Beltane Emergence Moon
(wifi connection is weak here, so I’ll be posting episodically material written offline.)
Villa Maria
Frontenac, MN
5/15/2014
Got down here at about 3:15. The sky, cloudy gray and low. Spent time behind a huge harrow and disc unit attached to a big green John Deere with treads instead of tires. He turned off at a farm with the word Molitor. Paul Molitor?
Wi-Fi funky here so I’m writing first in Wordpad, then I’ll post when I’m in the lounge area. Highway 61 revisited. It’s been a long time since I was down this way by car, maybe since the last Woolly retreat here. Passing through Hastings and Red Wing the Presbytery years rolled past since Presbytery met at the Hastings church and the Red Wing church on occasion. I tried to call up my feelings, that persona, what it was like for me in the role of Associate Executive for the Presbytery. It was not blank, but there were few particulars. It’s been many years, with no similar experiences to reinforce the old ones.
Following the Mississippi and getting into the unglaciated portion of Minnesota reminded me, as did the recent trip to Denver, just how effecient glaciers are at earth moving. Down here there are limestone bluffs, cliffs and hills. Head west from here and they fall away rapidly as prairie, or former prairie begins to dominate.
The hills and the limestone features reinforce the brick buildings in Hastings and Red Wing as does the nearby Mississippi. These are river towns and older, but head east and they become younger. It reminded me that moving west in America, at least for Caucasians and other boat people, positions us in even more recently settled territory, at least in the northern portion of the west. Down in New Mexico and in California, too, the Spanish have had their moment and are having it again.
Well, we’ve got no plan for today so I’m going to wander out and see what’s up.
10:50 pm
We had a long check-in with many transitions underway. Warren and Sheryl have, as he put it, “House #1”, up for sale and they have most of their stuff in House #2, only 4 doors away. Frank’s recovering from back surgery and doing well, though he’s very thin. Tom’s cast is now removable from his thumb surgery.
I spoke about our decision to move. Things got a little (almost) teary when I told the guys how difficult it was for me to leave them, to leave my family behind.
Tired now, I’ll write more tomorrow.
5/16/2014 7:45 am
In telling others about the Woollies we’ve often said how difficult we are to explain. How special we are. 25 years together. It occurred to me that what we have is something ordinary rather extraordinary and that in that migtht lie the difficulty we have in explaining it.
That is, we are friends, close friends, brothers by choice. Family. Friends and close friends are ordinary. Even having friends close enough to call them brothers, family, is also ordinary. It happens all the time. But not to men in our culture. What is extraordinary about us is the ordinary. Somehow we have, for over 25 years shown up in each other’s lives. At least twice a month and once a year for retreats.
Warren mentioned a college acquaintance from Iran who described how he and his friend would go about hand in hand. Homophobia would never allow that among us, or, if not homophobia then a milder aversion to physical contact with other men beyond a hit to the shoulder or, now, a hug. Even close friendships are suspect. Women do that, yes, but not men.
We know better than that. We’ve moved past that now. We’re men of the sixties, men around women who raised their consciousnesses. We supported gay rights and support the women in our lives in their careers. We take up parenting, knowing we are not baby-sitting, rather being fathers.
Yes, but we are the generation of men who made this transition which means our attitudes remain anchored in the the stereotypes of the 1950’s even though we try consciously to remove ourselves from their impact. And we do that. Most of the time successfully. But, as Kate pointed out, I always drive. Hadn’t occurred to me.
It’s that part of us that we have wrenched away from the fishing buddy, poker buddy mentality and transformed it into genuine friendship, male friendship. Male love for each other. This is ordinary, but, oh so extraordinary. I’m proud to say I love these men and will, now, until, quite literally, my dying day.
5/16/2014 Frontenac 4:00 pm
Up after a nap. I drove into St. Paul this morning to attend a meeting of America Votes. I debated doing this, but decided that my commitment to Margaret said I needed to go.
The level of sophistication of this group continues to astound me. These are young people, almost all of them, late twenties and early thirties but they are veterans, blooded in many campaign cycles and in several states.
We had a presentation this morning from Adam Dunnick of Alliance for A Better Minnesota. This is a c-4 group (can engage in electoral work). I mention this because it heartened me to hear Adam say that ABM was modeled afte a similar alliance started in Colorado the election cycle before ABM. Colorado and Minnesota are the two oldest of these entities. Not very old, though, I should say. Neither one much more than ten years in existence.
Had an unusual moment after the meeting. Out of a table of over 40 the man who sat next to me, the only other retiree age person in attendance, and I talked as the others were leaving. Turns out this guy knew me when I ran Community Involvement Programs. And recognized me. That was 1975.
