Living & Giving

Dan used to send out the annual Christmas Rankow family newsletter as a poem.  Sometimes brilliant, sometimes corny, always poignant and a joy to receive.

After he died this Summer, his family were sorting through his things and found a hand-written poem from when he was a young man.  In his absence, and his honour, I wanted to share it on this first Christmas without him.

Living & Giving
By Dan Rankow

Whatever you give away today, or think, or say, or do,

Will multiply about tenfold and then return to you;

It may not come immediately nor from the obvious source,

But the law applies unfailingly, through some invisible force;

Whatever you feel about another, be it love or hate or passion,

Will surely bounce right back at you, in some clear or secret fashion;

If we speak about some person, a word of praise or two,

Soon tens of other people will speak kind words to you;

Our thoughts are broadcasts of the soul, not secrets of the brain,

Kind ones bring us happiness, petty ones untold pain;

Giving works as surely as reflections in a mirror,

With hate you send, hate you will get back, but loving brings love nearer;

Remember as you start this day, and duty clouds your mind,

That kindness comes so quickly back, to those who first are kind;

Let that thought and this one, direct you through each day,

The only things we ever teach, are the things we give away.

Shaun H. Coley ~ Archway ~ Islington ~ London N19 ~ UK

Non magnus annus

2023 has been a tough year.  There's been a lot of good, but it's been a year where I've never quite felt like I've been able to catch my breath.  I started the year with a dying dream, and it's ending with a dying dear friend and cousin.  In the middle, I lost Dan, the massive personality that was the Rankows' patriarch.  My Dad is staying with us currently, which is mostly great, despite the dementia, but three adults, a dog and a cat are a tight squeeze in 500 square feet.  And in one of those 'to top it off' moments, I had to have a tooth pulled this week as it fractured beneath the gumline.  Small fry in the grand scheme, but when you can't catch your breath, it doesn't take much to knock you over.

So I am hoping 2024 will be a better year.  I know it's just an arbitrary turn of the calendar, but the idea of compartmentalising a whole lot of awful in a little temporal box that can never come back is appealing.  I realise that as I, and my circles, age, hard times will be more and more common.  But maybe 2024 will be a little bit kinder.

Tomorrow Pops, Sushil, Mary Keany, Chester and I head to Wales to spend a week in a cabin near Cardigan.  I am looking forward to charm, calm and space.  Other than a lunch on Saturday, nothing is booked.  I'd love a little bit of the Heather Lende life, but I think it takes a whole lot more than a week in the woods to get there.

I hope that the holidays bring you peace and calm and, as much as is possible, a little bit of joy.

Shaun

Sushil and I in one of good times, above Dubrovnik.

Pops at his happiest - watching the Liverpool match in a pub.

Isn't it fabulous?

#family #love

The wisdom of Islington.

Orkney’s bigger on the inside

I'm not exactly sure why, but I've been drawn to the remote North since at least high school.  Perhaps it's the result of growing up in an urban desert, or that universal desire to get away from everything.  I am definitely a city boy, but I feel a kind of comfort when I am up in the hills or up in latitude that I don't anywhere else.  So when Rachel, baking under a heat dome in the American Northeast, suggested a trip to the Scottish islands, I jumped on it.  We looked into the Hebrides, Shetland and Orkney - I was agnostic, they're all on my list - and decided on the latter after checking out all the transport and accommodation options.

We were only there for four days, so the brevity may have kept the novelty at its peak, but I loved it.  Orkney is gorgeous in a way that's impressive and understated at the same time.  The islands are small, but packed with aeons of history, and they are so varied that they feel limitless.  Even if you stood in one place, the weather is constantly changing, so an outlook never stays the same for long; as soon as you glimpse a perfect view, it's already gone.  There's something wonderful about that.

Every day we set out to a new part of the islands, explored, lunched and dined.  One day we took a ferry to the mainland, skirting Orkney's most dramatic island, Hoy.  Each evening was spent at the Ferry Inn with a glass or two of whisky as recommended by our Tasmanian bartender.  Over the days, I felt a slow mental and emotional exhalation, a state of calm that lasted several days into my return to London.

I know that you can infer an inauthentic sense of contentment when you are on holiday, when you aren't the one getting through the daily grind of work and life, however blissful the setting.  But the people of Orkney seemed to be a little bit lighter and happier with their lot in life than most people I've met travelling.  And even now, thinking and writing about Orkney, I feel a little bit of that island zen return.  I hope it always stays with me.

Regards,
Shaun

The coastline of Mainland (the main island of Orkney, despite its name) with the island of Hoy behind.

The first residents of Skara Brae lived in a world before Stonehenge, and even before the Great Pyramids of Egypt.  Buried for millennia, the village is one of the most intact neolithic sites yet discovered.  It was only discovered when one of Orkney's frequent gusty storms eroded away the top of the eponymous hill, revealing the outline of some of the village beneath.

Though the council have removed the sign after growing tired of people stealing it, my arrival to Twatt, Orkney, would not go unrecognised!

Orkney's henge, The Ring of Brodgar.

Who needs a selfie stick when you have a selfie arm?  (At the Stones of Stenness.)

We initially tried to stay in Kirkwall, the capital, but happily the available hotel rooms were too expensive and we ended up in Stromness, a fishing village in the Southwest corner of Mainland.  It's leagues more charming and beautiful, and has a well-engrained artistic community with a surprising number of (permanent and pop-up) galleries and displays for a town of its size and remoteness.

Chief amongst these is the Pier Arts Centre.  From the street, it looks like it is a one-room store conversion, but inside is a surprisingly modern and spacious museum.  The museum was started when Margaret Gardiner bequeathed a collection to Orkney after falling in love with the islands.

One of the Churchill Barriers (now causeways), built to keep German submarines out of Scapa Flow, which served as a major naval base in both World Wars.

 

The incredible Orkney landscape.  I felt at peace there.

"Most of Orkney undulates greenly and gently - apart from the grand, anomalous lump that is the island of Hoy.  The wind is so strong that trees are a rarity throughout the Orkney Islands, and when they do manage to struggle up, they often grow bowed over, as if cowering before the weather.  The uninterrupted sky and the lack of clutter mean that the best views are often composed of horizontal lines, and that you can often see far enough to make out more than one weather system at a time: wisps of rain out to sea, rainbows smuggled behind black clouds, sunlight beaming a godlike finger on a distant house or field."

-Condé Nast Traveller

https://www.cntraveler.com/stories/2010-06-08/orkney-and-shetland-the-edge-of-the-world

One of the coolest things I’ve ever done on holiday. We happened to be there for the annual open day at Ness of Brodgar, a 5,000-year-old active archaeological site that was discovered fairly recently.  After next season’s dig, it’s going to be re-buried, for at least a generation, to protect it while they do analysis on all the data they’ve collected.

Deerness Parish Churchyard

It is said that if you walk on top of the Great Wall of Deerness, your dreams will come true.  And as my dream was to walk on top of the Great Wall of Deerness, my dream did indeed come true.

Shaun H. Coley ~ Archway ~ Islington ~ London N19 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.uk

Sir, sir!

It's now been just over three months since my last shift on the ward, and I don't miss it - which is good, I suppose.  I started a new job as a 'Business Manager' at a local high school, basically the financial and operational manager; I have nothing to do with education or HR, but I oversee most everything else that keeps the school running.  After the last two and a half years, I need something low-impact: it's 35 hours/week, I get nine weeks' holiday, and it's a 20-minute walk to work.

I took a week off in between jobs and met up with Pops in Amsterdam, which was hard.  My dad's dementia has noticeably progressed and travel in general is now challenging for him.  We managed to have a good time, and spent a fabulous day with Lottie and her family in Mmaassbbrree, but Amsterdam is not the best place to be in a physically- and mentally-limited capacity.  Then last month Pops had an ischemic stroke.  Thankfully Lara and Emilio were with him and noticed right away, so he had thrombolysis in under two hours; he was out of the hospital in five days.  But this event made it clear that it's time for Pops to return to America to live, so his Teutonic adventure will come to a close this July.

Sushil and I have been busily exhausting our 2023 CO2 quotas with trips to Montréal and Australia since restarting my life as a desk warrior.  We saw Russ in Montréal, which was a liver-challenging blast, and Australia was fabulous; I wasn't ready to come back when we reached the end of the trip.  But the weather has turned here, we have officially opened our garden for the season, and we're looking forward to spending time with a number of guests who will be visiting this Summer.

So it's been a busy three months.  I still feel a bit discombobulated about everything and am giving myself the time and space for things to settle.  Letting go and letting be aren't my natural states - I'm normally a planner and a driver.  But until it's become clear where I'm going, I'm just going to relax in the universe's passenger seat for now.  Let's see where it takes me.

Cheers,

Shaun

Having beers at the local bruine kroegen.

Pops' favourite building in Amsterdam.

Montréal - pauvre, mais sexy.

Habit 67 has been on my to-see list for years.

Sydney kept on shining...

...and shining...

...and shining for us.

I enjoyed Sydney more than before.  It's always been an obviously beautiful city, but this time I got off the party- and beach-paths and out into some of the neighbourhoods.  The city's got a lot more character and charm than it's given credit for.  We stayed in Surry Hills which, if you were designing the perfect inner-city neighbourhood, is pretty much what you would end up with.

We took a side trip from Sydney to the Blue Mountains, where Sushil continued to prove his level of insanity.

Sunset on Lincoln's Rock.  Notice the increased distance from the edge when I am around to police the situation.

Landing at Yulara.

The 'Red Centre' was truly that.  Uluru is definitely one of those 'Wow, I can't believe I am seeing it in person' places.

Melbourne has spread out along the Yarra River in the 22 years between my visits.  It was a nice city before; now it's a nice big city, more vibrant and diverse than I remember it.  Though Sydney surprised us with its offerings, you can definitely see why Melbourne has the reputation as being the cultural capital of Australia.  The weather was greyer and cooler (yay for me, boo for Sushil).  We stayed in Fitzroy which was a little too hip for us; it makes Dalston look like a staid quarter for middle-aged accountants.  We learned that, in Melbourne, we are South-of-the-river gays.

Though Sydney's is improving, the public transportation in Melbourne is much better, despite the city being more spread out.  There are trams along almost every street in the centre and inner suburbs.

Melburnian paint job.

Our side trip from Melbourne was the Great Ocean Road.

Obviously, I drove.

She's a beaut.

Our last stop was Perth, which was a lot different from what I expected.  I thought it would be like Canary Wharf on a beach, but it was more like Philadephia with mullets.  The city centre definitely had edge; Perth obviously enthusiastically embraced the post-war automobile age and the suburban flight that went with it.  But there is evident renewal, and the CBD is dotted with laneways covered with street art and hip cocktail bars.  I liked the city more each day we were there - it's definitely got a soul alongside the beachy sheen.

They are doing quite a lot to give the city centre back to pedestrians.  A dual carriageway was demolished alongside the riverfront to build a quay and rebirth a park that had been lost under asphalt.  There also used to be train tracks literally separating the CBD from Northbridge, where we stayed.  They've buried the tracks underground and are connecting the two areas with a large new public square.  Northbridge is fast becoming the new social and cultural heart of the city.

My favourite area was Mt. Lawley, just to the North.  Hip and bustling, but in a more...mature...way.  And it speaks the truth.

[The Life of Shaun #593] My Own Midnight Library

This is my last day as a nurse.  I handed in my resignation four weeks ago, and today will be my last shift on the ward.  It was a tough decision, but it's the right one.  In the end, the reservations I had about the job outweighed the good.

The primary factor is night shifts - I just cannot do them, they wreck me for days.  As soon as I'd finish a set, I'd start dreading the next ones.  Even if everything else about the job were perfect, the night shifts are a no-go for me.  And not everything else is perfect.  The heavy focus on documentation is a drain on enthusiasm.  The mantra of nursing seems to be 'If it's not written down, it didn't happen' - not exactly the stuff to get you revved up for a 12.5-hour shift.

Shiftwork has been a surprising negative as well.  At first, it sounds great - only working 3 days most weeks.  But those three days are total write-offs as the workday is 14.5 hours with the commute, and the days before shifts are pretty much lost as well - there's not a lot you can do in an evening when you have a 14.5-hour day starting early the next morning.

The caring aspects of the job, looking after patients and their loved ones - the aspects that drew me to nursing - were wonderful and I loved them.  I had many moments of gratitude and privilege.  I don't think anything could feel as worthwhile as when you are able to make someone's utterly horrific reality a little less awful.

It's hard not to feel a sense of disappointment and loss, or to reflexively think of the past 2½ years as a waste.  I know logically that it wasn't, and my heart is catching up to that.  This was something that I wanted to do in my life, and I did it.  It didn't turn out the way I'd hoped, but I won't have that nagging what if following me around for the next life chapters.

When I was talking about this with a classmate (who declined to take a nursing role after our course, and is veering into the NGO/public health realm), she pointed out that most of our training was during periods of covid lockdowns; if we hadn't done this, we probably would've been doing our previous roles from home.  Instead, we used that time to do something life-changing, and were also a real part of the NHS's frontline response to the pandemic.  Not wasted years at all.

With unconditional positive regard,

Shaun, MSc Adult Nursing

Shaun H. Coley ~ Archway ~ Islington ~ London N19 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.uk

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