The Dutchmen

Pure balderdash

In a small town, in Kittery Maine, my great Aunt Phil sits and recalls a time long ago when my late grandmother fell in love with a Dutchman rather than her betrothed.

Now the outcome of this story has direct implications on my life as I might not exist if …. had my late grandmother followed her heart rather than her head.

Flash forward in time to an autumn trip with “Orbit” to a place that I had never been before called Quakertown. Like an earthquake on the Wabash Valley Seismic Zone, the foundation of my direction was found on that day, much like my late grandmother follow her head rather then heart.

To quake and shake is not a common characteristic. However, the ripple effect of a physical body “shiver” is indicative of connection. Radical connection, where the mind and body can do nothing but be awakened. Engagement of pleasure receptors and numbness in the fingertips, butterflies in the stomach engagement. In my humble opinion, a realignment of the nervous system.

Little did I know that within that year I would be engaged with the town of Metamora, Egypt Hollow and Salem and a camper that never moves branded with the Dutchman. The question is this serendipity or fate?

There aren’t many details from my great aunt Phil so… I will embellish, imagine and create a story, for I am creator of fiction and fairy tale maker. Your ever after fable maker.

In Hudson, New York on a warm May Day along the embankment he scooted on a handmade board made with roller skates. It was smooth, until the wheel came loose and then he would have to stop to make repairs with a rachet.

“Bisquits” he would say when the wheel fell off. In the edge, seated on the stoop, was Angelica waiting and wondering when destiny was coming. A pitcher of unsweetened tea was brewing in the sunshine, so seeing this Dutchman repairing his questionable mode of transportation she got a glass and chipped ice off and offered refreshment. That my friend, is how it all began. Kindness to a stranger, offering a hand, an unexpected moment completely unplanned.

It was simple proximity, and the fact that the weather was perfect, you know that sweet spot between 70 and 80 degrees, when you want to linger a little longer of the stoop.

“It’s already yours” said in a whispered voice, “You knew it was coming, it is just bigger than you could have ever imagined.” “No longer will you live in the house of fear, uncertainty and doubt. The rent is too high there. It is a plague of the mind to dwell in such a place. Today is for rejoicing in hope, being patient during tribulation and continuing in instant prayer.” She felt a quake inside of her or a direct connection.

At that moment he looked up and caught her eyes, not a wandering gaze. A sense of presence as if the spotlight stage turned on. With a smooth gait he sauntered over to partake of that sun tea, lost in the flow of the day.

To reciprocate, the Dutchman asked Angelica to take a walk. He acknowledged that it was more of a hike because of the embankment. He offered to wait so that Angelica could change her shoes, which allowed her to pinch her cheeks and put a little color on her face. Because the stoop had three steps he took her hand, and ultimately made their first physical connection.

Deep into his eyes she gazed and prayed in her mind. I am rejoicing in hope, I am patient during tribulation, and I am receptive to the holy spirit with my thoughts, actions, words and deeds. Allow me to hear clearly. In Jesus name, Amen

There were two sets of red beads upon her wrist that she had bought from a monk in Times Square. Those beads caught the Dutchman’s eyes, and his hand went to her wrist with an intimacy of confidence as he slipped on off of her wrist and onto his.

It didn’t matter where they went, up or down the embankment, for he had a sophisticated dimensionality, spotting frogs, finding that perfect rock. The trail that was unmarked with no intention with the exception of making a long-term memory, a moment that sits in the temporal lobe. They came upon a gully, caused by erosion of water over time, causing the exposure of roots from the tall trees. The Dutchman fashioned a small toy raft, from some sticks and bound them together with those red beads. Somehow, it sailed on that very day down that trickle of water that flowed in the direction of destiny. Angelica had prayed for this kind of a day. For it had dimension, it was a round day full of possibilities without obligation. Perhaps she could have sat of that stoop looking at the clouds go by, but she chooses to take a walk with the Dutchman.

It was as if the Dutchman’s treasures where simple he had time, and his pockets were filled with items of importance, the rock that was skipped three times, and that lucky penny to throw into the fountain. Angelica was picky about whom she allowed in her life. She had developed a list in her mind of boundaries, barriers and walls that protected her heart. For she was betrothed to a man that her family had chosen, and his name was Andrew.

She was unable to deny that the Dutchman had an intensity and a sarcastic charm, perhaps it was just his steady contact that entranced her. Angelica listens with her eyes, her shoulder were squared up with his, even if that meant that she was sitting awkwardly. She was not gifted with remembering sports statistic, movies or even the current events.

This was her truth, that touch was a neuromuscular transaction. She had evidence of that, she could feel the slowing of her heart rate during moments of contact. Her mother had told her to find someone who calmed the soul when they were around, like a breeze on a hot summer day.

“The windshield is bigger than the rearview mirror in any vehicle so… take a glance, check your blind spots. It was her vision to make everyday Sunday. A playful day to day with the destination being Savannah, Georgia. “The Spanish moss drifts on the live oak trees and ruffles with ease when the wind blows there” she said. The Herron bird flies the riverways as the sun glints and glimmers. A lifetime of ferry rides to do your grocery shopping.

With excitement in her voice, she shared what she knew about this destination. The city of Savannah is in between Charleston and Jacksonville. Savannah is near the county of Thunderbolt and if you take 80 E to the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, you can see a National Monument. Two water bodies that are called sounds, surround Savannah beach. There is a ferry that takes you across or to and from the Hutchinson River, free boat rides when you are a senior. Wouldn’t it be grand to ditch embankment for a ferry ride.

Let’s count the stars tonight.

Then the Dutchmen began to sing a song. It is a fact that it was someone else’s song it was written by Dean Bandit

“Call it love and devotion

Call it foundation

Rockabye baby Rockabye Life up your head, life it to the sky, angels all around you.

Bidda , bang, bang, bang.”

During the pause, after he had sang, Angelica thought “Hope is the song that meets you in the valleys of life and says there is more than what you can see right now.”

The Dutchmen was not interested in titles or degrees, these pursuits and his end goal did not align with his beliefs. He did understand the premise of diminishing return and net loss. Serendipity was his core principle, he clung to the notion.

Angelica brought her hand to her chin and wondered if instant prayer coupling of requesting wisdom and surrendering was what to do with the Dutchmen.

The Dutchmen asked in a very slow and breathy voice directly into her ear. The words whispered are often remembers. So, are you listening? Memorized and taking it all in she placed her hand upon his smooth cheek and kissed him. It is delightful when we are not for the moment of unexpected mean or importance.

To the dutchman all these quiet instant prayers had led to a particular moment in an embankment rather than on the ferry board in her dreams. So, together they prayed.

God of serendipity and grace give us the wisdom of knowing that opens our ears to hear your whispering. Allow us to see and sense serendipity every day to follow your path with our thoughts, words, actions and deeds. In Jesus Name, Amen

This seems to early, almost premature to say, but Angelica said it any way. You communicate directly, and I love that beautiful mind, your individuality and self-reliance. You seem to be very private; you don’t need a flag or banner to show allegiance or alliance. Wide eyed and aware of daydreaming they had shared, they embraced and discussed what if they got bored, when enough was enough and with a laugh maybe even a snort of sound, they climbed the embankment together and got out of the ditch arm in arm. Boring is when I get most of my ideas said Angelica when offering a response to the lingering pause.

The pause allows us to listen to the Divines intention to confirm if we are committed to the stable, consistent of the everyday. Motioning, directing, guiding our thoughts, words, actions and deeds. I think of it as a staycation, when you clear and clean the file drawer of last year’s residue to make space for what is ahead. Only the Divine knows what is coming, so I welcome the pause of listening, that place of reflection and consideration.

The Dutchman took this all into his heart and shared a story. Imagine you are camping in a State Park and you accidentally lock yourself out of the camper. You consider breaking the window or prying the door open. Both options require breaking to enter. Hearing your distress, I start opening the under carriage, that storage compartment the is accessible to storage couch. To skinny into the 12 inch space and the articulating the shoulder to push the seat of the hinged couch, is no easy task. The problem was solved because of being small, flexible and thin.

Angelica was fascinated by the tale of quick acting problem solving and out of the box thinking and said “This I know to be true, when there are two there is always something to do. I suspect it will very difficult to be bored with you.”

They finished the day by climbing up the embankment together hand in hand and continued to the top of the bridge to the only viewpoint of the bay where they could see the Ferry. If you looked in the distance and used your imagination. “I dwell in the possibilities” she whispered. For the words that are whispered are remembered.

“I will await our next encounter, I will wait.” said the Dutchmen

The story of the Dutchman is a fable, fiction and certainly a lie. One big conglomeration of what my imaginations says about my grandmother’s meeting of the Dutchman. My great Aunt Phil who lives on the edge of a window on Kittery Island on the coast of Maine. She says that she loved my father like a brother. Her sister Angelica whom she called Julia came home from what was any day to reveal that she had met her life best friend. The kind of partner that chooses to make your problems their own. Together rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulations, where every day is about brainstorming so the Divine has voice in problem solving and the reasonable service through continually instant prayer.