Tag: Discover Prompts

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Mid-Watch

A Flashback Friday Presentation from February 27, 2021

You get a sort of meager slumber. Night-Ops rumbling above, General Quarters can sound any time; and up you’d rise to your assigned station. You don’t bother shucking off your shoes; you might not have time to put them back on. That was Operational Readiness Inspection. Tht was life in the Navy.


Given that as a background, you’d think that a quiet anchor watch in a friendly harbor would be a piece of cake. Civilian life!

Not so when the anchor, solo, is holding loosely on shingle, and the skipper and the rest of the crew have flexible ideas of what constitutes a watch. Four hours, you’d say (except for the two dogged watches). Perhaps if you’re more familiar with bells, it should be eight bells ( two bells in each hour). These days, you might pull out a phone or tablet and spend time listening to music. Not so then; things that played music did not fit in a pocket unless they were a harmonica.

Why, Dear Lord, Why?


Inevitably, your mind wandered to things best left unexamined. Why did I agree to come on this stupid cruise knowing that I’d catch the mid-watch? Then the sound of oars and loud voices came to me over the water. “Hey. Pipe down. Everybody’s asleep…except for the anchor watch.” “Ahoy, Psyche! Is that young Westerly? Do you want a bottle? We have one more drop, and we’ll be chumming the fishies!” I thought this one over before answering quickly. ” It’s Wes, and I assume that you’re the crew that shut down the Twin Dolphins tonight.” The reply- ” We are. So, you want the bottle?” I jumped into the skiff, let off the painter, and rowed out to meet them.


A companionable two hours of conversation and sipping killed off the balance of the watch. The crew that shut down the Twin Dolphins rowed back to their schooner and me to the ketch.
As I was climbing on board, a groggy Cap’n emerged on deck. ” I thought I heard voices…is that rum I smell?” My reply: “Sure is Cap’n. In the middle of the mid-watch, I rowed out to meet a bunch of rum-toting drunks. We drank all their rum, and only now am I reporting back for duty.”


He blearily looked at me. If he weren’t just fresh from his bunk, he’d have pulled out his pipe and done his little routine of filling it, lighting it, puffing on it, and then pointing the stem at me. Being it was 4:30 in the morning, he just grumbled, ” the mid-watch can do strange things to the mind, but providing rum doesn’t count as one of them.” Before he noticed, I quickly deep-sixed the empty pint of rum over the side.

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The LIST

Daily writing prompt
What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months?
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There is something to focusing on the problems at hand rather than the unknowable. You can prepare responses. You can sometimes analyze with an almost forensic intensity how severe they may be and the sort of response that might make them resolvable. The sticky, hard-to-resolve ones are the ones we’ve created. Bad relationships are one I can think of in that category. It was glorious, until it wasn’t. And now we are faced with the strategic retreat. Or perhaps the rout. There can be finances to disentangle, entire domestic situations, and lots of hurt feelings.

The Great Unknown

That brings us to the unknowable. Those unpleasant tag ends that refuse to unravel, get larger every day, and have complicated our lives. No matter how serious or observant we were in the process of extracting ourselves, they are like splinters that resist pulling. In one case, I can recall only with a wince, the splinters were more like porcupine quills to pull. It seemed that every attempt to extricate myself from the situation complicated it.

Sometimes you can’t throw enough resources at a problem. And you wind up looking up from the bottom of a big hole. That’s where the LIST began.

The LIST

On the wall behind my computer monitor is pinned the LIST. These days it has mostly existed as a group of planning points for my seasonal affect disorder ( SAD). It’s a list of things to implement as a relief from SAD. Recently as I’ve begun to plot my actual retirement ( at age 80…soon) it’s begun to morph into strategies for easing the transition from a working life to retirement. The LIST is not a plan, it’s a set of planning exercises or elements. It’s more flexible and responsive to the unknown than a static plan.

The origin of the LIST was in the 1970’s when I had just ended a divorce, a disastrous follow-up relationship, and a career crisis after grad school. At the prompting of one of the women I was in a relationship with, I went into counseling. And yes, if you are thinking that I was one messed-up puppy, you are correct!

Three times was the charm; my first two attempts at counseling didn’t work out. Then, at a community social services organization, I started working with Joel. It was a pretty hefty three years of work. By the end, I had made large steps towards emotional maturity and assumed adult responsibilities for my actions.

A Tool for Survival

One of the tools that came out of the process was the LIST. See a crisis coming, or just decide to reinforce your resiliency, start a list.

You may never do all the things on the list. There are no check markds and it’s not a roadmap, or a panacea. It’s just a planning tool. You’ll add to it and subtract from it as your grasp of what might be needed grows. My list for SAD includes things like physical therapy ( keep your body healthy), practicing my guitar, museum visits, taking my wife out for coffee, and about ten other things. Depending on your situation, your list will be unique. It’s not a panacea, as I said; it’s just a tool for nibbling away at the problem at hand.

As my LIST evolves into a planning tool for retirement, several new items have been added. One has been a budget planning exercise for a more limited cash flow, and (drum roll please, Maistro), going to counseling.

Caveat: This may not be your thing! I’m mentioning it because it helps me; if it is of assistance to you, I’m pleased. But I know that it’s not for everyone. This is not one of those TikTok influencer spots where I sell you a product guaranteed to remove that little parasite that is wrapped around your tonsils. That’s my buddy Fred.

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Oh No!!! A Paradox!

Daily writing prompt
What advice would you give to your teenage self?
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The winter weather has been crudy! Not being able to do normal activities outside, other than split wood for the stove I’ve taken to reading of Sci Fi in the evenings by the stove. The folks at Prompt Central, must have known and sent this one to zing me!

Time travel, as you know, is a new frontier. We are still trying to dig our way out of simple paradoxes. You know, like what happens if you go back in time and stop grandma and grandpa from hooking up. Grandpa saunters down the boardwalk and meets Gabriella instead. You ain’t you, and you either cause a huge fluctuation in the space-time continuum, or ( according to other theorists) the flow of the continuum smooths out, and you still exist. This chestnut has been around for ages, and people are still arguing about it.

So if I were transported to Greenwich Village in late 1964, when young Lou was hanging out at the Cafe Rienzi, I’d hustle right over to the IRT subway line, grab a ride to Penn Station, and buy a ticket for an express to LA. I’m not going to mess with a paradox. Shit! If he had listened to me tell him to practice more, hang out at the Minnetta Tavern less, and not date Susan, he might have been a successful folk singer!

Wait. Be a successful folksinger? Record contracts? Groupies? Big concerts.

OK, maybe I was wrong. The young fool needs a talking to!

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Out, Out Damned Winter!

Daily writing prompt
What bores you?
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We have a blizzard incoming. Yes, all the rechargeable batteries, lights, phones, and stuff are charged—food that can be cooked over the wood stove on reserve, and shovels at the ready. There is a supply of bottled water. This is not a baptism; we’ve been around this block before. The little crank-up radio works, the cats and dog have adequate food, and I’ll chop extra kindling just in case.

Expectations

My night shift working wife will have a sleeping bag, change of clothes, and some snacks packed in her car – she may not make it home tomorrow. The day shift may not make it in till noon. To the cat’s delight, I took a poker and swept underneath a few cabinets to haul out the collection of catnip toys, feather duster “birdies”, and assorted toys – there will be a source of entertainment for them. The dog will supervise my spreading extra bird seed and the carrot skins saved from last night’s stew. The rabbits he chases must be fed. The birds must also have full feeders – all five.

We are expected to get 18 to 24 inches in this storm. Oh joy, oh rapture. I’ll be able to climb to the top of the pile by the driveway and experience vertigo from the height. We are blessed…well, more like that sarcastic phony prayer from the life at sea – “Oh Lord, may we be truly grateful for what we are about to receive!”

Bored? What am I bored with? Surely I don’t have to spell it out!

Well, I have saved up a bit of special medicine. The seeds are set, the seed starting mixture is ready, and the plant lights are ready. When it starts snowing, I’ll start sowing. To hell with this winter.

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Spacio-Temporal Continuum…Right!

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite drink?
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Drink? Ahh, it depends. I’ve been reading a lot of Sci-Fi this week, and I’m cogitating about this in terms of where I’d land on the Spacio-Temporal Continuum if my Displacement Algorithmic Defractionator were working.

If it dropped me in Early-Bird times It might be a nice warm bottle. Icchh! Let’s recalibrate…Ahh, a snifter of brandy. Wait..I don’t drink anymore!

Let’s refractionate the shares of the probability densitometer and home in a little bit on more recent times. A there it is…this morning. Yes! It’s definitely a bit more vibrant an image. Ahh, the olfactory element is kicking in!

It’s Coffee! Just the way I like it cafe con leche. fresh drip brew, and steamed milk. nice and hot!

Well, that’s all for now. I’m off to drink that final cup.

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Prelude

for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday – February 21, 2026

Another blog that I follow and love is Canadian Art Junkie (https://canadianartjunkie.com). Today there was a feature on the work of Frank Gehry. In August of 1969, I was living in Ottawa, Ontario, and enjoying some early success as a woodcarver. The work I was doing was nowhere near what I do today. I had been befriended by an interesting Canadian artist named Ron Campbell. Ron was developing a gallery/ creative space called the Creative Foundation. He saw some of my very early work thanks to a First Nations wood carver who I was periodically working with. Discussions and conversations followed, and soon I had a spot in an exhibit at the Creative Foundation. Ron saw his role as a mentor who piqued my curiosity rather than guided my development. One afternoon he sat me down with some books on the work of Frank Gehry, and I was off to the races. In subsequent weeks I was introduced to Arp and Henry Moore.

The introduction to Moore was playful. In a discussion, I mentioned my interest in Surrealism and mentioned my youthful run-in with Dali. I was running around downtown New York City with some friends, and literally ran into Dali. The Maestro picked me up and told me to be careful. Ron laughed, but two days later introduced me to the works of Moore. He especially thought that Moore’s interest in “Direct Carving” was especially relevant to my interest in the surreal.

Ron’s suggestions were a prelude to several years of sculptural work in surreal sculpture. Until this morning, and reintroduction to the work of Gehry, I hadn’t thought about that work in years.

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At Last!

A dog races in the Olympics! At long last! Seeing one of my canine brethren showing those dumb hoomins what racing is all about! Four feet!

Of course, they didn’t even give him a dog biscuit! Prejudice, plain and simple. As usual, they can’t stand to see true excellence excel over mere human idiocy.

Anyway, this is just the beginning. The Summer is coming, I understand Team Poodle is already in training. We’re off to the races.

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Obscure

For Fandangos’ Flashback Friday. Originally published on April 26,2020

Ego? Sure, I do. Why else would I have done all those shows? Blog posts and blather about my carving from one end of the internet to the other! I guess mine is as healthy as anybody else’s. But you know who I admire? It’s the woman or man who carved this little portrait. Its hidden away on a back alley on Rockport’s Bearskin Neck.
The person who carved it had to have known that 99% of the people passing by would never notice it. But, there it is anyway. Obscure and hidden. Now that’s self-confidence. The knowledge that your work stands on its own—a genuinely audacious lack of concern that your art receives admiration. Except by the 1%, who’ll acknowledge what you already know. Bravo!

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D-Ring Greasy Calfskin Engineer Boots!

Daily writing prompt
Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.
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When I left for Boot Camp, I entrusted my mother with my three favorite possessions: my guitar, backpack, and the thousand-league spanning ( it seemed) D-ring Engineer boots. I didn’t part from these things in a lighthearted manner. They were at the core of my roaming ways; they were a definitive symbol that shouted Pius Itinerant. Having a pack, boots, and a guitar will make traveling easier.

Later, when I returned to reclaim them, only my guitar remained. In a fit of household cleaning and reorganizing, the boots and the pack were trashed. I suspect that even my mother suspected that getting rid of Charlie would be a bit of idiocy too far for any forgiveness, and kept the guitar.

I eventually forgave my mother, but learned the lesson that she was a compulsive declutter bug and could not be trusted as the custodian of relics of the past. In later years, my sister and I rescued family photos from a decluttering sweep,

The Boots

But the boots. The boots were greasy calfskin, d-ring engineer boots out of a second-hand clothes store in Lower Manhattan. They, and the pack, were the first purchases I made on the day that I departed Greenwich Village for the road. I can still recall how they enclosed my calves and protected my feet on the road. They were roomy enough to hold a boot knife or an emergency stash of cash taped to the side seam.

Being a newbie, I was following the advice of my mentor, Bill, on how to equip myself for the voyage into the world beyond the City. Basically, the guitar was the extension of my voice, the pack ( with its contents of books, clothes, and oddments) my house, and the boots my transportation between offered rides. Now that is an important distinction: offered rides, not begged rides. We were Pius Itinerants, professionals at what we did. Ride with us and be entertained with tales of our journeys and exploits. We were your gregarious companions. Not as suggested by the common hoi poloi of law enforcement – beggars of rides. We had class.

So, as you imagine, the boots are gone. I never found a good substitute. but they will never be forgotten.

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The Gift

Daily writing prompt
Share one of the best gifts you’ve ever received.
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Until I did boat shows, I never understood how complex gift-giving could be. My classic examples will always be the guy (s) who wanted a carved figurehead of their wife ( but bustier) as a birthday present. The wives, of course, stood off to one side with a disgusted look on their faces.

But, ladies, don’t think you get off scot free. There was that woman who wanted to buy an eagle for her husband’s office. Nothing strange, you say, for a present? Well, the one I had at the show was your typical eagle with a banner that read ” Free Trade and Seamen’s Rights.” She wanted a different sentiment on her husband’s, ” Free Trade and Semen’s Rights.” This may have been a wisecrack, but she backed it up with a significant deposit on the work.

When couples walk up to your booth looking for presents, you need to keep an eye on both. No, not because of theft. But because different signals will be sent by each member of the pair. He’s looking at the Regatta Hoop tray with a carving of his yacht club’s burgee ( club flag) on it. She has her hands stroking a hand-carved cherry bowl about twelve inches in diameter. Can you go for the gold and make two sales? At least it’s a pleasant dream.

Then there was the lady riffling through the carved cherry spoons as her husband examined a nice cherry cutting board. She grins at me and silently mimes ” the spoons!!!!” She is pointing to one large one in particular. She then looks to her husband with an innocent look, but mentally she is broadcasting “spoons dummy, spoons!” As a craftsman, I think that they both have excellent taste, and try to make two sales.

Wooden flowers

Even though my booth was decorated with eagles, quarterboards, banners, billet heads, and all sorts of carved doodads for your boat, it was the common spoon and cutting board that paid booth fees, and allowed me to take the family of six ( four ravenous kids) to dinner. Cash flow is king, and simple wooden ware was the key.