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!!