"luck is what you stumble upon in life. Providence is what God plans for you, and planning is how you thread your way between the two without getting crushed."
I was at my booth at a boat show in Maryland when another maritime carver came to visit. Lordan was the local "yaahd cavaah," as we'd describe it in New England.
New England spring is not extravagant. Miss something today, and it'll be a year before you see it again. Don't waste time; Spring is fast.
I have no trouble differentiating fact from delusion. But one gentleman I worked with did. Working with him, I came to realize that we may not always share a standardized view of reality.
Some people can't deal with complexity.
I always think it best to start with the disclaimers. I am not now nor ever was associated with any intelligence agency. Like most of my ilk, Folkie, I believe that intelligence and government agency represents a truly tactless oxymoron.
The story, said to me at about age five, was that an ancestor had hung for piracy. Kids of five don't forget these things when they get raised on whole rafts of sea stories and pirate movies.
Most of us have events that echo through the corridors of our lives. Thirty, forty, fifty years later, it remains like a rhythm track beating at an intersection from a car seven cars ahead. You can't make out the song, but you hear the beat. I have that sort of track inside me, and it emerged briefly to thump into action this morning as I emerged from the house into the downpour to go to the store, out of quarantine.
Well, here it is. It took about an hour of digging around to locate. It's a list. A setlist. It contains a listing of the songs that I regularly performed when I composed the list. It's very late, probably around 1977.
Spinney's yard was no different than lots of yards on the mid-coast, and in most ways, Spinney was not too different than the run of yard owners.