A Farewell

 The Maple Tree is going to sleep for the winter, and the group of six who started out talking, are now doing. They are working through the winter and planning a Grand Opening for Sally’s Restaurant come spring.

 

And Joyce is leaving them to their destiny.

Ta Da!

A Recap, plus the next job for Twinkie.

August, the hottest month of summer: yet in Ollie’s backyard the maple tree held out its arms, and its leaves, delicate green umbrellas, held the six people beneath in cool comfort—with the help of the ice cubes in their glasses.

 

Besides offering relief from the heat, the tree was a haven from the cares of the world and beneath it, a soft place to fall for the six people who had taken a hit in recent years.

 

At first, it was for them, coffee, iced-tea, a snack, and occasionally vino in celebration when someone had a breakthrough—like Simad, who published a book. 

 

One day, Shal suggested that they meditate daily for one week to see what would come of it. One week, they could manage that, no matter how much their brain complained or chattered to them. 

 

From that week of meditating, Twinkie got the courage to go for what she had dreamed of—to become a glassblower. “Not the little trinkets," she told them, "but learning to use the big kilns, the blow rod, and make large objects like sculptures and vases." She signed up for classes at the coast, which meant an hour-and-a-half drive each Saturday.

 

It turned out that the teacher was as appealing as the learning. 

 

Life happens. It circles, grows, develops, and over the weeks, with us acting like a fly on the wall and me as a recorder, we listened as six people shared their “Conversations Under the Maple.”

 

And then came Sally's tears. 

 

Sally's business was going under. The group who thought that Sally's Italian cooking deserved a Michelin Star, decided, after much deliberation, to join in rebuilding her business.

 

Harvey had property. Shal had negotiating skills, and with the funds left over after all bills were paid, Harvey and Shal chose to build an Industrial kitchen for Sally. She would have an inside kitchen and an outside restaurant, such as meals served in the courtyards and vineyards of Tuscany.

 

This would be a shareholder business, with the group providing grunt equity as a buy-in.

 

"Italian food!" exclaimed Alan, the glassblower and now Twinkie's romantic interest, "Who doesn't love Italian? I could build a wood-burning oven for her. Pizza and focaccia bread baked in a wood oven, slathered with olive oil and salt—it makes my mouth water." 

 

"I got my start on Kickstarter," Alan told Twinkie.

 

Twinkie knew he was still making globes, such as the Japanese glass floats, as rewards for people who pledged funds. His goal was met, and he got funded. Kickstarter is an all or nothing endeavor. The applicant’s goals are either met or it’s a no-go.

 

With his funds, Alan rented his space, built a kiln, bought equipment, and now, besides selling projects, he teaches classes.

 

He suggested to Twinkie that she write a Kickstarter project for funding and support as she builds a website, writes a blog, creates advertising, and markets Sally’s Restaurant.

 

All this was brought to life by a group of people who one day decided to meet, support each other, heal, and share their lives.

 

P.S. To read the 10 installments of "Conversations Under the Maple," please go to 

 

https://joycedavis.substack.com/p/60e96ee3-a31b-452f-90f0-c04808d22b21

 

 

 

 

P.S.P.S. An ad: “Hundreds of headlines from AI."

 

I will stick with my crappy ones thank you very much.

 

Merge Like a Zipper

“Have you ever noticed when you’re driving that anyone who’s driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone driving faster than you is a maniac?”—George Carlin

 

"Merge Like a Zipper."

 

Some ingenious engineer created that sign for a bridge construction in Eugene, OR. (Or could it have been a copywriter?)

 

Their directive worked. 

 

People took turns. 

 

The traffic moved steadily.

 

Unlike downtown, where you can have your turn signal blinking for six blocks, people pretend they don't see it. I mentioned this to my contractor once—a friendly guy, and he says he does that. Hmm, I don't get it. 

 

 

Garrison Keillor motivated me to write this because I saw how people drive tells you something about their society. 

 

"Standing at 86th, waiting for a train," –Garrison Keillor

 

"The quickest way around town is the subway, where unemployed actors, highly paid CEOs, cleaning ladies, digital geniuses, and ordinary working stiffs merge in a river of humanity. There is no Business Class on the A train."

 

How cool is that?

 

 

Driving around the world:

 

Well, you can't drive around the world, but you can drive on parts of it. 

 

I am speaking generally, which I'm not supposed to do, but I'm doing it although I'm not supposed to. Did I just repeat myself?

 

Canada:

 

Regarding seat belts, a Canadian sign says: "Be protected, not projected." And they have traffic calming zones in busy cities, plus people wait for you if you double park to receive or dislodge a passenger.

 

Imagine.

 

 

Behaviors.

 

You know, as with many things, there is a spectrum of behaviors. It's not one size fits all, not with drivers, not with politics, not with religion, not with spirituality, not with most ideologies, not with drivers, and not with food.

 

(Hey, I like broccoli, but not restaurant broccoli. Restaurant broccoli must be the reason kids don't like broccoli. Broccoli must be prepared at home, fresh, steamed, slathered in butter, a squeeze of lemon on top, plus and pepper.)

 

 

California: 

 

 

 

 

One would imagine that California drivers, with their crowded freeways, four lanes going one way, four the other, 75 miles per hour, would be rude and uncaring to fellow drivers.

 

Nope. They wave you in if you are merging. They would wave a thank you if you have done them some courtesy. 

 

Sometimes, in large cities, people learn to look out for each other. Sometimes, they shoot them. It depends on the person. 

 

San Francisco:

 

I received more honks in San Francisco in one day than in the rest of my years. And I thought all the blood would run out of my leg when I had my foot on the brake at one of those hills. And then, standing at a San Francisco Crosswalk, someone honked at me. What the heck?

 

Germany

 

I was the designated driver when 2 friends and I toured Fermany's countryside. One friend loved to ask for directions so she could connect with a local. However, chances are they would tell us the wrong direction. Were they trying to confuse us, or did we get it wrong? 

 

We learned to go in the opposite direction they told us. We survived, and we never got permanently lost.

 

One fellow, when asked where a specific B & B was, said to follow him, and he drove his car there while we followed. 

On the Autobahn keep to the right, don't get in the way of those Mercades, BMW, and Porsche drivers.

 

London:

 

(Don't drive. Take the subway or bus.) On the street in Britain, I asked a droll fellow, who became animated when I asked him directions to a specific Glass shop. He went into the middle of the street (residential area) to show me.

 

Their Underground is great, It's logical, easy to maneuver, and it encircles the city, so if you get lost you will just circle around again. All stops exit the circle.

 

 

Whoa. this looks like a spaceship

 

If you want to go somewhere from your stop, walk it it's close, take a bus if it's far. 

 

Be sure and walk--you are in a museum.

 

India:

 

In town:

 

Honestly, they have regular cars too, and look at this bus.

 

 

In the Country:

 

They drive in the middle of the road, honk at turns, and scare the bejeeses out of tourists.

 

Hawaii:

 

Be careful with your speed in Hawaii. It's a 55-mile-per-hour speed limit all over the Big Island. And after 10 p.m., be extra cautious. A policeman stopped me once. I don't know how fast I was going, but he let me go when he realized I lived there. He could see I had a passenger beside me and a baby crying in the back seat and told me the crazies were out after 10 p.m. 

 

After 6 p.m., an officer stood at the ATM. I asked why the security? "Well," he said, "we had a robbery 6 years ago." 

 

I lost my sense of direction in Hawaii. I blamed it on visiting South Point, the southernmost spot of the United States, where there are basalt columns known to interfere with airplane's navigation systems. It is a place where navigators reset their instruments.

 

  This was our driveway, "The Green Trail of Bliss."

 

 

Back to the Orchard

 

Driving has been vital to me since I was twelve, and my dad needed me to drive the truck in the orchard. I would move it from one pick-up stop to the next so he could load tree prunings or boxes of fruit. 

 

I had a driving paper route for a summer job while in high school where I drove my dad's pickup and delivered papers into those cylinder boxes specially made for newspapers. I could slip a rolled-up newspaper into one of those boxes on the fly.

 

Now, I'm lucky to maneuver out of the driveway.

 

As soon as I got out of high school and had a job, I bought a car. Wheels meant freedom to me. 

 

On Our Street:

We have a bark mobile on our street. It’s quite annoying if you are out walking your dog. A fellow in a pickup, window down, dog heads out the window, drives around the neighborhood to the tune of two dogs barking.

I guess that’s instead of walking his dogs. 

And it's an outing for the dogs.

 

 To read conversation #9 which started as "Conversations Under The Maple," please go to 

https://joycedavis.substack.com/

 

 

All conversations are on Substack and it's FREE.