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.