I am on the road, heading West. After 60 years in New York, Washington, DC, and Europe, I am headed back to my ancestral land. It will be a long journey, with a friend and my cat. It has been even longer getting to this point. Because of the trip, postings have been thinner at the Sheathed Sword, more of a sheathed pen (or fingers). They will pick up in October, once I begin to settle in Portland, Oregon.
I bid farewell, with blessings and gratitude, to the State of Maine, after ten years of home ownership and full-time residence. It is a quiet, modest state, white, the quintessence of New England. Amorous in summer; stressful in winter, especially as I age. And full of memories. Summer kayaking around Long Island (shorter than the big one in NY State), visits with family in Steuben on the shore. The dramatic seaspray at Schoodic. Eight seasons of Shakespeare with the Camden Shakespeare Festival, bringing to 13 the number of Bard classics I have acted in. Traumas personal and medical (did anyone mention COVID?).
And the friends, ah, yes, the friends, who gave me so many gifts. Mainers are taciturn, slow to open, but the quintessence of generosity and support. They have given me daily gifts, especially in the last three years, living here alone (except for the ubiquitous and, right now, very hungry Doc). Robin Kammerer in her moving book, Braiding Sweetgrass, captures the importance of such gifts:
“We are showered every day with gifts, but they are not meant for us to keep. Their life is in their movement, the inhale and the exhale of our shared breath. Our work and our joy is to pass along the gift and to trust that what we put out into the universe will always come back.”
As I move west, I treasure these gifts in my heart. And give them back.
More, oh so much more, to come.
WHAT! Not a word about the great handyman that made your stay in Maine live able? Lol
Selfishly, we feel fortunate to have you a bit closer. Welcome!