mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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Sails Under Stars
August 1, 2017
— 1 Comment
nature
nature
nature
How does the navigator read the map of the stars at night?
Do the winds and tides hold secrets used to predict a fight?
We have little knowledge of our history, and even less of our fate
This ship on which we are sailing is loaded down with pieces of eight
Stolen from pirates in the last century down on the Outer Banks
Our treasure has become our curse as we labor without thanks
Our masters run a cruel ship, violently whipping the crew
We would have never joined their side if we had known what’s true
#WeekendCoffeeShare Lazy Muse Edition
July 30, 2017
— 6 Comments
reflection in my pool
If we were having coffee this weekend I would invite you to sip a long glass of iced tea or coffee. The weather is muggy and the ground is muddy. My ambition is active in starts and fits. Last weekend was extremely successful in the possession purge department. I unloaded a big car, loads of fabric, twofold funky floor cleaning machines, and about 300 pounds of glassware. We went to the used book store with our DVD’s, but only a small portion were accepted for trade. The initial phase was exciting because as items left the house, more was revealed that needs to go. I did uncover space in the garage and in some cabinets in the house, but I am not even 10% into the work that I need to do. It is exhilarating to see the empty space appear. It will be even more exciting to clear out the barn and sell the lot across the street. The financial reward will be more than worth the effort. I will perceiver.
With all the extra emphasis on physical things, my muse decided to be lazy and fickle. I wrote very little this week while I settle into my work and commute schedule. I made some excuses about all the “work” I have to do. I admit that this is pure malarkey. My commute is an easy 20 minute straight shot, and my work is fun. Plenty of people go to school full-time and work full-time and get graduate degrees. Surely I can work a tiny part-time job while purging my possessions and still find time to write. I am putting this muse’s nose to the grindstone in the coming weeks. It is better to write something, even if it is not my best work, than to skip too many days. How do you handle your productivity issues? Does your muse just lounge around and refuse to work? Today I am working a shift on Sunday so I can take a full day off for my facial tomorrow. Ms Muse should realize she is living in a very privileged and pampered being, and be more grateful. If I discipline her she just leaves. I can usually squeeze a poem out of her as she exits, but there is no telling when she plans to return. She is a lot like me.
While I fill your iced tea glass, tell me how your life and writing are going. I hope you are feeling more productive than I am now. Are you looking forward to the next season (back to school for some) or treading water? I love summer because I spend so much time in the pool. I don’t really mind the heat because I have a pool at my condo village I can use 24 hours a day. I am very fond of moonlight dips. The water cools off in the middle of September, ending the nighttime enjoyment. Until then I can be found in the deep end, thinking deep thoughts, teaching the muse to swim.
#WeekendCoffeeShare
Please join us each week for #WeekendCoffeeShare, hosted by Diana at Parttimemonsterblog.com. Share your news and catch up with the gang on the weekends here. The feast is moveable and the drinks are all digital and calorie free.
Isaac Perkins, Eleventh Great-Grandfather
July 25, 2017
— 3 Comments
Colonist
My eleventh great-grandfather was born in England and died in Essex Massachusetts.
| Name: | Isaac Perkins |
|---|---|
| Birth Date: | 1571 |
| Birth Place: | Rugby Borough, Warwickshire, England |
| Death Date: | 1639 |
| Death Place: | Ipswich, Essex County, Massachusetts, United States of America |
| Cemetery: | Old Burying Ground |
| Burial or Cremation Place: | Ipswich, Essex County, Massachusetts, United States of America |
Isaac Perkins (1571 – 1629)
11th great-grandfather
11th great-grandfather
Lydia Perkins (1616 – 1654)
daughter of Isaac Perkins
daughter of Isaac Perkins
Lydia Peabody (1640 – 1715)
daughter of Lydia Perkins
daughter of Lydia Perkins
Mary Howlett (1664 – 1727)
daughter of Lydia Peabody
daughter of Lydia Peabody
John Hazen (1687 – 1772)
son of Mary Howlett
son of Mary Howlett
Caleb Hazen (1720 – 1777)
son of John Hazen
son of John Hazen
Mercy Hazen (1747 – 1819)
daughter of Caleb Hazen
daughter of Caleb Hazen
Martha Mead (1784 – 1860)
daughter of Mercy Hazen
daughter of Mercy Hazen
Abner Morse (1808 – 1838)
son of Martha Mead
son of Martha Mead
Daniel Rowland Morse (1838 – 1910)
son of Abner Morse
son of Abner Morse
Jason A Morse (1862 – 1932)
son of Daniel Rowland Morse
son of Daniel Rowland Morse
Ernest Abner Morse (1890 – 1965)
son of Jason A Morse
son of Jason A Morse
Richard Arden Morse (1920 – 2004)
son of Ernest Abner Morse
son of Ernest Abner Morse
Pamela Morse
I am the daughter of Richard Arden Morse
I am the daughter of Richard Arden Morse
Isaac Perkins was baptized 20 December 1571 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England, the son of Thomas Perkins and Alice (possibly Kebble). Isaac married first Alice —. This Alice was buried in June of 1602 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England. Isaac married second Alice —. Isaac became a yeoman in Ipswich, Essex, Massachusetts. On 15 June 1639, his widow Alice sold the lot in Ipswich.
Isaac and the first Alice’s children are:
1. Sarah Perkins, baptized 3 Feb 1596 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England.
2. Elizabeth Perkins, baptized 19 May 1600 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England.
3. Thomas Perkins, baptized 27 May 1601 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England.
Isaac and the second Alice’s children are:
4. Abraham Perkins, baptized in 1603 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England, married Mary (Wyeth?), one of first settlers of Hampton, Rockingham, New Hampshire, miller, clerk of the market, constable, and tavern keeper.
5. Jacob Perkins, baptized 23 Mar 1605/6 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England, said to have settled in Holmes Hole, Martha’s Vineyard, Dukes, Massachusetts.
6. Abigail Perkins, baptized 8 Nov 1607 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England.
7. Isaac Perkins, baptized 26 Jan 1611/2 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England, married Susanna —, one of first settlers of Hampton, Rockingham, New Hampshire, constable.
8. Hannah Perkins, baptized 9 Oct 1614 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England.
9. Lydia Perkins, baptized 1 Jan 1617/8 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England.
10. Mary Perkins, baptized 16 Sep 1621 in Hillmorton, Warwick, England, may very likely have been the Mary who married Henry Green of Hampton, Rockingham, New Hampshire and died 26 Apr 1690.[1]
Sources:
1. Perkins in Hillmorton Parish Records (England), extracted by Jim Perkins.
2. Davis, Walter Goodwin, The Ancestry of Dudley Wildes, 1759–1820, of Topsfield, Massachusetts, Portland, ME: Anthoensen Press, 1959, p. 89.
3. Noyes, Sybil, Libby, Charles Thornton, and Davis, Walter Goodwin, Genealogical Dictionary of Maine and New Hampshire, Baltimore, MD: Genealogical Publishing Co., 1976, p. 541.
4. Savage, James, A Genealogical Dictionary of the First Settlers of New England, Vol. 3, Baltimore, MD: Genealogical Publishing Co., 1990 (originally published Boston, 1860-1862).
5. Holmes, Frank R., Directory of Heads of New England Families, 1620-1700, New York, 1923, p. 354.
Baptisms20 Dec 1571 Isaac son of Thomas
3 Feb 1596 Sarah dau of Isaac
19 May 1600 Elizabeth dau of Isaac
27 Mar 1601 Thomas son of Isaac
Burial[28?] June 1602 Alice wife of Isaac
Baptisms[4 July ?] 1603 Abraham son of Isaac & Alice
23 Mar 1605/6 Jacob son of Isaac
8 Nov 1607 Abigail dau of Isaac
26 Jan 1611/12 Isaac son of Isaac
9 Oct 1614 Hannah dau of Isaac
1 Jan 1617/18 Lydia dau of Isaac
16 Sep 1621 Mary dau of Isaac
Source: Perkins in Hillmorton Parish Records (England), extracted by Jim Perkins.
In 1637 there was an Isaac Perkins in Ipswich where he owned “land lying above the street called Brook street, six acres.” He was dead before 15 Jun 1639, when his widow Alice Perkins sold the lot to Joseph Morse. It is tempting to believe that he was also of the Hillmorton stock. John Perkins did not have a brother Isaac, but he had an uncle Isaac only eleven years older than he, while other Isaacs were baptized in Hillmorton in 1597/8 and 1611/2.
If Isaac Perkins of Ipswich was a man of middle age, which we have no means of knowing, he and Alice may have been the parents of Abraham and Isaac Perkins who turned up in Hampton, not far down the coast, where Abraham took the Freeman’s Oath in 1640 and Isaac in 1642. These men are presumed to have been brothers. Abraham named a son Luke, not a common name, and John Perkins of Hillmorton and Ipswich had an uncle Luke, a brother Luke, and a grandson Luke.
Source: Davis, Walter Goodwin, The Ancestry of Dudley Wildes, 1759–1820, of Topsfield, Massachusetts, Portland, ME: Anthoensen Press, 1959, p. 89.
Perkins/Perkeings/Perkus/Parkins, Isaac, yeoman, Ipswich, propr. 1637. His widow Alice sold land and house 15 (4) 1639. [Ips. Rec.] Ch. Isaac (rem. to Hampton); Jacob (sold land recd. from his father 23 (2) 1674, after removing to Holmes Hole.)
Source: Holmes, Frank R., Directory of Heads of New England Families, 1620-1700, New York, 1923, p. 354.
Terror Trap
July 25, 2017
— 3 Comments
symbolic
When the center of town exploded we checked the sky
Nobody could see the cause of the blaze or find out why
Our news was jammed and twitter was disabled tonight
We are not sure if this is an invasion, a prank, or a fight
If our communications are stopped we will quiver in fear
It will be of no use to have all the latest of apps and gear
Please send us a signal, a message, a hint or a sign
Are we surrounded by zombies, or enemies of some kind?
We have become hyper-vigilant, paranoid, and obsessed
Is this one road we have traveled doomed or blessed?
symbolic
#WritePhoto Melting Mask
July 20, 2017
— 11 Comments
mask
The door was blocked by a large figure standing next to the fire
His face obscured by smoke, his identity concealed from us,
He moved with deliberate intent so swift and sure he seemed a ghost,
A phantom memory of the times when this place served as the center
Of a large and looming ogre with scary tendrils reaching into every nook
We were not sure if he entered the flames on purpose or was pulled
By fate or backdraft into the inferno that had started so suddenly
The night exploded as the bright red fire consumed the mask of power
Some rejoiced as the melting symbol of the past became a molten puddle
Most of us wondered how long it would be before the area would be safe
We all believed the melting mask was telling us to take great precaution
#writephoto
This poem is a response to this week’s photo prompt from Sue Vincent’s Echo. Each Thursday she posts a photo. She is a very good sport to post for us this week since her own computer exploded and has made access to her photo collection tedious. Thank you Sue. We appreciate your generosity. Please join other writers here to read, write, comment on last week’s prompt.
#WeedWednesday Sublingual Medicine
July 19, 2017
— 1 Comment
There are a growing number of products being produced to specifically address the medical marijuana patient’s needs. By refining the plant in various ways the effects can be customized. Those who do not want to smoke have many good options. Our dispensary, Desert Bloom Re-Leaf Center, is constantly developing new ways to serve the patients. Our kitchen goddess, Juliana Desmond, works on finding new ways to deliver the benefits of cannabis to treat the conditions our patients present. She creates, then tests, the products for efficacy and shelf stability before they are sold on the market. It is a long and careful process she coordinates with our lab. She also works at the dispensary so she has direct knowledge of what is popular and most requested by our patients.
People of all ages and walks of life come to the dispensary for relief. As with all healing the patient must trust the provider. Our dispensary agents are trained to pay very close attention to the patient to establish a comfortable, yet clinical, relationship. By listening closely to the self diagnosis the patient gives the budtender now has many tools to try. We teach everyone to start with a very low dose and go slowly. We want to provide relief with the least amount of consumption and expense. By working with the patient to change dosage and or strain to customize the experience , the budtender’s knowledge and professionalism best serves the public. If you are looking for a wide variety of products at all price points, visit the knowledgeable staff at Desert Bloom.
#SelfCareSunday Art As Therapy
July 9, 2017
— 2 Comments
floral art
An appreciation for art of all kinds is a practical way to stay sane. During free time we can fall into the trap of planning too much, doing too much, and expecting others to do too much. Then the pleasure of leisure dissolves into another competitive realm to conquer. I believe that one of the best ways to indulge oneself and nurture creativity is to spend time making or admiring art. This is an open category. Art includes performance art, movies, theater, stand-up comedy, dance, and musical concerts of every kind. It is also written, painted, sculpted, and drawn. One can find it in museums, galleries, front yards, gardens, and libraries. There is plenty of art to view on line, but I think the best place to look for artistic talent is within.
It is fine to be a student, a novice, a dilettante. We do not need to be naturally endowed with talent, training, or determination. We simply need to dedicate some time to the discovery of the inner artist. I believe we can all seek greatness in one medium or another. It does not hurt to try, and it can enhance life to find a creative outlet at which we may excel. I have pursued many crafty, arty visual arts, but now I like to combine the visual art with something in writing. I am attempting a little bit of fiction lately, which I find liberating. It inspires me to broaden my vocabulary and learn more about story crafting. I think writing is good for my imagination and problem solving skills.
I love singing and was trained very well in my youth. I am a second alto and can hold my part in harmony. I no longer sing in public but I accompany many of my favorite recording artists, providing the harmonic third while I listen. I don’t want to go to choir practice any more, but raising my voice is a thrill and a chill. It puts me in a good mood, which usually means I dance around the house too. For me there is no better stress relief than belting a song.
Do you make time for artistic expression? Can you think of ways your creative side helps you deal with some of the more annoying parts of living?
garden
#WritePhoto Peace Trance
July 6, 2017
— 8 Comments
peaceful paradise
At the most stressful times she could remove herself from the action by calling on her ability to go into a trance. She had been a captive since her early childhood. She can barely remember her own abduction and the long ride down the mountain out of the forrest. They crossed barren plains scarred with the remnants of war to the camp where she remained. She never saw her family again, and was taught a new language, full of harsh sounds and concepts. In her few hours of rest she remained faithful to her tribe’s values, trying to keep the few sacred words of her mother tongue alive in her mind. There was no speaking around in that forbidden language, for the camp was used to erase culture and tribal belief. The process was a special kind of stripping of confidence that left them all exhausted.
Her skill to call down the moon was still in tact. She spent the full moon nights in reverie, practicing the trances and the dances she had been taught as a little girl. She felt her own power grow as her values changed. She knew the secret of taking responsibility. The people brought to the camp were stripped of their identity and culture, then programmed for menial and dehumanizing work. They were hoodwinked into thinking they had no choices in life, that this awful slavery was a punishment for something they had done.
In her meditation she saw the logs in the forest that her grandmother used for an altar. She could pull in every detail of that scene, and even hear the voices of her people chanting to bring her back home. Finally one night in her dream the path to return to her village was revealed. A strong bold figure opened the gates and brought all the people into freedom. She ran quickly up the hill with an unlimited energy she had never had. Her steps were swift and sure as she climbed the last hill. She saw her whole family gathered around the altar, dancing slowly, chanting sweetly. When she awoke and found herself safely snuggled in her own hammock she knew she had been taken on a special dream journey. She ran to her grandmother for an explanation. All her grandmother would say was, “You have been chosen. Now you must choose which path you will use.” She was not sure which one, if any, was real.
#writephoto
This story is a response to the Thursday photo prompt on Sue Vincent’s Echo. Please join each week for poems and stories on a photo theme. It is fascinating to read the different ways writers interpret the picture.
#WeekendCoffeeShare Memoir Moments
July 1, 2017
— 8 Comments
raw borscht on ice
If we were having coffee this weekend I would invite you to drink iced tea while enjoying the last of my three blooming jasmine varieties. The yard is again scented with that sweet jasmine flavor that carries well in a breeze. You will want to observe it from the front window while we chat because the heat out there is harsh. Sit back and relax in the air conditioning while I pour your favorite iced tea. I also have two kinds of raw fermented borscht for you, which restores your electrolytes and adds probiotics to your diet. It is like a floating salad suspended in beet juice and kvass. It cools you and helps you keep balance in the heat. I also think it is yummy, but you can decide for yourself. The cucumber and dill will remind you of pickle juice.
If we were having iced tea this week I would tell you I decided to join Audible for a year because the subscription was discounted heavily. For $100 a year I have access to books and podcasts that make my new job a dream. I can do my job and listen to books without distraction. It is a wonderful two birds with one stone situation. I finished the book on biological biodiversity, then knocked off a book about writing by Jeff Goins, and have started The Power of Memoir, by Linda Joy Meyers. This book is inspirational to me because I have studied my family history for years, and written a few very short poems about the ancestors (who were poets themselves). I have wanted to write historical fiction, but never attempted it. Ms Meyers lays out all the steps needed to write a riveting memoir, some of which I have done, like the genealogy research. I was inspired by the book to use my grandmother as the subject this week of my short fiction in response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday prompt. I think I can apply what I am leaning from this generous and well written instruction to my own writing. It can unlock many stories for my future. I recommend the book to all writers, even if you do not plan to write a memoir. She covers technique we all need to remember.
The Power of Memoir
I began my weekly #WeedWednesday feature with a post in the lab at the grow where I work. The short, warm up, educational piece was well received by readers. It is fun and easy to do, and it informs me as well as the audience. There is so much advancement in the science of medical marijuana that I will have much material to cover on this subject. I plan to interview the experts about the plant varieties and all the ways we process the plant to create various therapies. There are new developments all the time, so I doubt that I will ever run out of material for that segment.
How did you spend the week? Have you made progress with your writing, or with your life? Have another glass of tea and fill me in on the details.
#WeekednCoffeeShare
Thanks for joining me today for tea and borscht. Stay cool, and preserve what you still have of your political cool. It looks like it will be needed for a long time in the US. Wishing all the sentient beings everywhere independence and time to savor it. Please visit our hostess, Emily, from Nerd in the Brain for more coffee and news. Read, write, comment, or just drink lots of digital coffee with us every weekend.
#WritePhoto Flights Of Fancy
June 29, 2017
— 15 Comments
flight of fancy
Her troubled mind had conjured up some frightening scenarios. She sat for hours wringing the hands that had once been so productive and accomplished. Her memory played cruel tricks on her as she tried to survive without her husband. Ernie had taken care of certain aspects of life that had always been a mystery to her. Although my grandparents ran a farm together, sharing the heavy work load, my grandmother was in the dark about the family finances. When she became a widow and could no longer stay alone at her farm it had been sold. Her life of relative freedom came to an end. She lived in institutions or at her children’s homes, never really settling. She missed independence even though she could barely manage daily tasks without a great deal of assistance. She disliked the feeling of being a houseguest, or even a child, of her son’s family. She had lost her matriarch status, and had to defer to her daughter-in-law. This life in suburban Pittsburgh was foreign, and cold. She rarely went out, and when she did she was fearful, even with her family. She lost her ability to relax. Anxiety was her only companion.
When the sun set she sat in the back yard in silence. This time to herself was spent every day engaging in bird watching. She had little sensitivity to human emotions, but was tuned into nature like a trance. She could feel the spirits of each bird soaring. Their playful flight brought a rush of feelings from her youth, from her most sorrowful, as well as her brightest times. She could sense that her own spirit was close to a threshold. She sometimes thought her spirit left her body and explored the sky above her for a while. As darkness fell the caregiver arrived to guide her into the building. Her lightness of being vanished as the door closed behind her. Perhaps tomorrow will be the day she finally takes off for eternity. She feels as if she has already spent an eternity here.
#writephoto
This fiction is written in response to this week’s photo prompt from Sue Vincent’s Echo. Join us each week to read, write, or submit your own take on the Thursday prompt.
