Summer in Summerside

I have often commented on how this island is perhaps one of the best places in all of my travels to spend a summer. But allow for the fact that it is overcast most of the time. Each really bright warm day is a jewel from the sun gods. Often the wind shifts bringing shockingly cool air from some place still icy or of icy seas. My little beach at Green's shore, the "Bay walk' as we call it here is really a eel grass choked tidal flat.

The sand is coarse and brown and the sea smells 0f organic decay. I love it as it is as it should be, but many a passerby comments upon the weeds and the "smell". I can hear them as the walk by on the boardwalk while I am lounging hour after hour on the coarse red-brown sand.

They trot by with dogs and kids, some chattering in French, some on phones, some speaking too loudly about a local affair or their world travels. Please. I learn more while on the beach than I do at the wing or legion on Saturday night. My friend Mary doesn't like it when I socialize, especially with female friends. She hates it when I dance facing the seated folks. I think she hates my tan, and she sure dislikes my computer. I am also advised that my life is an abject failure and my misery is my punishment from God for my misdeeds and crimes against humanity, Rhonda, and Shel. I consider this as I soak up the sun and write here by the sea.

Somehow my punishment seems to be what all the moneyed folk walking on bay walk and touring the island for a few days long for. Early retirement. affordable housing. Cable TV. I guess I have missed the point somewhere but I am trying to figure out what everyone is so afraid of and what they are working so hard to accomplish.

I have done all of that. College. Started a business, made millions. Tahiti. My airplane, fleet of cars, my Mercedes, mansion and servants, Shel among them. Now I wait on the beach. All of the material props removed I am still on vacation. Those who visit here have to leave to return to whatever reality someone told them was the proper way to comport themselves. Pay your bills. Follow all the rules. Act like a sycophant-yes sir or ma mm. Don't question authority. Be afraid , yes awfully and horribly afraid.

For tomorrow you may be broke. Don't take a risk. You may lose your home, wife, car, airplane, nanny, or mistress. OOH Noooo! Been there and done that. Still on the beach. Clothes clean, hair cut. And the ladies still like me.

The big loss is the fact of my own bewilderment. Everyone is taking it all way too seriously, and usually about matters of little or no importance of issues over which one has little or no control. They are the same thing.

My quandary is that for most of my time in life it seems that someone wants to steal my joy. I know that misery loves a good friend, but what is it about me that drives the unhappy masses insane? Maybe I just attract the wrong people. At my first job, I was hated as a rebel, but was one of the most cited and admired professionals in my organization. Later, in business I made millions making it seem easy. Then I was ridiculed for taking too many vacations. Hell, that is why I started my own company in the first place!

Then when I lost all that because wife one thought she could steal and somehow operate my "easy" business I married a young blond and moved to the desert southwest. Here I started another small business and worked on my hobbies, fishing, shooting, and the art of relaxation.

Being too happy at that, wife two decides too get what she can and seek paradise at my expense after still angry wife one has me handcuffed for failure to keep her in the mansion, which she of course lost and screwed up after she ruined the business that she desired to run so badly. Must be my fault.

Blond wife decides that she has to make me angry so Ill go away so she sleeps around and ruins my truck. Of course I decide to stay in paradise to wait on her return, which never really occurs unless she is homeless and without a boyfriend at the moment, or some other payor.

Sure I should be all twisted up about this. But I am still on vacation as I sit on the beach and watch the ants dart about their serious purposes. Life is great. I sincerely thank all of my friends and lovers who have pointed out how awful my life is and what an evil bum I am and always shall be.

Maybe Ill move to Hawaii when I get bored again.

Next entry, "The Golden Casket Syndrome".

Cloudy second day of Summer

Just a quick note to report a quiet few days of rain. pretty cool for summer, but ah, the maritimes! I am at the library as my wireless at home is down. I had a banking problem that I think I have solved and pretty much just waiting out the last week of June until payday.

the its parts for my old truck and a fishing trip-hopefully some more pix and real writing for here. It has been a prolonged period of writer block and Internet troubles. I hope will soon end.

All quiet here as summer gets into swing and I can finally do some overdue swimming!

Quiet weekend

It has been too long since I made an entry. My Internet connection has not been as easy as in the past. Finally got back out to do a little fishing. Its been mostly small brookies, but I did catch and release a small smolt salmon near Bedeque. My first PEI salmon! The Alaskan Kenai it is not, but there are a lot of fish and fishing spots close by. My truck needs serious work so my travel is limited. Frankly, fishing here is a rather lonely experience without my son.

Mary went with me a few times . We grow closer. She is a fine woman and a real lady and we spend most every weekend together. Weekends with Mary...before it was just "Sundays with Mary". Last week it was even" "Sundaes" with Mary", as we went to the St. Eleanor's dairy bar after supper.

I did get an email from Joe Moltzen. He sent some pictures of he and Kevin Geraci fishing salmon on the Columbia River. They both look prosperous but we are all aging-my high school fishing buddy's. It strikes a bit of a spear in my heart, but I am glad they have done well and missed the trials I brought upon myself.

Frankly, I think again now of going home. It has gotten complicated. I also got a note from my sister. She seemed OK, but complained of some pain. She refuses to see a doctor as she is sure that she will have to pay, but with medicare and medicaid she can get what she needs.

My lost wife did send an email around the 3rd of this month asking for cash. That always breaks me-and in a different reality I would love to help. The coldness there after 18 years of love and friendship is astonishing.

Cool and Wet

Well damp and cool here in my quiet reclusion. My entries have been less frequent than I would really prefer as my WiFi connection at my place seems to have evaporated. So its the library or sneak my laptop in here to my friends while she is at work. I know that sounds dishonest but she is a radical "anti-technology" type. This can be quite quaint, charming and all that but since this format is my primary connection to both business and my children, it is , at the minimum, "inconvenient".

I did hear from my son with an update. He seems well with school finished, and he is frustrated with dating and work. My work problem is solved at the moment (retirement). The "dating" issue, which in my life never lasts long, is a non-issue. I mean that when I meet someone it goes to serious so quickly that it can be annoying. Trying to stay single has been a challenge in my life.

In any case, I hope to get the truck's front differential fixed and finally get out and fish some more at some point. The "lilac run" of sea-trout should commence here shortly. I am amazed at the streams I have seen-small wild brook trout streams like home-but way too few. Small jewel-like trout fill them. I search for the grown-up fat fish that have been out to sea, and have come home to spawn. Some are 5 pounds, or more. Thats a big brook trout-anywhere!

I am in total writer block for some time now. There has been insufficient time for me to be alone and brood so something interesting will emerge from my brain. I can't let it go on forever.

But its said to be 70 degrees on Thursday, and I may finally fit in another beach day. My summer agenda-tanning and fishing. Maybe something else will come up.

No news from my distant separated "non-wife". I finally figured out that her friend's supposed "Love and Life" blog was just an attempt to annoy me. Both her and her "friend" have fallen electronically silent. It is really too bad that has happened. I do miss those beach days with her long ago in San Diego, the Bahamas, even Cavendish. But it has been explained to me that when I took the vow of poverty, she took flight.

Maybe I should have just stayed in Highland. Well I am "stuck" here in paradise now.

My sister wrote a note last week. She is feeling ill and had the neighbour cut her grass. Joey never stopped by to visit his Aunt, but he has had a busy month. So on into June we go.

Spring Rains

So spring finally arrives here on the island. Warm south winds bring the delayed spring here north and far east of my ancestral home. It always seems the seasons are a month off here. The cool returns in late August and Spring on or about May 1 at this latitude. Its really the icy waters that control the weather. Its been warmer on the mainland. Here, it will take several months for the increasing sun to really warm to a moderate temperature.

I hope to get out this weekend to chase some sea-trout up west. "Up west" means the Acadien part of this island, that begins a few miles from here. There, French is widely spoken and the streams are cleaner, wilder.Its not that critical that I fish immediately, as I have all season to pursue the brook trout that has been at sea as they return to spawn. The sad part is that so many streams here are silt-chocked due to agricultural run-off. That combined with the not rare enough ignorant release of chemicals from careless farmers fields has hurt both the commercial and sport fisheries. This saddens me as I imagine what a paradise this place must have been before settlement and deforestation long ago.

More trees need to be planted and stricter rules enforced. But the economy is poor here and farmers rule. Soon the "tourist" season will begin. Each year it seems that fewer people visit the island. The obnoxious bridge has removed some of the mystery associated with a visit here. Upon our first arrival in the early 90's, a ferry was required to reach this shore. The isolation, although subtle created a unique language and genealogy here that I am just beginning to figure out. My lady Mary is such an example. Often I still don't know what she is talking about. Yes, these folks are separated from the Yanks by a common language.

We go out on weekends dancing. I challenged Mary to identify anyone in any of the clubs who doesn't have a blood relative in the room. She balked, but when we asked about it, everyone had kinfolk in the place. Mary's cousins are always there. Another sensitive point is the large number of physically or mentally challenged people I see everyday. I was told this is because in Canada, the folks are more integrated and accepted. In fact, my theory is that the reduced gene pool is the root cause. This would sure to yield harsh words, or a punch in the nose should I openly disclose it. Much like the isolated valleys of the mountains to the south, this place and its culture was born in the harsh reality of rural life. This includes poverty and inbreeding among the families here.

I know many people who have never been off the island and only rarely go to Charlottetown, the provincial capital about an hour away.

My friend Manny Gallant came by. He asked me to put some of his driftwood sculpture on EBay. I have done so, but I am dubious of the outcome. He makes items from big old Malpeque Bay oysters and driftwood he collects at Holman's island. Pronounced "Mawl-Peck", from this bay come the finest oysters in the world.

Like many lifetime fisherman here, he is nearly illiterate. I find this charming and at times envy him, as I have written before. He explains he has been in a boat nearly since he could walk, and had little time for schooling. The usual harsh childhood, similar to Mary's and many other shaping an island stoicism that is tough for a soft educated spoiled Yankee to grasp. Alcoholism and brutality shaped many a childhood here. This is shown by the angst of failed lives and relationships, broken angry families, and an unearned ignorant pride that it creates in a soul. Some of this is evidenced in my own family. My first wife's mother was raised in such an environment on Newfoundland. The transfer of her pain effected the mother of my children, and even flavours some of their attitudes and fears.

But I love this place. Carefully backing-off on my Yankee attitude and my own ignorance, I have been slowly accepted as an "islander". But with my unique surname here, and without kin, I remain separate.

But I sure look forward to the trout and the beach. In fact this is one place that I can live in a "resort" and be able to live a normal life on my pension. I still struggle with a possible return to the states and a job. Mary would be crushed should I make that choice. It seems my children do OK without me, perhaps thrive without the fear that their mother would go mad if I was nearby. But I may try again.

Its that or make a life here for the time being. Its not so bad. I fear "island fever", which is one reason I decided not to settle on Kauai for a bit. I have to take my own advice, as I gave to my son, "one day at a time, and enjoy life as it come". As my much missed mother had advised.

Trout Season on Prince Edward Island

Many years have past since I actually went out on a cold spring morning to observe this rite of spring. In fact, I cannot remember the last time. Year after year I had planned this event with my son in Pennsylvania. I think we last came close in the spring of 2007 at Clark's Creek just before my ever-predictable return to this island.

I attended a friends funeral here on the Tuesday before our fishing season started. My friend Lloyd from our local legion was 74, and a well know local fiddler. We would sit and chat about mostly religion among the artifacts of war drinking draft Canadian beer. While Mary and I were in church on maundy Thursday, Lloyds wife Shirley waited and Lloyd never came to church where she was to meet him. She found him dead on the living room sofa, after returning home concerned. Lloyd was never late for mass at St. Paul's.

The funeral was the Catholic rite of internment and a high mass. It was nice to attend the sacraments again, but I will miss my friend. The tears welled with memories of past losses of all kinds, and thoughts of the future losses to come. Now I feel part of the town. I had been to such events before, but not for someone that I knew well. The funeral included fiddling and I felt close to home, somewhere west of Harrisburg, in a mountain halla or maybe at the Oriental Hotel in Juniata county.

Those events set the stage for trout season here. The dark calm morning was icy cold with some snow on the ground and calm winds. I left at 5 AM as the season begins at 6:00. The selected spot a few miles East of Summerside on the upper Wilmot River, near an place called Marshbank's pond. The Wilmont empties into the sea about 4 miles below my spot and is straight and wild as it mixes into the salt of Summerside harbour. I could barely see, but parked by a bridge and walked down to the small stream. It was clear with a brownish bottom and some debris. The spot reminds me of the Yellow Breeches near New Cumberland. It isn't all that wild at that point, there are summer cabins and trailers, reminiscent of the rest of Appalachia.

A few cold bodies waited nearby as the crescent moon dropped lower opposite the planet Mercury in a bright frigid azure sky, Mercury shining as the morning star afore the rising sun. The folks spoke in muffled tones of how good the river is, and how they had caught big sea-run trout here over the years. We all cast (all 4 of us) at 6 AM and waited as the sun stubbornly climbed and our toes numbed. The young fellow with his brother and grandma across from me caught a small trout about 6:15. Ice formed on my rod tippet as the line was retrieved. I cast and drifted bait for 2 hours and with no fish, then sat in the Blazer and recorded in my audio diary.

The water is simply too cold, and most trout arrive here later in the spring. Later, I fished the nearby pond with no results. I don't feel too bad-that one trout was the only one caught that I witnessed.

One thing I found odd was that the island has no "non-resident" fishing licence. We all pay 30 bucks, unless we want to fish for salmon and pay an extra fee. All salmon fishing here is catch and release.

I also realized in my hasty departure from Pennsylvania, I left my small lure box in my son's car. I also have his rod and vest. So I will probably move from bait fishing to fly-rod as the weather warms, unless I get a few spinning lures here.

This day after the season opener is cold and breezy and bright. The air will remain cool another month or longer until the surrounding icy sea warms from the strengthening spring sunshine. I have many other streams here and ponds to explore. But it just isn't home nor the same without my boy along. I just have to pretend that I am that teenager that I was with my first car, before my first girl was in my life-driving around with my rod looking for meaning in a stream or on the rural roads.

I admit to being a bit homesick at this time of year. But I will probably remain on the island a
while this time. Life is easier to deal with here for me. But I miss my family and the pain remains vivid of yet another futile attempt to be with family and haunts. So as the lonely roving fisherman of the Pennsylvania back-roads found in the 1970's, I will find here places that can fill the void, maybe catch a fish and kiss a girl-attend the mass, and try to make sense of the issues of the day, both mine and the desperate pursuits that drive the people in the real world-far from this place. Far from my island. The rite of spring, a rite of life.

Transition Day on Prince Edward Island

So today begins the second day of the first full month of spring. Three weeks have past since my return to my adopted home. Mary has been a gracious host but as we spend more time together I see more clearly how our different paths in life have made us so different. I realize also at this point in my life she is a great friend and in reality has probably saved me from some difficulties now thwarted. My old truck was moisture sensitive this morning as an unforecast and therefore unexpected icy- cold damp north wind driven drizzle prevented ignition this morning. Mary bundled up like an Eskimo and has gone to walk up to her work today on Victoria road.

Tomorrow I hope the truck will start or I can get some wire drier and get it running. A trip to Carl's to get those ignition parts put on and an oil change is now imperative. Also tomorrow I am to pay Allan Brown for my rental on Convent street. I am really looking forward to finally unloading and organizing my "kit" and having some alone time. Not only to catch up on the writings but to reflect on the time with Mary, and my recent winter in Pennsylvania with family.

I have been struggling to a conclusion for my writing. Now I feel that I have to make one. But conclusion means where I draw the line-to what end. I mean to stay here, take another stab at PA, or go radical and try and make it back to Arizona at some point. I have decided April is the month of rest-some sea-trout fishing here on the island, and contemplating the summers. In fact, I really have to decide in May where I shall remain.

I had an email from Joey today and he seems OK, and he wants me to call tomorrow around noon his time. Then of course it will be dancing at the "Wing" with Mary and since its a popular band, "Misty Waters", maybe the "Rock and Roll Girls" will reassemble again. Since Mary and I paired off, the old group has been no more. I saw Judy and Joan at different times around town. They seemed ill and bloated and sad. Great sadness here. Great poverty and tragedy hidden in semi-superficial Canadian bliss.

The loonie remains under 80 cents giving my American pension a nice boost. In fact living here gives me a 20% pension increase at the moment. The American car companies move relentlessly to bankruptcy, unemployment soars, and foreclosures continue. The vast American economy in its illness sickens the tiny dependant Canadian economy as when in a siege, ancient armies threw rotten carcasses into a city to sicken and kill the inhabitants. Not that any of this was really intentional (?), but it was avoidable.

For me, on a fixed livable income, depression and deflation are welcome. Poverty causes price reduction, improving my standard of living. If the loonie crashes against the greenback, I win. Sad, but true. Yankee in paradise. I just hope my truck starts and I can catch a few sea run brook trout.

I have heard from my absent and remote "wife". She is still in Charlottetown carless. She has asked me to to find a small book of quotes she had by Norman Vincent Peale. It was always in our bathroom on Central Street. It was a gift to Shel from her friend Tracy. She somehow thinks that I have it. I will look through my stuff, but I am almost sure she took it during her move-out period or it is still in the bookcase at 67 Central Street. I will look. But I told her that I may be able to get another one on Amazon. But she wants that book. I asked why the sudden wave of nostalgia and had no response. We have both lost so many material things of sentimental value. Shel makes me very sad. The awful fact is I am still in love with her, even after this terror, and I find it hard to give Mary 100%.

What a winter!

Spring on Prince Edward Island

Well perhaps it goes without saying, after this long delay in writing here that once again the adventure has taken another turn. Things went south with my army buddy Jason at the Juniata county house and it was time to leave, rather abruptly I might add. I bailed in with my sister and we took an impromptu but traditional (and traditionally expensive) trip to Atlantic City. We spent a few days with our old friend of childhood, the New Jersey shore. My pals at the little Greek restaurant remembered us and we had some good food there at the end of Kentucky Ave. We had a great ocean view suite at the Renaissance Hotel, room 907.

At that time 2 weeks ago I had just planned on renting a place near the kids and just continue on with the family reunification mission. The place south of town was marginal but affordable until something else better came along. Joey and I took a ride down to scope the place and he agreed I should probably not be stuck down there on I-83. So after a night at the kids place and a hassle parking the Blazer, I just decided to drive back here to the Island.

I went on a pizza delivery with Joey and emotionally told him I was heading North again. I think he was sad, but perhaps relieved too. It had been a strain as R never knew I had returned to PA for over 3 months. Alexis had an incident with her man involving a forbidden stay over discovered by mom and her man, causing much stress on the kids.

So it was back to my island home to stay with Mary until I find a new place. I felt silly giving up my place here of nearly 4 years for only a few months-but at least I escaped most of the worst of the island winter. I just rented a nice place on Convent Street, about two blocks from my old home. I move in next Friday.

It has been nice to spend time with Mary, but it is not tension free. We have been dining and dancing-she is a great dancer and cook, a truly lovely lady. She really wants me just to stay here with her, but our personal situations complicate that at the moment. I need some alone time to regroup and decide if I am here to stay of if I will try again to move south, with better planning this time.

There is a possibility I may just stay on the island. Its affordable and beautiful, and I had a real homecoming celebration from the folks at the dance clubs, my neighbours-even the store clerks. Such a small town. Deep with many sorrows but also a place of great beauty. Once again I will miss various outdoor events with my son, so long planned, that just never seem to happen even with all of our maximum efforts.

So a few months here or a few years? Maybe my kids will visit me this summer here.

Shel has emailed me with car trouble. She does not yet know that I am back on the island. For better or worse I am going to remain incognito until I am fully established in my new place. Mary has hinted that I have no place else to go-giving her a powerful upper hand at the moment-for two weeks less a day-then I am back in my own place and free to sort things out.

I would not have returned here directly without Mary. Perhaps not at all. But I am still unsure about our long-term situation and I feel I may be over-playing my hand a bit just to get along until April 3. For sure I am stuck here until that time-another blissful prison.

After I am back in my own place I can sort out the next couple of months. I have serious decisions to make before June 1. More on that later. Sure miss the kids. Visit interruptous.

The End of February

Just trying out my laptop on battery power only. Its early morning here in the mountains with a warmish springlike rain just before the sunrise. My compatriot's have already stirred and gone to work. Simon is up and awaiting his nearly hour long trip on a bus to school. AHH...ruralia. I am not sure that I could ever really go back to a city, although completely comfortable there too. Especially after living in Summerside and always longing for these mountains of my youth;

Yes I am somewhere South of Wyalusing and Towanda...but not that far in terms of fishing or basic philosophy. My mission today in this warm rain is to use the old fishing map and find some new haunts near here to explore.

I was overjoyed yesterday to find, in a small town near here, a place to buy worms and a car wash. The town is Mount Pleasant Mills. Just South of the famous trout stream, Penn's Creek.

It was sure good to wash off 2 months worth of salt The removal of that surficial outrage is also prophesy. So I am here as it seems until I can complete the circle - the Yellow Breeches of my youth in Huntsdale. Opening day of trout season 49 years after I first walked that stream and took trout with my father. The question remains will I walk alone, as Shel has suggested or shall I go with my son and new friends?

Oh-the battery lasts 15 minutes.

My Favourite Month

Well not really. I haven't written this month here, but I have made audio recordings and a long-hand old style journal entry. Life goes on here in Juniata County. I feel as distant from Harrisburg as I did on the island as the kids are still hard to reach. My working roommates come and go at all hours, but are generally well mannered and respectful. We had one disagreement and I really do think one of them was trying to force me out, in that I have a nice furnished two rooms, good heat, my computer and a big cable TV.

I may be wrong. In any case the landlords young son Simon, 11, is now staying with us. He wanted to get away from his mother in Kentucky. Jason asked if I would help him with his homework. Well its beyond that, I make him breakfast and see him off to school and take him fishing and feed him when he gets home. His father works long hours for the railroad and told me he has little patience.

Some of Simon's friends already refer to me as the "nanny", in an odd twist of fate. But it gives me something to do. Mary says I am being abused. She has a problem that I see now-she has never been loved and sees human caring and protectiveness as some kind of weakness. Unless it is towards her of course. I think she is too cold and too demanding for me. Talk about the classic "Guilt Trip", to coin a phrase. I told her that I am a free spirit and that go where I please. She says that I can't. Don't tell me "can't".

The other reason that I haven't written is that my old PEI computer died. I bought this laptop on Ebay. Most all of my work and images are on line so I didn't lose much.

The good news today was that I heard from Shel. I had wrongly threatened to turn her into the RCMP for what is really a non-issue. I was very upset after an ice-cold email she sent that was just too much. I told her today that I am just glad that she is safe and happy and that I will leave her be. The awful part of it is that if she needed me, I would probably leave right now. Probably. After all she is still my family and shall remain so, I hope that over time we can at least establish a correspondence-that would be wonderful.

That all means that when I crossed the bridge into New Brunswick on December 3rd, that world and really a 20 year cycle came to an end. I have been amazed for all of my internet presence and writings, how few people I hear from, really hundreds whose lives I were in have simply vanished.

I have a few new DVD's I bought-one is the "Edge" with Anthony Hopkin's. The film is very hard for me to watch.

So I wait to decide my next life or Port 'O Call. We'll see as the winter wains and maybe my heart gladdens in a new horizon, always warmed by the fondest of memories-being truly in love. Maybe I will be myself again. Its been 5 years. Some may say longer.

Second Storm

A second snow and ice storm passed quickly by leaving a few inches of snow. It seemed so trivial compared to the storms of last winter on the island. I admit to being a little isolated here among the mountains of my distant past. All here consumed with work, lack of work, relationships or lack thereof. I guess I haven't been very good company as I am somber and a bit reclusive here.

I was up the past few nights thinking of Shel, Mary, my kids, and sister. Joey did send an email. He is upset still over his girlfriend and his hectic schedule. I surely do miss him, but I am putting no pressure on him to drive the almost 40 miles here to visit in addition to his busy life. He suggested that I come down and visit with Lexi this weekend.

Mary and I talked a bit today after nearly a week. She scolded me and warned that Windsor (our crazy pal from the "Wing") said my calls would get less frequent and I would finally disappear. Mary does do the female thing with vague accusations and mild guilt trips, but she misses me and has never tried to manage an "international" friendship before. OK its more than a "friendship".

I have made and listened to some of my audio recordings. The CBC Compass news show is on via Livestream each night and I admit to it being emotional to watch it. Boomer Gallant is the weather guy. I used to watch him do live weather out my window on Central Street.

Mary said she is still going out to dance with Eva and sometimes Wilbur, but the rest of my "Rock and Roll Girls" no longer go to the Wing. In an odd way I think I broke that group up after my time with Judy Griffin and later more serious time with Mary. The Lady Mary.

I miss that simple place. It was nice being in a real town with people and active social events like our weekly dances. No such thing here that I can see. This is harsher. Chilly compared to all of the people I knew in Summerside. I asked about Manny Gallant and Germain Fougere but they also have disappeared.

So I wait. Stay or go as the old story goes. I told Mary that I was having second thoughts about leaving PEI-that it might have been fine just to visit for Christmas and then to go home. Joey warned me that I may not see much of him. But I had to try.

Shel has disappeared. I even miss her nasty mails-at least I knew she was OK. OH-I could find out everything if I snooped her out. I was thinking since it is almost payday I may hear from her-the pattern since late 2004. At least then she put on a happy tune and it was pleasant to pay for her apartment, phone, food and whatever there. I really thought it my duty then and that she may decide I am an OK guy anyway. That all really hurts-but I had to know the truth no matter what the cost. I think I now do.

Home in Appalachia

Waking up on a sub-zero morning here on the west bank of Susquehanna, among the ancient ridges and the valleys of the mountains beyond Blue Ridge I am home. In my last entry I tried in vain to explain my personal concept of home. Only someone who has spent his life in travels in work and play would understand. I have often joked that I have been in a plane, train, boat, or car going somewhere all of my life. Often I think it began in the now fading memories of trips with my family to Florida, the Canadian Maritimes, and Mexico as a very small child. Being to young to remember much of that in the 1950's I find my powerful memories near the place I am now.

My extended vacation on Prince Edward Island even after a few months in the past seems almost remote. The emotional voice of my Mary there, here accent and semi-inquisitive Eh? bringing me back to mackerel at my wharf in the fall, and her warmth, her cooking and simplicity. This is truly something to miss. After "having it all", I often tell those who may listen about the beauty of simplicity-true freedom sans materialism and the rush for ephemeral success among the harried and strained world.

I will from now on consider this home, the "Oriental House", as my young son might have called it, the "camp".
Son says it is much like Westline, the old inn there. Perhaps this is the southern camp and that the northern. Westline is so far north and west of here it is really beyond Appalachia in some sense. This is remarkably similar to the interior of PEI, without the forever nearby sea. Not so much the French "Up West" there, more like "Out east" near the stunningly beautiful country near East Point and North Lake. There when the weather is right, the Cape Breton highlands can be seen. From the sea the mountains at the end of this chain meet the ocean. That is an unforgettable scene, especially as to my first trip there with my family around 1960, and later trips with wife 2.

My fellow campers here are Jason who is a railroad supervisor. He is suffering a painful divorce in his mid-30's and here we have commonality. The other pair of residents are the "sons of Dixie" as I call them. Seemingly forever travellers from the deep south, they are working temporarily near Harrisburg. The whole crew speak in a charming drawl and show the scars of a less than satisfactory life. The pair are father and son that I suspect are on the trail together out of real need, but there is simple bonding there that is touching. It saddens me as I feel lost as I hear them talking quietly for hours at night in their bunks with a closeness which for years has eluded me for years with my own children. Of course I have my trips with Joey to Arizona's rim, and Westline. Both kids to the fish hatchery in Huntsdale, and my one trip with them to Island Beach Park, New Jersey. It was there I have a photograph of my father on the beach, with me. It was his last trip to that special place before he left us.

There is the single trip I took with my daughter to Pittsburgh in 2006. She was still a little girl then. But no more.

Today is Friday and some locals may gather. We play an odd gambling game at the rustic little bar-much like the Pine Tree Inn of old. We pass a box of dice and lie about our scores and bet a quarter. I guess that's called "liars poker". I am not very good at it.

The deadline approaching with Mary for a return, the elusivity of my children, and my sisters problems place my decisions on "place" outside soulful serenity. Yes, where your heart is. But when it is scattered to the winds, all points nearly of any reachable place, I must find root in the solace of memory. But perhaps the constant chase, as my mother asked "what am I running from?", was rooted in the travels she and my father provided before I can remember. Always happier with any new vista and mission, no matter how painful, I now must decide on a home for an extended period. The questions are beyond resolution today. But it is only Friday. The weekend at Turkey Ridge and Ox Mountain, Appalachia.

Mid-Winter Deep Freeze

I note today that the weather here today is almost the same as PEI-but without the constant brutal winds and sea-effect snow. Have been a bit under the weather and perhaps settling after a bit of a virus, but it is almost gone now. Jason made chicken and dumplings for the camp after his grandmothers recipe. It was quite good. Almost like mom's but he uses no vegetables.

An email came from Joey today. He likes his social sciences classes as I did as a young lad. He said he is free Saturday and may come up with his girl and her son, with her parents permission. So be it.

Mary and I talked a while this evening. We have this decision date of February. If I am not back by then we are to "break up". I barely feel I have had enough time to decide if the kids are OK yet. Maybe I didn't mention that I got a call from a headhunter that wanted me in Iraq NOW. They had already started my paperwork for a 14 month deployment. After talking to Mary and my son (who both broke down), I declined the "opportunity".

Miss Mary but I am not leaving here yet. If it takes more time so be it. I am afraid that she could be the right one, but the kids have to come first at this time. I actually think Mary doesn't believe that I am coming home. The entire concept of "home" has become so vague to me at this point its non-resolvable.

I have sacrificed for a sweet embrace for many years only to lose the very foundations of my own being. It will not happen again. You see, its choice between home, and "home home". An elusive definition.

No mail from anyone else in Canada-that one I think now after a last nasty attempt at extortion has given up-my ultimate sentence for not rolling over this time is eternal silence. A German tradition-to be "shunned", or as in the Becker/Konig familiy "to be disowned".

It is railroad ties. That means that one Becker Uncle didn't pay the other Uncles about 10 bucks for railroad ties on the prairie 40 years ago. The debtor Uncle was dis-owned and died alone in a trailer somewhere near Grover, Colorado. Dead of being "shunned". Shel always predicted that fate for me. She has worked hard to accomplish that. Oddly enough I am still on vacation, wondering what it would be like to live life guiltless, admitting no wrong at any time. It might be paradise-until the balloon bursts.

Oriental

So I write again. Here at the base of Turkey mountain I am home. Long last. The wood stove heats and my son and I just ate a 20 inch trout I found under a covered bridge by the house. And the Amish. All around they confirm but do not really satisfy my curiosity of the simple and plain life.

Many unpleasant mails from my distant non wife. Quiet. In the Appalachians we have quiet. Maybe beyond the island. I hope to make a study of this culture.

Joey my son was here today. Only 30 miles north of Harrisburg but a different world. I need time to learn this place and my son, my daughter.

The fact that I caught an amazing trout less than a mile away is telling. The little rural bar on the hill seems sad after the step dancing of my island life. I will wait.

The mountains here abound with game. And soon the warmth will return and I shall fish the streams of youth-and new places.

My dads guns now adorn the wall. Soon to be used again.

Weekend after Christmas 2008

I had better blog a bit while I still have easy Internet access. It would be odd to go back to writing in a clandestine paper book, perhaps never to be seen or read again. Not that these are widely read as to the boring routine of my life, and my painfully journalistic style. So be it. In fact I really do tell most all on line, making my life an open book. My immortality on this world.

Joey called around noon on Saturday morning. I had run out to look at a house in Pinetown Friday morning, and it rained overnight. The house may work out, but the truck hated the cold damp rain and fog and stubbornly refused to start. Joey arrived here around 1 to get me. We loaded the fishing gear and a few things and went back to the Bradley Drive house to spend the weekend. Rhonda had gone to West Chester to be with Ed and we had my old home to ourselves. We ate, talked. Alexis is going through tough but predictable teenage relationship issues, both with her NJ boyfriend and with her needy friends. Joey admitted he was stressed by school, work, his car, and his mother. Thrust into the world without all of the pre-training and support I had, he is scared at times.

I need to show them all the love and support I can-too little too late, to be sure. But required of me as much as anything Ever has been, and probably much more. Some of Joey's friends came to jam in the basement. I had live music for a bit. Guitars and drums experimentally as only lonely teenage boys play. It brought back memories of those years. They are good kids. We watched Star Trek and I think those young men were surprised. They got it, at least some of it. We were all up to late. Sunday, everyone planned to go to the Colonial Park Mall. I wanted to go fishing, and it was 60 degrees, but Joey wanted to meet his girl and her son there. So we went there, ate mall teriyaki chicken, and socialized. Alexis and I went off to shop as she wanted to get a sexy outfit for her trip this week to New Jersey. I must admit some unusual and new emotions taking my 16 year out for a skimpy red dress and VERY high heel black shoes. Lord, she must be 6 foot three in them. She has lost weight and is so skinny she could easily compare to the ultra thin models everyone oohs about. I am concerned, but at this juncture can only give all of my support and advice when I can, or invited too. It is a new world. But not altogether unfamiliar.

I felt out of sync at the mall. The culture, people, glitter odd to me. This bustling glamorous place so reversed from our sad little mostly empty mall in Summerside. As a prisoner newly released to the real world after years in a solitary cell I was. The quiet quaintness of my other "home". The manners, the soft lilt of my Mary's island accented voice. I might have been scared, as if in a bad dream state that comes during a fever. Bright unhappy images of excess and loss, then the dark, restless sleep after a waking sweaty feverish flash of images.

The time is moving past so swiftly now its visceral. I feel the moments clicking by, like an old camera.

We were all tired after the mall day. I watched "Iron Man" with the kids at home and we had pizza. I felt fed, loved, and relaxed. Maybe even as the kids agreed for the first Christmas in many years.

This morning we got up late again. I sensed tension in Joey as it was the day to pick mom at the train station and clean before her return. I could feel the fear. But he made time to get gas, stop in Dauphin for worms and head on out to Clark's Creek. It was cool, sunny, and serene in our woods. I had forgotten my boots and heavy winter shirt. My feet were wet and cold and I loved it. Joey has been trying to film our adventures, but the camera battery is intermittent. We fished an hour or so. I caught a fall fish and a small wild brook trout a la Thundershower Run-Westline. Joey's reel fell off his rod (my rod of 35 years, now his) and he was a bit upset. We took a time dragging the stream, successfully, with a stick for the reel. An old Mitchell 408. I wasn't leaving that antique gem at the bottom of the creek, even if as it seems, we are the only fisherman ever there.

We went back home and I fried the small trout in butter and the three of us shared it. That was good.

Finally, I helped Joey clean up as Alexis got ready for work at her costume-shop mall job. She thinks she may get fired. She has been late and they are unhappy. I told her to find another job. She has to work as mom won't share any of the child support money with her. The girl hardly eats and has to buy her own clothes-you see, that is why I resisted support payments all those years. Yes, exactly.


Joey brought me back and all was OK here on Canterbury drive. My hostess announced that "the police are coming". I asked, "for me?, jokingly. No she said. During her cruise (last week and then some), someone broke into her safe and stole 5000 in cash and her morphine supply. I felt bad for the officer. The young ex-marine took the report, searched my room, shook my hand and left. It really was a bit much. Obviously, the kid who "takes care" of her who had all the keys would be my suspect. I always knew something was wrong after the "pot pie" incident and the trip to New York and the gas money caper.


All is calm now and it will be good to go to the other house-the serenity peace and welcome boredom of Pinetown. We will see.


I talked to Mary for a long time. She was emotional, sweet, upset and lonely. But strong. Strong as pain loss and faith make a strong woman. She is counting the seconds until I walk into the Wing, her house, or her arms. I honestly told her I just don't know if and when. Both children are asking me to stay here, this home, this universe. I must wait and see if it is still valuable to them after they return to school work, and the relationships.
For me the decision is do I make the sacrifice of a chance with a truly great lady on the island to be here. I sure sacrificed everything for Shel, not without pain , as I thought it was the right thing to do, and eventually we would all be a family again.



I must stabilize here and hope the decision on whom to hurt will appear. Perhaps its time for me to be there for them on their terms. But what of my Mary, and my island. That could be my most and final chance at peace and love in paradise. But what of the hearts of my own blood? I hope time tells me the truth this time.

Christmas 2008

Well home for Christmas-the first time in 2 years. I won't say that it was a joyous day. No time with my children as mom in a rare turn of events stayed home this year. I did spent part of Christmas eve with the kids. Joey and I went to Giant so he could buy the dinner trimmings for Rhonda. Alexis gave me a present. The book "Buddha" by Chopra. It was the first real gift I have had for a time, and it was a very nice gesture by my wonderful children.

After having lunch with my sister, who was very sullen and always seems about to rage at me, I returned home. Actually Kelly did decide to have some people over. She invited me to watch "Its a wonderful life", her family tradition. Kelly is tense and sullen most of the time too. Tomorrow I am meeting a guy about a house in Pinetown, very close to the Chimney house, along Stony Run. It might be a good place to be for a time.

Yes, I do miss the island, my home and friends there-the frozen sea and the music, dancing with my Irish Mary, and the piles of snow. Well maybe not so much the snow. The weather here in the Lower Susquehanna valley is as I remember it. Mostly cold, gray, and damp. But markedly warmer than PEI. But yesterday, Christmas day was bright beautiful and warmish. My heart wasn't too warm. I feel a little displaced away from home, even being farther away from absent Shel. I do miss Mary.

So its a matter of settling here for a time and waiting to see what is the best course of action. About a week ago I asked the kids if they really want me to stay here at home in PA for a longer time. They were emotional, especially my daughter, and the answer was a fervent yes.

For a time I just thought it might not be the best place to be after the holidays, and I would push on to home to Arizona and try and re-enter that universe, sans a wife. Somehow Arizona without Shel seems like a void space. But that may change. I thought about a return to the island soon, but I just can't really face returning there in February-although I had arrived there to stay back in Feb 2006. That was a mild winter there. This past was not as the wind howled and there were 3 storms a week for months. Not flurries either. Rooftop blizzards.

So I am just waiting. If this house works out tomorrow I am just going to take it and wait for spring, seeing my kids and sister as best I can and they want too. It was the right decision. I need alone time to work on my writing. The block is slowly dissipating. In some ways I am still looking for the conclusion. As with my life with Rhonda, my life on the island has so many unresolved issues. I mean emotional ties that are weakened, but not entirely absent. Perhaps that is normal or a characteristic of my bizarre journey through life.

Time has passed swiftly here already. It is hard to believe After almost 3 years on the island, at first with lovely Shel, then alone but in our home, it has ended. I sometimes worry that the Yellow Breeches, my family, and my writing won't be sufficient to fill the voids. This "time heals all" is just a falsehood. But perhaps once more I can attempt to put together at least part of this broken home. Numerous previous attempts have failed due to money issues, jealousy and selfishness (on every bodies part, except the children). My audio recordings continue. My entries here go on sporadically. I even did a long hand entry is my regular diary, a journal Shel gave me sometime ago.

Kelly just stopped by and told me I could eat the steak that was in the fridge. She put an incense in my room and I guess she thinks I had the window open due to odor. In fact this is a very clean house, except for Shane's muddy paws. She seems to sleep all day, and clean all night. Maybe she wants me to hang around for a while. I will have to see how that goes.


The journey continues.

Home for the Holidays

Well it has been a few weeks since I left my island home to return to central Pennsylvania to visit my family. It is ashame no one here has the ability to travel, or I may have remained on PEI forever. It is very unclear when and if I may return to my adopted island home. I left a tearful Mary on Water Street on the afternoon of December 3rd, to arrive here in Mechanicsburg late on December 4. The journey was tough as I drove nearly straight through. My old warhorse truck did well this trip and fuel costs were much less than in the summer.

My accommodations are comfortable but temporary. My hostess, Kelly Bingamen, is disabled and a bit erratic. I hope in a few weeks I can find a more permanent apartment until I decide if I am staying here, going back to PEI, going on a pilgrimage to Arizona, or something totally new.

It has been a real joy to see my children. They are both grown, beautiful-tall-strong, working and responsible. I have ostensibly missed their childhood during my ill-fated attempt to reconvene my illusive marriage. I am glad I made the effort. It is unfortunate that Mary got entangled in it all. At least sad that I am gone and we miss each other.

No good words from Shel. I assume she is still working at the Best of PEI market in Charlottetown. She has her dream. I am glad that I could help her to get there stay there and remain there. I am given no credit-she is only angry as she wasn't repayed for my last summer trip expenses and other matters.

I wish she would remain friendly until I can assist her when I can. The bitterness from someone that I am the closest to on earth is very disturbing and sad.

My place here is decorated with my items of tradition. The ship's wheel. Photos of Arizona and Shel, PEI, the kids-my big salmon from the Trask River in Oregon. Also are the paintings. The few I have have travelled far and wide. I hope to put some images on a Manduke family art blog. My mother and sister deserve some legacy. Their art is an excellent explanation of their minds and lives.

I visited Aprille at first. She became very angry when I couldn't take her shopping at an exact time. Joey was with me and we need all the time we can get. In any case, holiday plans here are unknown as everyone is pretty involved with boyfriend/girlfriend stuff and my sister hides on the holidays.

It may be that I may again spend another holiday season alone. Its sad as Mary wanted me on PEI to be with her family. The priorities of my life direct my often misery. But I made the decision to come home to the Susquehanna Valley and for now I am sticking to it.

It is a harsh cold reality compared to even the worst of the island. The true value of travel. Knowing truly where you want to be. Its where you can be and must be that are at issue. I rather think I will move on once the kids are back in school. But winter will end, trout season begin. Joey spoke of spring turkey hunting near our stream Clark's Creek. We saw turkeys there several times.

But there are Salmon and sea-run brook trout on PEI in many streams minutes from Summerside. There are fall mackerel at my wharf. But what of Big Lake and Crescent Lake in Arizona's high eastern mountains? Can I even go to Arizona and face that blond ghost that waits there for me by the palm tree and lake. Will the smell of spicy roasting ancho chili's on a warm evening, the warm soul-filling smell of fresh corn tortillas crush my heart?

But there is the prospect of a good tan and never-ending salsa music! Time will tell. Probably quite a bit of time. Once again I wait for the signs. My 4 year vacation continues...but is it permanent? What is.

Summerside Santa Claus parade

It is all pretty amazing. I went to visit Mary last afternoon and she mentioned the parade last night. A frigid Monday night on this snow-bound island and there was a parade planned. I recalled from previous November's vaguely a parade involving Christmas. I had never really participated or really cared, as the holidays are not in recent years that joyful. Perhaps since my fathers death that cold winter day after New Years in 1972 is the time it became so much less a joy for us all.

But here we drove up to the mall and parked near the post office. The street was clogged with all the town, bundled children and the old too. Well below zero and it being an impromptu decision to see this quaint site, we shivered as Mary with childlike twittering and glee watched the parade. My Air Force cadets were in front, followed by our tiny local news rag the Pioneer-Journal. The hugely rotund cheery be mustached mayor went by, not unlike the mayor in the munchkin land of the" Wizard of Oz". The famous tale of greed and evil written by my Great-Grandfathers (David Chamber's) best friend, Frank Baum.

To my amazement even a septic tank suck truck was in the parade. Only here or somewhere deep within the spine of Appalachia. Our local radio station's float blared Christmas music and the children in the parade threw candy at the crowd. I even caught a pack of peanut M and M's. That was the first time I seen such a thing.

Long ago I journeyed as a teenager with a hunting buddy into Northcentral Pennsylvania. It was a cold November day there, above the place where the mapmakers place the compass. A sparsely populated land of mountains and moonshine, deer and pain. There coming into the dying railroad junction called Renovo, we observed a crowd playing baseball in the icy streets. It was 2 AM on a Tuesday night before deer season and we were scouting a campsite. Baseball at 2 AM in the snowy mountains of a dead town. I had never seen such a thing.

We followed actually "in" the parade down Granville Street. Huge snow piles made grandstands for most of the town on this cold dark winter night. Only here. Only in the quaintness of this and what is this place, at the surface. Above the poverty and howling winds and ice. But such weather and life, the sea, the snow, binds a people. It is a maritime camaraderie. It is unique in its cold and its pain, its warmth. My Mary childlike as we parked at the parades end, the Waterfront Mall close to my soon x-home, off Water Street. The huge potato ship the "Tasman Start", in port still as the harbour is now solid ice. There cookies and Cocoa are served free with colorful marshmallows and a live singer of Christmas tunes maritime interpreted with an acoustic guitar. The ship will plow out of the ice away with island potatoes bound for some near or far place. As I shall plow and pull away back to another time and a whole new world. Old in its memories, new in its loneliness.


Mary's fat cousin said nothing as she piled on the sweets. Mary, proud of her height, strength and by island standards, lithe form , scowled in disapproval.

I amazed my lady and the entire town by dancing with Mary on the mall floor to "Silent Night". She was amazed and the rather rag-tag bundled crowd looked on. I wanted Mary to have a special memory-I am not sure when I shall return to this place. My De facto "hometown".

I shall point the old red truck south in less than a week. My 52nd birthday is today. I talked to my son and we made plans. The valley of the Yellow Breeches beckons. To leave behind the pain, love, anger and the cold, wind blown Northumberland Strait. The forever winter, the snow.

First Snow

So the first snow came to my island paradise last night. The wind howled from the North as rain turned to driving ice pellets, then a hard wet snow. Its all frozen now. The trees coated in sub-arctic white. My hands almost numb cleaning snow from the blazer, doors frozen shut tight under a leaden grey sky and strong North wind. The island to be for the next 6 months.

Soon I drive South to Mechanicsburg of all places. I have rented a home close to the chimney house and the Yellow Breeches of my youth. My son seems concerned that he cannot spend much time with me there. With his new and very busy life, the parents fade to less importance. This is as it should be. My Mary would rather bind me and keep me in her coat closet than to see me leave. I think Shel is also concerned. Perhaps mostly over money, but in my heart I hope its more than that.

My return to this paradise is uncertain. It is a long road-not the 1000 miles, but in the open hole that is where my heart is. I may decide to drive home here in January. To face an island winter. Or I may winter fish with my son along our streams-Clark's and the Breeches. I am not sure.

So a new adventure takes hold from a place where I know the Arsenaux's and Gallant's, the MacKenzie's-Oh, my Mary MacKenzie. Strong and tall and gentle and sweet. A body forged from winter walks and hard work. Quite a woman. Krinly eyes from having seven more years than me and from a life of many tears. Maybe I will return and marry her. I could and have done much worse.

So I sit her writing this blog...Oh, some read it. But all in all its for me and my beloved and far away children. Even my sister..she may never read these entries, but I know she will be happy to see her far travelled and often absent brother.

Most of all I am sad I can't see my mother. She visited me, I like to think, on the gossamer wings of that summer hummingbird that brushed my adorable wife's arm. The summer at Cape Traverse. Shel's paradise has become my place of reclusion. I write and dream and visit with now old friends. My Yankee accent gone, I am often asked if I grew up on the island. No Philadelphia university graduate twang remains. I hope it stays away. After all, I can speak idiomatic maritimes English now. Yes, it is a dialect unto itself. Will I always say "supper" not "dinner?. I am not sure.

I shall miss my little place near the harbour of both joy and pain. A big ship is in port today. White with bright lights against the angry red strait and the icy land. It is among the most beautiful places and feelings I have had in my journey. Yes, I have been all over this world. But this, and here, and there in central Pennsylvania are home home's.

I do miss my desert. The palms. The pool. My pretty young very spiritual voluptuous blond wife. The grill. The sound of spanglish and the pretty dark skinned girls that made me smile in the past dream of tacos and roasting chili's scented air on a mild winter night along Glendale Avenue. I think I will return there. But not yet. Not just now.

Heart strings tug against the lure of the palms. My river in Yuma. My pretty Apache girl bonnie and fishing with her in the Colorado River. Yuma is a dream spot too. Shel loved the downtown. Once I stood by one of her trees by Lute's casino there. I wept. She was with me in the little shops, at the organic date farm we loved on the California side. Sweet dates. My sweet girl. My love.

I won't find her there. My army job is gone. The ordnance expert. That was me. I walked away to come here that 3 years plus ago. I found much more. I know what love is now. I wonder how many really know?