There are Strawberries and there are strawberries

“Slowly, then all at once” describes more than just the way some people would prefer to see their end of life journeys. It can apply to how the local farmer’s market comes into operation. Many of our past sojourns here from Taiwan began in August, when the market is at its best. We settled here last year, and having now come through the winter and spring into the glory of summer, we’ve seen the process by which it gets TO that “best”. 

It began with an “indoor” opening in a sheltered corner of its location. On offer there were root vegetables from last year, packaged things like Honey, prepared things like tortillas & kambucha and dried herbs & spices.  As the weather warmed, stands were opened outside on Saturday with plants, baked goods, cheese and preserved meats. Then, all at once, Wednesday daytime and Monday evening markets opened. We’ve been regular shoppers since the first of June; Saturdays for sure and occasional Wednesdays.

Early in the month there was a lot of asparagus and rhubarb.  Radishes were also prominent. A week later there were strawberries. Now, at the end of June, rhubarb is no longer wasting space (I didn’t want it, anyway). Fresh watermelons and cantaloupes are in heaps. Several purveyors of locally grown strawberries were there, too. We’d been buying these in recent weeks, enjoying their sweetness regularly.

That was this morning. Yesterday, in the supermarket, I was attracted to bright red berries in clear clamshell boxes being sold at a price lower than what we had been paying at the farmers’ market (if one would only purchase 4 boxes of them). I went for it.  Busy with other things, I didn’t immediately clean them up. My long suffering spouse, Char, got home and looked on these “berries of unknown origin” with disdain. Today at the farmers’ market we purchased a quart of fresh ones. Back at home I left the fresh berries to her and cleaned up my bargain.  Unable to resist a taste, I popped one into my mouth, tasting nothing.

There are Strawberries, and there are strawberries. This may also apply to other things (though not to rhubarb).

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan

Meeting Neighbors

What keeps us inside our houses and cars separates us from neighbors. When we took up residence here last October there were only a couple of weeks of porch weather remaining, and darkness was falling earlier. When winter came there was no way that anyone would be out on the street. Whether in a car or on foot, few people paused in the cold for conversations.  In the winter in Taiwan, one can easily stop and chat with friends, neighbors and even strangers while outside. Not here. 

But now summer has arrived. People are outside because it’s pleasant. Reconstruction of the street and all the pipes under it has induced many of us to park at the corner instead of in our own driveways and garages. The sidewalks are also gone for the time being. To get from house to car, one walks across neighbors’ lawns. Nobody minds, because we’re all in the same mess.

In contrast to Taiwan, where summer is too hot to stand around outside and it’s too buggy to stand still, this place lends itself to slowing down and talking. Last night on my way to the car (to go to a free blues band concert in a park several miles away) I fell into a chat with Shelly, a single woman in her 40s who, like us, just moved into the neighborhood last year. She was with Tom, a friend who delivers the mail and had come over to visit. They were on her porch. As we got acquainted, I mentioned that I was going out to a concert. We said our goodbyes and I was on my way. 

I met friends at the venue. One loaned me a folding chair so that I wouldn’t have to sit on the grass. Sometime between the first and second set, Shelly and Tom showed up. I introduced them to the group among whom I was seated as “folks from Hope Church” and “neighbors”.  Tom, Bob (a college biology professor) and I chatted about this and that during the intermission. Shelly and Linda (sitting on the other side of me) got acquainted in their own conversation. Linda is a retired landscape designer, also single and also recently relocated to Holland.  Shelly is getting started on doing things about her yard. I’ve no idea what they talked about, but there was a natural connection there. Then the band came back, the conversations ended, and the music re-started. 

 It doesn’t get dark until 9PM or so during the summer here. I’m looking forward to more chance encounters, on porches, on people’s lawns, and at outdoor concerts. We’re planning a couple of weeks in Taiwan in January. That’s when we’ll chat with those neighbors. 

 David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan

Yayoi

Yayoi Kusama marked her 90th birthday a few months ago. She was born in Japan and trained as an artist in Kyoto. In the 1950s, enamored of abstract impressionism, she moved to New York City and became part of the art movement there. This was not an easy group to join. The New York School artists were almost exclusively male, and quite adamant about it. 

Kusama eventually broadened her artistic output from painting to performance and writing. She was famed for a style eventually dubbed “infinity rooms”  and for organising “happenings” in public spaces. One of her signature motifs was polka dots, often painted on nude models outdoors. 

In 1973 she returned to Japan, and in 1977 checked herself into a mental health hospital where she continues to reside between the museum shows and visiting artist gigs she produces around the world. 

The final week of the art class I’m taking is devoted to Kusama’s work. The assignment was to attempt an infinity painting. I was attracted to the polka dots, so I did that instead. (I don’t have to pass this course, so I’m taking certain risks.)  among the junk found in the old house we bought last year there was a certain amount of peg-board. Among the materials I bought for other projects there were three colors of spray paint. 

Voila!

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Dug In

There were occasions during the four decades that we lived in Taiwan when it was unsafe to go outside. That had nothing to do with civil unrest and certainly not with snow, but with typhoons. Things not firmly attached to something else, things like roofing tiles, shop signs, and palm branches, could take flight and do a person serious damage. Between August 6 and 10 of 2009, the deadliest typhoon in its history swept across southern Taiwan, where we resided. Though we lived in a well drained location a few meters higher than the flatlands around us. People in rural areas not far away suffered flooding. In more distant, low mountain areas, people were cut off by washouts, and an entire town was wiped out by a landslide.  

This summer will mark the 50th anniversary of my high school graduation and my joining the Army. At one of those events I was issued a diploma. At the other, I received a set of equipment, which included an M-43 entrenching tool (foldable shovel). After boot camp I never had to carry one, and even then, never had the occasion to use one. A member of a construction engineer company for most of my term, I was privileged to be near to mechanical equipment, or better shovels (when hand digging was called for). A  high school friend who joined the army the same week as I was in the combat engineers. Talking about our training and subsequent service in Vietnam, he once mentioned his familiarity with the command to put that M-43 to use to “dig in.”  My elder brother, who served in the 9th Infantry Division there, occasionally spent nights on patrol, “dug in” with the help of his entrenching tool. 

Today as I write, I’m “dug in”. The no exit street where I live is being re-built. A new sanitary sewer pipe was installed  deep beneath the frost line last week. Starting at the dead end of the block, a crew has been connecting individual houses to it day by day. On the south side, where the pipe runs, it’s a matter of deep holes. But on the north it’s trenches.  The work passed my house this morning. I didn’t get the car out before digging commenced. There’s a LOT of equipment out there, a lot of digging and bulldozing going on, and a lot of loose sand. I’m dug in, without access to an M-43, until they close things up for the night

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan

It’s Why You Got That License

In a recent crossword puzzle, solvers were asked to come up with a five letter word to satisfy the clue, “students’ fears”.  That’s vague enough to set one to thinking, or to solving the perpendicular questions in order to reveal a few letters. I opted for the second option (it was easier than thinking) and discovered that the required answer included an “x”.  From there it was easy, “exams.” But if one does not wish to be examined in particular areas, one can be cut off from many career fields. 

Of course, there are ways to get around many of life’s tests. Nothing stops unlicensed drivers from operating cars and trucks. Nothing prevents unexamined practitioners from setting themselves up as life coaches, personal trainers or even clergy. In the 1980s I received a catalog from a place in Oregon that offered advanced theological degrees by distance learning. Whether the degrees were worth anything or not (likely not), the place was honest on the issue of accreditation. A long attack on the very idea of accreditation was followed by the statement that said, in effect,, “XX Academy is accredited by the Word of God.”   I didn’t enroll.

In India, people known as jhola chaap doctors circulate in poor and rural communities. The Delhi Medical Council refers to these unlicensed doctors as “quacks,” distinguishing them from Ayurveda practitioners and shamans in tribal areas who are considered legitimate alternatives to licensed medical professionals.  Early in 2018 a licensed doctor running a health camp in the district of Bangarmau reported an unusual cluster of HIV infections, including many children. When authorities pressed villagers on how they became ill, stories about a bicycling doctor who offered bargain price treatments emerged. It turned out that he had used the same syringe on different patients without cleaning it between injections. 

People who go the route of taking training, passing exams and becoming certified by a professional body may or may not be better drivers, barbers, healers, priests, life coaches, teachers, engineers or architects than some who skip these

By Hezery99 –  https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=59191932

steps. The Watts Towers in Los Angeles were built by a man unskilled beyond the tasks of basic labor. He put them up without help, without proper construction tools and without blueprints. They have withstood many an earthquake. A 37 meter tall tower built of scavenged bamboo and rope (former oyster pens) on the beach in Tainan, Taiwan, is a similar feat.

The effort that goes into becoming trained and licensed often results in functions that were not originally envisioned. Hairdressers may intend to “do” new coiffeurs, but find themselves as even more effective in the role of confessor and conversation partner. Police cadets may think about catching “bad guys” and find themselves mainly making kids feel safe. Clergy might focus on scripture interpretation and oratory, yet find their main usefulness in the proclaiming of God’s forgiveness. 

We are here for each other. Whether we’ve achieved licensed status or not, and especially if we have.

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Independence Day

It’s not hard to see that Americans will soon celebrate independence day. The fireworks stores have been open for weeks around here. Recent evenings have been punctuated by the sounds of explosions and starbursts that reassure some customers that their purchased have not been duds.

The date July 4, is prominently displayed on the Declaration of Independence at the national archives. The actual declaration had been made on July 2nd. Editing of the text took a further two days, and the signatures did not begin to be added until August 2nd of 1776. But to call it, “Celebration of the approved text day” doesn’t stir anyone’s heart, “Independence Day” is good enough.

The declaration was well received by many, not so well received by some, and entirely rejected by others, most significantly the King and Parliament in England. War had already been going on for over a year. New York was under British military control, and 7 more years were to pass before hostilities ceased.

Though the two sovereign nations were separate, yet continued to be bound by language, legal systems, markets and supply chains. They even shared a land border on the northern edge of New York, Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine.  

Nations are nations, individuals are individuals. As individuals, we go through many independence days

When we take charge of or own mobility, be it by rolling across a floor, crawling on all fours, walking, riding a bicycle or driving a car, we declare some degree of independence. When we begin to make our own decisions and live with the consequences of them, we assert psychological independence. When we consciously take on or abandon a religious belief, we confess spiritual independence. Even when such a belief is identical to that of a family or culture that introduced us to it, the conscious confession or rejection of it is an act of independence. Financial independence comes when we no longer rely on a co-signer for loans or plan to pay them off from a future inheritance or ongoing income from a trust fund.

Similar to the varied responses to the Declaration made on July 2nd in 1776, some people support, some resist, and some outright oppose these personal declarations of independence that you or I have made or will make.

Like those two 18th century nations, divided but related, we today, independent of each other in so many ways, remain related. The things that tie us (but, hopefully do not bind us) to each other are like affection (where it is due), respect (where it is mutual), honor (where it is fitting), and care, where it is needed. No one is an island. No one stands alone.

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Handy Dandy

 

Photo by Manki Kim on Unsplash

Over the years in Taiwan we accumulated several “handy dandy” gadgets in kitchen drawers. Most of them did not follow us to Michigan. A couple were used to keep our cooking knives “less dull”. Neither those gadgets nor most of the knives came here. The exception was a cleaver that I’d bought in 1982. But without a sharpening thing, it had become more useful for pounding things than for chopping.

Last Wednesday at the Farmers’ Market I wandered down a lane and discovered a knife sharpening booth. I asked the guy if he’d be back on Saturday, and he said that when the market is open, he’s there. Today I carried a cleaver with me to his establishment. Fifteen minutes and $6 later, I now need to be careful of my fingertips, but onions and pork chops should tremble at my approach.

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Under the House

The street where I reside is under reconstruction. A couple of months ago all trees on the south side were removed in preparation for new storm drains. Last month the road surface was removed, followed by curbs, sidewalks and driveway aprons. A couple weeks later holes were drilled and pumps installed to lower the water table in preparation for trenching.  The gas company re-plumbed the neighborhood about 10 years ago, now it’s time for the water lines, sewer pipes the storm drains. Electricity, telephone and internet still come in from overhead. These are neither being relocated underground, nor does it appear that any provision to do so is being made during excavations.

Watching, hearing and enduring the digging has demonstrated that this city, only a few miles inland from Lake Michigan, is on sand. The soil and temperature moderating influence of the lake make this an ideal region for growing fruit: apples, grapes, berries, etc. Good farm labor jobs drew many people here from Texas and Mexico, accounting for all the Spanish in use in the area. People who didn’t go back south after the harvest took factory jobs and the economy thrives.

But the sandy soil also reminds me of a song I learned as a kid in Sunday school, about a wise man building a house on a rock and a foolish man building a house on sand. The parable in the gospel wasn’t about house construction, but that’s what we kids who sang the song got from it. When we bought this house last year, I liked its solidity. Now that the construction outside has revealed to me what’s under it, I’m beginning to wonder.

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan

The Creative Power of Word

I learned to type on a manual machine sometime in 1965 and saw the move to electric typewriters as all I’d ever need.  Late in the 80s in Taiwan the agency I worked for installed a knockoff computer on a desk and a box of pirated software floppy disks in a drawer. I used it like a typewriter. I came late to computer word processing.  It took me years to move over (not necessarily up) from DOS based to a Windows system. Even then I remained years behind the curve of new versions. In Taiwan I used pirated software until about 2015. That’s what was on office computers.  During sojourns in the US I had open-source alternatives.

Early In the 21st century, working at a news organization that not only had licensed but also updated software, my affair with Microsoft Word began. She was  user-friendly. My productivity, if not my creativity, ramped up. As I learned more of her futures, she helped me get things to look better on the page. Like many people I overused the many fonts, gimmicks and clip art, but I settled down soon enough. Productivity issues solved, I made some progress on creativity.

Of late, most mornings I spend a few minutes reading and contemplating. That typically includes a few verses from the Bible plus a few thoughts from a favorite writer. In recent months I crept through some of the more poorly written epistles in the New Testament. I found myself wishing that if these were indeed verbally inspired by the Holy Spirit, that she had been a better editor.  Finishing those last week I shifted to the minor prophets. The favorite writer’s stuff is a compilation of pages and paragraphs from many of his books, chosen by someone else. In recent days they’ve been paens to the superb excellence of the Scriptures. This was hardly in synch with my recent months’ struggles with those epistles. Grumpiness aside, I must admit I’ve been caused to ponder the creative power of Word (not the Microsoft variety).

It only takes a poorly chosen word to turn a romantic evening into a disaster. It only takes a pointedly chosen and well aimed word to puncture an ego and throw someone into despondency. One word can convey conviction, resignation or creation. The writer upon whose comments I reflected this morning worked in and from English. His use of “word” is based on the opening lines of the fourth gospel. Chinese translations use “tao” (way). “In the beginning was the way…” The benefit of that alternative reading, in a way,  spurs creativity.

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Empowerment

 

On average in the USA, 205 days per year are considered “sunny”. Not to brag, but I’m from  Los Angeles, where the average is 284. That still leaves 81 days of “the other kind” of weather. Some of those days happen in the summer, and it’s a bummer when one with a trip to the beach.   For a few years when I was a kid we’d go to the beach with a neighbor. NOT to a county or state park beach. She preferred a privately owned place near Malibu, “Paradise Cove”. She claimed, the sun was always shining there. She was usually right, at least 284 out of 365 days.

Though fruit one gets in the market or from a roadside stand in Taiwan can sometimes be insipid, it’s usually sweeter than that which is found in a supermarket. I wasn’t sure why until I observed as my wife did the buying. She avoided supermarket produce sections (where I would select fruit randomly while others would chose carefully). At fresh markets or corner stands she would say to whoever was there, “I’d like two papayas (or mangoes, or pineapples, or whatever) for tomorrow (or for as soon as we get home, or whenever). You choose for me.”  We ate good stuff.

A hobby I had in Taiwan was to put things into picture frames. One can begin with the object and find a frame, or begin with the frame and find an object. At the corner of the street where now I reside there’s a framing shop. It’s pricey. I’ve not used its services.  But recently I sent a note to a local thrift shop with a strict “no bargaining” policy.  I offered $50 for whatever they’d give me, so long as it had glass or plexiglass in it. Last week a couple of volunteers helped me load my entire car with framed stuff and empty frames. I asked no questions, rejected nothing offered, and came home with about 75 potential projects.

Getting the frames was like getting sweet fruit in Taiwan… leaving the selection to the people doing the selling. Empowering others and trusting them to treat you right is like a trip to Paradise Cove, where the sun always shines.

David Alexander resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan