 Tomorrow I turn sixty and I’m thoroughly prepared. The prospect once was daunting but I’m not remotely scared. A year of contemplation and reflection made it clear: from fifty-nine to sixty’s just another plain old year. Oh yes, of course, I’m aging, but that doesn’t make me bawl, ‘cause aging beats the other option – not to be at all. And being beats not being, I don’t think you’ll argue that, whether you’re a Trumper or a liberal Democrat. My body may be sagging and my joints are getting creaky; my buoyancy is flagging and my plumbing’s sometimes leaky, but still I find inside myself a growing, sweet, contentment. I seem to have more room for joy and less for sharp resentment. I watch my children blossom and my grandchild’s great discovers and happily assume my place - a sideline Mom who hovers, prepared to swoop and help whenever someone needs a boost, then flutter back to my home base, contentedly, to roost. But truly, life’s much more than that, I’m finding satisfactions in cultivating aptitudes with life’s reduced distractions. I’ve found there’s so much more to do, so many paths ahead, so much unknown to seek, explore, and learn before I’m dead! Oh, yes, this turning sixty made me stop and think a bit. but happily, so far at least, I’m feeling fully fit to carry on, to join the fray, to plunge ahead full speed. Not only am I harvesting, I still can plant some seed. So off I go adventuring, beginning decade seven, to find and cultivate on Earth what little bits of heaven are always out there to be found, to highlight all their glory, whatever age I may have reached, whatever stage my story. Love always, Robin My 60th year in 60,000 words – DONE! Day 366: 291 words, TOTAL = 60,000; none remaining
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 Fall is in the air, and on my boot, in the form of a yellow leaf. Change – there it is again. I’m saving words for a closing poem tomorrow, so I’ll be brief. My 60,000-word challenge is ending, but my blog will continue, just not daily. I hope you all know that I love to hear from you. Suggest a topic; pose a question; challenge me with an assignment. I love assignments, especially poem assignments. Don’t be a stranger. I’ll be in touch. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 365: 83 words, TOTAL = 59,709; 291 remaining (**REMEMBER - IT'S A LEAP YEAR!**)  All summer on Sutton Island we have listened to the tscha-GUNG of nail guns and the brrrrrrrr of earthmovers. Major renovation is underway next-door. This morning, at our inland home, I woke up to the beep-beep-beep of backing-up trucks and the whishhhh of air brakes along the edge of our property. The public works department is reaming out a drainage channel. This seems to be my life this summer, under construction. Virtually every Earthling’s life, in fact, is under construction. We are renovating, reaming out, rebooting, reallocating resources, realigning goals under new building codes imposed by the pandemic. No one knows exactly where they’re headed, what might happen, or when they’ll reach an end point. Maybe that’s always true, but we feel it more this year. With the close of my blog challenge, no teaching job ahead, my construction work continues. What will life be, moving forward, age 60? Will I reframe a robust writing career? Construct independent teaching jobs? Build volunteer time for people and projects in need? I hear Mary Oliver’s voice: “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 364: 188 words, TOTAL = 59,628; 372 remaining  Hi there. Here we are in the last few days of my 60th year writing challenge, and I want to thank all of you who have come along (or just joined occasionally) for the ride. As I used to tell my students, writing is always a relationship. If I believe that even one person might see my words and find insight, entertainment, comfort, or provocation, it’s usually enough to spur me forward. So thank you. I named my blog “you’ll never be quite the same” intentionally. Under the umbrella of change, I have written about birth, death, pregnancy, marriage, pet-ownership, moving, aging, growing and developing, seasonal changes, tidal changes, changes in habits, bodies, ideas, relationships, routines, tastes, traditions, popular culture, political climate, global health and security. In other words, change is everything. I’ll never run out of material. Still, it would help me to know what has worked best in this morass of mental meanderings I’ve led you through. Which posts have stuck with you? When you click on the link to my blog, what are you looking forward to? Is there anything you wish there were more (or less) of? I would love to hear from you. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 363: 198 words, TOTAL = 59,440; 560 remaining  This will be my last book update during the “60th year in 60,000 words” challenge. A few days ago I received the full-length, full-layout version of my book in pdf, just as it will appear when printed. They call it “First Pages.” Totally shivery exciting! I was warned that layout people are NOT editors, and errors might slip in during layout. On first scan, I found a misspelled chapter title and two mislabeled illustrations. That convinced me to re-proofread with my most discerning eye. I have two weeks. Any changes after this version, I’m told, will be difficult and costly, so this is for real time. On the other hand, they do accept new blurbs as late as January, even after the advance reader copies come out in late fall. Maybe preliminary pages are different from the body of the book. I’m learning. I continue to be amazed by the depth of involvement and the length of time it takes to produce a published book. Makes me want to write a second book so I can do it again knowing what I’m doing. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 362: 183 words, TOTAL = 59,242; 758 remaining  A unique opportunity came my way this month. Bangor’s Penobscot Theatre Company, unwilling to risk live audiences, invited me and four other Maine writers to compose ghost stories that will be performed and produced as an audio entertainment, the first show of their re-visioned fall season. Even better – they agreed to let me write mine as an old-fashioned rhyming ballad, set in Maine’s Cranberry Isles. I did some reading on the lost art of the balladeer. Before the prevalence of print material, sung ballads were the primary source of story-telling and history-keeping. An ancient book on the shelf of Sutton Island, called “Minstrelsy of Maine,” says: “It is not so much the extension of the art of reading and the cheapness and the abundance of print which have made the ballad out of date…but a change from the supremacy of the ear to that of the eye.” As a longtime devotee of “the ear” – music, rhyme, rhythm, song – this concept grabbed me. I also used the opportunity to connect with Rachel Field in a literary way, since I used her biography of Samuel Hadlock as my jumping off point. Tune in! Give supremacy to your ear! My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 361: 196 words, TOTAL = 59,059; 941 remaining  My walks are more solitary without Kate. Clara wanders freely through the fields, less fixated on my exact whereabouts when we’re outdoors, but she is picturesque out there, with her curling black tail that makes a bold apostrophe against the background. I’ve been overwhelmed by the compassionate feedback about Kate’s death. It was achingly painful, and I miss her, but we are okay. I am grateful that she is at peace, and that we no longer have to worry and wonder just how uncomfortable she is. Also, Jonathan and I are finding a new relationship with Clara, who has always been the afterthought dog, the other dog. Kate’s presence was powerful; Clara is chill, and exquisitely gentle. She deserves some time in the limelight, and we are already finding new founts of love for this quiet, doofusy dog. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 360: 138 words, TOTAL = 58,863; 1,137 remaining  Look at Jonathan and me in Greece a year before we married – children! Still exploring. That day, we weren’t entirely sure marriage was in our future, but holy mackerel, here we are, 38 years later. The rich, complex endeavor of marriage is like a sea voyage. Magnificent days of sparkle and wonder fill your heart to overflowing, an ecstasy of elated liberation. Wild storms threaten the seaworthiness of your vessel. Windless doldrums threaten the heart’s fortitude. Eye-opening ports of call and unforeseen atmospheric phenomena educate, challenge, and inspire changed ways of being and seeing. You go into port for repairs and venture forth again, shored up, stronger, ready to sail on. Sailors are obliged to grow and change, and change comes – in meteoric revelations or in slow-moving, continental shifts, recognizable only in retrospect. Forged histories, triumphant and traumatic, bind them together. My beloved crewmate, who knows what’s ahead? But I’m on this ship for the long haul. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 359: 157 words, TOTAL = 58,725; 1,275 remaining  That’s all. It’s been a quiet summer day – crickets chirring, neighbors mowing the lawn. I could see, out my front door, Jean reading a book across the street in her Adirondack chair. Sun showers, rain showers, sun again, acorns and leaves happily drenched, thirst slaked at last, a wet, green glistening. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 358: 51 words, TOTAL = 58,568; 1,432 remaining             My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 357: no words, TOTAL = 58,517; 1,483 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs. Archives
September 2024
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