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!!