A quiet day at the lake, foggy at dawn, then brilliant sun in the afternoon. I drove into Belfast to play a round of golf at a course I had picked out online. When I got there, there was a tournament being played which wasn't disclosed on their website. The guy in the Prop Shop acted like he didn't even know they had a website. But, he was kind enough to inform me that there was another course north of town that I could get on with...no problem. He was right. I pulled up into the Searsport Pines Golf Club and my vehicle doubled the number of cars in the parking lot...not a good sign.
The good news...I walked 18 holes in a mere 2 hours and 3 minutes. The bad news...I shot an 88 on what was possibly the worst golf course I have ever set foot on. This place had fairways that owe cow pastures an apology. But, I walked 5.64 miles, got in some practice, and redeemed my trip by stopping at the Hannaford's in Belfast for a bag of marshmallows, and a bunch of other necessities Pam had added to a list she had sent via text. Tonight we are having a shrimp boil or some such thing which involves sausage, so I'm excited.
Tonight, thanks to my buddy Alan Smith, we will be having a campfire with freshly chopped Maine pine from Alan's personal woodpile. It comes with much hype, guaranteed to burn hot and make lots of crackling sounds. I still don't have a decent poker. The one that came with the cabin is an embarrassment, extremely short and dysfunctional for what it's alleged purpose is supposed to be. I will make do until Alan brings something more manly when they come back to visit next weekend.
I finished, the great Alan Paton classic, Cry, The Beloved Country the other day. When I was a sophomore at Uof R I took a survey of western literature class in which I was given the task of picking five novels to read out of a list of ten or so. Cry, was on the list and I didn't pick it as one of my five. I had been meaning to circle back and read it ever since. Now, 39 years later, I find it in the bookcase here at Loon Landing. Time flies...
So, this book was written in 1948 by a nobody reform school principle from South Africa. He had never been published and wrote the thing while traveling in Europe and the US touring other reform schools. Some American friends of his read it and promised to try to get it published, submitting it, unsolicited, to Scribner. That never works, right? Yeah, well, lucky for Scribner...the book was a sensation, the critics loved it, and it sold like hot cakes, allowing Mr. Paton to live well the rest of his life, and turn his full attention to writing and the brewing conflict in his country.
In many ways, the racial history of South Africa is the opposite of ours in that the Afrikaners and Europeans who ruled that land were in the small minority. The great indigenous tribes that far outnumbered these white settlers where kept in second class status during these pre-apartheid days and trouble was brewing when Paton began to write. Throw in several different languages, a thriving gold mining industry, duplicitous politicians, and racial violence and an exploding crime wave and you've got a volatile mess. But, Paton resists the temptation to write a political book, or even a book about revolution or even race. He writes about the human heart and its great capacity for both love and hatred, grace and vengeance. Most of all he writes about a country that he loves, despite the wickedness that is everywhere around him. His story doesn't absolve the white ruling class of their sins, he doesn't pull any punches on who the main villains are, but neither does he lay every South African pathology at their feet. There is a lot of blame to go around in his beautiful, beguiling homeland. He examines the hearts and motives of the labor unions and agitators within the black liberation movements, applauds them where they deserve it and cristicizing them when they don't. The famous line still resonates...I have one great fear in my heart, that one day when they are turned to loving, they will find that we are turned to hating.
It was a beautiful read, full of evocative prose that made you at once hopeful and sad. I couldn't help but draw rough parallels to the race conflicts in my country. I only wish that someone would rise up to write something as rich and moving about how we should move forward.
Great book. Worth the read and then some.
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