The Idea of Friend, Loss, and a Red Sweatshirt

I revisited the memory of a friend recently.
You know that empty feeling you get
when you think of the way it was
and that which you no longer have?
I was discussing poetry with my 5th graders
defining terms like symbol, life, and friendship.
Then it hit me, what is a friend?
They gave me the standard answers.
They gave me what they thought it should be.
And that was ok for them.
Because their friends were real,
immediate like concrete and fire.
Then I walked down the staircase
with them following me
and I looked out the window on the landing
and felt the familiar aching
that accompanies the rememberences and knowing
that your friend is gone.

I am not sure when the first time I noticed,
but at some point I saw the red sweatshirt
on the tree stump.
I thought it was odd sitting there
without its owner.
I stretched my neck to see
if I could divine a pathway to the stump
but it looked overgrown with brush
all around it.
I remember the first rainy day
when looking out,
I saw it still and soaking.
And in the first snows
I waited to see its redness
peer out from the melt.
Each time I went downstairs
there it was for me to see.
Reliable, like the old man
sitting on the bench
by the general store.
Like being greeted at the door
by your dog
so happy it can hardly contain itself.
I began to smile whenever I went downstairs.
I had so many questions for it.
How did it get there?
Did it have anything on it?
What size was it?
Where did it come from?
Does anyone else notice it?
Is it lonely?
It was still there after each vacation:
Winter, spring break, summer.

And then one day it was gone.
I felt my stomach drop when I noticed.
At first I thought it had been perhaps blown off
and tried to get a better angle and view.
And then I was angry.
Angry that it was gone,
didn't say goodbye.
And I missed it.
I felt a little silly,
but I allowed myself the indulgence.
For this red sweatshirt
was a friend.

Signs of the Times

My favorite traffic sign has always been "Slow Children." That was until I went to England and was introduced to what I think has been a treasure trove of funny signs. The first one I came across that almost had me snorting was "Caution Plant Crossing."

Then I nearly had a fit when I saw "Heavy Plant Crossing."



Watch out for that rhododendron!

Then there is this one from my Couchsurfing friend in South Shields, Michael, about undressing.

I had seen the "MIND THE GAP" signs before on T-shirts, but didn't know what it meant. I thought it was an advertising slogan for the Gap that I wasn't familiar with. Another sign I thought was funny was one that said, "Way Out," instead of Exit.


I added for good measure the picture of a mattress that I came across in the Red Light District in Amsterdam. I'm not sure if you can make out the "fine print," but it says, "Slightly used."

This one is on the Golden Gate Bridge:

Is this the natural progression after a speed-dating event?

My Summer Couchsurfing Experience

Last summer I got a chance to do something that I had talked about for a long time: Travel to England to do some research for a novel I am writing (the novel's topic is for a later time). Many things had to align in order for this to happen, and being a father and a teacher are two major stumbling blocks to unfettered travelling. Financially, being a teacher does not lend itself to much freedom over the summer and before having kids, I had to work through them with little break. Then, for the past few years, it has been "Camp Dad" each summer.
But this summer I decided I had to go and get it done. I got the go-ahead to go alone! (My wife gave me permission) I planned my trip itinerary and got my tickets. I spent a lot of time online looking up places to stay and was getting a bit discouraged because it was going to be quite expensive. Lodging was going to be my biggest outlay next to the flight.
Then my sister told me about an organization called Couchsurfing.com. http://www.couchsurfing.com/
Couchsurfing is a network of hosts and travellers worldwide. Its mission is for educational and cultural exchange, not a financial transaction. People open up their places and hearts to host travellers. There is no money exchanged, only perhaps a cultural exchange. What an amazing concept!
I checked it out and immediately put up a profile and started to contact people. As it turns out, I stayed with someone every night except the first night there! It was one of the most amazing experiences I ever had, and by far more meaningful than the purpose of the trip in the first place.
Here is a list of Couchsurfing experiences:
1. stayed with Erich and Olga 2 nights near Bath
2. stayed with Dave 1 night in Liverpool
3. Stayed with Michelle 1 night in Durham
4. stayed with Michael 3 nights South Shields
5. Stayed with Alex 2 nights in Amsterdam
6. stayed with Andre 1 night in Eindhoven
7. stayed with Rene 2 nights in London
8. Participated in a really cool scavenger hunt in the East End of London!

Each experience was unique and special. I slept on air mattresses, couches, and comfy beds. I stayed in one room flats, row houses and even an old vicarage.
Here are a few highlights (and in no way represents any more than a fraction of the experiences): While in Bath, Erich and Olga took me on a wonderful tour of Bristol, and then later Olga took me to Wells and Glastonbury. In Liverpool, Dave took me out to dinner at an Indian restaurant and then took me to some Beatles spots, like the Cavern, Penny Lane, and other places. Michelle showed me around Durham and treated me to a wonderful English Sunday Brunch. Michael showed me some cool stuff around Newcastle and South Shields (some good clean naked fun, too). Alex gave me a cool tour of gay Amsterdam and a few lessons on original Skinhead culture, clothing and music (probably not what you think, Oi!). Rode bikes with Andre in Eindhoven (unfortunately one of the bikes got stolen).
My London experience takes a bit more to explain. My host, Rene, was not able to meet me at the station as planned, so he sent another Couchsurfing host, Mike, to come pick me up. We then spent the rest of the day running around in a scavenger hunt looking for clues and solving riddles around the East End of London. I met a lot of other surfers and had a great time. To this day, I still keep in touch with a few of them. Rene met us later and he was able to make sure that I was prepared for my walking around London. I even ran into him in my wanderings (he was looking for me hoping to run into me) to take me to a Couchsurfing pub meeting after a Free Hugs event. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_Hugs_Campaign

This entry can't do justice to the amazing time I had. Each experience on its own is worth an entry itself. I look forward to hosting my own travellers and can't wait to jump back into being a traveller myself.

Arrrteest, The Jewish Pirate and Other Stories

AVAST! Ahoy there, and welcome to my blog. This is my attempt at testing the waters in the great blogosphere.

By the way, I'm not a real pirate, or even a pirate enthusiast (well, at least on the surface), but there have been several events that have randomly shaped the idea of "pirateness" associated with my screen name, email, and therefore, this blog entry.

First off, my email address begins with "arrrteest." The reason being that when I typed in "artist" to open an account, it was taken. I had tried several variations of the spelling or word combinations to no avail. At the same time, I heard a segment on NPR's All things Considered on International Talk Like a Pirate Day, narrated by Robert Siegel (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=1435309).
Hence the name arrrteest.

Then there is the almighty Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM). The FSM has been showing its noodly appendage a lot lately in the press and has attained cult status in pop culture. It is stated in a passage from Wikipedia:
According to the Pastafarian belief system, pirates are
"absolute divine beings" and the original Pastafarians.
More at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flying_Spaghetti_Monster

Pastafarians also celebrate International Talk Like a Pirate Day on September 19.

There were a few other pirate connections that popped up in my mind when I began writing this, but as is so often the case, the impulse to create has been about as short as my capacity for short term memory.

And then, I found out that there were even Jewish Pirates! Apparently hitting the high seas to escape the Inquisition in Spain, Jean Lafitte's family came to the Carribean, where he took on the profession.
Well, in the immortal words of the imfamous Jewish Pirate Shmuel ben Schwartzbord the Balmalocha, "Arrrr, az di bobe volt gehat beytsim volt zi geven mayn zeyde!" (If my grandmother had testicles, she'd be my grandfather!")
Oy vey!