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?