The Greatest Commandment

Woke up to a 39 degree morning on the lake on this our last full packing-free day in Maine for 2024. It has been a wonderful ten weeks, six over the summer and now these four in the fall. I cannot possibly express how grateful I am for the privilege I have to do this every year. Like nothing else, it restores my soul.

But as our time here draws to a close all of the troubles of the world that I have blocked out of my mind resurface— the devastation and suffering in North Carolina, the impending storm about to ravage central Florida, and the ongoing dysfunction and disinformation rampant in our politics. There are times up here where I can’t help feeling a bit guilty for my good fortune. When I consider the combination of comfort and contentment on display in this picture, it stands in sharp contrast to the catastrophic loss and suffering of so many.

But I have to remind myself that life is not a zero sum game. There isn’t a finite amount of sorrow or joy in the world where if I am joyful it means that there is less joy for others. It is quite possible to marvel at the beauty of a sunset while somewhere else in the world there are people looking at that same sun setting while hungry and besieged. The trick is retaining the empathy that allows you to look beyond your own blessings, to see the suffering of others and be moved to action. I have a cousin who has done just that. She’s a nurse who couldn’t bring herself to sit around reading about her brothers and sisters in western North Carolina without doing something. So, now she’s in the midst of the battle at an adhoc triage station somewhere in the mountains distributing supplies with a half dozen others nurses from all over the place. She and I don’t always agree on politics. We both have Dixon blood coursing through our veins, making us both impossibly opinionated. But Jennifer is by her actions putting into practice our Lord’s command to care for the least of these. When they asked Jesus which was the greatest of the Commandments his answer was beautiful in its simplicity…Love the Lord your God with all your heart soul and mind…and your neighbor as yourself. Beautiful words, for sure, but devilishly hard to put into practice.

When I get back to Short Pump there will be a lot on my plate. I have less than three months left in my business life, my forty-two year career is coming to a close. But no matter how hectic things get, I will have to find a way to contribute something to the ongoing effort to rebuild the lives torn apart by the storms. My church has already organized relief efforts. That’s where I will start.

Selective Clairvoyance

There’s a restaurant in Camden called Franny’s. The place is always packed and it gets rave reviews, but in all of our years here we had never eaten there…until last night, although it took a 5:00 reservation to pull it off and we had to eat in the outdoor tent. Our meal was wonderful…

I bring this up because several years ago I wrote a book called Saving Jack, and one of the scenes in the story takes place in this restaurant, even though I had never actually been inside the place at the time I wrote the book. The weird thing was—the inside of the place was exactly like I had imagined it in my mind. Strange.

Of course, this sort of thing has happened before with me, especially when we are watching baseball up here. I can’t tell you the number of times I have made a comment like, “This pitcher is going to throw this ball a foot outside in the dirt and this knucklehead is going to swing at it!” And then it happens. Take the Mets-Brewers game the other night. When they announced that Gary Sanchez was going to be the catcher for the Brewers I said, “That’s a mistake. He will make at least one error in this game.” Two innings in he lets a pitch through all the way to the back stop for a passed ball. In the 8th inning with one out and Pete Alonso coming to the plate for the Mets with two runners on base and the Mets behind 2-0 I announced my view that the Brewers should put him on base, set up the double play ball since Alonso was due to hit one out.” What happens? They choose to pitch to the guy, he clobbers a ball to right field for a three run homer. Then the next batter hits a ground ball to second base!!

It’s not like it’s an isolated case. On our way to town the other day we got behind a sewer pump truck on one of the ubiquitous two lane back roads almost ten miles from Camden. I made the following observation: “What do y'all want to bet that this guy is headed the same place we are?” When he finally made a different turn than us I thought I was wrong. But, ten miles later we pull into the Merry Spring Nature Center for a hike and there he is. 

Unfortunately this clairvoyance of mine does not extend to anything useful like picking lottery numbers. And if clairvoyance is the ability to perceive the future before it happens, what do you call the ability to forget important things from the past almost as soon as they happen? While I can tell you the starting lineup of the New York Mets in game five of the 1969 World Series, I can’t remember anything about the time I had shingles. I can quote a line of poetry I memorized in the 8th grade but can’t remember the name of our waitress even after she tells me the second time. I could drive from Loon Landing to any place I have ever been at least once without the aid of a GPS…but I cannot for the life of me remember where I left my keys… or my parent’s birthdays…or to take that one medicine I’m supposed to take every night. So, it’s very much a selective clairvoyance.

But the inside of that restaurant was strange—even for me!

Nothing Worse

The kids flew home today without incident. We throughly enjoyed our time with them. The weather has been wonderful. We ate marvelous food, had fun on the lake. Hated to see them leave. But now we have new guests—Ron and Paula Roop—and we are doing exactly what we always do in October here in Maine…

Playoff Baseball. It matters not who is playing. Everything is based on rooting for anything and everything that might conspire to eliminate the Yankees and/or Dodgers from advancing.

Meanwhile, Quantabacook’s mayor happens to be this guy…

He knows nothing of baseball. He only knows that his wings need some drying, and sometimes he needs to keep a sharp eye out for a certain sketchy southern fisherman who sometimes appears on his waters.

Of course, after yesterday’s performance I’m almost certain I heard the mayor snickering at my incompetence. “Is that the best you can do??” I heard him squawk. There’s nothing worse than a trash-talking eagle.