V I N M A N' s V I B e

Photo, Vince Kern -- Copyright 2008 -- All Rights Reserved. ---------- At the Cave' du Vinman and SheRock during a monster storm last winter.

REALITY-CHECK VIBE (Pinckney, MI) — What me complain? Come on now, admit it, some of you are going out today and not diggin’ the humidity. Well, I’ll admit it if you won’t

On the way out to check out the flowers, toss negative karma toward the moles that insist on inhabiting my lawn and to check the progress of my year-old tree named John, I bitched about the humidity. Not a loud or cursive bitch, just a meek “agh.”

“But really”, I immediately chastised myself, “what have you got to complain about, dude? A little humidity?”

“Man up!” I told myself. “It could be January.”

When I returned to our air-conditioned cave and began sorting my photos from our recent trip to Osage, MN, I found this little creative photo I took last year in the midst of some really unwelcome weather.

Back to reality folks.

Wherever you’re at today, don’t complain about the weather. Make a conscious effort to roll with it and enjoy it. Then expand that effort to all the other ankle-biting stuff around you. If you have to deal with the big stuff, you’ll have more energy.

You might just feel blessed in these tough times if you do this.

Just sayin’. (Don’t know why, just led to.)

And that’s the reality-check Vibe for today.

(Stay tuned for some more updates of recent thoughts and adventures. Vibes have been a-brewin’.)

Squaw Beach, outside of Big Bay, 25 miles north of Marquette. Photo, Vince Kern. Copyright 2008 -- All Rights Reserved.

Just past noon on this Friday in early June, the regulars at the Hungry Hollow Cafe’ next to Cramm’s General Store in Big Bay, Michigan are coming to life as the sun finally appears on an otherwise blustery day. Omelettes are still being served as folks start a bit later up here, and I’ve just polished off a dandy sausage and cheese.

A large local man with grey hair and a nice smile depsite a missing tooth orders a huge salad. In familiar farmer-blue overalls, a blue tee-shirt and suspenders he seems to be here every time I visit.

“It’s nice out,” he tells Chris the server smiling from under an earthy-colored bandanna. Chris agrees and brings me more coffee as I recall the standards for “nice weather” I maintained when I lived in Marquette. Back then, 58 cloudy and near-drizzly days did, indeed, make one feel like walking.

I feel happy for the lumberjack and the weather changes to on and off sunshine faster than my comparisons mattered.

Another local blonde woman sits chatting with Chris at the diner bar about her husband’s work and crazy truck drivers bringing logs through here this week. And behind me, two men I have not seen yet sit chatting about the weekend and reminding each other about attending “Aggie’s birthday party at 2 o’clock Saturday.”

Aggie is our neighbor and dear friend on Squaw Beach who visits from town in the summer. At age 89 tomorrow, her son Pete may agree to let her “retire” from her cabin duties but I wouldn’t bet on it. Peter Tenyke is a local man who covers a lot of territory. He is fire chief, county employee and overall goodwill ambassador for this small town of about 550 located 25 miles north of Marquette. He knows full well Aggie will never stop being busy and only teases her with a life of leisure.

On our section of the beach there’s work to do. My sister Andrea, brother-in-law Jim and I arrived yesterday to buckle down for some cleaning and R&R in between. So far, we’re off to a slow, but good start. But I wish our other sister brother and my lovely wife, Sheila, could be here too.

And so it goes up here, folks will arrive from several states throughout the day but won’t overwhelm the peacefully-removed-spirit of this area. We’ll watch the weather to see how things develop, looking for glorious beach sun or stars at night.

No matter, there’s an uplifting sameness to seeing my smiling well-fed breakfast friend, the lumberjack, write a check for his meal while the chef sits at the bar and chats with regulars. The men behind me have decided on pie and so that’s my que to go.

Otherwise, I will turn a thousand-plus calorie breakfast into a pie-laden napping afternoon instead of working. Hmmmmmm…….

And we call this a working trip up  north…………..

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Everything is getting a shower today; the lilac tree, flowers and grass, bird houses and driveways drip nutritious drops of H2O.

Light showers of rain are splashing on deck puddles like a million water bugs on a lake-top. It’s not a constant shower, it rains heavier for a bit, quiets the birds then lightens up to tease them into venturing forth for food again. But after a few highs and lows, my feathered friends have measured its pace and are only slightly quieted by an increase in the shower’s intensity.

One of these days,
I’m gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I’ve known
And I’m gonna try
And thank them all
for the good times together.
Though so apart we’ve grown.

The gutters spill onto an aluminum awning outside my window with a waterfall cadence and sound. The cats sleep, lulled by the natural music as I am. They do what they do, as do I, because our souls beckon sleep and writing alike.

Yesterday, I exchanged pleasantries and hopes for “a good weekend of weather” with numerous colleagues on elevators and as we passed in hallways. We smile at each other for encouragement and hope together in these difficult times — surely sunshine, warmth and blue skies are the preferred combination in the atmospheric concoction abrewin’ . For an instant, tasks to be completed in the golden sunshine slotted themselves in our heads in perfect order to be retrieved later.

Instead, we are blessed with spring showers to slow us down, to make us listen and to help us look inward while nature orchestrates sounds so perfect musicians strive to echo them. We might have gotten the stormy brew that’s passed north of us for now, but we got what we needed.

I am alone, left to write for awhile. It is my way of harmonizing with the vibe as we all orbit the sun together at 18.5 miles per second. We travel in locations that differ in climate, topography and relative distance. But viewed from across the galaxy, we are near to each other than our human perception of molecules in a rain drop.

From down in L.A.
All the way to Nashville,
From New York City
To my Canadian prairie home
My friends are scattered
Like leaves from an old maple.
Some are weak, some are strong.

Last week, my 81-year old father and I were sitting in his home office discussing current and personal events alike. 

“I’ve always said what this generation needed is a good depression to make people realize what’s really important.” he said. And then he told me about how his family had so much love with so little money. And, once again, he was right.

And I’m gonna thank,
That old country fiddler
And all those rough boys
Who play that rock ‘n’ roll
I never tried to burn any bridges
Though I know I let some good things go.

So much of what we “have” is only in ourselves and others. So much of what is really important gets lost too easily in the daily struggle to survive our human conditions whatever they may be. Facebook and other social networking technologies have given my generation a new way to reconnect and learn how each other is doing on a deeper level that we had in the past. And, in turn, we receonnect with our childhood muses, our formative friends’ muses and channel joy and creativity we might have otherwise hurdled in the high-jump of activity.

We are so much alike that we can connect in a community and encourage, learn and share together in a relative instant and it’s a new muscle working the strength of our spirits. Friends, relatives, causes all need support and we can provide it for each other.

So on it goes, this Saturday VIBe. The afternoon arrives, someone somewhere comforts somebody and another changes a diaper. On we move, together around the Sun. Another hour, another 66,000 miles through space and the miracle of loving each other. And Neil Young’s lyrics and music run through my head as my soul alights.

That’s all I know  — or need to — right now. Except that, one of these days………

– 30 –