Thursday, January 16, 2020

Eric's Journal


     When Eric's belongings came home from New Zealand 20 years ago, Ryan found this file in his computer. Eric had titled it American Observations and it captured some of his thoughts from his semester abroad at Melbourne University. It details the thoughts, hopes and insecurities of a 20 year old who was almost as far from home as a person can get and still stay on the planet.

      We miss him every day.
--------------------------------------------------------

American Observations
by Eric Davis Foss
1999

I feel like Doogie Howser... I've never actually taken the time to jot down my thoughts. Maybe because my mind works in a weird way. In some ways I feel like what comes out of my mouth never truly represents the thought process that occurs within my head. Somewhere in-between, an ego                                                                           or an insecurity gets in the way. 
Yet here I sit in a small room, located on the second floor of a castle, writing to myself for no apparent reason.
I haven't quite worked my way into the mainstream of all these Aussies. At dinner, I sit there and listen much more than I talk. I watch all these exchange students sit there and blow smoke about how it is in America and pretend that they're really somebody special where they come from. They are so eager to display themselves -or the selves they choose to portray. As for me, I like to wait and listen.

       You learn a lot more that way. Half the time, the more you get to know someone, the less you respect them. The other half of the time you make them your friend.

I've made two friends so far, an Englishmen named Chris who appears to be my equal in pool, and a 4th year Aussie named Simon who is much more Americanized than most you meet. He lived in Vail for two years and has actually skied at Sugarloaf, my  hometown mountain. Lewis, a Princeton man from San Francisco, has become my new lifting partner. We are both on a conquest to get huge. Laugh at us meathead weight boys all you want, but I kinda like having a set of pecks and a nice bicep  for once. My whole life I've been a scrawny little boy. Yesterday the captain of the rugby team asked me to play cause he needed some more big guys. I was flattered. Plus the chicks love it.

Anyway I really haven't accomplished anything that I set out to do, I actually wanted to come off sounding intellectual. Instead I sound like a columnist from Swank magazine or something. Maybe tomorrow I'll have something good to write. Until then...later.

October 21, 1999

The city of Melbourne is kind of like Boston, similar to Montreal, but it has this Australian feeling that is in a way overwhelming. "Cheers Mate" and "How you goin" are common greetings in these parts.
Aussies can drink!  An alcoholic in America is considered a good drinker in Australia.

I have been called a variety of names like Yank and American in drunken choruses sung by the entire rugby team led by Dennis.         At the end of each song, I was forced to scull (finish) my beer.

So much for the journal I was gonna create during my stay in Australia....I guess it's not too late considering that I still have a few months left....yeah...that's the ticket....procrastination!  The key to success. "The brain functions better under the stress of putting things off," spoken by a biochemistry major I ran into the other day. He seemed smart enough but could have been talking out of his butt, as many of the Australians around this place do. If they would stop complaining (and drinking so much),they could be one of the most recognized nations in the world....instead they're stuck under the wing of the Brits. Anyway....

What have I learned....

        Rugby is a good sport. It is played not only for your team, but for yourself. It is a true test of one's athletic spirit.

Beer is good.....

Those 7am phone calls from the parents in the states the        morning after a smoko (college party) are bad...

If you love someone and you go very far away from them, it hurts...

Bedtime is imminent when you can't type because the screen keeps getting all fuzzy. Especially when its 3:22 in the morning and you just got back from Octoberfest.

Maybe next time I'll express something meaningful in life. We're working on the meaning of life in philosophy. I've expressed two opinions in the class where others are quite quick to draw conclusions. As usual, I don't say much in a situation unless I'm sitting around a campfire with some good friends.

Who knows anyway...everybody can have an opinion, but
when all is said and done, they are still just opinions.
         God is different for every person out there, and religions put these gods into categories. It seems like the categories get bigger and bigger, while the number of people who don't fit into these categories, or perhaps don't believe in God, gets larger and larger. There are the people who don't believe in anything at all. Does it all come down to nothing? What could it mean then? "I dunno" would probably be a good answer since "nothing is the answer".

Getting back to the philosophy class, the only two comments I've made on the subject have been very short as well. The first came when someone rhetorically asked themselves what the meaning of life was after their idea was shot down by the  teacher.

I replied "42".....

A few laughed, obviously having read the "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" series. The others stared as if I had something hanging out of my nose.

I realized that a few started actually contemplating the answer as if they had to check it out and see if that fit right with their belief in Jesus Christ and the Ten Commandments.

I laughed to try to show I was just making a joke. The teacher then pried for my opinion on the philosophical topic they were having before on the subject.

I felt like saying.."Listen buddy....I've had  better philosophy discussions with the kid on acid stuck to a chair in the corner than I am having with     you".

But instead I said, "Life is the meaning of Life. We are created by life, make life, and  die."

A girl from across the room  said, "Huh?"

I said "Excuse me."

She said, "Could you repeat that?"

I said "Tool once said Life feeds on life.....this  is necessary."

She said "Huh?''......Once again people looked at me "funny". Some were amused with the reference to a heroin metal band in a philosophy tutorial, while others gazed, once again, as if my words were Spanish.

I said, "It just seems like a reasonable deduction that we are here to make life. If we ceased to create life, there would be no life, and therefore all human possibilities would become impossible till the next batch of apes made that huge evolutionary jump and started the spiral all over again."
She proceeded to look down into her notepad and write something. I can't remember the last time somebody actually wrote down my name. Everyone else seemed to accept the deduction for a split second and then murmurs began around the room which seemed to overwhelmingly shoot down my theory.
The tutor began his objection right at that point, and confused the hell out of me for 2 minutes with his definitions of meaning. He seemed to meld the word from meaning to purpose, and then explained that my revelation didn't hit the mark of defining those deeper purposes involving right and wrong and good and evil, Ying and Yang, Bill and Ted ...whatever.

I said to him," Many of these purposes come from the process of creating life, such as family. They become the part in life that people value most. At the end of every great man's life, he most likely wishes he could have done more for his family, and less of what he did to pursue his own agenda. Morals and values should be taught at home according to most learned people. It just seems to make sense."

He said "True, true, but this still leaves us in question."

I nodded, as if to say "Fair enough", and with that he looked at his watch and sent us out into the world of academia to fill the jug with more  juice.

I hope the juice makes money.....ahhhhhh....those ever so "real-life" meanings.
Anyway....

November 2nd, 1999

3 days till my first final....Man I hate studying. The only time I can actually force myself to sit down and study are during those 24 panic filled hours before the test. I question the meaning of it   all often.  One of my only motivations to do well comes from my father. Otherwise I think I'd be content in some wanker arts subject just squeezing by. Glen is quite insistent about doing well. This is not necessarily a bad thing. I feel as though I'm left with some big shoes to fill when I look at my father. Self made man, very high work ethic, provides for his family, very high morals, all around quality role model. I wonder when all these qualities          developed.

      Probably the day he became a father. I bet ya he was just like me before he had an actual idea of what real responsibility was. I bet he sat up late at night like I do, doubting myself and thinking about what I am gonna amount to, who am I gonna marry, can I really picture myself with this girl for the rest of my life. I ask myself this question about my girlfriend now...I truly love her and we've gotten pretty serious lately. She really is a sweetie and we get along so well, but does she fit into the whole picture of how I see myself?

How do I see myself?  I wonder if other people know who they are....I think I have an identity crisis that has been imprinted into me from a very young age. Being a twin has given me a lack of self understanding to a certain extent, yet the ability to read others like a book. I see through people. I see their motives, opinions, lifestyle, and sexuality. When one tries to read me, they are left with a blank stare. The reason for this is that I can't often read myself. What do I really want? What am I looking for? There must be more than this.

I sit here jamming to Alice in Chains at 3 in the morning finding comfort in the bashing guitar jams and whining vocals. I could do so much more with myself. I'm a good musician, a good athlete (in the best shape of my life I might add), handsome, good with the ladies, intelligent, funny, and as far as well rounded goes I can take the cake. I feel like I've lived too many lives or something and it's interfering with the one I'm looking for. I never fit into a group. I'll lead or not participate. This big brother mentality would be great in the business world, but I question more often than ever why do we need all this money. It seems like one great big bonfire of the vanities. I really don't think I'm a vain person, but I do want to be successful. This comes from my competitiveness...another byproduct of growing up with a mirror. I miss my brother.

I want to clear this page right now and just start a novel, type until my fingers hurt and my vision blurs. I feel I'm a great story teller, I can captivate a room full of people with a ten minute story leaving them waiting for more. This could be due to the fact that I can embellish on anything.
Why do I do that I ask?  It seems to me that a better approach to life would be a strictly factual representation of everything, yet I find myself blatantly exaggerating once in a while, not about anything important, but just to captivate attention. I guess it all comes down to wanting to be accepted or liked.

Why do I care what  people think?  To hell with other people...yet daily I find my mind occupied by concerns of another persons view of me. I need to give it up. I   need to give up the hardass attitude. I need to laugh more and think less. Life shouldn't be difficult. It should be an experience and that's all. It should be about touching those around you with a spirit that is full of goodness.

Where do my religious beliefs fit into this? I don't know. I find myself saying the Lord's prayer before I go to bed about once a week....does this make me Christian...dunno. But it makes me feel like I have a small bit of spirituality which seems like a good thing to me.

I think back to about 2 years ago when suddenly I became convinced that Jesus was my shepherd and that the Lord was with me...I don't know what it was, but I had a rush of spirituality. This strong faith lasted about 6 months and then slowly faded. I now sit on the fence like most other normal guys my age wondering what is the meaning to all this religious speculation.

             Isn't it all just speculation? Who really does know? Why won't God come down and explain some of these things to us like he did with Moses. I want to be a prophet. I want to spread the word of God, but I'm hindered by massive feelings of doubt. This world is really a crazy place.

     Humans are a very strange breed. What are we trying to prove? Which directions are we headed in? It sometimes seems like one big downward spiral.

In all this craziness I find comfort in my relationships with others, especially my family and my girlfriend. I know these people really love me. They give me strength and a sense of importance, but there is much more to this picture. I just don't know what it is! What gives family an importance? What do the morals I've accumulated through good people like my mother mean in the grand scheme of things? Especially when there is so much out there that fills me with doubt...so much pointless shit!
Now that I think of it, my writing is pretty much pointless. I wouldn't be proud to show it to anyone. It doesn't really have a point. I guess it's just something to kill time which seems like the whole world is caught up with doing these days. Its 3:30 and I'm sitting in my room writing to myself! What a waste!  Who cares anyway? It's such a shitty attitude but honestly...who cares. Does God care what I'm doing right now? Does            anyone?

Most people are so caught up in themselves and their problems, they could care less about someone like me sitting in my room trying to process a few thoughts before I go to bed. I guess that is the whole point of me sitting here in the first place....just to process my thoughts. Yet these thoughts sometimes lead on a downward spiral to nowhere.

Tomorrow I will get up, rollerblade into the city for a glass of oj and a look at the morning news, which is sure to be filled with death, destruction, and political bullshit. I'll go to the gym and lift some weights so I can improve my physical appearance, and then sit in my room and study C programming so I can prove to myself and father that I have the ability to do well in school. Do I really care? No. But I should, is what I tell myself. So I do.

I'll enjoy the rollerblading, and I'll even enjoy the gym and watching all my muscles swell up to massive proportions, but the studying will just put me in a terrible mood. If I hate learning the subject matter why would I ever want a job dealing with it? Just to make money? But will this money really make me happy? We'll see, for I'm gonna be rich! The competition in life drives my spirit.

I will now set a goal to do something tomorrow that not only makes me feel alive, but makes someone else happy. I want to get up every morning and feel like laughing, running, thanking God for this day.

I don't want to lay awake dreading things. Instead I'll be thankful that I actually can do these things. I'll walk down the street with my head high and a smile and say hello to people I don't even like! I'll refrain from smoking and drinking and just get high on the fact that I'm enjoying my time on this planet...life isn't hard ...we just make it that way.
I've successfully talked my way out of a lonely hole and given myself some hope. Cause if I had my girlfriend with me right now I' d be cuddling and not sitting here lonely. I will learn all my studies tomorrow and I'll do it for myself and no one else.    

 It's funny how the dread of tests makes us crazy. I 1 m so relaxed compared to most. There are chicks here who cry and freak out over this kind of stuff.....how hard could it all be?

One thing this will require is a good night's  rest... and hence I say goodnight..










Tuesday, January 7, 2020

Another Brick in the Wall

It's been coming for awhile. And I've resisted it far longer than I should have. 25 years in a paper mill. 10 years duck hunting with my 12 gauge Mossberg pump. Growing up in the 60s and 70s, rock concerts and loud music. It all adds up. It was time.

I have discovered that people, family, friends who would never think to offend someone with a  disability find it acceptable to ridicule someone with hearing loss. Perhaps it is because they get fed up repeating themselves. Or become annoyed by my constant interruptions. They tell jokes about what was said and how I interpreted their words. In truth, some of it was funny.

"Glen, you need a hearing test."

"What do you mean? I just had a urine test at my last physical."

"What?" a thousand times.

But for the past week I have not spoken the W word. I researched hearing aids for years and found the best quality at the best price at Costco. Last Friday I picked up a pair of midline Kirkland 9000s and life is different now.

At first I was startled.The sound of the car blinker was deafening as was the toilet flushing. Sounds I hadn't even recognized I was no longer hearing. It will take some getting used to, knowing what situations to turn them up and down. Conversations with groups of people like this writers group, require concentration and lower volume as does doing dishes with chanking pans and dishes.

But it is better.

The hearing aid technician tested me and said "Your left ear seems pretty good, but your right ear has greater hearing loss."

I said "Well that makes sense."

He looked puzzled "How so?"

I explained "Well for the past 12 years my wife and I have been driving around the country and she sits in the passenger seat to my right. She burned out my right ear."

He laughed.

So, in this age of political correctness, with people taking offense to all manner of things, I guess being able to be lighthearted and laugh at our age related disabilities is more healthy. I mean, it really is just another brick in the wall.

Saturday, January 4, 2020

Abbie Emma York Willard

Abbie Emma York Willard


Our Great Grandmother, Abbie Emma York Willard, was born on January 4, 1879 and died on March 17, 1979 at 100 years old.

From our father's genealogy work, the York's arrived from England in the 1600's. Samuel York was born in Oyster River New Hampshire in 1645. His son, Benjamin was born in what is now Falmouth, Maine in 1680. Maine became a state in 1820, by the way. That make's my children and their Tilton /Grannell / Johnson cousins 12th generation Mainers... And the 13th generation, their children, oldest to youngest, Ava Claire, Noah Peter, Brooke Louise, Lydia Grace, Griffin James,  Isla Rose, Rae Lynn, Davis Lowe, Eden Ashley, Daxton Daniel, Emmett Michael, Isaac Foss, Lyla Mae, Hunter Ryan and two little girls due very soon. As they used to say, "that and a quarter gets you a cup of coffee." Still, we are darned proud of it. 

Let's not forget the Davis clan, Izzy and Ian 12th generation and new baby girl Lulu. And the Johnson clan (gonna need some help here with names and ages...)

If you knew Gram Willard you'd know why we are proud. She was a spunky old gal. She was 72 when Craig and I, her oldest great-grandchildren, were born and we remember her laugh , more like a joyful cackle, even today. She lived to hold 4 of her great-great grandchildren; Christopher, Sayde, Eric and Ryan.

When I told her the names we had chosen for our son's she said, "Land sake, Sonny Boy. Where did you get those names... under the wood pile?" That from a woman married to Clarence with a daughter named Maybelle and a son-in-law named Morris.

I remember her telling the story of sitting on the point on Orr's Island as a child with her sister and watching the very first steam boat to ever enter the harbor. We were watching TV. It was July of 1969 and Neil Armstrong was walking on the moon.

Once when I was in 9th grade, I was explaining the names of the different types of clouds that I had  learned in earth science class; cumulus, stratus, cirrus... Gram listened and then set me straight. "We call them Summer Floaters..."

Gail tells the story of visiting her shortly before she died. Gram told Gail she was pregnant. Gail said, "No Gram, that's Connie. I'm not pregnant." Still, Gram insisted that she was and told the rest of the family. 3 weeks later, when Gail learned that she WAS pregnant (with Kimberly Rose) she called Gram and asked how she knew. Gram said "I saw it in your eyes."

Mom passed Abbie's oil lamp on to me.


Here is a audio/video piece of her recording a greeting to Morris and Maybelle in Florida sometime in around 1975. 
or
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GA7-xHvlCvk&feature=youtu.be

Today would be her 141st birthday.
So, Happy Birthday Abbie Emma. 
We remember.

Thursday, January 2, 2020

Anthony Bourdain Quote


It's been a wild ride.
A lot of miles. A road sometimes smooth, sometimes hard and ugly.
And I guess I could tell you that if you look hard enough, that just next door is just as interesting as the other side of the world. 
But ... That's not exactly true. 
If I do have any advice for anybody, any final thought, if I'm an advocate for anything, it's to move.
As far as you can, as much as you can. 
Across the ocean, or simply across the river. 
The extent to which you can walk in somebody else's shoes--or at least eat their food--it's a plus for everybody.
Open your mind. Get up off the couch. Move

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Fierce Women

January 1, 2020...a new decade.

Thought we would have flying cars and all that cool George Jetson technology by now. But we do have the Dick Tracy Wrist Watch Two-Way Radio, now called an Apple Smart Watch. Still waiting for Star Trek warp drives, transporters and fazers. Soon.

The new decade began with a bank overdraft. Damn! I was waiting for the new tax year to transfer money from the IRA to cover planned expenses and I immediately did so this morning...to arrive next Monday because of holidays and weekends? Cash flows slowly into the checking account and at the speed of light out of the checking account. Connie's response was, "We'll go down the the bank and yell at them!" My fierce woman.

It made me remember the time 3 years ago after Connie's knee replacement when I needed a document notarized. Two previous trips to the bank had been unsuccessful. On this third attempt Connie, with her cane, and I waited for 30 minutes for the Asst. Branch Manager to come down from lunch. Finally we were seated at her desk and I presented my documents. She glanced at them quickly and said with a self important tone, "We do not notarize documents like this." After having been told on two previous occasions that they would be able to help us. After scheduling this and two previous meetings. After waiting for 30 minutes. My face got red and I immediately stood up and said "Connie, let's go before I say something I will regret." I headed for the door.

She was alarmed at my obvious displeasure and immediately rose to my defense. She struggled to stand, turned and faced the crowded lobby. She raised her cane like a shot-gun, swept it across the room and said loudly "THIS IS SO WRONG!" The room froze. People stared open mouthed not knowing whether to run or drop to the floor.

I quickly returned and ushered my fierce woman out of the bank. I'm sure the video footage of the incident still exists in some electronic security file. We never returned to that branch. I'm sure we have been banned.

Another fierce woman memory surfaced. It was the summer between my junior and senior year in high school. I was working at Howard Johnson's as a soda jerk and as a maintenance/groundskeeper at several local motels. But I wanted to play football in my senior year and needed to attend summer practice, so I needed to scale back on the work. When I explained it to my boss at one motel he got nasty. "After all I have done for you? You're done! You'll never work at another motel in Thornton Heights when I'm through with you. I'm firing you!" I was shocked. I headed for home.

My mother sensed that I was upset and when I explained what happened her face set in an angry scowl. "Come with me." she ordered. I remember walking fast to keep up with her to the motel office. She walked up to the motel manager, her eyes flashing and put her finger in his face. "Don't you ever threaten my son! Do you understand me?" she yelled through clenched teeth. I thought she was going to slug him. He nodded, she wheeled around and we marched back home in silence. My fierce mother.

And then when I was six, living on Lincoln Avenue in Barton Vermont, I used to hang around with a couple thirteen year old boys, Dale Smith and Parke Webster. We would play ball in the large front yard with the other kids and the big boys would push us down and laugh. One day the screen door flew open and Mom who had been watching through the window launched down the stairs. She attacked Parke, threw him to the ground and sat on him. She pinned his arms and spoke angrily directly into his face. He squealed like a pig.  Finally she let him up and he ran home. Never got pushed down again. Not by him.

However, walking home from second grade, some tough neighborhood kids did knock me down. When I got home and told Mom she said "Did you fight back?" No, I said and she got angry with me."Tomorrow you fight back! Don't let them bully you!" she said emphatically. The next day I did. When I came home dirty and with a ripped shirt, She said "Did you win." I said "I don't know." But the bullying stopped.

Just talked to my sister and she reminded me of so many more examples where the women of our family, older and younger, stood up and dished it out. It's genetic or at least ingrained and imprinted on us all. Fight for that worth fighting for. Fierce women. We love em.

Just be aware of the video cameras...

Thursday, December 5, 2019

Dumpster Treasures

 Dumpster diving and dump picking has always been an enjoyable pass time for me.

Back in the 70's when, to borrow a quote from Elizabeth Warren, we were "just hanging on to the ragged edge of the middle class". I would make a weekly trip to the Fairfield town dump to drop off our trash and pick the dump for whatever. Kids toys, bicycles, building supplies, doors, peg board... a veritable cornucopia of useful items. A local manufacturing plant provided an endless supply of recyclable stuff. I always came home with more than I dropped off.

More recently, we enjoyed the "Swap Shops" of the Yarmouth and Freeport Transfer Stations; foosball tables, beach chairs, aquariums, plastic dinosaurs and a kids fire station. Good stuff.

The other day I spotted a snow covered picture near the dumpster where we are renting in Massachusetts. Curious.


I cleaned it off and found this.


Here is a an expanded view of the bronze plaque.


This didn't seem like a fitting end for a portrait of such a distinguished and accomplished man. He was an Armenia immigrant, graduated from MIT and Northeastern Law School, served in the Army and WWI, and was a Master Mason. I did some research looking for background and family connections. It lead to Cohasset MA and I was excited to find contact information for his daughter, now 89 years old. I called to offer to send the picture to her.

"Hello?"

"Hi. My name is Glen Foss and I have found a portrait of General Zartarian and..."

She cut me off. "I can't talk to you." click.

Curiouser...

Either she thought I was a scammer or she did not wish to engage for reason of some long ago family dysfunction. I decided not to call her back.

I have attempted to make contact with someone who I think is a grandson in NJ. 



Hard tellin, not knowin. In the mean time he sits on the floor of our 3rd floor apartment, safe and sound. 

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

hindsight

Just read a Forbes article about the apocalyptic media reporting about climate change. I've spent many hours reading and researching the issues trying to determine the truth. Depending on what "facts" you choose to believe, the planet may be 10-12 years from total ecological breakdown (major sea level rise, devastating weather related events like drought, floods, forest fires, hurricanes, flooding, earthquakes, extinction, plague...). Or not. The science and the politics of climate change is confusing and conflicted.

No doubt the impact of humans on the planet has been profound. Pollution, over-population, deforestation, sprawl, fracking. The environment must be protected and regulation is  obviously required. The regulation must be science based and must balance cost, global impact and the welfare of all life on the planet. It is a critical undertaking and demands our best minds to protect the environment. Politicizing the issues has not advanced the cause. Just the opposite.

In college I studied environmental science and drank the Earth Day Kool Aid. My professors convinced me that the earth was entering a new ice age because of human actions. And that the planet could not sustain a human population increase much above 3.7 billion level in 1970. As a result of pollution, starvation, poverty and disease the global population would crash the planet within decades.

Today, 50 years later, the prediction is for catastrophic global warming. Global life span has increased 20% on average. The population is 7.7 billion and rising. And global poverty rates have decreased 78% in that time frame. How could the predictions have been so wrong?

No doubt technology, science and public policy changed the predicted outcomes. So did the cycle of the sun.

I remember preaching the impending Population Bomb to my parents one summer break. I told them that, in light of the impending doom, having children was unethical, immoral. My father was alarmed at my anxiety and my world view. He said, "Calm down, son. I would give you a Valium if I had one. It's going to be ok."

He was right. The world did not end. And it will not end any time soon (baring cataclysmic meteor strikes or self destructive atomic war). Technology and science continues to advance at exponential rates. Nuclear fusion will eventually replace burning carbon for fuel and resolve the CO2 question. Energy from the sun will wax and wane and the earth will warm and cool. And humankind will adjust and adapt as it always has.

And the media and the politicians will continue to terrorize us with sensational claims in order to advance their agendas, their power and their coffers. I think what bothers me most is the degree to which science has been corrupted by politics and self interests. It's discouraging.

Wish I had a Valium...