An Introduction

The Joy of Work

a recounting of my days at the lab

I wanted to start at the beginning, but the beginning did not make sense if one did not know the end.

And so here i was in a beautiful place, well decorated with a multitude of people.  This was a lavish affair and it was not really for me.  I just happened to retire at the same as two other politically connected persons and it would have been an embarrassment not to include me in the goings on.

Thirty three years, plus a few months, with the same employer.  Three other years after i graduated college with four different companies and two years and two jobs while i was in college, so a total of thirty eight years doing what i loved.

Yes, you heard correctly, i was one of the lucky ones who got to work at what i loved.

Speakers, so many and some admitted they knew nothing about me.  Others tried to make something up.  I was not a person to care about a spot light even now at the end.

Yes, my working as a chemist was over and i was very glad, i had run my course and it was time to go.

There was music, a dancer and more speakers.

A slide show and then gifts, i felt embarrassed, there was no reason for all of this for me.  Those closest to me realized what i did and sat back and enjoyed the show, so i did also.

The title of this, my last job, was mentioned several times by those that did not know me.  I am sure they were confused, why was this laboratory technician, getting any attention?  The title was not indicative of what i did and the people in the personnel department and my bosses realized that, none of them were there though.  I wanted a change in the title many years back, but they just gave me more money instead and i let it go.

The state officials who used my work to craft policy were not there, neither were the US EPA or FDA officials, also persons with whom my work was familiar.

I asked myself why i came on this journey and why was it finishing like this?

It was appropriate, for i did not seek attention, only what was correct and i stepped on a lot of toes because of it.

More presentations for the other two and then food for all, so i was not totally bored. 

I did not get into this profession for praise and glory, but to satisfy a deep, deep hunger within me.  The affair ended and there was much congratulations and shaking of hands.  I sought refuge with my deepest friends and left.

Now i can go to the beginning.

Next Post from "The Joy of Work"...

The Boring Stuff Or The Prelude To My Real Job

A continuation of the adventure or what is retirement

i have run into people recently,
retired persons,
who are unhappy or bored now they no longer have work to do.
It has been more than a year and there are some days i just want to lay around,
but most i am busy,
so busy that i neglect some of the things i love,
like blogging
or painting.
Some days i am tired from my activities
and i do not want to cook.
I have found others who have made busy work for themselves
or made do with their time.
There is enough for me to do without finding other things,
yet i have for i became involved with a writer's workshop at the church i like to attend
and i can not get enough of it.
Some people i run into feel useless,
 i understand that,
but not because of my retirement,
it is because my daily struggle overwhelms me often.
i know i am useful,
my worth is not even in what i can do,
it is in me.
i worry,
but that is because i have seen the return of some symptoms that i do not like.
i do not feel done,
but i am tired of the struggle just to live.
i am not worried what awaits me on the other side,
for i have been there
and only found peace.
I have my garden,
i have my cooking,
i have my walks,
i paint
and laugh
and sing
and i have the people i love to talk to.
I am happy.
I just am tired of this struggle i am in, daily,
no, that is not true.
My struggle is moment by moment
and i am not done with it.

The aroma of Spring

First there are colors,
bright splashes of yellow
and white
and pink.
Then the greys and browns,
begin to turn green,
how sweet the sight.
Leaves and flowers
making a glorious noise to the return of life.

Then,
in my garden,
the purples of lilacs
and the delicious aroma,
telling me Spring has come
and winter is a far way off,
still.

An experiment last fall,
seeds of phlox were strewn along the garden wall
and they also came,
announcing their presence with color
and a sweet delicious smell.
The lilacs have faded,
the phlox is fading,
but not yet gone,
yet still,
one more makes its way on the scene.
For a brief week,
in wild abandon,
the small white roses,
along the fences of the garden,
join their voice,
with that aroma,
over powering the smells,
 of the urban environment where they grow.
This morning,

i awoke to this
and there is nothing better to come!
Spring is complete,
let Summer come!

it creeps

Slowly it creeps,
closer and closer.
I have seen it before,
fought it back,
subdued it
and learned much,
but i am getting tired.
It is not a sad thing,
just i do not want to go there yet,
but i am getting tired.
Day after day
and struggle after struggle,
it is wearing me down
and i am getting tired.
Time creeps,
we some times creep,
moving slowly from place to place.
We pretend to stand upright,
we pretend to walk,
we pretend to run,
but all we are is creeping,
slowly,
so very slowly
and i am getting tired.

its back!

The crowd had been worked to a frenzy.
"The monster", a woman cried, "It kill my baby and I".
No one wondered how,
though she said she had been killed,
she could sound an alarm,
their anger grew.
They approached the beast,
with pike and fork and fire
and gathered round him.
The beast was not of some mad man's making,
like Frankenstein;
Nor was it some experiment gone out of control,
like the hulk.
No, this monster was one of both,
their own and his making,
a dragon of sorts.
For the dragon seemed to breath fire,'tho none was hurt
and had claws to rip them limb from limb.
yet no blood was split.
A mighty roar,
smoke belched out
and the dragon was no more.
Children were told to stay away from where the monster had lived
and fear spread throughout the land,
but no sighting of the monster was made.
He sat still on his porch,
a monster no more,
but no one recognized him
nor crept past in fear.
No one spoke to him,
for that was were the dragon had lived.
No one saw him anymore,
but the gardens flourished
and the flowers grew
where once the dragon had lived.

a picture i want to paint, but can not

A scene from last autumn
when the wind blew
and the temperatures plummeted so low.
The photo evokes the image that i can not paint.
It has more emotion in its single frame,
than all my attempts to create emotions with brush and canvas.
I can not do more than this,
especially in the watercolor media i use.
i wish i could,
but maybe the photo speaks more
than a painting ever could.

occasionally i remember to paint

For over 10 years i have been attempting to capture the feel of the place i call the daffodil farm.
This is my most recent photo:

While the photo is beautiful, painting it in the media i am familiar with (watercolor) has been a great challenge.
I have found not fewer than 20 different attempts in my water color pads.
For the first time, i decided to go small, a 5" x 7" pad and this is the result.

I recognize i have a distinct style - i like the entire page covered, i use a white colored paint often, sometimes i mix water color with acrylic and my brush strokes are unusual.  I take a large brush, wet it, put paint on it and smash it against the paper.  I let this dry and i take a damp brush with variations of the same color and do it again.  Finally i take a dry brush and do it one more time.
There is no detail only a suggestion of detail..
I think i have a bit more to do.

tucked away

Tucked away in that safe place,
that place where feelings are not felt
and the mind controls the heart.
This feels safe,
for all of us,
but it is not,
for no change can occur
and only change can bring life.
The weather...
hot (80's), then cold (50's),
is not surprising for New England.
The plants are thriving because the warm is more than normal
and the plants also tuck and hide for the cold.
Freedom,
of my heart,
brings life,
so instead of struggling ,
i build a fire
and thaw my heart!

today the weather brought me home

I stepped outside
and it was coolish,
as it often is in New England,
but not like normal for this time of the year.
Late Spring,
mid-may,
in New England it is still cold,
not cool.
It was also damp and humid
and not in an unpleasant way
and i was transported back to another place and time.
I was so young then
and the dew berries were ripe,
those luscious kernels of black sweetness.
I would so out as a youngster
and dare i say it?
Yes, i would go out even as a teen,
the thought of that fruit would draw me,
even when there were more important things to do.
There was always humidity and it was not cool,
for this was the south,
neither the heat,
nor the humidity ever bothered me.
So for but a brief instant i was brought back home
and i smiled a deep rich smile that came from the depth of my heart,
from long ago ...
and far away.

lessons learned

That pain,
that hurt, that you misunderstood.
The silence that now reigns,
the confusion that i see,
did not start with you,
why are you in it at all
and why did you not come,
to even ask if what was said was true.
The anger should have clued you in,
for i was silent as the other railed against me
and you did not seek me out.
You knew me longer and said you knew me,
but you believed what was said,
but never asked me.
Lessons learned,
i want to be angry at you,
but i retreat from that,
I forgive and spell it out.
I do not hold it against you
and make supplication for you.
I am still approachable,
but perhaps not for long
and what will happen to me,
will not be punishment,
but a gift.

I can not stop it.

i speak of things,
i do not know.
Who told you,
it was okay to go?
I did not, i cry,
but they go never the less.
To a place i can not go,
yet.
Time, is no more there,
but love is.
Here i am left empty,
in a hollow shell.
Rage and sorrow and pity,
i feel.
The words come pouring out
and for a moment,
my heart
and breath,
they stop also.
I begin again,
but with out you.
The breath comes slowly at first,
then the heart comes pounding in my chest.
I move on,
but with out you.

flitting things

So many words,
and thoughts
and phrases,
have come to me as of late,
but vanish,
like the bright reflection of the sun on water.
Here it is,
then gone before i can reach paper,
pen
or keyboard.
Still, i am so aware of all those things around me,
that bring these to the front.
Love
and darkness,
kindness
and honor,
bright sunny, warm days
and the rain falling,
giving life to the earth.
I am not quick enough to capture these things
and so i let them soar,
I do not try to cage these free thoughts,
and perhaps,
i am poorer for that.

the other side of the coin

I woke,
not with the trauma of the other morning,
but in a peaceful, quiet way.
I was taken some where,
did i fall back to sleep?
i had not left my bed.
I was taken to a grassy knoll,
by some one gentle and kind
and the place overlooked a large field,
filled with people.
I wanted to ask; "why am i here?",
but there was a gentle nudge assuring me all was okay.
My mom was there
and i hear a voice, not hers, say to me,
"Love never ends".
I looked out on the throng of people
and i realized i recognized...
all of them!
Each we had exchanged a piece of our hearts at one time or another.
Some, for longer periods of time.
Some for brief instances.
They where there for me
and for some reason i had been elevated.
i did not understand,
except the multitude of people,
who i could not count,
seem to acknowledge this also.
My Dad appeared
and i apologized for only being a "Burger flipper".
My dad laughed and said this was a great honor here.
Time resumed and i was back in my bed,
feeling wonderful,
but pondering everything greatly.

A Friday

a gentle rumble of thunders,

lulls me out of sleep.

A sound of a garbage truck,

come to my ear.

I spring up out of bed,

knowing we had not put out the trash and recycling.

Knowing it was Tuesday.

Sleep falls off

and i stumble down the stairs.

No glasses on to make things single,

i close one eye and make it down,

open the door

and there is the local paper on the porch.

I stop.

The paper only come, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

"What day is this?", my brain screams.

It is Friday, i suddenly recount.

I turn and shut the door.

My other housemate,

who drinks coffee has a cup in his hand in the kitchen.

He is up for other reasons,

he still works.

It is only 5:30 in the morning,

much too early for me to be awake.

I mumble something

and he mumbles back,

a friendly exchange,

but neither of us is awake enough to do much else.

I stumble back up the stairs

and fall back into my bed.

It is only an hour later

and i am awake again.

The time is better

and i make my way carefully down the stairs again,

for coffee.

i am not going to drink what was made a 5:30

and left to burn and become bitter,

so i turn on the quick one.

I still can not think,

everything is rattled and confused,

but that is normal now for me.

Pod loaded into the machine,

blinking blue lights tell me i can brew.

I push the steady green light

and shut off the machine.

Waiting for a moment,

i do not know why the coffee is not pouring out.

I sigh,

a thing that is normal for me now,

i realize i shut the machine off

and turn it back on.

Coffee in hand,

i carefully make my way up the stairs again,

holding onto both the coffee cup

and the railing for dear life.

Setting the cup down,

i retreat back on the bed,

sitting up, i begin to sip the black brew,

pray for those around me,

i ask for direction for the day.

Somewhere, i remember again to be thankful,

for each day is precious.

The cup is empty and it is time for me to begin my normal routine.

My glasses lay some where,

but i can not put them on just yet.

I find T-shirt and over shirt,

holding them close to my face,

so i can make out a bit of detail,

them put them on.

I look for the glasses.

The dresser has become too cluttered

and even closing one eye does not help much.

I stand there half dressed

and there is some panic that begins to creep in,

until i find them and they are placed on my face.

The world is a bit clearer now

and more importantly, single.

The two images that i now see as a normal course of being,

the images which overlap are very confusing,

and are way too much for me to handle.

The remainder of my clothes come out of closets and drawer

and i assemble them on my body.

"The morning meds!", i exclaim out loud.

Often i miss them when things different than a routine happen.

It is not dangerous to miss them,

but missing the allergy pill can make my life really difficult, quickly.

The blood sugar test is next,

it has been so good lately

and i am upset when it comes back a high number.

Often, when placing the needle in the device i use to stick my self,

i prick my finger when closing the top,

that is because i really can not tell depth with the glasses.

Morning routine finished,

i amble down the stairs,

more alert and confident, with the glasses,

but i won't yet call myself fully awake.

My housemate is ready to leave for work

and we exchange some information and he leaves.

I sit down to the computer

and as i type,

a surge of energy comes into my body and mind

and i am awake.

where it comes from

the other day i was asked;

why it comes,

why i put my being on these pages.

I have long known the answer

and that is shared in the body of this place,

a friend told me once that i shared my heart best when writing.

There is a bigger question

and i can only answer from that strange place that has been set free,

for these words bubble up from some untapped spring deep inside me.

They gurgle to the surface

and sometimes,

i can capture them.

Other times,

they burst and are lost to me.

When the thoughts are dark,

even though i capture them on this verse,

they burst and free me from their captive hold.

And so each word

and each thought expressed

are a part of me,

an offering for all to see.

I am good with this

somedays

Some days my words are dark;
here on these hollowed pages i write.
There exists despair and heartache in all of our lives
and i script mine,
when the mood fits.
Depression follows my wobbly gait
as a tail follows a dog.
I wake and see "things",
things i can not describe,
full of light and wonder.
Then i ask where the darkness went
and why it was here at all.
Shadows are following me,
but not those of dark and despair...
I think they are angels,
for they are bright and bring hope to me.
On the edge of my sight,
they appear,
but when i turn they are gone.
This gives me wonder
and i ask who they are.
There is no answer,
but they appear again,
like in a game of hide and seek.
Time is not endless,
but some days, it seems so.

kind of wierd

Last night before falling asleep.
all the things i was thinking of,
came out in rhyme.
It was strange;
thinking of things not done yet,
preparing for yet another time to be gone.
All the things not yet done
and it all came out in true verse,
 not this broken, patched up stuff i have here.
Sleep came easily,
but did not stay.
for obstacles keep coming up.
People who have needs,
things needed to be done.
I shake my head,
i am done.

A bit of a tiraid

My blood boiled when i heard it and in a very un-scientific manner i challenged statements by Save the Sound. and a presentation on Nitrogen. My apologies, because for 33 years i researched this and even spent some time setting up your lab for chlorophyll analysis in Stamford. So what can i say - levels of usable nitrogen remained low for all of the warm water season (above 50 F). This was Nitrogen as Nitrate and nitrite. The early spring "bloom" of algae was NOT repeated except in special cases in harbors and did not go out to the sound. The levels of plankton also remained low even when Oxygen levels were low. Studying the sediment, i found very interesting issues. The "muck" was extremely high in anaerobic bacteria and Iron and sulfides/sulfate. Very determined chemical oxygen scavengers. They are there because of years of untreated discharges from treatment plants.
The next issue is that all Nitrogen is food and the lack of the nitrogen in the water is creating a very clean, but lifeless Long Island Sound. The initial die-off (in large quantities) occurred after tropical storm Floyd, after which high quantities of Hydrogen Sulfide were detected in the Long Island Sound water as much as half a mile off the coast line.
The lack of recovery is possibly multi-faceted, but a lack of a healthy plankton population can not be ruled out. Plankton need nitrogen to grow and they provide food as a first step in the food chain.
While i have officially retired, the data was presented and not researched by anyone further, yet many other papers have been written talking of other causes, including phosphates, which is a distinct possibility since long Island Sound is neither fresh, nor completely Ocean salty . Facts and figures i can not provide, but if you want to really look at the causes, look everywhere not just what you are told.

more pondering

formulas for food,

balancing sour with sweet,

sweet with heat,

earthiness and fresh.

These are easy,

these are what people like,

but they are not people.

People can not be derived in any formula,

Is this why God made us?

Are we truly as unfathomable as the Almighty?

Oh, i can tell you our formula,

the sequences of genomes

and chemicals,

and cycles,

that exist within each one of us.

Does that describe a person?

Does that describe an action they will take

or the depth of pondering in one's mind?

I wonder as dreams penetrate my mind at night

or was that last year?

The fisherman, Art,

who penetrates my memory still, asking "We will do lunch soon?"

That in of itself is terrifying,

for he is no long "here",

but he still is to me.

Three years with out my mom on mother's day,

this is also terrifying,

yet i feel her come to comfort me...

how strange it seems,

yet wonderful.

Each who has passed before,

comes in turn,

once or twice in mass yelling,

"No not yet!"

But the time seems near.

Enough of this pondering!

I have a life to live!

I am living a life

and there are many who do not understand,

but also do not ask.