Rainey Blogs on Some Days

Something I miss by living in New Jersey is the opportunity to watch a storm blow through. Right now as I write this on Labor Day weekend, I am in Leesburg, Florida (near Orlando), sitting beside a screened in patio and pool at my father-in-law’s house. I am protected from the rain by an overhang. The rear of the house overlooks a cow pasture. Hues of dark and light gray clouds bulging with water are moving across the sky just above the pasture. The crackle of lightning and the subsequent thunder in the distance remind me once again about nature’s power as the wind hisses through the trees and drops of rain, at times heavy and at times light, make disappearing circles in the pool. There is a raw beauty I love in a storm. I am mostly unaware that I do not often get to watch storms. When I am in Florida, a rain or storm blows through nearly every afternoon, sometimes just taunting us with a threatening sky that does not deliver any rain, and at other times a downpour descends from the ...

When I sit by a stream, I start to remember who I am. The sunlight shines a spotlight on the water in certain places and you can see the rocks clearly on the bottom of the brook. The liquid facade hides what is below in most places, except where the brightness brings clarity. And the same brightness seems to shine in my soul when I am at Flat Rock and I somehow remember who I am. My life feels like it is a mess today. If I think this thought through rationally, I would conclude this is not true. But I emphasize that it  feels  this way because the feelings are so powerful and desperate that I cannot shake them off at home or church or work. But they are only feelings . No events or circumstances in my life demand such desperation, but inside me is turbulence and chaos. I am on the verge of tears but they never come. I long for the gentleness of the brook's waters that glide by to somehow jump the bank and enter my tempest-tossed soul. A woman who was walking across...

Swim meets have always been magical, and in recent years we had a run of several years with three girls swimming for the Leonia Swim Club team at once. But all good things come to an end, and after the first meet of the 2010 swim season in Oradell, we drove to our special, post-meet restaurant to eat in Paramus: The Fireplace . We had eaten there a few years earlier after a meet and were hooked on this retro 1950s-like hamburger and French fries joint with a wood paneling interior. They don't use plates; instead, they give what looks like a paper coffee filter and put each item on a filter. We all loved the quirky, old-fashioned feel and it became a special place we would go to eat once or twice each year after an away swim meet in the Paramus area. This time, though, the magic had worn off. Maybe it was the week of 100-degree weather we were having that had everyone on edge. Maybe it was the realization that a cheeseburger, fries, and a vanilla milkshake is just not that goo...

I sometimes like to go for a lunchtime walk at Ramapo Valley County Reservation in Mahwah. It makes me think of what Walden Pond must have been like, except at Ramapo Reservation you have walking paths worn from too many suburbanites walking their dogs and carrying the poop around in bags. Some are even wearing flip-flops while they do this! This is why no one writes a book about a place like Walden Pond or Ramapo Reservation anymore. You can't have your mind ascend to literary heights when you are carrying, or surrounded by people who are carrying, bags of dog doo-doo and wearing flip-flops. Besides that little difference, Ramapo Reservation is probably quite similar to Walden Pond. Well, then there's another thing I just thought of. Maybe the signage that prohibits horses, guns, swimming, etc. is another important difference. I think I'd like to take it back. Maybe it's not like Walden Pond after all. Maybe the progress of civilization from traversing amidst raw, ...

Allison Park is in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, overlooking the Hudson River I saw a man sitting on a bench in Allison Park Rain was pouring down from the skies Tears were running down his face from his eyes The sky was misty, gray. Fog was everywhere, enveloping the man, his world, his town. Not far away were lovers in a car. Not sure if they meant to go for a walk, but not today. Rained in. They didn't care. A man is sitting in maroon Ford Taurus with the windows halfway down. He's reading the newspaper. He seems to be reading the weather forecast-- "Mostly sunny, high of 74." He chuckles and thinks to himself, "It's pouring down rain and 61--so what, didn't affect me!" The man got up from the bench to go for a walk. The trail was different--new trees in the place where he used to pray. "I should come here more often," he thought to himself. But he probably won't. He's not the pastor anymore. I saw a man...