My Aunt Jane

A few weeks ago my dad had an operation to replace his aortic valve. My sister, my mom and I were sitting in the waiting room when I saw my sister’s face suddenly light up as she said “Well, hello!”

I turned to see my mother’s sister Jane, with a broad smile on her face, walking across the room toward us.

Immediately, I felt a surge of energy, encased in a sense of calm with a good dose of humor added in. That is the way Aunt Jane makes me feel.

I spent a lot of time at her house when I was growing up. She has three boys, Richard, Tom and Ben. We were all full of energy and mischief and even when she was exhausted from working a long nursing shift at the hospital she was able to handle us with a strong, positive attitude.

We would often sit around the kitchen table talking. It wasn’t unusual for the topic to become inappropriate, like the time Tom asked her what a scrotum was, but she always answered the questions and pretty much told us we were a bunch of fools.

Nothing has ever been handed to Jane. She worked hard to go to nursing school and raise a family. She has handled her fair share of tragedy and pain and yet she rarely complains.

She is honest, direct and kind. She now runs a second hand clothing shop and when a recent customer was picking out clothing and complaining loudly about the “flaming liberal democrats” in this country Aunt Jane simply said, “I’m one of those flaming liberal democrats” as she checked the customer out. They both laughed and now when that customer comes to shop Aunt Jane calls her the “Cute Conservative.”

She handles conflict that way. She may not agree with you but she will certainly listen to you.

My Aunt Jane simply helps me feel better about life and what life can be. Thank you Aunt Jane. I love you.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad

I called my parents on their 57th anniversary today and had a wonderful conversation with my mom. She talked about how blessed they have been during their marriage.

They were married in a small church in their hometown of Surry, Maine on October 18th, 1952. My dad was 24 and my mom was 18. Dad was the town manager in Corinth, Maine and mom was fresh from her first year of college.

My sister, Lynn, was born in August of 1953 and my other sister, Lorna, was born in May of 1955. Mom gave birth to stillborn baby in 1957 and this was the most painful point in their marriage. I was born in June of 1959.

My dad was hired as the Falmouth, Maine town manager in 1962 and my mom went back to school to pursue her love of teaching a few years later when I started school fulltime.

What I remember most about my mom and dad are the discussions we had around the supper table every night during the 60’s and 70’s. Mom was a liberal Democrat and dad was a Republican. It was fascinating, even to a little kid, to have dissenting political ideals displayed by both parents with passion and intellectual conviction while I ate some very traditional home cooked meals.

No matter how much they disagreed politically they agreed deeply in regard to family, religion, money and sex.

We were close as a family, attended church regularly, they used their money wisely and they expressed their love physically in a vibrant and beautiful way.

The success of their marriage comes down to the way they respect, love and listen too each other.

The bond between them allowed them to leave their hometown church when the church would not allow homosexual ministers. This past week they proudly placed their “NO on 1” sign in the front yard of the home back in Surry, Maine where fifty-seven years ago they began the journey that taught them that the sanctity of marriage comes down to the deep, traditional values of love ,trust and respect between two people.

Thank you, mom and dad. Your life lessons continue to give me strength and confidence. I will make sure that I pass those lessons along to Brandon, Kourtney and Sam.

Happy Anniversary and I love you.

Cameron

Wednesday morning I got up at 6 am and went for a 3.5 mile run. I haven’t run in the morning for a long time because I never feel like it. I wanted to see if it would have an impact on how I felt during the day. The run went well and then I took my son, Sam, to school and drove over to look at a house I am interested in.

While I waited for the real estate agents I noticed that I’ll didn’t feel any better than usual. I still had that blah, unfocused feeling.

The house was great and I had some nice conversations and then headed to work.

My daughter, Kourtney called to say that she had just taken her boyfriend , Chris, who has been suffering from viral meningitis, back to the emergency room. He threw up after class on Tuesday and woke up throwing up on Wednesday. They were performing another spinal tap and she was very upset for Chris.

After that, my girlfriend Wendy called upset because she was overwhelmed with flight attendant school was she participating in. It has been a lifelong dream and the testing has been intense and the job is going to be much more logistically complicated than she thought. She was overwrought with feelings of failure and disappointment.

Then my ex-wife Kim called complaining and worrying about our oldest son, Brandon. She was questioning his choices and asking me questions that I suggested she ask him, since he is living with her now.

I was also worried about my dad who needs a new heart valve, Kourt’s efforts to help Chris when she also needs to focus on her school work and most importantly how I was going to get the apartment clean before Wendy got home!

After I picked up Sam and made supper, I decided to take my sorry ass outside and jumpstart Wendy’s car that had been sitting stationary since Kourt used it and left the key in the “on” position.

I got it jumpstarted and then I took it for a ride to charge the battery. I drove down to the Town Landing, about 2 miles from the apartment, to look out at the ocean on a beautiful night. The light was perfect and the sailboats in the harbor were stunning as they bobbed up and down to the rhythum of the waves. Taking a moment for myself and to just enjoy my surroundings I reached down and turned off the key. I think I actually had a piece of my mind yelling “no don’t do that” as my hand went to the steering column but in that instant I couldn’t pull it all together. The car turned off just as I yelled “shit!” I quickly turned the key hoping that enough juice had gotten to the battery to just turn the engine over once but all I got was that familiar click, click, click sound that I have heard so many times in my life.

That’s when I really started to get pissed squeezing the steering wheel as hard as I could with both hands and shaking it. I think I could have actually pulled it off the column if I hadn’t calmed myself down.

I relaxed my hands and sat there for a moment and pondered my options. I could look for someone and ask for a jump, I could call Sam and have him drive illegally (he only has his permit)over to help me (I seriously considered this) or I could simply collect myself and walk back to the apartment and get my car.

Walking seemed like the best plan so I strolled up the hill and then down RT 88. It was a beautiful night and the walk was nice. I got to the apartment, jumped in my car, drove back to Town Landing, jumped Wendy’s car and drove it back to the apartment.

It was now getting dark and I had to go back and get my car. So I grabbed my goofy orange reflective vest and jumped on the old bicycle, that I bought for $75 at the beginning of the summer so that Brandon, Kourt and Sam could get around when a car wasn’t available, and headed down the road looking like an odd, middle aged man with balance problems as I wobbled slowly down the road.

After a quarter mile I felt pretty good and the whole event seemed to start coming into a humorous focus for me. It was rounding into a good story to tell with a good ending and I was speeding down hill with the wind in my hair. Even the big uphill wasn’t bad as I downshifted and pumped my legs furiously steadily moving forward. I crested the hill and my momentum increased as I changed gears again. This is the point where the derailleur, after many years of use, decided to let go. After a lot of clanking sounds I looked down to see the chain hanging and caught in the spokes.

Now I had another decision to make. Should I just leave the bike there and walk the rest of the way or should I try to use it as a scooter? The scooter option seemed to make sense as there was flat road ahead and a big downhill at the end. I figured I could actually get there faster than walking. So I cocked my butt off to one side so my leg could reach the ground and started pushing myself along at dusk on a busy road wearing my classy reflective vest. I was amazed by how fast my leg fatigued, how slow I was traveling and how funny passersby thought I looked.

I shifted to my other side just as some” tricked out” bicyclist with his fancy lights, flamboyant bike shorts and $1,000, 20 speed road bike passed by and made some remark that was tinged with sympathy but was drenched in sarcasm. That’s when I heard another clanking sound as chain wrapped itself in the spokes again.

Suddenly I was back to that “gripping and shaking the steering wheel” feeling again! I wanted to throw the bike down and then jump up and down on it yelling obscenities as loud as I could. Instead, I tossed the bike to the side of the road, took note of the location and expelled a moderately loud by simple “fuck” and continued my quest to pick up my car.

The rest of the trip was uneventful as I got back to my car, picked up the bike, picked up a 12 pack of Sam Adams at the store and went back to the apartment to drink my beer and tell Sam my adventure. I think it is good for Sam to have a father who makes more mistakes than he does.

The next morning I got up to find out that Chris is feeling much better, Wendy passed her tests and should be fine and Brandon is going to work doing recruiting for Georgetown while he works at a running shoe store and applies to grad school at UMO.

I’m not going to bother running in the morning and I’ll stick with my reliance on Sam Adams.

Praise in Public

I wanted to share the letter to the editor, published in The Forecaster, that I wrote about my kids cross country coaches. I believe that we should praise the people who deserve praise as often and as publicly as we can.

Letter: Falmouth coaches deserve thanks
Published: Aug 31, 2009 8:40 am -
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This fall marks the 10th and final year in a row that one or more of my children will run cross country for Falmouth High School. During that time Danny Paul and Jorma Kurry have shared the coaching responsibilities.

My children's running skills span all levels from elite runner, to good runner, to back-of- the-pack runner. It never mattered to Danny and Jorma what running skills each of my children possessed. What has always come across loud and clear is that they are concerned with each athlete's development as a runner and more importantly as a human being.

I've observed them at over 100 meets and numerous awards banquets. It is amazing how they relate to each student and how they can recall the most minute detail or most important accomplishment of each of one.

My oldest son has graduated from college and he still stays in contact and runs with each of them. My daughter is currently running in college and as I took her to pre-season running camp, we talked about Danny and Jorma and their positive impact on her life.

I believe that being a teacher/coach in today's complicated world is one of the toughest and most important jobs. Thank you Danny and Jorma for doing it so well and making my job, as a parent, easier. I plan on enjoying every minute of this 10th season as I watch my youngest son improve as a runner and a human being.

Cameron Bonsey
Falmouth

Bring Guilt to the Laundromat

My daughter Kourtney is getting ready to go back to college. Her room is torn up, clothes are piled in front of the washer and dryer and reminder notes sit, ruffed on counter tops and tables throughout our home.

I sat down at the kitchen table to do some work this morning and out of the corner of my eye, on a sticky note next to my computer, I read the words “take guilt to the laundromat” As I refocused my fifty year old eyes I realized that it actually was a note from Kourtney asking me to take her quilt to the laundromat.

The thought of taking guilt to the laundromat intrigues me. What if we could simply wash away the guilt that builds up over a lifetime with a quick visit to the “guilt free” laundromat?

As I write this I am focusing on guilt as “self-reproach for supposed inadequacy or wrongdoing”. I believe we would all become happier and more productive if we could clean this type of guilt from our lives.

I know my own forgetfulness and lack of organizational skills can make me feel guilty at work and in my personal life. What I have found is that if I concentrate on that guilt I actually become less effective and certainly less satisfied in life. Sometimes I have to stop, address the mistake and do my best to prevent the same thing from happening again.

Great athletes know exactly how to do this. If Josh Beckett gives up a key hit you’ll certainly see him express anger and disappointment in himself for a moment. He then quickly settles down and focuses on the task at hand and the future. The base hit does not exist in his mind because it would simply pull energy away from what he needs to accomplish from that point forward.

This simple lesson is something I try to reinforce with me kids everyday. So I’ll take Kourt’s quilt to the laudromat and hopefully she can sleep under it through many “guilt free” nights at school this year.

Depression Inspires Me

I have lived with depression my entire life. It is a part of who I am and the path it has pushed me to follow has led me to a place where I am happy and full of enthusiasm for what life presents to me.

It hasn’t always been that way. I’ve experienced the moments of despair, curled up in the fetal position on family room floor when no one was around, screaming at the top of my lungs, with my dogs licking my face wondering what was wrong with me.

I have fallen apart on a movie set, unable to make the calls for the shoot the next day as my sister, a woman who was working with me, two of my best friends and one of their wives made phone calls until 2 in the morning for me.

And years ago I checked myself into a facility for three days because I was exhausted and simply didn’t know what to do to make myself feel better.

Yesterday I had my physical. I am about to turn fifty and I am in very good shape physically. The nurse who weighed and measured me even thinks I’ve grown have an inch! I think she just had a bad angle but I’ll take it. At least I’m not shrinking yet.

As I began to talk to my doctor in regard to how I am feeling it became clear to me that I have learned a great deal about myself through my work with my own depression.

I am a deeply emotional person. This usually displays itself through frequent outbursts of laughter. In my younger days it would sometimes manifest itself in anger and holding onto to pain.

My depression can take energy away from me and holding on to negative feelings only makes me feel worse. I just don’t have the internal resources to handle that downward spiral so I have learned how to let those negative feelings go and replace them with positive thoughts and feelings.

Those positive thoughts help me to view the world from a different perspective. I instantly trust people that I have just met and I trust my kids, my girlfriend, my parents, siblings, my friends and co-workers. I’ve learned that it is important to give trust first if you ever expect to be trusted and when I don’t trust someone it just pulls energy away from me. Most people do the right thing so why should I waste energy worrying about something negative happening?

I also set positive short term and long term goals. My kids make fun of me because I’ll say things like “My fifties are going to be the most productive time of my life.” I say things like that to reinforce that life to good to them and, just as importantly, that life is good to me.

I know that I’ll have days when I want to curl up on the floor and scream and I know that I will make it through those days to laugh with friends and family.

Thank you depression. You inspire me.