had come.

Your eyes, once twinkled at a private joke or scolded when I pushed too far,

unseeing.

Your mouth, that taught me to sing and kissed away my tears,

silenced.

Your curls, the tiny reward from your first fight with this dread disease,

Unfurled and limp, stuck to your head in feverish sweat.

The calming scent of your perfume

replaced by the stench of disease.

Your arms and hands that nursed, held, and comforted me,

unfeeling and unmoving.

Your body rattled with each breath, eons passing between them.

I gently hugged your fragile shoulders and kissed your forehead;

“I love you, Mum.” I knew your love, too.

Death came for you that night.

Bill MacDonald

9/14/13

I was talking to a colleague recently about friendships. He and I agreed that our interactions with one another and with other coworkers constituted the majority or entirety of our social interactions that we would categorize as ‘friendships.’ At least, mine did until about six months ago. That’s when one of my friends left for another job, and his absence has been a keen reminder that like-interested people can be a boon in life, and the lack of such can drain energy from life.

Nate and I weren’t of hugely similar interests, really. He is an outdoorsman through-and-through. He plays ice hockey, goes skiing and snowboarding, hiking, mountain climbing, and works as a carpenter when he’s not teaching. But he is kind-hearted, gracious, laid-back, a good listener, funny, and innovative in the classroom. His enthusiasm for the learner is contagious, and his empathy for the hurting is commendable. I thoroughly enjoyed working with Nate, and I totally miss him. We stay in touch on social media, but it’s not the same as seeing him every day and getting to collaborate with him in education processes.

As Matt and I talked about friends and friendships, he commented that all of his social network is at work. He fills his emotional cup there and then goes home to meet the emotional needs of his family. I did that for a long time, but recently, I’ve been keen to reach out (and be reached out to, in some sense) to connect with people beyond the workplace.

Something that has always struck me is that with two brief exceptions, our church has lacked members in my age group for most of the 50+ years I’ve been a member there. The first exception was during my junior high and high school years, when there were a half-dozen or so other kids my age. The second exception was in the last decade, when there was one other couple my wife’s and my age (she and I are the same age), with the only difference being that their kids are about 10 years older than ours. But that family has moved out of state, and we find ourselves in that familiar situation once again: If we want church friends, we will find them 5-10 years younger or older than we are, at minimum.

A long-time family friend asked me to reach out to a young adult son recently. He is living semi-independently, but while he’s smart, well-skilled in home carpentry, and employed, he’s a bit socially shy and not entirely comfortable meeting new people. A sibling with whom he’s particularly close recently moved out of the area, leaving the young man without friends around. I’ve known him many years, so I texted him a few weeks ago. He was very happy to hear from me, and we got together that weekend for a bite to eat. I offered friendship, he accepted the idea, and we’ve been building on that since. I’ve found that I like making a new friend, too.

In addition to making friends with him, I’ve been trying to mentor a man that I used to teach about 9 years ago at the facility where I work. He has struggled to find his footing in life after spending time ‘inside,’ partly due to a lack of positive male role models in his life. We’ve stayed in contact over the years, and in recent weeks I’ve more opportunities to influence him. I’ve stressed to him the value of building mutual friendship, which he likes, and once again, I’m finding purpose in reaching out.

Neither of these young men has seen a lot of success with quality friendship development in recent years, and I hope that I will be a quality friend to them. There is a (staggering) age difference between us, but it doesn’t have to be an issue. It is friendship we’re talking about, after all. Mentoring friendship, perhaps, for those that question an older man spending time with a much younger one. (How sad that our society thinks like that these days!)

But these are my friends at this time. At other times of life, I’ve had other friends. I think this is part of “sprouting where you are planted” in life. Go where you are led, plant the seed, water it, and let the Master Grower do his work. It is not my job to bring results. It is only my role to serve him, and if these are the friends he’s given me for now, then I’ll do what I can to be a good friend to them for his sake.

NOTE: This is prompted by a conversation with one of my students.

How do you grieve in a place like this?

You’re given devastating news; the death of a friend, a cousin, a parent, a girlfriend, an aunt, or uncle. Whether by disease or illness, accident, overdose, or suicide, the result is that the person you loved or cared about in some way is gone, and you are in this place, unable to be there.

They give you the news, maybe offer to let you talk to a counselor or to the chaplain, and then you’re told to return to your cell. “Lock in.” How do you grieve in a place like this?

Showing emotion demonstrates weakness. Weakness invites trouble. Trouble creates problems. Problems ruin the improvements you’ve been trying to make. “You can’t change everything because there’s always someone ready to bark at you. You can only be a chameleon for so long.” It’s not just grieving in a place like this that’s hard; it’s changing for the better.

You’re locked up here, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are human. People forget that, and that’s a problem. “We’re still human. We still need.” Those words are vital for those walking free to remember about you. You are human. You have emotions, feelings, grief. How can we help you grieve in a place like this? Better yet, how can I help you grieve?

I want to create a safe place for you to be, where you can express what you need to, or simply hang out and say nothing at all. You are learning to deal with these emotions without substances that will numb your pain. Let us help you do that. There are people here that really care about your success in this. How can I help you grieve?

That’s what he says at the end, and I agree with him. Who is ‘he’? He’s Taylor Duncan, a young man from Dallas, Georgia, who was born with disabilities on the autism spectrum that affected his opportunities to play organized baseball as a youngster. Coaches were concerned that his autism would inhibit his ability to play at the level required of his age group and that he would suffer injuries as a result, so they refused to let him be on their teams. After many attempts to play, he gave up on others and formed his own league.

In 2016, Taylor formed the Alternative Baseball Organization (c), which offers professional-rules baseball to teens and adults ages 15+ that have autism and other disabilities. As they learn and play the game, they also learn social and life skills for on- and off- the field. Now, in October 2021, there are more than 80 teams across 34 states. My older son plays on the first team established in Maine this fall. It’s a dream come true for him and us–he’s 15–and we look forward to his second season next spring.

Unlike teams in Southern states, we’re not afforded the luxury of another season this time of year, so we’ll be content with what we had as an inaugural season, and we’ll begin working on the next one. In the meantime, other sports are being offered along the same vein of developmental leagues for players with disabilities. As ABO founder, CEO, and commissioner Duncan says, “We need this.”

You can learn more about the Alternative Baseball Organization by watching the linked Youtube video below, and you can learn a LOT more about Bangor Alternative Baseball by visiting http://www.bangoralternativebaseball.com or http://www.facebook.com/BangorAlternativeBaseball.

In truth, I wasn’t asked to do it. I took it upon myself, unasked, and I don’t think it would be completely accurate to say that I was all that busy when I started it. However, when I contemplate the number of social media elements that I’ve been attempting to maintain of late, along with in-person pro-social activities, it would be fair to describe me as busy now.

My wife and I have two sons. The older boy is fifteen. He has a learning disability which makes information-processing difficult for him, but aside from that, he possesses a wonderful personality, a fantastic smile, and a charming sense of humor. The younger boy is thirteen. He has no learning disability. He also possesses a wonderful personality that he often hides under the guise of early teen crudites…ooops. I mean, crudity. He has a wonderful smile and laugh, though he hates to let those show more than necessary. He’s taller than his older brother, so he’s often mistaken as the older one.

Both of our boys love baseball. The younger has been playing it since Tee-Ball was available through town rec league. He goes to clinics, plays regular Little League, and plays fall leagues and indoor leagues–whatever we can afford and he can. He was able to play at Maine’s iconic “Little Fenway” and “Little Wrigley” fields last fall in a special league that existed for that purpose.

The older boy has played a lot of solo wiffleball in the yard, including his own play-by-play announcing for his games. With the use of a pitch-back device in the field by the house, both boys have been able to practice their throws, pitches, and batting over the years. They’ve also taken advantage of the falling crabapples from our tree in the yard, hitting the fruit in lieu of plastic balls, since they don’t have to retrieve the small apples.

In spring 2021, our younger son played Junior (Little) League baseball as part of a three-town team. One field they used was Mansfield Stadium in Bangor, built nearly two decades ago by Stephen King and named in honor of a young man with a disability. From 2002 to 2016 the stadium was used as the home of the Senior Little League World Series (15 & 16 year-olds). In 2009, current Boston Red Sox All-Star Shortstop Xander Bogaerts played at Mansfield with his home team of Aruba! Other MLB players, such as Kolten Wong and Kenley Jansen, played there, too. (You can learn all about the stadium here: http://mansfieldstadium.com/content/5001/about-the-stadium)

Our older boy watched the games at Mansfield and expressed his longing to play there, too. His dream came true when the Bangor Alternative Baseball Organization came into existence in September 2021 (www.bangoralternativebaseball.com). When that team began, though, all involved had to rely on the coaches to communicate with us on every little piece of information; we had no central site to be in touch with each other. That’s when I took it upon myself to become busier than I was.

One week, I created http://www.facebook.com/BangorAlternativeBaseball. A week or two later, I added http://www.bangoralternativebaseball.com. Part of the website is writing blog posts. Part of the FB page is maintaining communications, inviting “likers” of posts to follow the page, and checking for messages. On top of that, I don’t want to forget this blog, because this is where I can say what’s on my mind for me. Beyond this, I have a story I’m writing, and I want to get it out of rut it’s been stuck in for the last two weeks.

A benefit of the baseball team pages is that this season will end soon, so the regular maintenance should ease up just a bit. We had a big event last weekend that consumed a lot of time, effort, and energy. It was wonderful, and we’re very pleased with the results. Still, this ‘busy’ guy is happy to step back, breathe deeply, and set down the boxes he’s carrying for a time.

Endorphins are released when we do things we enjoy, accomplish goals we’ve been reaching for, and find satisfaction in what we do. All of these are true for me in helping my kids in baseball and in life, but I’m glad for the time to live for my wife and me, too. I’ve lost 42 pounds since May 23 this year, and I’ll keep on that journey, as well. May the Lord prosper you, dear readers. I’ll catch you on the next post.

What comes to your mind when you see the word “sometimes”? How about when you see or hear the phrase, “sometimes I feel”? How would you finish that phrase?

“like I’m in over my head”?

“like the world is coming to an end”?

“like I could fly”?

“like dancing”?

“like knocking someone’s teeth out”?

“like a motherless child”?

“like nothing could stop me”?

I’m curious to know, sometimes.