Uprooted: The Ralph Kand Story, Part Four -- Family, Finns and Potatoes

During the months Karl was in hiding, Estonia continued to change. Banks were closed or taken over. Churches were restricted. Prominent people were arrested. Statues and portraits of Lenin and Stalin appeared in public buildings, along with Soviet flags bearing the hammer and sickle. 

One night the following spring, Ralph's cousin Uno came to the house with a message.

Karl wanted to see Ralph.

 

Late that night Ralph and Uno took a train to the home of an uncle, where Karl had been hiding in a crawl space beneath the house. Karl had decided to turn himself in. He wanted to say goodbye. After that night, Ralph never saw his brother again.

 

* * * 

Ralph also told me a story about the origin of his family name.

 

Estonia had spent much of its history under the control of larger powers. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, Estonia was part of the Russian Empire, while much of the land remained controlled by Baltic German landlords.

 

According to the story passed down in Ralph's family, Estonian peasants did not commonly have surnames. When surnames were assigned, German landlords or officials sometimes chose names based on occupations, places or personal characteristics.

 

One of Ralph's ancestors was known as a particularly stubborn man who resisted those in authority. He was given the name Kand, which Ralph said meant the root or base of a tree stump—something firmly planted and difficult to move.

 

Ralph said this ancestor later took part in an uprising against the German landlords. Men involved in the revolt were severely punished, and some were killed. According to Ralph, that man was his great-great-grandfather.

 

Whether every detail had survived the generations exactly as it happened, I could not know. But Ralph knew the story well, and he was proud of the name. Kand meant something that would not easily be moved.

 

* * * 

The Kand home stood in a lightly populated area outside Tallinn. Before the Soviet occupation, Sunday dinners often brought together cousins, aunts, uncles and friends.

Ralph's cousin Uno was a regular visitor. So was Ludi, the older brother of Eitzi. Ralph had first met Eitzi through Ludi, who was one of Karl's closest friends. Karl and Ludi had joined the police force together in 1938.

 

Now Karl and Ludi were gone. So were Eitzi and Mutti. Most days the house belonged to Ralph and his mother. Ralph's father had died several years earlier. Estonia had been independent for barely two decades when the Red Army arrived, and daily life was changing quickly.

 

Ralph and Karl had kept a radio hidden upstairs under a bed. At night they would listen to the BBC for news from outside Estonia. Soviet-controlled newspapers and radio could not provide the information they wanted.

 

They followed reports about the war in Finland. The Soviet Union had invaded Finland in November 1939, beginning what became known as the Winter War. The fighting interested young Estonians for an obvious reason. Finland was a small neighboring country fighting the same power that was tightening its control over Estonia.

Some young men left the Baltic region to help the Finns. Ralph and Karl talked about doing the same. Their mother put an end to the idea and they stayed home.

 

After Karl disappeared, Uno sometimes joined Ralph in listening to the radio.

On one occasion, before Karl surrendered, the NKVD again surrounded the Kand house and came inside looking for him.

 

They knew Karl might be armed. The radio was playing upstairs. Ralph realized they had not turned it off. The NKVD men moved rapidly through the house with their pistols drawn. Ralph stood listening to their boots on the floor and the sound of the radio upstairs. The men searched the house but did not find Karl. Then they left.

 

Afterward Ida said something Ralph remembered for the rest of his life.

“Did you see their eyes?” she asked. “They were as scared of us as we were of them.”

Ralph hadn't noticed. He had been too frightened himself. His mother had.

* * * 

Potatoes were a regular part of the Kand family's meals, and Ralph had become a fussy eater. His mother often scolded him for leaving the potato skins on his plate. Ralph didn't like them. His mother told him to eat them anyway. Before the war was over, Ralph would remember those potato peelings for a very different reason.

 

Ralph also remembered an argument during one of the family gatherings before Karl, Mutti and Eitzi disappeared. Mutti wanted to know why Estonia had allowed itself to be occupied without fighting. The question had become harder for him to accept after watching what was happening in Finland.

 

“I want to know why we didn't fight,” Mutti said. “The Finns are fighting to the death. Estonia simply surrendered.”

 

“Mutti, Estonia has no army,” Karl replied. “What could we do? Our leaders did what they felt was best.”

 

“What kind of army does Finland have?” Mutti answered. “They will fight and they will stay free.”

 

Ida interrupted them. “Boys, you don't know what you're saying. Do all young men think fighting and dying will fix everything?”

 

CONTINUE HERE

RELATED

UPROOTED: Intro and Part One

UPROOTED: Part Two

UPROOTED: Part Three

 

Uprooted is a true story about a man with a singular quest: Freedom. The longing for freedom is one of the primary reasons people leave their homelands, often at great personal sacrifice.

Phenomenon: Awakening the Wonder Within

Every now and then I get a hankering to see the movie Phenomenon again. For those who haven't seen it, John Travolta plays George, the central character, a somewhat slow-witted nice guy who has a strange experience that awakens his consciousness and begins to hyperactivate his mind. In short, he becomes a phenomenon.

The movie does a wonderful job of presenting George's struggle as he seeks to understand what is happening to him. His friends, however, are equally befuddled and the unanswered questions that arise from their own insecurities cause misunderstanding, pain and rejection. It's almost as scary to know a phenomenon as to be one.

In my opinion it was a good story well told. Like all good stories, it unearthed regions of my own soul, areas I have mined before and will mine again because I believe their are still some precious stones to uncover there.

It is a life theme to which I often return. Are we not each a phenomenon in our own way? What is the meaning of my life? What are my unique gifts? Where has my power come from from? And how much of it is unused, undeveloped, unactivated.

We use so little of our strength, our imagination, and our capacity for wonder. We become creatures of habit, living in a narrow hallway we mistake for the whole house. The wallpaper is faded, the air is stale, and the same dim light burns year after year. There are no windows to surprise us with a storm, no open doors through which music drifts, no unexpected visitors. It is safe enough. Predictable enough. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, our curiosity goes to sleep.

One of my earliest poems attempted to capture that image to some extent: "Yellow room in semi-gloom, I see no beauty in this wretched place." It's not a mindset you want to wear for the long haul, but that's a headspace I once lived in. 

Perhaps that is why Phenomenon still resonates with me. George's awakening may be exaggerated for the sake of the story, but the deeper truth is one we all recognize. Every person possesses unrealized possibilities. Every life contains unexplored rooms. There are books we have not read, friendships we haven't pursued, questions we've been afraid to ask, talents we've quietly set aside because they seemed impractical or inconvenient. We become accustomed to living on one floor of a mansion that was built with many levels.

John Updike once observed that four forces motivate and shape our lives: Love, Habit, Time, and Boredom. Love ignites us. Habit steadies us. Time wears us smooth. But boredom is the silent thief. It convinces us that tomorrow will be no different than today and that the world has already shown us everything it has to offer. It's not dramatic enough to frighten us, so we surrender without noticing. 

Somehow I suspect that the cure for boredom is curiosity. Every morning is an invitation. Learn something difficult. Call someone you've neglected. Walk a different street. Read a poet instead of the headlines. Pray. Listen. Create. Risk failure. The phenomenon we are waiting for may not arrive as a flash of light from the heavens. It may begin with the simple decision to wake up and pay attention. 

The world is still filled with mysteries, and so are you. 

Nevada Bob Gordon's 50 Years with the Wrong Woman Is Now Available

“I don’t mind dying. I was more afraid of not living.”
~NEVADA BOB GORDON

Every once in a while you meet someone whose life stories are so unusual that they ought to be a book. Robert Gordon, whom we call Nevada Bob, just happens to be one of those people. This weekend his book has been released on Amazon.com and IngramSpark for worldwide distribution.

I think half the success of television is due to the manner in which it gives people a chance to get an inside look at lives different from their own. Hence the popularity of programs like Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Magazines and books provide similar glimpses of places most of us will never go and the private spaces of people whom we'll never meet.

When I read the manuscript for 50 Years with the Wrong Woman, I couldn't believe how different this man's life experiences were from anything I'd known. (And I've had some book-worthy experiences myself.) This was one tough hombre. But he had a hilarious side, too. I mean, for Nevada Bob, life wasn't about being cool, or rich, but having fun. 

If you come away with anything, Bob is a storyteller. He's lived a life with such a variety of adventures, from Seattle beat cop in the Sixties to cancer survivor, gold assayer, cattle rancher and even a Nashville recording artist as a singer/songwriter. 

Nevada Bob and I. Photo G. Firstenberg.

What I really want to convey here, though, is that Bob Gordon is a character. When he visited Duluth with our mutual friend, photographer Gary Firstenberg, I gave them the Bob Dylan Places of Interest Tour. Everywhere we went we met people who found him engaging, uplifting and enjoyable to be around. 

I think that's what I liked about the book. Readers will engage this self-same Bob Gordon in his book. He's down to earth and over-the-top at the same time. He's a man with many friends, and all of them are eager to read his memoirs and reflect on his memories. And as the saying goes, "It's all true." He doesn't need to embellish things to keep them interesting. 

The book contains many life lessons as well, not the least of which is the value of resilience. There were so many places where Bob, his life having been derailed, could have given up. Instead, he chose to persevere, motivated by the woman he so loved.

50 Years with the Wrong Woman: The Life of Nevada Bob: Adventures with Family, Friends and Foes        TO PURCHASE CLICK HERE

Today Is Thanksgiving. What Are You Thankful For?

"Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others."--Cicero

The feast included this turkey by Chef Micah.

Today is Thanksgiving Day, a day that commemorates the harvest of 1621 and the people who were spared from starvation. It's a day to be thankful for what we have and who we are. This is a day to give thanks for those around us, those who have been there for us, those who have helped us grow.

A few months after the Covid pandemic struck the world last year I wrote a blog post about the power of gratitude. Here's an excerpt from that piece.

I was reading a book in which at the end of one chapter the authors gave readers an assignment to make a list of 25 things they were grateful for. I decided to do this and found out something. Nearly the entire list was people, people who have enriched my life in a multitude of ways, family, friends, relatives, and eventually a few things like our home, Susie's garden, a career in which I could use my gifts, etc.

While writing this, other people keep coming to mind, people who helped me or cared about me or encouraged me, including teachers, coaches, and even a few strangers.  I'm also grateful that  I'm not dead yet. And overarching the whole is a sense of gratitude to God for this gift of life. 

"When I started counting my blessings, my whole life turned around."
--Willie Nelson

We have much to be grateful for. Today is a day to remember that.

Related Links

A Thankful Heart Is a Sign of Maturity by Trip Kimball

Grouchy? Cranky? Get a Gratitude Book by John Prin

Music of Our Lives: Songs That Make Me Think of Various People I've Known

The poor cook he caught the fits
And threw away all my grits
And then he took and he ate up all of my corn...

Do you ever have a song going through your head that seems to just stay there for part of a day? It happens, and probably happens to most of us.

Sometimes these songs are just "there" in the soundtrack of your life, and other times they are associated with memories, occasionally with moments in time and sometimes in association with other people who have been part of our lives.

I thought it might be interesting to see what music comes to mind when I reflect on various people who have been significant to me or simply crossed my path. First on my list is Dad.

Dad
I actually have quite a few memories that coincide with music when I think of my father. I remember taking swimming lessons at the public pool in Maple Heights in 1960 when Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini was a hit. The public pool must have been playing pop hits as a soundtrack because I very much make this association of being at the public pool with my mom and dad.

Music was a big part of my parents' lives when I was growing up. I remember my father wiring speakers into the basement so they could play records upstairs while having friends over to play ping pong downstairs.

It was probably around this time that I began becoming aware of pop music on the radio. I didn't have a radio, but my parents had the radio on whenever we drove to our grandparents in Warren, about an hour away. Top hits of 1960 included Cathy's Clown (Everly Brothers), El Paso (Marty Robbins) and Alley Oop (The Hollywood Angels). Funny how the pop charts have always had room for these silly songs like Alley Oop, Yellow Polkadot Bikini and Monster Mash.

The song I will select to associate with my dad, though (besides all the classical albums he listened to on Sunday mornings when Mom took us to church) is Sloop John B by the Beach Boys.

After the British Invasion (1964 ff.) there was a surge of new music flowing over the airwaves. My father, who was conservative, was sometimes curious about the music we listened to. Occasionally I would notice him standing just below the living room in our split-level house tuning in to what I had on the turntable. I vividly recall him smiling while enjoying the Beach Boys Sloop John B. It's a special memory.

John Bushey

John was the host of KUMD's Highway 61 Revisited for more than 26 years. Our friendship didn't begin till I'd been a listener for many of those years. Eventually, I became involved with the Duluth Dylan Fest, of which he was a major influence, and over time we got to know one another quite well.

The nine years I knew him he was "on again off again" battling various cancer assaults. There were numerous special moments, but Not Dark Yet seemed to be especially significant. We still miss you, John.

Frank Capelli

My family moved to New Jersey in 1964, the year I turned 12. If you've ever moved to a new town in your youth, you know the challenge of "finding your tribe." That is, making connections with people you resonate with. Unless you are a premature curmudgeon, you usually get to know some of the kids on your block. These "friends by proximity" may or may not be "your type" but you appreciate the friendships that unfold.

Frank was in my German class in 7th grade and some of my other classes. We quickly bonded, with interests that in retrospect may have been unusual. For example, we used to draw mazes, which became increasingly elaborate, some of them dozens of pages with air pockets or holes from one level to another before coming back.

Several albums come to mind when I think of Frank. When I purchased Magical Mystery Tour (The Beatles) I went to his house and remember the excitement of removing the cellophane in his room and putting the album on the turntable to listen to it for the first time. For that memory I will cite I Am The Walrus, the meaning of which we discussed in detail, especially the cryptic recitation at the end. Similarly it was at his house that I first listened to Strange Days, the Doors' second album.

"Art is whatever you can
get away with."

Most memorably, Frank was the only person I know who had the 45 for They're Coming To Take Me Away Haha. by Napoleon XIV. Follow the link if you're not familiar with it. A unique feature of the single was the reverse side, which played the song in reverse and which had the label printed in reverse.

I also have song associations with two of my neighbors on Roger Avenue in Bridgewater. The Koons family (on the right side of our home, as you face the road) was quite musical. The father was a professional trumpet player. Kenny, who was my brother's age, or a year older, was also a trumpet player as well as drummer. He was quite alert to those groups that incorporated the trumpet into their recording, like Chicago. I most remember his appreciation for The Beatles' Penny Lane, another track from Magical Mystery Tour which he enjoyed emulating.

Tom Browne
The ranch house to our left housed the Brownes, and I was friends with Tom. Many memories there, but in the context of this blog post, the song that comes to mind is Zager and Evans' In the Year 2525. Don't recall it? I haven't heard it in ages but you will see that it was quite prescient. Do check it out.

* * * *

All these songs are associated with special people who are no longer with us. I lost my father in March 2006, John Bushey in February 2018, my best friend on the first day of school in 1968, and Tom Browne a couple years back as well. There's a sense in which the music keeps warm memories alive, and lost friends and loved ones near.

Do you have special songs for the people in your life?

Friends Are the Sunshine of Life

Life is hard. That's why we shouldn't go it alone.

"A friend is one who knows us, but loves us anyway."
~Fr. Jerome Cummings

"Remember, the greatest gift is not found in a store nor under a tree, but in the hearts of true friends."

~Cindy Lew

Who finds a faithful friend, finds a treasure.

~Jewish Saying

"Your friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you."
~Elbert Hubbard

"Who finds a faithful friend, finds a treasure."
~Jewish saying

What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.

~Aristotle

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend.

~Albert Camus

"The only way to have a friend is to be one."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Hold a true friend with both your hands."

~Nigerian Proverb

"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same."

~Anonymous

"Friends are like melons; shall I tell you why?
To find one good you must one hundred try."

~Claude Mermet

"Friendship needs no words..."
~Dag Hammarskjold.

"Friends are the sunshine of life."
~John Hay (1871)

One of the most illuminating passages on friendship that I've ever read is the chapter on Philia from C.S. Lewis' volume The Four Loves. Here are a few gems. You may also visit this Goodreads page, which displays several more.

“Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .”  (EdNote: This is how Keith Richards' friendship with Mick Jagger began.)

“Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.”

“People who bore one another should meet seldom; people who interest one another, often.”

Thank you, friends, for all your encouragement and kindnesses. Have a wonderful day. Friends are indeed the sunshine of life.

He Who Would Have Friends...

It's interesting the kinds of things we pick up from our parents. My parents were both avid readers. We had an abundance of books in our home, for which I am forever grateful. From my mom's side of the family we had quite a few older books, too, that had been around for some time. One of these was Elbert Hubbard's Scrapbook.

Elbert Hubbard was writer, philosopher and something of a Renaissance man who lived at the turn of the last century. I knew little about him other than my mom would mention his name from time to time. She was fond of quoting aphorisms like, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," and "What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive." The only connection between these quotes and Hubbard is that Hubbard's Scrapbook is a two volume collection of witticisms, aphorisms and anecdotal observations. Once you've internalized it, the pithiness of the pointed aphorism sticks with you much like a good advertising slogan.

One of these, which my mom frequently repeated, was "He who would have friends must show himself friendly." The saying came to mind this morning as I thought about this new world of social media. People are colliding with one another all over the place, from all corners of the globe. What are the rules for all this new interaction?

Well, it's my take that the cyberworld is not something altogether different from our time/space continuum. Like our geographically based reality it has communities, it has relationships, and there is more to see and do than there is time for. And as for the rules of engagement, it seems that the most important rules apply in both realms:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
&
He who would have friends must show himself friendly.

For what it's worth, Hubbard's Scrapbook was produced posthumously. He'd gained fame for his A Message to Garcia during his lifetime, but it was a life cut short as he was one of the many who died on the Lusitania.

If interested, here's a good selection of Elbert Hubbard quotes to whet your appetite.Check 'em out. There are some good ones.

Bob Dylan's Dream

About two months ago I got a new (used) car, and it has temporarily changed my lifestyle. The reason being is that it does not have a CD player so that I have been listening to the radio. It's probably a good cultural experience, listening to what people are talking about, and to the music that is airing these days after ten years of audio books.

One thing I noticed the other day while listening to a music station, there aren't a lot of song writers with the lyrical pen Dylan brought to the music scene five decades ago. That's probably harsh, but one song during yesterday's morning commute just made me cringe with its predictability and lack of originality. The song's only real value was the offering up of a simple tune with modern high-tech production values. It was sung by a guy whose name people know, and he's probably made money singing so he's happy. But what a yawner compared to the depth and melancholy connection that a Dylan transfusion offers.

This example may appear simple, but there is more to the song as it unfolds, and the endgame is a real payoff.

Bob Dylan's Dream

While riding on a train goin’ west
I fell asleep for to take my rest
I dreamed a dream that made me sad
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had

With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon
Where we together weathered many a storm
Laughin’ and singin’ till the early hours of the morn

By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung
Our words were told, our songs were sung
Where we longed for nothin’ and were quite satisfied
Talkin’ and a-jokin’ about the world outside

With haunted hearts through the heat and cold
We never thought we could ever get old
We thought we could sit forever in fun
But our chances really was a million to one

As easy it was to tell black from white
It was all that easy to tell wrong from right
And our choices were few and the thought never hit
That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split

How many a year has passed and gone
And many a gamble has been lost and won
And many a road taken by many a friend
And each one I’ve never seen again

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
That we could sit simply in that room again
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat
I’d give it all gladly if our lives could be like that

Copyright © 1963, 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1991, 1992 by Special Rider Music

Lost Friends

Those early years we often don’t fully appreciate our friendships. I moved away from Maple Heights, Ohio and never really stayed in touch with anyone. Our lives move forward into a new trajectory… and we meet new people.

But as we get older, and begin to understand ourselves a bit, we are less haphazard in our friendships. We begin to seek out like minded people with values or interests similar to ours. It takes time. New interests or changes in geography test these friendships. And as we are flung forward by fate and circumstances, and choices, for better or worse, we disconnect and reconnect with many people of greater or lesser influence upon us.

Unfortunately, like the Robert Frost poem about two roads diverging, many of the wonderful people who were once part of our lives get left behind. Occasionally it is due to our own neglect, or failure to value those treasured people.

As we get older, we value the good in others more deeply, especially when there are those rare connections that seem like true gifts. But it is with great pain and dismay that I remember all the really special people whom I failed to value, and even sometimes hurt through my own insensitivity and self-centeredness.

Here’s a song about old friends by Dylan from his second album, The Freewhelin’ Bob Dylan. As I listen to it again I am impressed at the maturity he demonstrated in these early songs.

Bob Dylan’s Dream
by Bob Dylan, in a tone most mournful…

While riding on a train goin' west,
I fell asleep for to take my rest.
I dreamed a dream that made me sad,
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had.

With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon,
Where we together weathered many a storm,
Laughin' and singin' till the early hours of the morn.

By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung,
Our words were told, our songs were sung,
Where we longed for nothin' and were quite satisfied
Talkin' and a-jokin' about the world outside.

With haunted hearts through the heat and cold,
We never thought we could ever get old.
We thought we could sit forever in fun
But our chances really was a million to one.

As easy it was to tell black from white,
It was all that easy to tell wrong from right.
And our choices were few and the thought never hit
That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split.

How many a year has passed and gone,
And many a gamble has been lost and won,
And many a road taken by many a friend,
And each one I've never seen again.

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
That we could sit simply in that room again.
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat,
I'd give it all gladly if our lives could be like that.

If you have a friend whom you have known all your life since grade school, I consider you most blessed. If you have a friend whom you have not stayed in touch with because you moved away, get back in touch… and promise to meet again some day.

Newman Family Christmas 2007

A few images from last night and this morning for family and friends.

Geek Humor

This past year I had an idea for a Dilbert cartoon based on an experience in which a company hired a consulting firm for a massive upgrade several years ago.

BOARD ROOM SCENE
Panel 1: POINTY HEADED BOSS ADDRESSING EMPLOYEES IN BOARD ROOM SETTING
"The last time our consulting firm was hired by XTL Corp, they observed that at any given moment one of our consultants was sitting on the john."

Panel 2: CONTINUED
"They determined that it was costing them $200 an hour for us to use their bathroom, or $8000 a week..."

Panel 3: CONTINUED
"which added up to $160,000 during our 20 week systems upgrade at XTL."

Panel 4: CONTINUED
"As part of the negotiations for the new contract with XTL, they have asked us to delegate the bathroom duties to a minimum wage employee who has been hired for this purpose."

Panel 5: "Any questions?"

Dilbert: "Yes. What programming languages will he need to know?"

--------------------------------------------------

I sent the above cartoon idea to a couple friends, one of them a programmer who enjoyed it and sent this response:

-----Original Message-----
Sent: Wednesday, October 03, 2007 11:19 AM
To: Newman, Ed
Subject: Re: cartoon idea

Funny,That reminds me of the only graffiti I ever wrote.

--------------------------------------------------
main()
{
int i;
int sum = 0;

for (i = 1; i <= 10; i++) sum = sum + i;

printf("Pooping", i);
}
---------------------------------------------
This is c code that prints the word pooping 10x and then is done.

If I saw this on the bathroom wall it would make me laugh so maybe I made someone laugh...

Continuity

Thirty-six years ago today we moved from Ohio to New Jersey, a life changing event.

I've been asked how it felt to leave my friends, and I honestly don't remember feeling anything. I was not losing my family or leaving them. When I went to college later I was again not eotionally moved... or rather, my excitement toward what was to come overshadowed any grief I might have felt. Again, in going to Minnesota & later PR and Mexico. In all these moves, the past seemed less important & my attachments to it were loose... As a consequence, my long term friends are few.
January 20, 2000

Our family's move from Cleveland, Ohio to Bridgewater NJ in 1964 was a major transition in my life. When I reflect on my childhood it seems like everything is measured by two really big events... this particular move, and my cross country journey by train when I was eight, from Cleveland to Reno, NV in second grade. (My grandparents took me out of school for three weeks.)

If there is one regret I have in life (just one?) it might be that I did not value my friends more as I travelled through the stages of my life. Or rather, that I did not maintain connections with some of the really wonderful people whose lives touched mine. This particular journal entry seems to note that even from an early age my attachments to my family were primary. I am grateful for the life continuity that family gives one. It must be tragic when parents or children cut one another off. There is certainly something healing and good about long term continuity. For this reason reunions have real value as we're reminded that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.