It’s been a few days, and I’ve written about other moments in between … but I still need to say this.

I have many favourite spots in Gent.  One of them is Speeltuin Godshuishammeke, a tiny playground only a ten-minute walk from home.  And I have a bench there.

Okay, it’s clearly not mine, which was clear as I walked towards it.  A couple was occupying two of the three spaces.  I smiled and said hello as I sat down.  The man stared.  The woman smiled back.

We three sat together for 45 minutes or so.  I was fine with that.  We were in the shade on a hot day and the sun was touching the leaves above.

During the whole time, the woman scrolled audio files on her phone, spoken in a language I didn’t understand.  About every thirty seconds she’d go on to a new voice.

Most of the time, the man had another audio going on his phone.  Occasionally they’d say something to each other.  Usually though, there was just the clatter of competing computer sounds.

Years ago, I would have experienced these noises as an assault on my ears.  This time it hardly registered.  I sat there phoneless, watching kids play on the climbers and others kicking a ball around on the wee football field.  And then there was the canopy of green above me.

Eventually I got up, turned to the couple with a smile, and said goodbye.  The man stared.  The woman glanced up, said something polite, I believe, and quickly dropped her head back to the screen.

***

One flavour of life on a summer day

Here is my friend Yvette, from Delhi, Canada.  We’d been cycling buddies for years, until my dear wife Jody died in November, 2014.  The last time I saw her was at Jody’s Celebration of Life in January, 2015 … eleven-and-a-half years ago.

How did we let this happen?

There was no antagonism between us.  We just faded away from each other.  It’s sad.  I’m sad.

And there was Yvette this morning at the Gent Sint-Pieters train station.  I’d told her that I might hide on her, but she found me before I could hatch my plan.  Just as sneaky as me!

As they say, and as it was today, we picked right up from where we left off, as if it was yesterday.  Easy.  Smiles abounding.  Stories spilling out.

Nothing was amiss … except eleven years of silence.

We talked about so much.  I’ll just go to one place. 

In 2007 or so, Yvette and her partner John created a bicycle ride.  There were different distances, with 100 kilometres probably being one.  The route explored rural roads within Norfolk County in Ontario, Canada.  Rest stops with refreshments for the 500 or so riders were provided, as was a simple meal at the end of the day.  It was appropriately named The Tour de Norfolk.

And it lasted for 16 years!

Yvette shared sad stories about the demise of the tour, which included a lack of interest from some public officials.  But the sadness was outshined by a wee smile of satisfaction about what she and John created.

Something emerged from nothing

A very fine something

In the Tour’s biggest year, about 900 cyclists pedalled the roads of Norfolk County during the Tour.  There must have been a lot of repeat riders year by year,  but let’s say each time there were 300 new folks in the event.

300 x 16 = 4800 human beings

…

Such a contribution to life, Yvette and John

Congratulations

Oh … the energies of life!  From the sublime to the dancing fool.  In my better moments, I embrace them both.  All of it is within me.

What you see is the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.  He takes my breath away.  The extended arms of love reaching a city of seven million … and beyond.

Christ the Redeemer also lives in my bedroom:

The outstretched arms appear in my mind every day … and then fade away … and then return.

When my hands are wide, you are my brothers and sisters, my mom and dad, my kids.  I rest here.

My small mind insists on making frequent appearances, but that’s okay.  There’s a rhythm of expanding and contracting.

And the fine energies are not all peace and butterflies.  There’s also throwing all the body parts around in a random way.  Voilà:

The man can bless

The man can dance

Me too

You too

I don’t mean cranking the music louder.

I don’t mean speaking at a high volume … on the edge of yelling.

I don’t mean being at a football game with 50,000 other cheering fans.

Actually, I’m not sure what I mean

Point Number One:  It wasn’t my hand on the knob.  But then … whose?

Point Number Two:  It hit me last night as I watched a stunning DVD – Meatloaf performing his hits with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.  He and his partner in music Patti Russo were belting out the songs, often in face-to-face duets.  It was powerful, alive, “high volume”.

I felt myself getting bigger, arms lengthening, taking up more space on Earth.  I knew that any words coming out of my mouth would also be large, full of impact.

Point Number Three:  I’m sitting in Izy Coffee tapping away.  Even my fingers have a purpose.  And I’m taller … closer to heaven.

Plus the cappuccino sippers at nearby tables are shining.

***

Okay, Bruce.  No figuring out.  Just revel in it.

And now I’ve flown back sixty years, to an old TV commercial.  I just went to AI to stir my memory:

Madge the manicurist recommends Palmolive dishwashing liquid to a client as a way to soften her hands.  They both look down at the client’s hand immersed in a dish of green goo.

“Why, you’re soaking in it now!”

…

And so I soak

John Kennedy, the President of the United States, said these words in 1963.  He was talking about improved economic conditions benefiting all Americans.

The sentence has stayed with me over the decades.  I never analyzed it.  It was just there in the back of my mind.

And today I reflect once more.  It doesn’t feel like some general thing that contributes to lots of people.  Rather, I think of how one person’s action can raise all those who are witness to it.

It doesn’t have to be doing something heroic.  It doesn’t have to be saying something profound.  It could just be …

Saying “Hi”

Smiling

Holding the door open for someone

…

What John Kennedy would have done

What the world needs

Abraham Lincoln was President of the United States from 1861 until he was assassinated in 1865.  He was a lawyer.

Everyone – law students, judges, political opponents – knew Lincoln as a person of integrity.  His nickname of “Honest Abe” came naturally.

Here are a few stories:

1.  Historical accounts noted that he walked miles to return a few stray pennies to a customer he accidentally shortchanged.

2.  As an attorney in Illinois, he turned down cases he believed were unjust.

3.  He communicated honestly with his generals, cabinet members and the public about the brutal realities of the Civil War.

And here are a few words from the man, spoken to law students:

“As a peacemaker the lawyer has a superior opportunity of being a good man.”

“Let no young man choosing the law for a calling for a moment yield to the popular belief – resolve to be honest at all events.  And if in your own judgment you cannot be an honest lawyer, resolve to be honest without being a lawyer.  Choose some other occupation.”

Fine thoughts, and I’ll forgive Lincoln for being an expression of his time … omitting women.

***

I thought of writing this post last night.  The impetus was a meme that showed up on the internet of Lincoln gesturing derisively at Trump.  “That’ll make a good post.”

Upon the passage of time, and the scribbling of words so far, I say no to yesterday’s intention.

“That isn’t Abe”

And so, if you really want to see the photo

You’ll have to seek elsewhere

(Kasia and Célia)

***

Have I mentioned that I love watching the Tour de France Femmes?  Well, I do.

Yesterday was Stage Eight of nine.  Demi Vollering of the FDJ United-Suez team was being “led out” by her teammate Célia Gery.  So Célia was going as fast as she could at the front, cutting the wind for Demi.  Then Célia slowed and moved to the side, letting Demi burst into the lead.

Célia’s move to the right cut off a fast approaching Kasia Niewiadoma-Phinney of the Canyon/SRAM team, forcing her against the barrier.  Kasia lost momentum.

At the end of the race, Kasia was furious with Célia, convinced that she had blocked her on purpose.  The race judges reviewed videos of the incident from various angles … and found no fault in Célia’s action.  My conclusion: Célia didn’t see Kasia coming.

***

I don’t know about the minds of Kasia and Célia.  I just know mine.

I can’t imagine me doing something on purpose to hurt someone.  I can imagine me not being attentive, or forgetting … and my action or the lack of it diminishes the well-being of another person.

But I know this: I couldn’t sleep at night if I’m mean, if my integrity is impure.  No chance.  Plus the broad span of Bruce would compress into a tiny space.  A steel ball in my stomach.

And the end result?

Very little of me would be available to you

That’s not what I want my life to be

***

Célia and Kasia … I hope you forgive each other

I love singing

…

For the last month or so

I haven’t wanted to sing

…

Both true

I’ve been sitting with these facts, fascinated.  Almost always, I just fall into this reality.  No deep analysis of my brain function.  Not even “part of the rhythms of life”.  Just sitting.  Which reminds me of a quote:

Sometimes I sits and thinks

Sometimes I just sits

(A Maine, USA fisherman in 1905)

And now there is now … or more precisely last night.  It was the monthly open mic session at Salavatore’s on Sint-Salavatorstraat in Gent.

I’ve sung there for two years or so.  But yesterday I had no desire to.  “Singing will come back … just not today.”

I went because I wanted to talk to friends, and because I’d promised Nel and Yosse that I would.

There were about 25 of us settling down for the beginning of performance.  As usual, our host Kobe presented us with a pizza box and a marker.  They passed through the room, with folks who wanted to perform writing their name.

I received the box and gave it to the next person, unsigned.  And that was a first.  Such a strange feeling.

Three or four folks performed their magic and then Kobe called for a break – to replenish drinks and relationships.

There we were spread over the sidewalk.  I started talking to Omar and a fellow I didn’t know.  We discussed this and that, including that I wasn’t singing.

And then …

Out of nowhere …

I will sing

No rhyme or reason here, no figuring out.  Instead it was a gentle wave washing over me.  I went inside and added my name to the pizza box.

***

I sang

One of the places I’ve enjoyed for coffee has changed their system of delivering food and drink.

It used to be that I could walk in, sit at a table, order using my phone, and hang loose till the server approached with a smiling face.  The background music was usually peaceful.  I could really sink into my chair.  (Ahh …)

As of a few days ago, bye bye to all of that.  Now we need to line up, which is fine if there are just a few people.  Not cool if there’s a crowd.  After ordering at the counter, I’m given a beeper.  When it goes off, I return to the counter and pick up my stuff.

The result for me:

1.  No relaxing at my table, waiting for my flat white to arrive

2.  No minute or so (depending on how full the restaurant is) chatting with the staff member delivering my order

3.  Being surrounded by the beeping of beepers from other tables

4.  The noise mixes with the background music … and peace exits.  (Noise: “Any loud, unpleasant or unwanted sound”)  Yep.

I suppose some of you are saying “Suck it up” or “That’s what life is like, Bruce.”  Okay.  But I the customer get to choose what works for me.

And so …

I seek elsewhere for my coffee

…

And I’m open to returning

If the beeping stops

My granddaughter “Nicole” and I went for a walk this morning in Gent centrum.  An ancient curving street beckoned, and Nicole noticed a plant shop that she wanted to explore – Broesse.  And so we did.  I looked in every nook and cranny for my favourite house plant (Calathea Makoyana) but it remained hidden.

What we did discover was a tiny café at the back, nestled in green.  Two cappuccinos magically appeared … and so began our meanderings about the state of living.

Life was slow and soft, full of art and growing things.  It was a sanctuary from “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune”.

And then we parted ways with a hug.  I headed home, interrupted by a construction site.  I leaned against the fence and watched two massive earthmovers.

At one point the orange one was so unsteady with its load dropping to the left that its tires on the right lifted way off the ground … teetering against the pull of gravity.  Such power, such force, such … hardness.

And then there was the huge arm and bucket of the black one.  Load after load of rock amid soil, reaching the truck with apparent ease.  The speed, the lifting up, the pouring down.

Is this what we human beings contain – both the delicate flowers and the rigid metal?  Yielding and imposing?  The open hand and the closed fist?

I guess the answer is yes

But for me …

I lean towards Broesse