About Bruce Meisterman

Time passes…

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One of my most favorite memories of my time in Newfoundland was that of meeting and befriending some of the people whom I met. Over these years, I have stayed in touch with some of them. Some I hear from regularly; others intermittently but happily.

One who stands out is Bren. I first met him in 2004 on my first trip up there. At that time, he was a spry and very active 84 years old, just about to learn how to navigate the internet. I wandered into his shop to look at some of the crafts his lawn sign was advertising. And a door into a new world was opened.

Bren came out of his workshop where he had been “turning” some bowls. Dressed in work pants and a flannel shirt, Carhartt-type jacket and hat, Bren greeted me warmly. He said I was the first this year. First what? I was a little confused. Tourist of course. How could I have not known?

It was late March and the tourist crowd had yet to invade these lovely shores. I could have been considered the vanguard, but I really wasn’t a tourist in the traditional sense. I was happily working on what was to become Arn? Narn. But I was interested in picking up some local crafts and art for gifts for loved ones back home. So, in that sense, i was a tourist.

Bren invited me into his home while he brought out his wares to show me. Remember, I was the first and he wasn’t yet ready for the annual onslaught of intrepid travelers. We talked and I bought. And exchanged e-mail addresses. As I was about to leave, Bren invited me to stay for a cup of tea. I was running late, for what I don’t remember, but I demurred and headed back to St. John ‘s.

Scan Some of the raw stock of Bren’s turnings.

Later that year, I received one of the best New Year’s notes ever – an e-mail from Bren, trying out the internet. His message reminded me of how much I enjoyed that trip.

I went back the next year, 2005, I bought some more, we talked some more, and we drank beer and tea this time. We were now friends.

Two years later, I returned with my wife Carla and introduced her to Bren. They hit it off immediately. Why should they have not? More beer, tea, laughs, and stories.

Over the years, we exchanged notes, thoughts, and news of each others’ lives. Bren’s back started to give him problems and he had to give up his craft. We are the poorer for that. But he remained as active as he could.

Bren is now, according to his most recent e-mail of two days ago, 91.5 years old. He has sold his home and moved into a facility where he can receive the care he needs and shares his days with others. He states “I am adapting to a new life of idleness & being amongst a lot of people.” They are richer for that as I am for knowing Bren.

I am happy to report I now have plans to return to Newfoundland next summer. I look forward to seeing Bren once again… good friends are hard to find.

OK, Jon, I’m just down the street…

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It’s been said that timing is everything. That said, I can save you, Jon Stewart of The Daily Show, some money because I’ll be in NYC on Monday and Tuesday of next week. Put me on the show, dammit! You won’t have to pay for airfare or lodgings even. I promise to be entertaining. Really. I’ll bring a book and sign it for you and won’t even charge you for it! I’ll tell you all you never thought you needed to know about Newfoundland and the crisis that will be upon us before your children are grown. Yeah, it’s that important.

Why do you resist? Look, I know you’re locked into your contract until the middle of 2015. I can wait. I’ve waited longer than that for some other things that I won’t get into on this post. (If you’re interested, we can talk about it while I’m in the Green Room.) But, really. Why wait? The subject is of global importance and you can help bring it to the attention of so many. Why, you could even consider it a public service! True, it’s not tax deductible but before long nothing will be anyway.

I’m calling on all my friends, both of them, to petition you to do this. Soon, you won’t be able to go anywhere without hearing about my photo-documentary book, Arn? Narn. You’ll wonder why you waited so long. Hell, I’m wondering why you’re waiting so long.

Trailer21 This is the book, Jon. You have a copy already!

So to all my loyal readers out there, send Jon e-mails, Tweets, Facebook ’em, flowers, fruitcakes (You know, the ones left over from Christmas – no skip that, he’s Jewish), whatever. Let’s get him moving on this.

To reach him, you might try this e-mail address – guestpitch@thedailyshow. com . It couldn’t hurt.

Related articles

No shortage of…

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A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that I’d be writing about some declining resources around us. Certain things will be harder to obtain and will now always be in short supply. But at this point I would rather focus on some other resources beyond the obvious.

As we wend our way through the obstacle course known as the holidays, it’s all too common to reflect back on the year just past. Were there heartbreaks? Of course. Were there joys? Oh, yes. And everything in between. Like in any other year past, there was no shortage of any of those in 2012. That is what some would call the texture of our lives. That’s accurate enough, but I think minimizes their import. The resources I’m thinking about right now come from what is I believe an inexhaustible source: the human spirit. With that in mind, here, in no particular order of importance, is what I hope for all of you – an unlimited amount of:

Laughter – may you laugh long and heartily every day; sunny days/rainy days – both are good for the soul; smiles – they cost nothing but are so powerful; hugs – for others and most importantly, you; kindness – no explanation needed other than don’t forget it; kisses – all types – give freely!; a warm hand on someone’s shoulder when they need it; understanding – it needn’t cost as much as we seem to “charge” for it; gentleness – this is where real strength resides; serenity; peace – both internally and externally; truth; and so on and so on.

Lest you think I left out the most important wish for you, no, I haven’t. I saved it ’til last; LOVE. From this, all the others will come. Be open, be tender, be gentle. Have a wonderful new year!

Bruce

A Newfoundland Christmas post-Christmas poem

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I Just received this this morning from a friend of mine in Newfoundland. Sometime ago, I wrote about Mummering at Christmas time in Newfoundland. This little poem does a good job in describing it. Hope you enjoy it.

A Newfoundland Christmas by James Rogin

‘Twas a night after Christmas in old Newfoundland.
The fire in the place was blazing just grand.
I sat on the chesterfield holding the phone,
While the wife’s in the kitchen making a scone.
When all of a sudden there was a loud rap,
And someone was banging tap a tap, tap.

I went to the door and who should appear,
But a “Mummer” or two looking for beer.
They wore old pillow cases,
That well covered their faces,
And I knew our houses were part of their quests.
So I welcomed them in, these old special guests.

They spoke in strange voices,
Saying I had to make choices,
As to who was who in that strange odd pair,
And so I played a part in this yule time affair.
I quickly named a name that wasn’t quite right.
So they drak my drink and went off into the night.

I never found who my callers were that year.
But I’m glad they came with all that good cheer.
And I hope this tradition will never come to an end,
For this is good fun to have with a friend.
And I’ll remember this Christmas wherever I go,
For I love Newfoundland, this will always be so.

Water, water, everywhere…

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That was to be the title of my next book. But researching that particular subject turned out to be an incredibly difficult task. Not that there wasn’t any information available. No, quite the contrary. There was too much. Thanks to a wonderful tool called Google Alerts, I was updated on water news daily. And there was a lot of it. Truth be told – there was too much for me to disseminate. Unlike water, there is no shortage of information about the future of water. Hell, if information was water, we’d all be drowning in the stuff. So unhappily, I put that subject back on the shelf for now. But that does not mean I’ve given up on learning about it. At the same time, I do not want to play the role of a Cassandra either, but this is a serious subject.

As I wrote in my last blog post, I was going to spend some time writing about our planet’s limited resources. And if you haven’t figured it out by now, this one is about water. Globally, we are reaching some tipping points in regards to many of our resources. For the past few decades, much has been written and said about oil and rightfully so. Unless the theory of abiotic oil is correct, and few believe this to be the case, then we are most likely running out of oil. There is no corresponding abiotic theory on water though. It has taken years for people to discover that water is becoming an increasingly more valuable commodity. It is only now that it is beginning to take center stage on the world as a limited resource.

The most obvious, visible impact on water’s availability is drought. Most people can identify with that even if they’ve never experienced it first hand. But beyond failing crops and people going without water, and these are not to be minimized, not much other thought has generally been given to water.

However in the coming years, we can expect to see water politicized as never before, both here and abroad. Water rights are becoming an election issue and a states rights issue. Wars will be fought over water much as they are now over oil. It will become a geopolitical tool used selfishly and perhaps maliciously. Who will become the Saudi Arabia of water? Where will the new speculators come from?… and you know they will be there. There are a lot of questions and not many answers yet.

As we should have learned during the first oil crisis in the early 1970’s, we could not continue to use that particular resource profligately, still we did. The same is equally true of water. Using water to keep golf courses green in the desert flies in the face of good stewardship. In New Mexico, a dusty, dirty car is the sign of someone monitoring their water use carefully. There are not many green lawns there nor should there be. They are coming to grips with it before most of us are because they have to.

There are of course numerous ways for the individual to do their part to help keep consumption down and it is necessary. I am not minimizing that at all either. But, we are facing a new time in history where once again, many may be at the mercy of those who control a resource that they, like so many others, need and are willing to fight for it. Such is the situation when a resource is limited or running out and others play games with it. And that is what the future regarding water will look like. Our politicians need to become aware of this and start preparing. After all, there is nothing wrong with a dusty car and a brown desert.

We can’t continue to do this.

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For the next few weeks, I’ll be departing from my media campaign to talk about issues of resources. The book Arn? Narn. is certainly, I hope, a powerful statement about the wasting and mismanagement of one resource in particular. But an abasement of another valuable resource is being enacted in more places than I care to think about. And more often.

It has been forcefully driven home with the news about the unbelievably tragic and horrific Connecticut shootings. While I am reluctant to add my voice to the many calling for inquiries how this could have happened, or that we should control guns, or who is at fault, I do look at this as yet another total waste of our most valuable (if you will) resource: our young. For many years, the young have been fodder for our wars and folly. Oftentimes voluntarily; other times through conscription. We are not serious about youthful crime and violence. We are not serious about black on black crime. We treat this resource as inexhaustible which will continue to be there. Just how serious are we? Apparently, not much. Yet.

Yes, there will be calls for changes. There will be experts on how this could happen. There are always those things. But they are a salve and will only be that until we get serious. Is this the time we get serious? Will we stop posturing and get to addressing the issue? We talk about the incidents, but not the causes. In the meantime, we are losing our young in record numbers. And no one is doing a damned thing about it.

Where is the universal outrage? This is yet another issue where sides are taken but only one will speak out while the other remains silent. This happens all too often on other issues. Is this only a one-sided tragedy? Can it really be that easily divided into a pro vs. con argument? Or will we finally grow up and take responsibility for our roles in this? I’m not looking to blame any one side. That’s fruitless. All are culpable to one degree or another. But since that is the case, and it is, we need to put aside political leanings and do this together. I’m not advocating any infringement on one’s rights: rather a reasonable solution to this and one that can be done. Just as in the tax argument – each side is going to have to give up something in order to get it done. What are we waiting for? Our young are dying.

We interrupt this blog to bring you… Halloween.

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Last night being All Hallow’s Eve, I couldn’t help but put something of a Newfoundland spin on it. At Christmas time in Newfoundland, in addition to all the normal festivities including the prerequisite kitchen parties, is the custom of Mummering. I’ve written about this previously, but I’ll recap. Complete strangers, oddly dressed, descend upon unsuspecting resident’s homes and demand food and drink, carouse, and usually stay until tired or their true identities are discovered and then they leave to repeat said mayhem in yet another home. It can get out of hand. Once the government even tried to outlaw it, but the Newfoundlanders were having none of that, thank you b’y.

This year, as we get ready to dole out the ritual baksheesh to the little and not-so-little ones, I got to thinking how cool it might be to dress as a mummer here in the US.

This is Alphonse.

This is a fairly typical mummer “outfit” and is not the kind of costume one gets in a store. No, this requires creativity or color blindness at the very least. These figurines are from a collection created by two Newfoundland women, Pam and Cara. They produce one new limited edition mummer every year and are usually quite funny. Yet, they are accurate and indicative of what one might have knocking on their door come Christmas time.

Nish from Merasheem.

Now, can you imagine someone showing up at your house on Halloween in this? You might be inclined to call the police or at least use some pepper spray. But generally speaking in Newfoundland, it’s usually just harmless fun. However, I would not suggest walking into a convenient store dressed like this. They do have surveillance cameras after all.

And of course in the spirit(s) of the holiday, a toast must be made. Have another one, Fannie?

Fannie from Fogo.

The other possible downside in dressing this way for Halloween is that you might get picked up for vagrancy. After all, I don’t think we’re in Newfoundland anymore, Toto.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

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So, the small PR machine has been working a bit. Radio appearances – very cool; book signings – also very cool; written interviews -OK, no wait, what? This was a new one to me and I had no idea how difficult they were. It would be a bit of a struggle.

Person-to-person interviews are, I think, easier to do. Essentially, you gather your thoughts together, remember time and dates and names, be polite and friendly and for God’s sake, don’t swear. That’s pretty much it. If you’re not being grilled by 60 Minutes, you should come out of it rather unscathed.

But a written interview? Who came up with that 21st century version of Torquemadian delights? This is a relatively new twist on PR because of the internet. I am in no way complaining or disparaging this. Not at all. I’m merely stating that it is a lot more stressful for me. With the exponential growth of bloggers and the increasing number of book reviewers plying their craft online, the written interview has moved forward in importance.

It goes something like this: you get a request for an interview. Great! But it’s for a written interview. It comes with a set of questions which by and large you would not have any trouble answering in a one-on-one session. However, it’s asking for you to commit your answers to paper or the ethernet in this case. It will then in turn be re-purposed into another’s blog. You may be asking yourself at this time, “And this is  difficult?” Yes, it is.

If it’s only one interview, no sweat. When there are multiple interviews requested, you’d like to make each seem fresh and original. Again, this is not a complaint. It is the question of how does one achieve that freshness time and time again without sounding canned. Each interview is different, yet the information I have to share is essentially the same. I suppose this is normal, but I haven’t found an easy solution yet.

With each new interview, I sit down and try to write the best response possible. In a spoken interview, so much can be said though inflection of voice, laughter, pauses, etc. Not so with the written interview. I must be far more thoughtful and deliberate as to what I write. Each answer must be honest and as insightful as possible. My goal with these is to make the reader feel as if they are speaking directly with me and this is the first time I’ve spoken about this. It is not an easy task and one I take very seriously.

Musicians talk about playing some of their most famous tunes repeatedly. Some of them find new ways to present them, others resent having to play them over and over again. I prefer that first approach. Arn? Narn. is a serious book and at the very least, I owe it that kind of respect.

Partridgeberry jam: Nectar of the Gods.

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I’m not getting out much anymore. Sounds almost like a song. No, that’s “Don’t get around much anymore.” Good try. Johnny, show Bruce what he’s won.

No, I’m not getting out. There is a lot of work to do on this book. While I’m deeply involved in now creating the bones for “Arn? Narn.”, I find myself mightily homesick for Newfoundland. As I’ve written before, it has been a singularly transformative experience. To requote my wife from an earlier blog entry: “Where you’re born is not necessarily where you’re from.” Ergo – homesick.

I’m everyday looking at images from a land I’ve grown to love immensely. And it is so far away my heart feels as if it will break. I do miss it that much. (Little man on my shoulder – “Oh, grow the hell up!”)

OK, sniff-sniff, I will.

While I’m printing the photographs for the book, I am still keeping up with news from Newfoundland on the internet. I want to keep it as current as possible and include anything that might impact the story.

I see ads for restaurants, coffee shops, B&B’s, whale watches, etc. Some of these I’ve been to and remember them fondly. Other ads are just that, ads. Ads for car dealers; ads for hospital supplies (always good to know where you can get a splint in a hurry); and ads for other sundry items that I’ll never need. Whoa! What’s this?

It’s an ad for all things Newfoundland. And in that ad, partridgeberry jam. Now, if you’ve never had partridgeberry jam, write your will out now, pick out your box, and get your affairs in order. There’s no need to go on living. It’s that good.

This is it. The real stuff!

In other parts of the world, the partridgeberry in known as the lingonberry. I don’t know – that sounds like something you might call someone who’s a little drunk or just not with it. With slurred speech: “That guy’s a lingonberry!” Now, partridgeberry – not so – there’s a nobility to that.

“I’ll have the scones with the partridgeberry jam on it, James.” That sounds proper, doesn’t it? Now, replace it with lingonberry and you might as well be living in a trailer. “Puh-leeze pass the lingonberry jelly, Paw!” No, it has to be partridgeberry. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Woo-hoo! I called this store and they will ship it to the US. Of course who knows what customs would do when they got their hands on it. I can see it now – you’re driving through the gate at the US/Canada border and the Canadian guard is slathering my partridgeberry jam all over his Tim Horton donut while asking you for your papers! Homeland security my foot!

I order 4 jars of this edible soul salve and wait until it passes through the gauntlet of regulation and illicit tasting by border guards. It arrives. The top of each jar is covered with a cute, red piece of fabric. How precious! Tear that $%$!* off and give me the jam, damn it!

Once opened, once tasted, calm and contentment are restored. All that from just a little jar of partridgeberry jam. Yeah. it’s really that good. Yes, b’y.