Photos taken around 8 a.m., looking south with the Davis burial ground to the far right. Jan. 2, 2008. If you have GPS you can plot this location precisely from a satellite in the sky.


Last year I was in Texas on Christmas and New Year's, so this year in New Hampshire was different. I find how much more traveling one can do in New England than even in Texas. When there was a visit to be done in Texas, it might be from 3-6 hours driving, one way. Turning most day trips into 2 day trips. And gradually eliminating them from consideration, so one could stay home longer. Up here in New Hampshire, a state with the entire population of our metro area alone in Texas, a day trip has to receive more careful consideration. There are a lot of visits to make ranging from 1 1/2 hours driving one way, to 5 hours driving one way. There's even one very important visit (our son) who could be reached by driving 6 hours each way-- straight into Manhattan, where's there's no parking.
You get the picture. A different matrix for visits.
Two of those potential visits dropped out of consideration this holiday season. Predictably, it was the two longest ones, 5 hours to Roxbury, NY and 6 hours to Manhattan. There were other visits of the 1 1/2 to 3 hour variety.
On New Year's Eve day a spontaneous dinner date was arranged over in Dublin, NH about 20 miles from the Vermont border. We made some brownies to bring, packed some champagne and drove from the farm near Dover along Rt. 125 south and 101 west. Driving from the seacoast "microclimate" to the Monadnock area "microclimate" was a visual feast of clouds, mist and whiteness in varying shades, punctuated by intersecting the "Queen City" of Manchester, NH.
New Year's Eve found us perusing an eccentric curator's collection of books, weapons, musical instruments, playing Booker T.'s "Hip Hug-ger" on vintage keyboards, watching Dick Clark drop the ball, and then listening to The Band and the Best of the Animals on CD. Driving back east, early the next morning, the clear Monadnock sky, peppered with clouds full of boding, gradually transformed itself into an ocean mist gleaming with sunrise. Beyond, the ocean might be 20 miles further to the east, but the effect causes this decidedly inland part of New Hampshire to exaggeratedly be called the "Seacoast" region. I think it also is part of "Southern New Hampshire," which looks a lot more like northern Massachusetts, except refreshingly sparser, than the rest of New Hampshire.
On the next day, in the middle of a dangerous blizzard, I ventured north to return a guitar to someone who had left it at the house over the holidays. About 55 miles up the Spaulding Turnpike from Rochester, the storm hit with a vengeance and, for quite awhile after that, traffic moved at 5 mph, wending around other cars which had run off the road, hit each other, or hot dogging just to see if they could pull out of a skid. I welcomed a chance to vigorously roadtest the 1995 Celica beater I was driving. This has been among the most reliable cars we have ever had, and the mileage economy has just encouraged more driving. But, I had never put it through the paces that the Spaulding presented during this terrible snowstorm, which, as it approached the "Seacoast" area, added rain to the mix and caused brakes and windshields to ice over. Having made it through that, with roads barely treated in the respective jurisdictions along the road, I wouldn't hesitate to take out the low-slung, standard transmission, mostly fiberglas Celica again. It's a real trouper. The guitar is back to its home and so am I.
If you drive in New Hampshire during this type of weather, do not expect clear sailing on the roads. Each driver must work together with the other drivers so that everybody gets where they are going. I did have moments when I thought the miles-long line of cars might be spending the night on the Spaulding. Congratulations to the powers that be, for making sure things keep moving!
Top viewing over the holiday season included Ghost Dog, Jim Jarmusch, Forrest Whitaker, etc.; Coffee and Cigarettes, also Jim Jarmusch; the Werner Herzog film about Tim Treadwell; the "mockumentary" of the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. And just yesterday, "Legally Blonde" with Reese Witherspoon. A good dose of samurai and stardust was the fitter counterpoint to this state full of retail campaigners this week. It is so comforting to be debating the fate of the free world. We never got to do that much in Texas. What did you do over that strange time when the calendar changes but Christendom stops dead in its tracks?

Now that I've received invitations to join "LinkedIn" by several mailing lists (I almost said "people" but it's their email lists which really issue the invitation) it's cause to meditate on that thing I'm terrible at: networking.

I define it here as a concentrated activity geared solely toward increasing your connections. Some people do this naturally, others have to work at it. In some recently published audio interviews, Kurt Vonnegut called it "making friends." And, I really think he intended no irony.

Connections are important to people, and important connections are even more important. Growing up Catholic, one became aware of the Ascension of Christ, as he was drawn up into heaven when His post-Resurrection networking days were over. Needless to say, fortunes have been built and wars have been fought over this one proto-important networking event.

Then there are the fringe exploitations of connections, tied into the pathologies of relationships. Crime which occurs in immediate families. Stalking famous people. Being drawn to absolute strangers. Celebrity sightings.

The student-run newspaper of the University of New Hampshire reports a celebrity visitor to the UNH vs. Boston College hockey game on Nov. 10. "Game-goers who saw McCain reported that he was seated on the side of the Whittemore Arena and up in the box seats, high above the stands. 'He was right over there on the side. I saw him. It was pretty cool,' said Allyson Bergendahl, a UNH pep band sousaphone player."

Pretty cool, seeing a political opportunist from a distance. For more on this type of phenomenon, read Verlyn Klingenborg's column in the Nov. 28 New York Times.

There used to be (and probably still is) a fringe network of people who think they are related to Elvis, Jesus, or Robert E. Lee. Is Obama a distant relation of Cheney? Are there six degrees of separation between everyone, or just between you and Kevin Bacon?

Other than relationships with family, people attach a high value to the structured connections of work. Business is a predominant force in any society because it regulates the economic life of that society. Business can also be full of bad relationships. In forming relationships for material purposes (networking?), it's easy to make that a surrogate for a relationship with mankind in general ("I love mankind, it's people I can't stand"), loving one another and trying to bring goodness into the world (most religions), helping to maintain the essential goodness of nature. It's no wonder we often feel unloved in the process of business networking and conducting business. Your value is based on enterprise.

Much of our work is demeaned by the rule of authority, by stripping individuals of power to affect their destiny. To preserve the general populace when relationships go awry, we have the rule of law, which kicks in when relationships break down. In my rental business, I tell tenants when they sign the lease that if things go well, we will never again have to look at this lease.

It's little wonder then, that law and authority produce alienation in the process of trying to alleviate its bad affects. So we seek more connections hoping against hope the next one will be the ticket to something. What looked like a global village from a distance becomes a chance to feel alone in the universe.

In the Landesmuseum in Trier, Germany, I saw an interesting 1545 painting by Peter van Alst, called "Ascension of Christ." The bottom of the painting shows people reaching their arms into the sky. The top half of the painting shows two feet and the hem of a robe sticking out of the clouds. In the middle is open sky. It reminded me of the scene in Wizard of Oz where the balloon heads back to Kansas with Dorothy in it. "I can't stop, I can't stop," yells the Wizard as the munchkins wave their arms in the air.

As I look back at this verbal ramble, I am struck by the number of visual images that come to mind when discussing networking. Relationships are defined by the space between them and America is a big country. If you sleep with 20 other people in the same room or even on the same floor, I doubt that the issue of networking comes up. But without this basic human desire, would there be a YouTube?