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PAY ATTENTION
By Laura Lee Perkins
Sometimes we miss clues in our life – even the most obvious ones, particularly those based on repeating numbers or patterns. Numerologists have studied the significance of 0-9 (zero through nine) for many centuries. Still, most folks miss the importance of these 10 simple digits.
When I met my husband Ken in 1998 and moved to his small town of 1,400, I went to the post office to get a P.O. box number. “All we have is #37,” postmistress Penny replied to my inquiry. “That will be fine,” I said.
Next, I needed a cell phone. I had no preference regarding the new phone number and was given 3277 as the last four numbers. There’s 3 and 7 again.
I needed to get a Maine license plate on my Arizona car. The clerk passed me the new plate, I paid and left. As I bent over to mount it on my car, I looked at the number: 2377. Now I was starting to pay attention to the numbers 3 and 7. Three = Trinity and seven = the magic number of the Greeks and Romans; I had loved Latin in high school. I started noticing when 3 and 7 would appear on the odometer as I drove around my new hometown. Research revealed that 7 is connected to the foundation of God’s word and there are 735 references to this number in the Bible. (There are 3 and 7 again!) Examples include: 7 annual Holy Days, Jesus performed 7 miracles on a Holy Sabbath and the world was created in 7 days.
As Ken and I traveled, each motel visit we’d receive keys to rooms with 37 in the room number; this happened 10 times out of 12. Now I was really paying attention! Over the next 20 years, these “coincidences” increased. I decided to focus on this in more detail after attending a couple of numerology talks. When I asked the numerologists about these two numbers, I was informed that 3+7 = 10 and when reduced, 1+0 = 1. (Numerologists always reduce numbers down to a single digit.) I was told that 1 refers to ONE God.
I started really thinking about other significant numbers in my life. My childhood address was 3466 and 3+4+6+6 = 19 and 1+9 = 10 and 1+0 = 1. Hmmm. The first two grants I applied for each brought me $10,000 (=1) for research, writing and, recording for our White Owl Native American flutes, books and CD business.
My birth date is 10-26-46 = 82 and 8+2 also = 10, which again reduces to 1. Our Arizona address, 17200 W Bell Road (1+7+2), adds up to 10 as does our lot #2359 (2+3+5+9). All through these 23 years, I explored my relationship to our Creator in great depth. Although I am not Catholic, my dear Canadian friend Padre Leon says it’s “my search for holiness.” That rings true for me. I have a 94-year-old dear male friend in Maine who recently lost his wife. Although I’ve known him for years, I had to look up the address when I wrote to express my condolences and yes, it was 37. My mother’s phone number was 633-1222 which also adds up to 10. She and I were very close.
Ken and I went to hear Joel Osteen speak at the Talking Stick Arena in Phoenix on 03-15-19 (a date which adds up to 10). As we returned to our car in the parking lot, I noticed we were parked in space #37. Fifteen-thousand people attended that evening and the attendant parked us in #37!
Many people would call these happenings “coincidences” but I don’t. I truly believe that I am being reminded to pay closer attention to everything that shows up in my life which includes the numbers 3 and 7. When I continue to pay attention, something meaningful unfolds. If I ignore these numerical nudges, then I’ve missed an opportunity to experience something truly magical.
Maine’s Magical Rocky Shoreline
By Deb Noone
The harsh call of sea gulls
skimming the shoreline
draws attention
Tide’s out
What do they see
They dive and squawk a discordant chorus
Crashing waves
Adding their own contribution
to the rhythm of coastline life
Me …
Perched high on a balcony
Overlooking both the rage and rhythm
A mound of rock appears near the shoreline
Soon buried by the next incoming wave
A low-flying jet skims the air space above
a gentle hummmmm sounding over the waves
Did the plane just take off in Portland
Will it land in Brunswick
Or wander up the coastline toward another northern destination
I always wonder, as my gaze follows the contrail
Below from my roost on higher ground
my ocean – the Atlantic – maintains its rhythm
crashing, then silence,
crashing, then silence,
crashing, then silence
as the tide rolls in
temporary ponds form in the rocky crevices
waves are absorbed by the kelp
So different from memories
never-ending sandy beaches along the shoreline
Flashbacks to childhood vacations in Delaware
Tumbling under as waves crashed over
Coming back up to gasp in air
and one humiliating teenage memory…
washed ashore to land in front of the lifeguard chair, rising on the sand
my cute pink-and-white-checked bikini top, washing up behind me
to land at the foot of the tall chair
A humiliation no young teen should endure
a recollection forever imbedded in the recesses of that memory chest
hiding at the back of my brain … I shiver
Yes, the rhythm of the tide and the squawking and occasional memories
sing a magical song
unlike the discordant thrum and whine and honks of Route One traffic
only blocks from home
I scan the distance
The glare of the sun almost blocking out the fishing boats
Dipping and gliding
Holding their own against the mighty sea
And white triangles dot the horizon,
as sailboats glide in tune with the wind and currents
I lean against the rail, the deck high above the scene
and dream of having this view forever –
as the view sparks my creativity
Before the next chorus of crashing sea
Silence
Another seagull squawk
A car passes the house,
the engine roaring against the peace of nature
The deep thrum of a fishing boat
or is the boat for pleasure … again draws my attention to the vast sea
I return to the deck to gaze upon the steep hill below
White butterflies flit among the sea of green
one to light upon a yellow-flowered goldenrod
another circles the purple clover and white lacy Queen Anne’s Lace
the two now circling, battling each other for the nectar
until a third joins them to infringe on what seems to be an endless landscape filled
with flowers and greenery.
The rhythm of nature, of life, of beauty and pain
Beyond … sun angled to show sparks off the ocean surface
like mini-fireworks or nature’s glitter tossed from the sun
I sip my tea
and sigh
This is the rhythm of nature, of life, of beauty and pain,
if only for one day…
this scene will remain with me
New Home, A New Pet
By Betty Bavor
My daughter’s home has a new pet! They have been without pets since the passing of their cats and last chicken several months ago. After attending a recent robotics competition, I was invited to come for dinner and meet Randy, an invitation instantly accepted. By the way, the “Bucks Wrath” Robot #6329 from Bucksport being mentored by my great grandson won 1st place that day. I was now on my way for the second grand feature of the day.
Entering the kitchen, I saw an aquarium-size box on the counter with a mound of moss, soil, and water – I was introduced to Randy, an Eastern Gray Tree Frog, Hyla versicolor, meaning it can change color by mood and environment for camouflage. It is native of the Eastern U.S. and Southern Canada. While they secrete a skin toxin as a defense to predators, they are harmless to humans and have a stable population reported by “Encyclopedia of Life.” They can be fun pets with easy care!
This frog somehow found its way to their basement. Maybe it was hibernating on the firewood piled from outdoors and was adventurous. It was spotted on a step of the stairs to the kitchen and luckily did not get stepped on. It was too cold and snowy to put it outdoors, so a bit of research and it has become a pet in a new home.
Eastern Gray Tree Frogs are friendly, recognize people caring for them, and will thrive in a 20-gallon aquarium with high 60% humidity in a 68-78°F temperature. They need occasional warm-water misting plus a dish of water for night soaks and some branches to climb and foliage, as they like canopies to shelter. They eat live insects, crickets, and mealworms. A mealworm was served as I watched and was swallowed whole in seconds. Randy looked at us, maybe thinking, “Is there more?” They tend to overeat, proven by their bulging abdomen. Females tend to be larger than males. They are found in forests, swamps, farmlands, and backyards – and live 7-9 years. Being nocturnal, males emit loud musical calls after dark for 4+ hours, establishing breeding territory and eating. Breeding season is May to September.
My memory was sparked remembering aquariums our young children filled with amphibians, lizards, and sea life we all gathered here and there. We even splurged and once purchased a horny toad at a pet store! The kids took responsibility and learned about and how to care for these pets. It is heartwarming to relive past happy family experiences, and amazingly, they still happen. Precious family experiences need to be appreciated, shared and celebrated. We all have family and changes. Family together is a gift. Have cheerful hearts – joy, love and peace.
Whitewater Rafting
By Lucy Derbyshire
Whitewater is what you see when going down the river in turbulent rapids. It is air trapped in the water that makes the water opaque. The riverbed causes the water to crash on rocks, fluctuations in the soil, or other obstructions, creating the frothy white-appearing waves.
The sport of rafting is popular for all ages of people. The oldest woman is 96, Hazel Amos, who lives in Surrey, England. And the two youngest rafters are Azalea and Wylie Burnham, ages 10 and 8, who raft in the Tahoe-Reno area on a beginner’s river.
If you have never done it, try it. I hope to try it at 78, and a gal in my writing group says she is going to do it. We were discussing it several weeks ago. So I decided to find out more about it.
One beginner says about 80% of the way she never saw any whitewater. She and her husband went to Clear Creek in Colorado after her mother-in-law googled that as being a good ride for beginners. My sister tried it once and her hand hit a rock when she had it outside the raft. A co-worker nurse of mine in Houston loved doing it and that was when I really was thinking of trying it.
The lady who went to Clear Creek said you need to wear quick-drying clothes plus carry clothes for “just-in-case.” She said she needed a hot day and plenty of suntan lotion and water. She made the mistake of wearing tennis shoes and socks on her first trip and they got soaking wet. Wetsuit booties are good. Barefoot works. Water shoes dry fast. Be sure to pack dry shoes and socks for when you are done.
Whitewater rafting is similar to other adventurous sports as far as how many people die. It is about 29 in a million that try it. If you fall out, swim back as quickly as you can. Foot injuries are the most common problem. To buy your own raft, plan to pay $599 to $4,995. One for sale was 12 feet long and 5 feet 3 inches wide.
April to June is the “early season” for experienced rafters. They get the excitement of really good rides. June to August is the “summer season” for beginners and older experienced rafters. “Late summer season” is September to October and really good for beginner rafters in Tahoe-Reno because the scenery between whitewater is terrific.
Three Rivers Whitewater Rafting has been in business for 25+ years with a 4.9-star rating. It is located in West Forks, Maine. And Kennebec Whitewater Rafting has been in business for over 40 years and has 4.7 stars. It is located in Bingham, Maine. It costs anywhere from $212 to $336 for the package of lodging and
The Endeavor
By Laura Lee Perkins
The cold salt spray stung my face, keeping me awake. This 60-degree ocean is no place to be without a wetsuit on. How did this happen?
Heading back home alone after a day on the water, I enjoyed listening to the luffing of the sails. Close to rounding the rocky point, I decided to drop the mainsail and enter the harbor using just the smaller jib.
As I untied the mainsail ropes, a gust of wind came up out of nowhere. Clinging to the loosened ropes, I slid to the deck as the sloop suddenly veered toward the rocky outcrop of granite, towering 50 feet above the ocean. Worried, I struggled to my feet just as the mainsail collapsed onto the deck, burying me.
The Endeavor was usually so easy to handle at the end of the day when calmness settled in over the bay. Yes, I had to round Rocky Point, but using just the jib should glide us in. I was wrong, I surmised, while freeing myself from this heavy cocoon.
Suddenly, the hull of my 28-foot wooden sailboat began scraping the ocean floor. Bad sound. Now what? As the craft ground to a halt, a thundering crack announced the hull was ripping open. Racing down the galley steps, I saw water gushing through a huge tear in front of the rudder. Nothing can plug that hole.
The Endeavor began to list toward the granite cliff as I raced back up the stairs. She rolled about 30 degrees as I slid toward the stern on the mahogany deck. Grabbing for anything to stabilize myself, I saw the life raft rope dangling near my left arm. With every bit of strength in me, I grabbed the rope and untied it. Just as the ship twisted and groaned, the rising tide shoved it deeper onto the rocks as I slipped into the ocean.
Hang on to that rope. Don’t let go. Hand over hand I moved along the rope, making it to the life raft. I climbed inside just as a wave drove the raft toward the wreckage. No time for a wetsuit and I don’t have my phone. Get the raft away from the rocks.
I found the oars strapped inside and gripped them tightly as I lowered them into the water. After the next wave broke, I was able to paddle out beyond the breaking waves. The sun had set. I saw no lights and no other boats.
It’s so cold. Will anyone come looking for me when I don’t return? The harbormaster might notify the U.S. Coast Guard that The Endeavor is missing. It’s almost high tide. When the tide turns, I’ll drift further out to sea.
Tiring, my hope of rescue began to wane. Fog settled in. The Endeavor vanished from sight. Silence ruled. The sea swells subsided. Suddenly, I remembered a compass had come with the raft. I found the pocket; inside was a small brass compass. Opening the cover, the face illuminated! Now I paddled west, toward land, through pea-soup fog. My arms ached. The salt spray was freezing cold. Water began to come into the raft, slapping against my soaking wet shoes. My cold hands throbbed in pain. Just when I didn’t know how much longer I could go on, I saw a light through the fog. Is it a mirage? Then I saw a second light and finally a third, moving up high, above the water. Am I hallucinating?
I heard what sounded like men’s voices, yelling. I tried to answer, but the salt spray made my efforts sound like raspy whispers. I banged the two oars together, loudly, over and over.
The search party, perched on the cliff above the wrecked Endeavor, picked up the sound. “Is that you, Brendan? The Coast Guard is on the way.”
Those search lights on their hats saved my life. Although The Endeavor couldn’t be rescued, I was.
Pondering Thoughts About Improved Technology and the Future
By Alene Staley
As you may have heard, I recently replaced my cell phone, which then necessitated the purchase of a new case for the phone. I remember how flip phones did not need cases or screen protectors. And I’m sure in early cell phone days phones were allowed to be ‘au naturel’ without cases at all. I tried to find a case for my new phone. I bought one that I thought would work, but I was wrong. It seems that the dimensions of each phone are slightly different from all other phones.
I ordered a phone case online and it arrived. Of course, in this modern age it came with no instructions except for a link to a website. My problem was I could not figure out how to open the case to take out the small styrofoam insert. I followed the website link. Nothing on the website gave me a clue. I used the chat feature to ask the question. After about five minutes, I was notified that they would answer my question in 12 hours. I put my thinking cap on, contemplated the case for a while, and finally figured it out for myself. I am happy to say I had no trouble attaching the case to my new phone. The next day I received an answer from the website, which contained only a link to the original website. This experience caused me to wonder how much progress is actually being made as we engage more and more with technology.
Do you remember when phones were wired to the wall and were owned by the telephone company that was a monopoly? The telephone company conveniently located pay phones so that people away from home could make calls. If you wanted to send a message to someone, you sent a letter or a postcard and the recipient would be happy to receive it and would be likely to respond. If you called someone who did not answer, you simply waited to call back at another time. If you called a business or an office, you spoke to a person who would be polite.
Have we really experienced an improvement or not? I think that is worth pondering. And particularly today when artificial intelligence is a reality, it truly is something we must examine. Some of the technology changes have been necessitated by growing populations and have made modern life possible. These changes have brought improvement for humanity but often at a significant cost and with suffering and damage to the environment. I think the development of artificial intelligence is inevitable. I hope good will prevail and that negative consequences will be managed to limit harm and suffering and with kindness and respect.
