Too Crunchy?

Last September Pam and I stayed at an incredible place called Loon Landing, on Quantabacook Lake in Searsmont, Maine. We loved it so much we’re going back there in six weeks. Anyway, in order to make the twenty minute drive from Searsmont to Camden you had to drive through a little village called Lincolnville Center. Last year, there was a beautiful new general store being built. Every time we drove passed it we would slow down and comment about how awesome the place was going to be when they finally finished it. Well, a couple of days ago we decided to pay it a visit to see how it turned out...

We were blown away. The place is stunning, the kind of general store that would make even the most urbane city slicker long for small town life.

Then we went inside...

Ok, I’ll just let Pam do the talking at this point...

As we entered the door there was a huge wine selection, followed by a huge display of essential oils and an assortment of crystals. Nothing in the store except organic. I saw a red pepper for seven dollars/lb.  They have a huge brick oven in the back for pizza, so that’s something. This store is way too crunchy for me!

In other news... the last two nights we have gone out to dinner. During a wild and crazy lightening storm, we had a hankering for pizza, so we went into Damariscotta to a sports bar type of place called The Penalty Box. 

The inside of the place is made to look like Fenway Park. A series of murals turn every wall into the view from a section of seating at the iconic old ballpark. Really cool. And the pizza was amazing!

Then, last night I marked something off my bucket list. For over ten years now, I have seen an advertisement in Down East Magazine for a place called King Eider’s Pub in Damariscotta. The picture in the ad made it look like the kind of place I would love. When we were seated I mentioned all of this to the manager of the place, telling him that I was a little nervous and hoping that I wouldn’t be disappointed. There was no need to worry. Although it was quite pricey, Pam’s seafood pot pie and my surf and turf were out of this world delicious. We were seated upstairs right next to what was once a working fireplace, which was now home to a cast iron pot of oyster shells...

But, the best part was the charm of the place...

From our table at the far right hand window upstairs, we could see the Damariscotta harbor in the distance. Enchanting.

Last but not least, it’s been a great reading vacation. Here are the five that I’ve finished so far. Actually, I still have a hundred pages or so to go on Chicago, since I just bought it in Camden two days ago. Eclectic selections, don't ya think?

Three more days here. Today is cloudy with storms expected so I have no idea what we will end up doing. But, we plan on making the most of the next 72 hours.

My Favorite Pictures

What follows are some of my favorite pictures from this vacation with a brief explanation of each one...

My view every morning around 6 o’clock. One day everything was bathed in a soft pink which even lit up the inside of the house. A wonderful show to wake up to.

Fishing hasn’t been as good this year, but occasionally even a blind squirrel digs up an acorn.

Pam and I got the bay window seat for breakfast at Crissy’s in Damariscotta.

Sunset in Damariscotta. 

 It seems like every village on the coast has one dominant Church with a clock tower steeple. This is the one in Damariscotta.

Here we all are gathered around Smokey. He’s the giant carved bear who stands at the entrance to Checkerberry Road, the winding dirt road directly off of Route 1 which leads to our cabin. If it weren’t for him we would have driven past our turn every time! By the way...look at all those relaxed, happy faces!

The newlyweds spent the first week of their honeymoon in California where they took a picture of their feet in the sand of a beach outside of San Francisco. So, they decided to take a second foot picture in the sand of Camden Harbor. 

Me and my boy.

Me and my girl.

There are many others. Maybe I’ll do a part two at some point. We have had a wonderful time, and the 500 plus pictures we have in our Chillin at Pemaquid Pond folder, while probably excessive, speaks to the wonder which is all around us here. The good and glorious news is that in less than six weeks...we’ll be back!!

Just The Two of Us

Our time together with our kids begins in many ways. But, this is how it always ends...

...my wife in a tearful embrace with them at an airport or in our driveway.

We had the privilege of spending the first week here with all of them. Then the second week we got to spend some time with just Kaitlin and Jon. Now, as of 6:45 this morning, it’s just the two of us for the last week. 

We love every second we get to spend with our kids. First of all, it’s rare. Since they both have moved away, we only get to see them for  around three weeks a year. But, this past two weeks has felt a little like what it must be like to run a Bed and Breakfast. We now appreciate what Pam’s parents went through all those summers at Dummer’s Beach. Now that they’re all gone...it’s awfully quiet in this big old house!

These next seven days we plan on doing whatever the heck we feel like doing, whenever the heck we feel like doing it. We will try to eat up as much of the food that’s in the fridge as we can before we leave. We will see a few more sights, eat out at a few more restaurants, and play some Rummikub. I will read a few more books, catch a few more fish, and take a few more afternoon naps. When it’s finally time to leave, I will be torn between wanting to stay, on the one hand, and wanting to hurry home...because I really miss Lucy. 

Kaitlin’s Response

For the first time in the eight year history of The Tempest, I have invited a guest blogger to this space. My daughter wanted an opportunity to respond to my allegations that she has not exactly been holding up her end of the bargain on this vacation. Below, please find her response. Make of it what you will.

I interrupt your regularly scheduled programming this evening to rebut my father’s claim that I am the Least Valuable Vacationer (LVV). 

Over these last two weeks, rather than lift myself out of hammocks by my own bootstraps, I have chosen to embrace my favorite new program: Affirmative Inaction. And in doing so, I believe I am benefiting everyone around me. For instance, when I ask my husband to fetch me a freezie pop from the kitchen so I can continue reclining on the sofa uninterrupted, I am offering him a chance to serve “the least of these”...a Christian’s highest calling. What a blessing! When I sweetly request, batting my eyelashes, that my father heat up my coffee in the microwave, am I not inviting him to practice biblical hospitality? I take my family’s sanctification very seriously.

My intention in rising from bed no earlier than 9:00 each morning is twofold: 1) to fill everyone’s morning with sweet anticipation of my awakening, and 2) to ensure that I am mentally and emotionally energized to serve as the vacation cheerleader. Without a full nine hours of sleep, for example, I most assuredly would not have clapped and cheered for Mom’s paddleboard yoga with as much enthusiasm. Likewise, I can’t very well compliment the aroma of her cooking if I am napping as she prepares it.

Philosophically, isn’t a vacation the one time of the year when one can cease striving to earn one’s “value”? And therefore, isn’t the vacationer heralded as “least valuable” actually the one most to be praised?

Finally, as the only Mary in a house full of Marthas, I must remind you of Jesus‘s words in Matthew: “So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many have been called, but few chosen.” Since I am continually the last of my family members to accomplish anything productive, I am clearly, according to Jesus, the chosen one.

Now, if you will all excuse me, I am late for my afternoon of languid lakeside lounging*. I really can’t miss that again.

Signing off, 

LVV

*Footnote: I have the tannest feet of anyone.

Cutting Edge Journalism

I literally cannot remember the last time I sat down with a physical newspaper in my hands, smelled the dried ink, and flipped through the flimsy newsprint. But yesterday, while having lunch at the 91 year old Moody’s Diner  (slogan: When I get hungry, I get Moody), I availed myself of the opportunity by picking up a copy of the Lincoln County News. The masthead informed me that it is the “only weekly newspaper locally owned, printed, and published in Lincoln County”..and has been for 143 years. While I fully understand the evolution of technology that has placed pressure on print media, and I also understand the struggles that have befallen newspapers all over the country as a result, it is my sincere belief that the Washington Post and The New York Times could learn a thing or two from the Lincoln County News. The entire front page contained not one scary headline and not a trace of hyperbole. Instead, the three front page stories that dominated the August 2, 2018 edition were:

1. Dresden Couple Transitions From Beef to Storage

Now, I don’t know about you, but this headline practically begs for an explanation. Who wouldn’t want to delve deeper to discover what on earth they could possibly be talking about? Is this some bizarre new twist on veganism? How does one eat storage? This question simply demands an answer. So I read. It turns out that Jeff and Linda Biden, of Eastern River Cattle Company have recently gotten out of the cattle business. However, the fine barn that previously housed the company’s herd will now be used to store vintage automobiles. This, despite the fact that the Eastern River Cattle Company had just won the prestigious Producer of the Year award from the Maine Beef Producers Association as recently as 2016! It seems that Jeff and Linda aren’t as young as they used to be, and the couple’s two children have shown no interest in taking over the family business. 

Now, had reporters from the New York Times been assigned to cover this story, the headline would probably have been something like...Heartless Globalist Capitalism Forces Dresden Couple Out of Business...or even better...Trump Tariffs Cause Generational Split in Local Family

2. Three Generations of Lilly Family Fight fires in Dresden

This story tells the heartwarming tail of a local man, Gotham Lilly, who at the tender age of 15, began volunteering at the local firehouse 62 years ago. The rest is history. Eventually, Lilly rose to captain, a position he held for 30 years. Along the way, nine members of his family, spanning three generations, have served at the firehouse...

Had this story been broken by a Washington Post reporter, the headline would have been...Nepotism Turnes Firestation Into Lilly Family Fifedom
3. Bristol Waitress Gets “Whole Life” Back With Return of Purse

McKinley Neuser, a 21 year old waitress at The Contented Soul in Bristol, had lost her purse containing last week’s paycheck, $600 in cash, after it disappeared from the basket of her scooter as she was on her way to work. The University of Arizona student, who has summered in Bristol her entire life, was devastated at this turn of events, since the $600 represented an entire month’s rent for her. Lucky for McKinley, local grocery store owner, Carl Reilly happened upon the purse while driving on Snowball Hill Road. He immediately pulled over, thinking it was clothing, only to discover that the purse, which doubles as Miss Neuser’s knitting bag, was stuffed full of cash. After a little detective work, Reilly figured out who the bag belonged to and headed over to The Contented Soul to reunite it with its owner. McKinley was overjoyed and grateful that she spends her summers working in such a great small town.

The New York Times take on this story?...Returned Purse of Bristol Waitress Highlights Need For Livng Wage

I spent much of yesterday afternoon reading every section of this marvelous paper. I marveled at the large headline and story about a local teacher who was appointed as Pre-K lead teacher at the YMCA, the feel good story of a church youth group who volunteered to paint the Pemaquid Point Lighthouse Park Fence, the irony of a 5K charity run to fight childhood obesity named the Boothbay Harbor Lobster Roll 5K!

God, how I love this place...

A Little Help Here....

I woke up this morning having no earthly idea what day it is. Not only do I not know what day of the month it is, there is confusion concerning which day of the week this happens to be. My first thought was that it felt a bit like a Wednesday. But, now I’m not sure. This is just one of the many delights of Maine.

This detachment from time takes a while to kick in. For me, it took longer this year for some reason. 2018 has been a Bear, for one thing. It began with an exploding dish washer, and was soon thereafter consumed with planning and paying for a wedding. So, maybe this year, the power of responsibility was more difficult to lay down. The force was strong with 2018! But, lay it down I have. I have finally reached the desired Maine vibe.

Today there’s the rickety scaffolding of a plan in place. We are planning on eating breakfast in Damariscotta at a place called Crissy’s...

Then, best that I can recall, we are headed into Rockland to visit the Breakwater Lighthouse...

That’s where it really gets fuzzy. I can’t remember if we are going into Camden late afternoon to take the walking tour which starts at the Library and ends at the Opera House, or if we’re just going to Riverducks for ice cream...or both. Or maybe we are climbing Mt. Battie this afternoon? 

It doesn’t matter really. 

I don’t even know what day it is!

The Magical Mystery of Monhegan Island

This blog will mostly be pictures because I think my words would be inadequate to describe Monhegan Island. We ate no lobster and there were no bicycles, largely because there were no paved roads anywhere. What was there? Plenty of artists standing around painting gorgeous pictures of the scenery. When our boat unloaded it’s 120 passengers, the population of this idyllic place tripled. 

We started our adventure with lunch at the Monhegan Inn...

Monhegan Island is only 12 miles away from the mainland, but feels like it’s 100 years back in time. 90% of the Island is untouched, except for the ribbons of trails, all on private property, which are maintained by a local association. We spent most of our time there meandering down those trails, led my Ranger Jon, who kept us, literally, on the straight and very narrow. In total, we meandered for nearly four miles on a delightful 70 degree day. Each trail ended up rewarding us with these types of views...

But, you didn’t need to go hiking to see beautiful things. The village itself was a beguiling mix of charm and fascination. Charm, for obvious reasons. Fascination for what it must be like to live in so wild, untamed and secluded a place...

Then, something truly magical happened. We were walking on a trail called  Cathedral Forest, when we began to notice these little home made miniature...houses(?) built every fifty feet or so along the path. First Kaitlin suggested that it was probably an assignment that the teacher of the one room school house had assigned her 8 students as some sort of object lesson. But as we made our way along the path, these structures became ever more elaborate and imaginative, to the point where it actually started to freak me out. Maybe there was some weirdo psychopath afoot and soon we would discover a severed doll’s head or something. But then we came upon a married couple and a couple of kids who were building there own little houses. It was then that we discovered this quaint island tradition where people... on this trail only...are encouraged to build houses for the fairies. The only rule is that nothing foreign can be brought into the woods. They must be constructed with natural materials found in the woods...

There must have been a hundred of these little creations, and their existence just added to the magical feel of the place. Although we were exhausted by the time our boat ride back to the mainland pulled away from the dock, we all felt like we had visited a truly enchanting place from a bygone era. 

Worth every penny.

Day Tripper

It’s time for an adventure. Today we will make the 45 minute drive to Port Clyde, then take the $168(!) ferry ride on the mail boat over to Monhegen Island...population 68. This is something Pam and I say we’re going to do every year, but never manage to actually do. There are several of these wonderful islands off the mainland in Penobscot Bay...Little Dear Isle, Vinalhaven, and North Haven are others. In years past they served as either fishing harbors or plantations. Today they are home to a few hardy local families, picturesque villages, and spectacular vacation homes built by obscenely rich people from away. We will take the 10:30 ferry, and spend the day touring around, taking pictures and eating lobster. Bicycles might be involved. Today’s high temperature here at the house is expected to reach 83, while on Monhegen it should top out at 70, so the big decision will be between short sleeves and long sleeves.

Of course, to make this trip, we will have to leave this...

Easier said than done.

Vacation News

So far, in a mere eight days, we have seen several different species of wildlife. A bear, an eagle, several families of ducks, many loons, squirrels, a family of wild turkeys, and today...a mink made an appearance, dashing underneath Kaitlin as she was reading in a hammock. 

My wife has been Wonder Woman this week. Yesterday, she went for a 3.9 mile kayak trip, and upon her return, dashed back out for another hour on her paddle board. Then today, she started showing off. After towing Kaitlin and me out into the middle of the lake from her paddle board..(we were lounging around on our floats, bemoaning the difficulty we were having getting far away enough from the dock)..she decides to do a series of yoga poses on her paddle board!!

   



Kaitlin, demonstrating remarkable self awareness, declared herself the least valuable vacationer this afternoon after it occurred to her that she has done basically nothing this entire trip. Nothing, that is, except make demands of her father:

Kaitlin: Dad, could you head up to the house and get me a Chilly Willy? I like the pina colada flavored ones. Oh, and while you’re up there, could you bring me my beach towel...the fluffy thick one. This Adirondack chair hurts my butt.

Me: Of course, dear.

Kaitlin: Oh, and Dad?

Me: Yes?

Kaitlin: I’m still waiting for that Kaitlin blog!

Actually, my daughter has contributed a lot to the enjoyment of this vacation. Largely with comments like this one today at lunch...

I’m not sure I like adding bananas to my fluffernutter, making it a fluffernannernutter. They are too distracting.

Yes, it’s this sort of outside the box thinking that has made her a master teacher and molder of young minds. And yet, I had to remind myself this afternoon that she has a Master’s Degree in English literature, when I saw her pick up Jon’s binoculars to view the loons, and lift them to her eyes...backwards.

I played a round of golf this morning at my favorite local course, Rockland Golf Club. In keeping with my schizophrenic golf game, I hit every single fairway on the front nine and shot a 49, missed every fairway on the back nine and shot 38. The turkeys were not impressed...

But, the course was immaculate and I finished in a cool 2 hours and 23 minutes...walking!

Pet Peeve

One of the great benefits of an extended vacation in a place like Maine is the opportunity it provides for uninterrupted reading. I read every day, thirty minutes here, an hour there. But up here, I can read like it’s my job. So far, two novels completed, half way through a third. If you think that’s a lot, Kaitlin is on number six! 

A quick word and one pet peeve about one of the books I’ve read...

Back in 1999 a guy named Andre Dubus III wrote a novel called House of Sand and Fog, which became a National Book Award finalist and was later made into a movie starring Ben Kingsley. I found it in the book case downstairs, read the reviews and said, why not?...Ok, Dubus can write. Really well. But, never perhaps in the history of literature, has so much exquisite prose been wasted on so vile and pointless a story. Without knowing it, he wrote a novel that, if anti-government folks actually read, they would have hailed as their manifesto. Of course, this notion would never have occurred to Mr. Dubus who, no doubt, is most likely a raging leftist. Neither did it occur to any of the reviewers of this work who spent all of their time gushing over its empathy and longing. Here’s the problem...caution: spoiler alerts follow!!!

Kathy is a troubled young woman who cleans houses while living in the one thing her father gave her upon his death, a bought and paid for house in California. Colonel Behrani, is a former official associated with the autocrat, Shah Rena Pahlavi of Iran, who has just been overthrown and murdered by the radical mullahs back home. Behrani and his family had to flee the country because to stay would have meant execution. The trouble is, the Colonel is having a hard time adjusting to his greatly diminished life in America, where he works a series of odd jobs while living beyond his means to keep up appearances and to assuage his crushed ego. Lester, is a police officer with the local county who serves an eviction notice to Kathy in the first few pages of the book, for unpaid taxes. Of course, he falls for Kathy, out of the aforementioned empathy. Kathy is thrown out on the street despite claiming not to know anything about any back taxes. Meanwhile, the good Colonel, out of desperation to restore his family name and fortunes, decides to buy a house at auction with what remains of his nest egg, fix it up and sell it for a hefty profit. Naturally, his first auction yields him Kathy’s house, which he purchases for a mere $40,000. Immediately, he moves his family into the house that Kathy has been kicked out of. Like night follows day, Kathy ends up shacked up with Lester and thus begins the tragic downward spiral which ultimately results in the following:

- the murder/ suicide of Colonel Behrani and his wife

- the death of their son from a gunshot wound administered by a county policeman

- the incarceration of Kathy and Lester for the rest of their miserable lives

Halfway through the book, we discover that all of this Greek tragedy has been set in motion by the feckless and incompetent county government of San Mateo, who had been sending delinquent tax notices to Kathy’s house because of a spelling error. In fact, Kathy owed nothing to the county. Therefore, not only was she evicted illegally, the ensuing sale of her house at auction to Colonel Behrani was itself illegal! No where in this story does the county government suffer any consequences for their bureaucratic bumbling. In fact, their coffers were enriched by $40,000, and one of their employees killed a teenage boy as a bonus! Mr. Dumus doesn’t even make an attempt to address this outrage, since he’s so fixated in examining the cultural clash involved. 

Isn’t this always the way it goes in life? Some pencil pushing functionary down at the county can’t spell, and before you know it, three people are dead and two others get life in prison! But, guess who gets off Scott free? That’s right...our public servants. Like the apologists for the Soviet Union used to say...if you’re going to make an omelette, you’ve got to break a few eggs.

End of rant. No more literary criticism. My next blog will be back to vacation news. Or maybe I’ll follow my daughter’s advice and give the people what they want..a blog about Kaitlin! 

Here Comes The Sun

On the fifth day of our vacation, we finally got to see what the lake looks like in the sunshine. Yesterday was pretty much perfect. The sky became crystal clear and bright blue around 10 o’clock in the morning. The high temperature topped out at 80. Kayaks were deployed early and often and there were a couple of paddle board sightings. By late afternoon, the floats finally made an appearance. But mostly, we all just hung out on the dock reading and talking, interrupted only by either the loons or the arrival of a dog at the public boat landing a few hundred yards down the shore from us. By the time the dock was in the shade, it was a mess. We hardly had room for the cheese tray...

Since yesterday was Patrick and Sarah’s last full day with us, the plan was to cap off this wonderful day with a campfire and s’mores around this great fire pit...

But, just about the time I was about to light the fire, we heard thunder off in the distance. After consulting the weather radar, we discovered a large and menacing storm mere minutes away. No fire. But, one thing I’ve learned over the years about women, Dunnevant women in particular, is that once the idea of chocolate enters their heads, no thunderstorm in the world will deny them. So...

Yes, that’s us...toasting marshmallows over the blue flame of a gas stove...just like the pioneers used to do it! Behold the newest member of the family, unwilling to even put down her skewer while enjoying her s’more, afraid that someone will take it from her!!

So, this afternoon, I will take Patrick and Sarah to the airport, their two week honeymoon nearly over. They will fly home to Nashville to begin the rest of their lives together. Hopefully, they will always recall the time they spent here on this lake with fondness. 

This morning, we are headed in to Camden for blueberrie pancakes at Camden Deli, a morning of walking around this beautiful town and probably some ice cream at Riverducks.