An Adventure

Day 23

Yesterday, it was time for an adventure, so we all got into the car and drove into Camden for an Eco-Tour on the good ship, Lovely Lady. Although it was quite warm in town, once we got out into Penobscot Bay, the chilly air cooled us down. It was Sarah's first boat ride in twenty years. Early on, she looked confident...

Thirty minutes in, we were in the midst of four foot seas, and the both of them were soaked! Meanwhile, Jon and Kaitlin were the picture of chill...

The woman in pink was either our Homeland Security ranger doing an excellent imitation of a civilian, or...struggling with the early stages of sea sickness. Then this happened...

We got a tutorial on how to bring up a lobster pot and determine wether or not the lobsters are big enough to keep. We also learned how to tell the difference between male and female lobsters...hint...female lobsters get paid less than male lobsters for the same work!

The views alone on this tour were worth the money...

"Where the mountains meet the sea" is Camden's slogan. Well deserved.

By the time we got back to the lake, Miss Lucy had been cooped up for nearly four hours and was ready for one thing and one thing only...

This girl has become a water-maniac. With each new dive she gets even more air, and has developed quite a diving flair. Unfortunately, she also still has her flair for thunderstorm freak outs. A rather loud one rolled in around 3 am last night and she was not amused. But this morning has broken clear and fair, and our agenda contains:

1. Eat

2. Fish

3. Swim

4. Float

5. Kayak

6. Eat

7. Make snide remarks about Donald and Hillary

8. Read

9. Eat

I better get started...

Walking to Pushaw

It took me exactly an hour, this walk of mine, a unit of time which carries no meaning here. An hour? An hour of what? I left the lake house and made the slow climb up Meadow Lane, a narrow path of a thing which oddly qualifies as a "lane" in Knox County, Maine. Then I took a left unto the two lane dirt road, Crabtree Lane. The names of the roads...Meadow, Crabtree, Cove, and finally, Pushaw. 

There once was a time when the majority of roads in this country were dirt and gravel. Now, whenever you happen upon one, you immediately declare that you are in the boonies. Meadow Lane is the scary .31 miles that leads directly to the lake. It is a pile of rocks and dirt and drops probably 100 feet from beginning to end. There is one odd section where years ago someone thought about paving the thing. Maybe the money ran out, or someone got eaten by a bear while making the attempt, but now all that remains in a couple hundred feet of choppy blacktop.

Crabtree Lane is majestic, for a dirt road. Both sides are covered with deep woods, healthy stands of pines, maples and oaks. Every so often there is a birch tree with its feathery white bark, protected by statute here in Maine... like royalty. At the mile and a half mark there is a sweeping valley to the right, then at the end of long climb, an ancient hilly field of rolling grass and giant boulders. Making dotted lines through the landscape are several low stone fences constructed a century ago when there was some reason for their existence. Now they are grown over in spots, their stones black and covered with moss and the accumulated abuse of a hundred Maine winters. They are stubborn, aching things now...but they remain. I walk swiftly past them wondering what stories they could tell. 

Finally, the steep, weary climb up to Pushaw Lane, a climb that sets your lungs and thighs on fire on the way up, and everything else on fire on the way down. The sides of the roads on my walk are lined with Black-eyed Susans, ragweed, dandelions, and asiatic lilies. A more romantically inclined man might have remembered to bring scissors along to bring some home for his love. I make a mental note to bring scissors next time.

I stumble back down Meadow Lane, past the blueberry fields. I see the lake through the trees. Map My Fitness says I walked exactly four miles in exactly one hour. Such precision seems impossibly for such a place so untouched by most of modern life. The fact that I have such amazing cell phone coverage way out here is a bittersweet experience. After three weeks, I have become strangely protective of 67 Meadow Lane. Please world...leave this beautiful place alone. Please...

Lucy Finds Her Groove

Day 21

Lucy has made a discovery. Heretofore whenever we wanted her to jump into the water, ( in other words...when it was convenient and appropriate for us ), we would have to nudge her...ie...push, throw, heave. Once she was in she seemed to have great fun, but getting in required a great deal of persuasion. Not any more.

It happened when I decided to toss her favorite toy...her coveted frisbee, into the lake. Without any urging from us, she bolted headlong after her prize. Once this Rubicon was crossed, there has been no turning back. " Wait, is that Dad out there on the swimming float?" SPLASH! " Are those ducks I see a half a mile across the lake?" SPLASH! " Ooh...what's that green thing floating in the water?" SPLASH!

Watching this dog become enchanted with her newly discovered skill at swimming has been one of the many joys of this trip. The swimming vest we bought her helps her to relax while she's out there, but she no longer needs it...and she knows it! Any doubts we had about bringing her up here have been destroyed watching her frolic in Hobbs Pond. But...it hasn't all been moonlight and magnolias either. When Lucy spies another dog, any dog on the property, no boundary, obstacle or fortification will stop her from giving maniacle chase. If there are people at the adjacent camp about 500 feet to our left, she cannot be let off the leash or she will make a mad dash to introduce herself to half a dozen terrified geriatrics, or even worse, ten mothers with small children. Speaking of the camp next door...we're not entirely sure what's up over there. Their "camp" consist of one ramshackle cabin, an outhouse, and an impressive outdoor stone oven thing. It seems to have a different group of day visitors every day. Nobody ever seems to stay overnight. One day there will be 25 old people singing hymns, the next day a group of teenagers swinging on a very cool rope and splashing into the water. So, the place could simply be a place that gets rented out to groups for day trips, or it might be some sort of survivalist, quasi-religious commune with communist sympathies. Either way, I'm keeping a sharp eye out for any subversive behavior. Lucy just wants to party with them.

Today seems to be shaping up as another beauty, 80 and magnificent. We will spend it in some combination of frivolity and highjinks, then end the day in Camden having dinner together.

Editors note: My fishing has improved considerably since I started fishing late in the afternoon/evening. Several nice, 7 inch lake trout have been caught!

They're Here!!

Day 19

It occurs to me that we spend half of our lives waiting. When we were kids we waited for Christmas morning. When we were teenagers we waited to turn 18...then 21. We waited to find the one, we waited for kids, promotions, for our ship to come in. We waited for the kids we waited so long for to get their act together. We waited all day for them to fly into Portland, then because America has the worst airlines in the world, we waited...forever. But, good things come to those who wait, the sages told us. They were right. At 2:45 am this morning, I finally got them all home. Now, I'm waiting for them to wake up so I can show them this...

During all the waiting last night, I happened to catch some of Melania Trump's speech. My first reaction,( after, My God, what a stunning woman...), was that she makes more sense in her second language than her husband makes in his native tongue. It was only later when I discovered that several lines in her speech were dead ringers for lines spoken by Michelle Obama in her big speech to the Democratic convention in 2008. There are two possibilities here. One is that whoever wrote her speech flat out lifted those lines without attribution, an unpardonable sin in the age of Google. The second possibility is that the sort of things that potential First Ladies say when being introduced to the country are so inherently insipid, so full of boiler plate dreck about opportunity and challenges, that repetition is unavoidable. Still, the similarities in a couple of places were just too exact to be pure coincidence. But if after everything we have been through to get to this convention, this is what finally pisses us off...then we are insane.

And that is all I have to say about a former model made filthy rich by marrying a billionaire. I have bigger fish to fry...wait...did I just hear someone stirring upstairs????.

The Kids Are Coming!!!

Day 18

Today is travel day for the kids. Jon and Kaitlin will drive to Charlotte and catch a flight to Portland. Knowing my daughters luck with flights, their luggage will probably land in Portland, Oregon. Patrick and Sarah will fly from Nashville to Portland. I will pick them up, God willing, around 8 o'clock this evening. Pam and Lucy will be here at the house making preparations for the big reunion, which...because Pam is Pam...will include a welcome bag of Maine treats on their pillows and some sort of yet to be determined Maine snack upon their arrival. Good Lord, how I do love that woman!

The weather for the first four days of this week looks like something ordered up by the Camden Chamber of Commerce...upper 70's over middle 50's. Of course, it should be pointed out that weather forecasts around here are about as dependable as Bill Clinton's marriage vows. In one single day it isn't unusual for the weather forecast here to change three times. Seriously! The other day the forecast at 6 am called for cloudy skies with a chance of rain. By noon it declared the rest of the day sunny and clear. By evening, it warned of heavy fog. Which brings me to my golf experience yesterday...

I showed up at Rockland Golf Club for my 7:00 am tee time with grave doubts that I would be able to get even nine holes in. The clouds were low, thick and heavy and a light rain had already started to fall. But then, I got paired with three local Mainers, Sean, Greg and Essie. They were all in their thirties, all lifelong residents of Rockland, with the thickest, most hilarious Maine accents you've ever heard. They all assured me that it was only a "passing showah!!" So, off we charged, into the breach.

After six holes, I was wetter than Bill Clinton's hot-tub, soaked to the bone. Meanwhile, my local weather experts seemed unfazed by the deluge, constantly finding evidence in the clouds of pending sunshine. By the turn at 9, it looked more ominous than when we started, but my new buddies remained committed. "They're playing the British Open right now, right? It's the least we can do!"

These three guys were about as good a bunch of dudes as you could imagine being paired up with on a golf course. Sean was an excellent golfer, Greg and Essie, not so much. However, all of them played very quickly...always a bonus. Essie had the added benefit of being a stone cold, lead pipe ringer for a young Tom Cruise. It was uncanny! By the end of the round, all three of them had given me their cell phone numbers and told me to not even think about renting clubs when I play again..."just call one of us and you can borrow ours!" 

So now, I can cross- play an entire round of golf in pouring rain - off of my bucket list. As crazy as it seems, I had a blast! Didn't even keep a scorecard, just kept a running total of how many pars I had...six. My boys want to do it again next Sunday morning.

Yesterday afternoon on the float.

Lucy playing fetch in the lake.

Hot enough for ya??

Day 16

The last couple of days here have been..."hot." I use scare quotes here because the term is relative. These have been the sort of days that Mainers get maybe a half dozen of all year, those rare occasions when they actually wonder if perhaps they should have considered air conditioning for the car. It was actually 90 yesterday, and 84 today with the sort of humidity that people in Richmond would call a cool spell. However, with no AC in a big house like this one...

...90 without a breeze and with humidity is the sort of thing that one doesn't expect in Maine. In fact, it makes you want to call the Chamber of Commerce and demand a refund.

Observant readers will notice Lucy's inquisitive nose poking between the slats of the marvelous porch on the front of our house. The past few days we have spent a lot of time out here...

.

And, why not? It's cool and the chairs are super comfortable. 

Lucy is doing very well here, although she still gets spooked by the oddest things. The other day, we were all out on the dock when suddenly some clouds rolled in and the wind began to blow. It didn't last too long, but Miss Lucy was not a fan. She took refuge between my legs...

Two nights ago..or maybe it was three, one day just melts into the next here...we had the finest meal of the trip so far, all cooked on the grill...

I swear y'all, this meal was beyond my ability to describe. Maybe it's because we were outside all day, maybe it was because we ate later in the evening. But whatever it was, this combination of flavors had me in food heaven. That's a New York strip steak with a butter/garlic concoction melting on top. The potatoes are seasoned with garlic and rosemary and cooked on the grill in a foil bag for forty minutes. The Brussels sprouts were slathered in olive oil and basted in a Dijon mustard sauce then skewered and grilled for fifteen minutes. As Frank Barone might say..Holy Crap!!!

Tomorrow morning, I have a 7:00 am tee time at the Rockland Golf Club, a mere 18 minutes from here. I'll be back on the dock by noon trying desperately to catch some fish. Then, after dinner, we will start to get all giddy at the impending arrival of our kids Monday evening. Having your whole family all together under one roof for a week in Maine is like Christmas for parents!!!

The World Intrudes

Day 15

There is a pattern developing to life here in Maine. Just about the time I find myself thinking that life couldn't possibly get any better, some deranged psychopath kills a bunch of innocents. Last night when I read Pam the horrifying news from Nice, she asked plaintively..." Why can't these people just come to Maine?" She hadn't intended to make a joke about so serious a catastrophe, but I couldn't help laughing. Why, indeed?

Part of me wonders if it's entirely appropriate for me to be enjoying such a leisurely, care-free month up here while the rest of the world seems to be falling apart. I read about the 80 dead in Nice right after a meal of steaks from the grill covered in garlic butter sauce, Brussels sprouts-kabobs in mustard sauce, and grilled potatoes. The news of the cop ambush in Dallas came while we were having lobster. So, because I'm an heir of western civilization, I battle with the one emotion that the West does best...guilt.

But, I deal with the G word swiftly. Unlike many of my younger friends, I refuse to accept the premise of the day that suggest that any success I enjoy comes from some entrenched privilege. I find no evidence that requires me to apologize for my good fortune, as if the very fact of my success suggests that somebody else more deserving was denied the chance. This view of the world requires the assumption that the world is a finite pie, that there is only so much success to go around. It's impossible to expand the pie, so we must allocate the pie more fairly. This world view empowers only those holding the knife, the bureaucrats, the redistributors. 

In my life, I have had a lot of help. Nobody is a self-made man, nobody. I had great parents who taught me right from wrong. I got a great education thanks to a series of life changing teachers who challenged me to think. I benefitted from several amazing mentors who taught me what no teacher could. I was blessed to be born a citizen of a country that allowed me to decide what I wanted to be and do. Me, not some government hack in an office somewhere. But, my government helped too. They built a network of roads and bridges that allowed me to move about with ease. They provided a system of justice that protected my rights and my property, and although that system is flawed and has had glaring failures, it's still the best in the world in much the same way as democracy is the worst system of government in the world...except for all of the others. 

But, despite all of the help I have been given, success was not guaranteed. It wasn't preordained. Good government, good parents and good teachers are present in the lives of millions who wind up in the gutter. All of the tools in the world can be given to someone, but the house won't get built until work is done, and mistakes of effort are made. Trial and error, multiple failures, then at last, success. Everyone I know who has done well in life has had to overcome failure, sometimes many failures. Luckily for us, we live in a country that supplies us with the most essential tool of all...freedom.

So, no. I will not apologize for being an American. I am proud of my country,( although that pride is taking a beating this election cycle). But, this too shall pass. We have overcome worse than Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump.

And no, I will not feel guilty for being on vacation while terrible things happen to innocent people. Instead, I will double down on my profound gratitude for the blessings of life, and endeavor to be a mentor to someone struggling to find their way in the world when I get back home.

A Typical Day

This place is hard to describe to anyone who has never been to Maine. There are many states in America that contain mountains, lakes and ocean access, for example, so when I tell them about these things they're like..."So??" What makes Maine unique however is the proximity of all of these things to each other. The view above is our little cove on Hobbs Pond, a 266 acre lake with a 5 mile perimeter surrounded by mountains. But, get in the car and make a 15 minute drive in which you pass three other lakes, and you find yourself here...

This is Camden Hills State park. That body of water is Penobscot Bay...the Atlantic Ocean. This park is divided by what remains of number 1 highway, yes...THAT number one highway. On the other side opposite the bay is Mount Battie and the wonderful old World War I memorial at its peak. From the top you can take pictures like this...

Yesterday, Pam and I stopped by one of the many food shacks that dot the landscape here and bought some sandwiches and took them here to have lunch. The breeze coming off the ocean was cool and strong, heavy with that most odd combination of scents...briny and pine. I may have found my new office...

After lunch we headed back to the lake and used up the last rays of sunshine sitting on our dock. After it got dark, Lucy was out like a light. We played a couple of games of Rummikub, then went to bed. All in all, it was a slow day. Nothing important happened. We didn't have much of a plan for the day. It just happened. The highlight of Pam's day was probably this...

So, this is how we roll in Maine. It may sound boring to some. To some it would be boring. But for us there's nothing better. Well, actually it will get even better when our kids get here. For the next four days, it will just be the three of us. Now, if you all will excuse me, my wife has had a fifteen minute head start in her kayak, and I have to catch up!

My Parents Are Going Crazy

Day 12

My name is Lucy. I belong to Doug and Pam Dunnevant. Most of the time, they have been the greatest parents ever. But honestly, lately I have had my doubts about them. I'm starting to think they may be losing their minds. The last 12 days have been nuts.

First, they took me on a two day, 18 hour car trip. Then we get to this great place called Maine. I love it, really I do. It's got this big hill down to a lake. It's got huge places to run with no fences anywhere! But there's also a huge scary house at the top of the hill I was talking about. There are ceiling fans everywhere, and this screen door which makes a terrible noise every time it opens. Oh, and the ceiling? It must be at least a mile high and smack dab in the middle of it, the biggest ceiling fan in the world! Horrifying.

But despite the house, I have been happy here. We have been on many scary/fun adventures. We went to a lighthouse and I got to walk on a rocky beach at the ocean below it. Then, this huge truck showed up with a giant hose that hooked up to the little green houses marked " men and women", and started making a loud sound. Then all of a sudden everything smelled like my poops. It was weird. 

Yesterday, my Mom and Dad took me into town...

It wasn't too bad...until the huge trucks came. Why do they have to be so loud?? Anyway, we stopped into a store that smelled great. It was filled with dog treats, dog toys and other really cool stuff. But instead of buying me any of that stuff, Mom and Dad bought me...this!

They all made a huge fuss over how great I look in it. Although, I do kinda like how it feels, I think I look stupid. But, what am I gonna do? I had no idea what this new thing was for, but it didn't take long to figure it out. See, this lake has this cool dock which I get to stand on and watch everything. But, it also has this scary floating thing way out in the water...

My Dad is constantly swimming out there and begging me to jump in and come out and join him. It's very frustrating because I really, really want to, but it's just so scary. So mostly I just stand on the very edge of the dock and whine and whine and whine. Ok...my parents seem to think that this new jacket thing will make jumping into the freezing water less scary. See why I'm worried about them? Well, yesterday, there I was on the edge whining when suddenly I either slipped, or somebody pushed me...probably Uncle Ron. Anyway, the other times I've been swimming, all I wanted to do was get the hell out of the water, but this time, it seemed easier, less scary. Before I knew what was happening, there I was swimming out to the scary float thing...

I made it!!! I also found out that I could fetch balls while I was out there which was great fun except for the fact that I kept getting water up my nose. Still, very fun. When it was time to swim back to the dock, I got to go swimming with Dad!!!

Coolest. Thing. Ever!!!

Although, by the time we made it to the dock, I was starting to worry about Dad. He looked exhausted!!! Maybe he needs one of these stupid, ugly jackets.

So, that was my day yesterday. Fun, and scary. Story of my life lately.

Lobstah Dinnah

Day 11

For those of you who secretly resent these celebratory vacation posts, I should admit that yesterday it poured down rain all day. Not only that but it was our fourth consecutive day without sunshine. Even though one prepares for bad weather on vacation, after four days you've used up all of your bad weather day activities. We went to see a lighthouse. A museum was visited. Bills were paid. We've probably read more books in four days than Donald Trump has his entire life. So, last night...desperate for stimulation...we decided to have a lobster dinner, despite the fact that none of us have ever actually prepared a lobster before. This could have gone either way, but a risk worth taking. First, Ron drew the short straw and was forced to drive into town to pick up the lobsters...

We assigned our dinner guests names, George, Eunice, Ethel and Frank. They seemed less than thrilled to be here...

Apparently, crustacean lives don't matter. 

While these guys and gals were being introduced to the 350 degree delights of our lobster pot, the rest of us were busy with other things...

Pam whipped up some cheddar biscuits.

I grilled up some potatoes and corn on the cob.

My sister was busy comforting a clearly exasperated Lucy.

Now, it was time to check on our guests...

They had finally warmed to the place.

This morning the sun is back. Pam is already kayaking. Lucy is chomping at the bit to go down to the dock. Forecast?...75 and sunny.

Hazel's. A Life Lesson.

Day 8

This is the quintessential Maine roadside lobster roll joint. This is Hazel's, and Hazel's is everything that is right about America. Let me explain...

We had been out for a sightseeing jaunt to the Owl's Head light house and were very hungry and a couple of us were in urgent need of...er, facilities. Then we saw this cheerful, brightly painted lobster shack and since we had been in Maine for a week without eating a lobster roll, we decided to give it a try. Although I was looking forward to the food, I wasn't crazy about having to use a roadside eatery bathroom. We've all been there, right? You've been driving for five hours, you pull off at an exit to get gas and go to the can. You go inside to get the key to the bathroom...the one on the giant, filthy key ring. Then you open the door and get hit with the aroma of the combined urine of 10,000 of your fellow human beings, since it's been at least ten years since anyone has cleaned the place. Well, at Hazel's, they have a different idea. "How about let's make our unisex bathroom the cleanest place on Earth?"

I'm not kidding people. I could have eaten my lunch off the floor. The toilet looked as clean as the holy water bowl at the Vatican. The sink had a glossy shine to it...like someone had spent the day polishing it especially for my visit. The place smelled like Mr. Clean and Windex had had an all-nighter in there. It was like no bathroom I have ever entered even in the finest restaurants in the world! But, that wasn't the only thing about Hazel's that was clean.

The place had a huge all gravel parking lot...with not one single solitary weed peaking through the rocks, not one! How is that even possible? The picnic tables, all neatly painted in their signature red and yellow colors, were emaculate. Even the condiment bar was free of trash or even spilled sugar. Frankly, it was almost scary! Then, we met the owners, a couple of retirees who run this place just for fun during the summer months, then drive down to Florida for the winter. They were doing this...for fun.  And they were having plenty of it! The person ahead of me in line ordered the "cowboy burger" and the entire kitchen staff suddenly burst into an uproarious Yeee-Hawwwww!!! The kitchen staff consisted of the owner, his wife and their daughter, who all acted like they were ecstatic that we had chosen Hazel's for lunch.

But, friendliness and insane cleanliness can get you but so far in the food business. Then the spunky daughter brought out our meal...

For the uninitiated...this is a lobster roll. It's ingredients are few...a toasted bun, a boatload of lobster meat( with no filler nonsense ) maybe a piece of lettuce, and some mayonnaise to keep it together. That's it. It's lobster without all of the work of cracking shells and picking around internal organs and what not. And it is ridiculously delicious.

I am always fascinated by well run small businesses and couldn't help but have a conversation with the owner. She was a delight. Hazel's was named for their black lab, Hazel, and was their seventh and last business. They were retired. They ran the place during the summer for the fun of it. When I complimented her on how fantastically clean the place was she said, " Well, over the years we've found that there are two things you can do that don't cost you anything...keep a clean place and be friendly.

And, have fun, apparently. Yee-Hawwww!! 

Violence Doesn't Take Vacations

Day 7

In the week that I have been here, two black men, Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, have been shot dead by police officers. And now last night five Dallas policemen have been killed by sniper fire at a Black Lives Matter protest rally. In America there seems to be no vacation from killing. The deaths of five police and the injuring of eleven others will go down as the darkest day for law enforcement since 9/11. It is worth noting that prior to the outbreak of sniper fire, the Dallas protest march had been entirely peaceful. The march itself had been to protest the killings of Mr.'s Sterling and Castile, forming a perfect vicious cycle of death. It is now left to us to take sides. This is what we do after these things. We rally around our guys. White people will decry the lawlessness and savagery of the black community. Black people will justify the police killings as an understandable reaction of a people fed up with police brutality, fed up with being the targets of police gunfire. 

I am in the middle of Benjamin Watson's terrific book, Under Our Skin. It is at once uplifting and convicting. I have not agreed with every assertion he makes, but I've also been confronted with some cold, hard truth that has made me uncomfortable and frankly...ashamed. Reading about race from the perspective of a devoutly Christian black man has been an eye opener, and something I needed to do.  I still believe that the essential truth about racism is that it is a spiritual problem and as such cannot be dealt with merely by government solutions. Still, we live here, not in heaven. The something that must be done has to begin with some honest self reflection, an examination of my role as either a part of the problem or part of the solution.

One story that Watson tells has stuck with me. It's a story about his grandfather, Pop Pop. In 1932, when he was a twelve year old kid, angry at being told he was inferior, Pop Pop decided to dive into the community swimming pool in his hometown of Culpeper, Virginia. Unfortunately, this was a whites only pool. Pop Pop was immediately escorted off of the premises. Several days later his parents got a letter in the mail from the town council demanding that his family pay the city for the cost of "draining the pool and refilling it with pure water." The story had become part of the Watson family lore, retold to succeeding generations as an example of what the Watson's had had to endure. Here's the reason I can't shake this story out of my head. I know what's in my heart. I know the kind of pride I have in my family history. I simply cannot imagine the kind of pain and anger that I would harbor towards the world if this sort of thing had happened to one of my grandparents. When it comes to all things family, I can be a bit of a hothead. It's the old story, I can make fun of my sister or brother all day long, but let someone from outside the family do it and I'm ready to fight! In the past I have often thought, why can't black people let go of the slavery thing?? I mean, good lord...it was 150 years ago, we fought a war to free them!! But now I will think about Pop Pop. Maybe it's easier said than done, this business of letting go of the past.

Ok...on to vacation news. Another cloudy day. Pam is out kayaking at 7 o'clock in the morning. We will probably go do some sightseeing today, a lighthouse or two, make do some hiking. We will also eat...a lot. The plan is to bring Lucy along with us wherever we go today, so say a little prayer for the girl.

First World Problems...

Day 6

Last night was a great night for a fire. By mid afternoon the temperature had risen to a vacation-high of 81 and on brief occasions we felt ever so slightly, uncomfortably warm. But then the winds changed and the temperature began to drop. By nightfall it was 61 and breezy...time for a fire.

But first, hors d'oeuvres on the deck...

Very soon after this photograph was taken, short sleeves and shorts were back in the closet, replaced by jeans and sweaters with jackets. 

Lucy loved the fire and all, but what still fascinates her more than anything else is the lake...

After a dinner of chicken kabobs and grilled salmon, we decided to go even further upscale for dessert...

This morning it was 57 degrees and the lake was shrouded in an eerie fog that resembled spirits of dead vacationers from years past coming back to haunt the living. We drove into Camden for a blueberry pancake breakfast at Camden Deli, then kicked around in a couple of great shops. Looks like our run of four perfect weather days has come to an end. The next few days will be cloudy and cool. Time to start reading the books I brought with me. May even be forced to take two naps instead of my usual one. 

First world problems....

A Little Bit of Everything

Day 5

(We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog post to bring you the following spleen-venting rant)

So, for the 116th time in my lifetime, a prominent politician named Clinton has skated. For those of you who are shocked by this news, you are either blinded by your partisanship, or you just haven't been paying attention for the last 25 years. There are only two things you need to know about Bill and Hillary Clinton...there are laws, and there is a world filled with little people. Laws are for...them. The most important words spoken by FBI Director Comey at his press conference yesterday were as follows:

"To be clear, this is not to suggest that in similar circumstances, a person who engaged in this activity would face no consequences. To the contrary, those individuals are often subject to security or administrative sanctions. But that is not what we are deciding now."

Yes, Director Comey. We get it. Anyone else not named "Clinton" would be in deep do-do for this sort of thing, but because this is Hillary, "this is not what we are deciding now." Thanks so much for clearing that up, sir. 

( We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.)

Another sun-splashed day at the lake. I think the high reached 77. No fish bothered to pester me in either my morning or afternoon attempt at "fishing." I use scare quotes only because it wouldn't be entirely fair to insult real fishermen out there by comparing what I do with what they do. I place a bloody nightcrawler on the end of a hook, attach a bobber on the line and cast it out into the water. Then I lean back in my Adirondack chair and stare at the bobber. It's like accidental fishing. If some fish swims along and decides to take a bite of a hook-shaped worm then well, he deserves whatever happens. The fact that I actually nodded off at one point and reeled in an empty hook might give you an idea of my level of expertise in this area, which would be roughly equivalent to Donald Trump's expertise on the subject of French poetry.

Yesterday also featured kayaking, swimming, trying to coax a dog with the word "retriever" in her name to actually retrieve a ball thrown into the lake, and a fabulous dinner at the Waterfront overlooking Camden harbor. I also had correspondence with my office, and spoke on my cell phone with one of my clients. It was a brutal twenty minute trip back to the real world that left me drained..and really hungry. Must limit future contact with real world. It's a huge buzz-kill.

A Bad Night

Day 4

Another splendid day in Maine. Paula and Ron arrived around noon. There was beautiful weather, swimming, fishing, kayaking, floating on rafts, great fun, a fire in the firepit down by the lake...then disaster.

Several years ago, a libertarian impulse was indulged by the Government of Maine, rescinding a law which had made fireworks illegal. Now, their presence has proliferated, and no day of the year is this more obvious than the 4th. About the time I lit the fire it started, spontaneous fireworks displays all around the lake, and countless others we could hear from beyond the mountains in the distance. While this was thrilling to the eyes, great violence was done to the ears, the thunderous booms amplified by the water. Poor Miss Lucy has never been a fan of fireworks, even the pitiful ones that get exploded in our cul de sac back home. She didn't know what hit her when these howitzers began shaking the windows. At first I thought it might be better if I brought her down to the fire on the leash so she could at least be with us while all hell was breaking out. Mistake. The explosions terrified her to the point of near madness. So, I brought her back up to the house where she was essential inconsolable. After ten minutes of frantic pacing, she finally found a spot to ride out the storm...

And no...that isn't a relieved smile on her face...that's some major panting going on. 

All seems fine this morning. As I write this she is sitting on the edge of the dock with Pam...calm, content and happy. We're just praying that there are no super patriots living on this lake who celebrate the month of 4th of July!!

Lucy Meets Hobbs Pond

Day 3

Miss Lucy is getting the hang of Maine. On day 3, she was introduced to the reality of Hobbs Pond rather than just the possibility and wonder of it. We are starting to feel more comfortable letting her roam around without the leash. She is never happier than when we allow her this freedom. The dog runs around at maximum speed, tongue flying around, eyes wide with pure glee at her new kingdom. Although she has been fascinated by the dock and the shimmering water of the lake, she had not yet jumped in...until yesterday. 

The reason that video cameras are essentially worthless is because you never, ever have them on hand when something truly hilarious happens. I would have given anything to have captured the moment on film, but no such luck, so I'll have to describe it for you. There we were sitting in our beach chairs on the dock enjoying the glorious sunshine and 77 degrees. Lucy was actually sitting in front of me as I was giving her a tummy scratch. Then...it happened. A dragonfly, who she had shown great interest in a few minutes earlier decided to make a bombing and strafing run directly in front of Lucy's nose, then fly away into the distance. Lucy instantly gave chase, forgetting that she was on the dock, forgetting that there was...a lake! Splash!!!!! Before either of us knew what was happening, our crazy dog was completely under water in five foot deep, freezing cold water, the first such experience of her life. Instinct took over, she quickly came up for air and began swimming towards where she thought the dragonfly might be, then suddenly realized she was..."wait a minute, where's Mommy???" She made a quick u-turn and began swimming back to the shoreline, where she emerged and began a series of epic dog shakes. 

We couldn't decide if she was thrilled by the experience or just terrified. But, ever since, she has been a different dog. She seems much more chilled in the house, actually laying on the floor and sleeping instead of her constant pacing. Maybe the cold water was like electro-shock therapy for her, maybe it rid her of some of her fears. Who knows? But within twenty minutes, her fur was dry and softer than ever.

Don't think for a minute that she has forgotten about that dragonfly. No, no. She's still on guard!

Today is Independance Day, and Paula and Ron will arrive this afternoon. Pam has made the initial grocery run into town, so the refrigerator now look like somebody lives here. Today looks like another gorgeous one, 80 and brilliant blue skies, with humidity so low, nosebleeds are a possibility. Tonight, the five of us will sit around a fire pit down by the dock. I will read the Declaration. We will eat s'mores. And all of us will be grateful to have been born Americans.

Getting on Maine Time

Day 2

Our second day of travel was better than the first, since there was no rain...but it still consumed 7 1/2 hours, once again confounding Ursula. To make matters worse, I had to endure a Facebook scolding from my tech savvy niece who could barely conceal her embarrassment that her goofy uncle was still using Mapquest. We finally arrived at our new home at 4:15 at the end of a dirt road, after two days and 18 hours behind the wheel. One of the first things we did was walk down to the dock...

This photograph doesn't need much in the way of explanation. It's more beautiful than my memory of it and much more beautiful than the pictures on the website. The inside of the house seems huge, much roomier than the photographs, which is odd because it's usually the opposite. It smells like cedar and already feels like home. Lucy, however, remains skeptical. To her this giant new place is a house of horrors what with its ginormous windows and ubiquitous ceiling fans. Then there's the matter of the terrifying screen door which emits a bone-chilling squeak every time it opens. She spends most of her time sniffing and whining whenever one of us leaves the room. We must stay together at all times!! Don't we know that if we get separated, even for one minute, the evil squeaking gremlins will make their move and destroy us all???? Fear not, Lucy will get used to the place at some point. No way we can sit on the floor next to her every time she eats, which she insisted on last night! The one thing she doesn't seem at all scared of is...the lake! Each time we've been on the dock so far, she strains against the leash, wanting to dive in. She will get her wish later today. Maybe a swim will sell her on this place!

I haven't gotten on Maine time yet, that is to say, I'm still too aware of time. It always takes me a few days, to let go of things. My kayak guy will be here soon delivering our boats for the week. Dan the man from Duck Trap Kayaks, who I've been doing business with for five years now. That will help! I will go for my first swim later. That will also help. But I will need for it to warm up a bit first...57 degrees feels awfully cold in the morning. This afternoon it's supposed to hit 77 with clear, blue skies. That will really help!

10 1/2 and 438

Day 1...

As we pulled out of our driveway at 9:07 am eastern standard time on Friday the 1st of July, 2016, our friendly Mapquest girl informed us that our ETA at the Hoomwood Suites hotel in Hartford Conneticut was 4:21 in the afternoon. I was skeptical. This is 95 north we're talking about...on the Friday before July 4th. I thought I was prepared for the worse. Uh...negative.

Actually things went quite well while we were in Virginia. Lucy settled down nicely, the weather was perfect and the traffic was manageable, even around DC. Then the clouds began to roll in and thicken. Around Baltimore traffic began to get sketchy. Still, we made it across the Delaware Memorial Bridge and into New Jersey in reasonably good time. Our first stop was for lunch and gas at one of those travel plazas in the garden state. Think, Honey Boo Boo meets the Walking Dead. As we were eating our tuna sandwiches at a picnic table we heard the first rumble of thunder.

It's been 6 years since we have actually driven to Maine, so I decided that my father in law's old hand typed, pre-GPS era spreadsheet of directions we used to use was probably outdated. For this trip I would trust modern technology and depend on Ursula, the female computer generated voice of Mapquest to navigate for us. As the rain began to come down, instead of asking us to take the Garden State Parkway exit off of the New Jersey Turnpike, she sent us onto the George Washington bridge...directly into the rush hour traffic of freaking New York City!! Did I mention that it was raining? By the time we made it through that dystopian nightmare, our ETA was now 6:00 and a tornado watch had been added to the weather forecast.

The entire time this was all happening, the coolest cucumber in the car was Miss Lucy. There she was, sleeping soundly in a tight ball on her bed in the back seat, oblivious. 

At the eight and a half hour mark, everything I had was either cramping up or tingling. Having a white knuckle grip on a steering wheel in bumper to bumper traffic while peering through a rain soaked windshield for five hours will do that. The last hour was the best! Torrential rain. Stop and go traffic. And I really had to pee!! Finally, mercifully, we pulled into our hotel parking lot at 7:37 pm.

The key numbers of our first day are as follows...10 and a half, and 438. It took us 10 and a half hours to drive 438 miles. If my memories from Mrs. Winston's 5th grade math class don't deceive me, that works out to an average speed of 42 miles per hour. For a little perspective, it takes us 9 hours to drive to Nashville, a 600 mile trip. Ugh....

But today is a new day. Ursula cheerfully informs me that our lake house is 293 miles away and we will arrive in 4 hours and 48 minutes. If I was a betting man, I would take the over!

Of course, the worst part about yesterday wasn't the horrendous traffic or the Noahesk storms. No no...its having to admit to my father in law that I should have used his old school directions!!

The Clock Is Ticking!

Ok...I've got exactly 24 hours to get all the last minute stuff done, 24 hours until zero-hour, 9 am. Two appointments this morning. Submission of last minute business. Recording my epic away message on my business phone. Cut the grass. Pack my suitcase. Pack the Pacifica. Consider installing a hitch and renting a U-Haul. Kill a couple of last minute squirrels just to remind them who's boss. Drop by the bank to see if they happen to be giving away any free samples today. Have conference with Kristin to make sure she is fully up to speed on all of my ill-conceived plans for the month. Do some more packing. Consider placing whatever will not fit into a giant box and having it shipped UPS. Talk Pam off of the ledge when she misplaces one of her 16 to-do lists. Constantly reassure increasingly fragile-looking Lucy that everything is going to be just fine, even though the entire time she is casting wary eyes at the growing number of large scary bags and boxes in the staging area and thinking, " Lies. All lies. I'm screwed..."

Sometimes...dreams come true.

A couple of weeks ago I was clearing out some very old files at my office. I have a couple of file drawers full of stuff that at some point I thought was important enough to save. So every once in a while I'll rummage through to see what was such a big deal all those years ago. I found an old faded yellow pad full of dreams. No, seriously...dreams.

I had a mentor when I first got into this business, an elderly man with an almost saintly reputation for not only production, but a strict code of honor and integrity. His name was Dan Williams. One day, which according to the date at the top of the yellow pad would have been February 1st, 1989, Dan sat down with me and challenged me to write out three sets of goals. He asked me to divide them into three columns. The first were short term goals, things I wanted to accomplish over the next year. He wanted me to stretch myself, to make it a goal that I had a decent chance of hitting, but which would require a lot of effort. Then he asked me to write out my mid-term goals. These were different, these required some vision. He wanted me to try and imagine what I wanted my life to look like in ten years. He wanted me to write out difficult, life-stretching stuff. He told me to not be afraid to dream a little. Finally, he told me to write out my long term goals. For these, he asked me to dream a lot, to imagine the possibilities.

I won't bore you with all the details, because some of them were embarrassing, to be honest. Twenty seven years ago, I didn't have much in the way of confidence in my future. My goals were flimsy things, the sort of goals someone who was afraid of the future might come up with. In my defense, I was struggling in a brutal business that is insanely difficult to break into. I had a toddler at home and Pam was seven months pregnant with Patrick. I was in debt with a 12.5% mortgage with two college loans outstanding. I knew that there was a chance that Pam would want to retire from her teaching job after Patrick was born, making us a one income household. Frankly, I was afraid of the future. Of course, I would never have admitted such a thing to Pam or anyone else. But I couldn't fool Dan. He told me that one day I would look at my list and laugh. He was right.

I tell this story, because despite the laugh it gave me at my own expense...one thing stood out from my list of long term goals...."I would like to be able to take my family to a house on a lake in Maine for an entire month."

Honestly, I had forgotten all about the list. I didn't remember writing it. I did remember how Dan always was getting on me about setting the bar too low, for limiting myself with the tyranny of low expectations. "If you don't reach for great things, you'll always be stuck with the...ok." It wasn't smooth like something  Zig Ziglar would say, but I still remember it 27 years later, so that counts for something.

So, in a couple of days Pam and I will head to a house on a lake in Maine for an entire month. 

God Bless America, and God bless men like Dan Williams.

Problems? What problems?

I ran across a story the other day about a guy who lost his composure in the middle of a cross country flight. Was it because he became claustrophobic? Was he freaked out by the whispering middle eastern-looking couple across the aisle? Did he see snakes on the plane? No, no. His internet connection was not only outrageously expensive, but way too slow and unreliable.

Let that sink in for a moment. The man was sitting in a chair in the sky, hurtling to his cross country destination at 600 miles per hour in a climate controlled cabin, sipping hot coffee...incredulous that the miracle of an invention that didn't even exist twenty five years ago was not cheep and perfectly functional at 30,000 feet.

Conclusion? 21st century men are chumps.

As a disclaimer for what follows, I should point out that I speak as a 58 year old middle/upper middle class man in the United States of America, in reasonably good health and of reasonably sound mind.

But, honestly, when I look around this great big world today and consider all of the problems we're dealing with, I think...what problems? Consider...

1. The year I was married (1984 ) the Dow Jones Industrials was at 1200. Today it stands at 17,500, an astounding return on investment. But let the market drop 600 lousy points because of Brexit and we wail and moan, don our sack cloth and sit in ashes all day!

2. Billion dollar industries exist to sell us stuff to do with our leisure time, when 300 years ago, there wasn't even a word for "leisure time" because nobody had any.

3. Californians complain about the horrible traffic in and around Los Angeles. They do so inside the climate controlled interiors of automobiles equipped with more powerful computers than IBM had forty years ago. The average price of these vehicles clogging LA's freeways would make their owners the richest person within a hundred square miles of over half the land mass of the world.

4. Every night on television, somebody is trying to sell me some new medicine (ask your doctor if expressia is right for you!) to rid me of some ailment I didn't even know was a thing. Discolored toenails? A mere 100 years ago the number one cause of death was diarrhea, the cure for which now costs four bucks and tastes and looks like bubblegum.

5. Today's college students need safe spaces to run to whenever they hear disagreeable speech that offends their fragile world views. Their grandfathers at their age were scrambling for safe spaces from incoming mortar fire in some god-forsaken jungle in the South Pacific. Their grandmothers were assembling tanks in some factory somewhere for ten hours a day, seven days a week. Their great grandparents were probably hungry most of the time.

6. While the developing world's population is exploding, here in the west...the most sex saturated civilization in history, men need the assistance of little blue pills to obtain an erection. So much so that the company that developed Viagra...Pfizer, rakes in nearly 2 billion a year in revenue from it's sale.

Listen, I'm not trying to suggest that we don't have problems today. Sure, there are still bad things happening around the world and here at home. There is still injustice, racism is still with us, and even in the most prosperous nation in the world there are people who don't have enough to eat. But, in the grand scheme of the universe, our problems seem lame when compared to the daily life struggles of even our most recent ancestors. A little perspective and gratitude for our amazing luck at being alive in the year 2016 would seem to be in order.