Pam’s Capital Idea

I know this has happened to you before, a memory of some delightful event or place from your past grows exponentially with each telling and the passage of time. Before long, your memory of it has mushroomed into legend. Then, when you revisit this place years later you think...Huh...that wasn’t at all as cool as I remembered. It’s like when you tell your kids what an awesome movie Billy Jack was, then you find it on Netflix one night and you make them watch it with you, and fifteen minutes in, you’re totally embarrassed by the sorry excuse for a plot and the atrocious acting. Well, I was a little worried that the same thing would happen with our second look at Loon Landing. Although it’s only been 12 months since we first came here, this place has taken on a legendary place in our Maine memories as...the absolute perfect place. Everything about it...perfect. The lake. The location. The dock. The guest cottage out back. The deck. The proximity to Camden. Everything.

Our second look yesterday afternoon insured that Loon Landing will never be dethroned from the vacation pedestal it sits upon. If anything, this place is more gorgeous than we remembered. Of course, it didn’t hurt that we arrived to blue skies and 74 degrees! But, the owner of this place (aka..the luckiest man alive on planet Earth) has done some additional landscaping that have improved the grounds, and also expanded the dock to twice its old size. There still remains a very short list of shortcomings...no closets, small bathroom, tiny kitchen...but everything about this place stirs within me a couple of emotions that I seldom ever feel in this life...envy and covetousness. If this guy would be willing to sell this place to me, I would move heaven and earth to buy it, even if it meant I could never, ever retire.

Pam deserves a shout out for coming up with a brilliant idea upon our arrival in Camden at 2:30 yesterday afternoon. Check in time wasn’t until 4:00, and we hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. She says...How about we have an ice cream cone at River Ducks for lunch, then do a grocery run at Hannaford’s before checking in at the lake? Then, as soon as we get to the cottage, we can put all the perishable stuff in the fridge, leave everything else in the car, put our bathing suits on and spend the rest of the day on the dock?? We can unpack after it’s dark...I don’t want to miss any time on the lake! For dinner, I’ll send you up to The Fraternity Village store for Italian sandwiches, and we will eat them outside while the sun sets.

Yes, my wife understands Maine better than anyone I know. A brilliant plan, it was. We finally had unpacked everything and properly set up housekeeping by 10:00 last night. This morning, the house was super chilly at 52 degrees, and the lake was fogged in at 6:15...

But, now it’s 7:45, and it’s already lifting...

God, what a beautiful slice of creation...

Don’t Even THINKAbout Littering in Connecticut

Tales from the road...

The government of Connecticut doesn’t mess around with litterers. There I was getting off of interstate 84,at exit 31 near Southington, halfway through the sweeping turn, when I see a simple sign in red script...

$219 Fine for Littering

I’m not sure about you, but if I had been tempted to sling a mentos wrapper out of the window, I might have thought twice if I knew a $200 fine would be the result...but that extra $19 bucks would certainly have made me snap out of that temptation, for sure. I would have loved to have been in that meeting of the highways committee in Hartford...

Bureaucrat 1: Ok, we need to set the fine amounts for 2018. We can’t keep putting this off. Last year it was $197.24. Should we leave it there, lower it, raise it?

Bureaucrat 2: How many litterers did we catch last year?

Bureaucrat 3: 725

Bureaucrat 2: Ok, that means we collected $143,000. How many of those litterers were from out of state?

Bureaucrat 1: We don’t have that information. That would constitute profiling...

Bureaucrat 2: I guarandamn-tee you that most of ‘em were from New York.

(General laughter all around)

Bureaucrat 3: Well, I say we need to stick it to those bastards. How about an eleven percent increase?

(Audible gasps)

Bureaucrat 2: That’s awfully bold, Stan. Why, that would raise the fine to $219!!

Bureaucrat 3: Fortune favors the bold, Al.

Bureaucrat 1: So it’s settled then. $219 it is. Now, let’s move along to how much we should fine people for driving the speed limit in the passing lane. Last year it was $126.15....

Empathy

This blog might wind up being embarrassing for the author. If you’re not a dog person, or if you’re one of those people who think that humans project way too much importance unto their household pets, you may want to skip this one. Maybe it’s just that I’m feeling guilty about the fact that I’m about to leave her for three weeks...but here goes.

Lucy and I have this little morning routine. Almost every morning when I wake up, she is curled up at the foot of our bed, usually entangled with Pam’s legs. Sometimes she’s on the floor, but 90% of the time she’s on the bed. So, when I wake up it’s still dark outside, so as I’m walking past the end of the bed I have to wait until my eyes adjust, and when they do, I find her. Then, I do the exact same thing every single morning...I place both of my hands around her face, kiss her on the nose, scratch behind her ears and say the following:

Who is Daddy’s best girl? Lucy is. You’re the best puppy in the world.

Then I continue on to the bathroom and the rest of my day. Of course, she is sound asleep and has no response to any of this. But I do it every...single...morning.

Why?

I honestly don’t know, other than the fact that it’s comforting to me somehow. Starting your day with a positive affirmation of love...even to a dog...is mildly therapeutic, I suppose. But, it’s more than that. There’s just something about a dog, especially one as neurotic and easily frightened as Lucy, that makes you want to protect them, and what better way can you protect someone than by reassuring them of how much you love them?

A dog grabs ahold of your heart in a thousand ways. Part of it is that they are totally dependent on you for their survival. They always expect nothing but good things from you. To them, we are the most wonderful, fantastic, incredible people in the whole wide world. So, you find yourselves constantly trying to live up to their idealized expectations. I’ve said this before but it bears repeating...I want to be half as good a man as Lucy thinks I am.

Which brings a thought to mind. If we treated each other with half of the unconditional love we have for our dogs, I’m thinking that our world would be a infinitely happier place. For dog lovers like me, although I prefer Goldens, the truth of the matter is, I love all dogs, no matter the breed. When I encounter one on the street, all of them bring a smile to my face. When I see friends on Facebook putting up pictures of their new puppy, it’s always a happy time. When someone loses a dog, I feel the loss along with them. In other words, dogs produce in us a large reservoir of empathy. They make us better people.

Oh, that we could summon such empathy...for each other.

The Trees We Plant

As a married man, I have only lived in two houses, the one I’ve lived in for the past 21 years, and the first house Pam and I built 33 years ago. It was a starter home, only 1600 square feet. We brought both of our children home from the hospital to that house. But, eventually it got too small, so we had a second house built not much more than a mile from our old house. In an average week, I drive by the old place two or three times. I always glance at it with an odd sense of nostalgia.

Since we sold it, the place has had a string of short time owners. Most of them have neglected the yard, which always makes me sad. I spent so much time fussing with that yard, always had it looking great. When I drive by and see that the grass hasn’t been cut in a month I always let out a sigh. 

I bring this up because I’ve been thinking a lot about legacy lately. How would I like to be remembered? It’s strange how so much of what we do on a day to day basis is mundane and of no consequence in the grand scheme of life. Most days are indistinguishable from each other. We busy ourselves with things that seem important at the time, but ultimately matter very little. Earthly pursuits all eventually decay and wither, leaving not a trace of evidence that we were even here.

All of this was on my mind when I drove past the old house yesterday. I immediately noticed that the fence that I had built 33 years ago around the back yard had been torn down. New lumber was stacked neatly in rows. Memories flooded back of when my friend Al and I built that fence soon after we moved in. Had to have it because we had just bought our first Golden Retriever...Murphy. Once again, something I had built had vanished, leaving no evidence of my existence. Suddenly, I found myself turning the car around, driving back to take a closer look. I parked at the curb across the street. No one was home. I got out of the car and stood in the street, staring at the overgrown grass where my fence used to be. It didn’t take long for me to realize how profoundly stupid it was for me to be staring at a place I hadn’t lived in over 20 years. I abruptly turned to head back to the car when I noticed it...the huge maple tree in the front yard.

The first Spring we spent at the old house, I found a healthy, well-shaped maple sapling growing right out from the edge of the house over by the water hose. I almost just yanked it out of the ground and threw it away, but at the last minute the thought came to me...maybe I can dig this little tree up and replant it in the middle of our big, treeless front yard. So, just like that, I planted this little Charlie Brown looking thing in the front yard. It was only a little over two feet tall. It looked silly actually.

33 years later it looks like this...

So, as it turns out, we can leave a lasting legacy. I planted a tree when Ronald Reagan was in the White House. Nobody had a cell phone. Nobody had a flatscreen TV. The Washington Redskins were a good football team. Both of my parents were still alive. I hadn’t yet become a father. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I had never planted a tree before. But I planted it anyway.

Soon, I would have two children, despite the fact that I didn’t know what I was doing. I had never been a father before. But I became one anyway.

Our legacy is about the living. The trees we plant. The children we raise. The people we love.

 

Boycotts Are Dumb

In the last few years it seems as though I can’t make it through a single week without someone asking me to boycott something. Now that the personal has become political, if the CEO of the company that makes your dogfood is discovered to have made the wrong kind of political contribution...well, Fido is going to have to adjust to some new kibble.

Boycotts are the ultimate example of virtue signaling, where you proclaim your moral superiority over your neighbor by demonstrating solidarity, or some such thing, by being willing to sacrifice your dog’s favorite dinner for the greater good of...whatever. This is a bipartisan project. What follows are a few examples of some companies that the woke social justice crowd have targeted for boycotts:

Papa Johns...Hobby Lobby...Walmart...Chik-Fil-A...Amazon...In and Out Burgers

Not to be outdone, allegedly free market conservatives have painted a bullseye around:

Target...Nike...Disney...Kellogg’s...ESPN....the NFL

My view? Boycotts are nothing more than tribal manipulation, a test of your political zeal. The lyric to a Rolling Stones song comes to mind...He can’t be a man ‘cause he doesn’t smoke the same cigarettes as me...The truth is that if you dig deep enough into the bowels of any company that makes any product or provides any service, you will find something objectionable. Somebody in the boardroom will have made bigoted comments, been accused of inappropriate sexual conduct, or donated to a questionable candidate. If you make it your goal to politicize every commercial transaction of your life, at some point you will find yourself filthy, dressed in animal skins, freezing your ass off in a cave, rubbing two sticks together. 

I am a right of center, small government conservative/libertarian. My political neighborhood has recently called upon my tribe to boycott Nike because of their decision to pick Colin Kaepernick as their spokesman. So, yesterday I had to buy new running shoes. I went to Shoe Carnival. There must have been a thousand shoes to pick from. My views about Mr. Kaepernick were a thousand miles from my head as I made my decision, which was based on a combination of quality, aesthetics and price.

So, my opinion? Boycotts are for suckers. If you want to be a preening, virtue signaling moron, help yourself.

                                             

                                            Boycotts

                        Don’t Do It

Checklist

Pre-Trip Planning Checklist:

# Haircut

# Clean out, fumigate, and organize tackle box.( I can’t keep putting this off...)

# By whatever means possible, bring body weight down below critical 190 level, before the three week calorie-fest to come.

# Purchase new running shoes. The old ones now have over 1500 miles on them. Much running to do in Maine to keep body weight under the Mendoza line by the time I return to RVA. Have debate with myself over whether or not to buy Nike shoes. Should I boycott the Kaepernick thing, or contribute to Nike’s bottom line considering the not insignificant position of their stock in my retirement portfolio?

# Go to Hope Thrift to search for quirky novels from the book section.

# Spend inordinate amount of time showering Lucy with love and affection to assuage guilt of decision to leave her at home. She already can sense our betrayal...

# Craft clever and thoughtful away message for office phone, striking the perfect balance between contrition, embarrassment, and gratitude for having taken two three week vacations in one summer.

# Make sure that all life-sustaining prescriptions are filled.

# Finish up all outstanding paperwork at work, prepare assistant for inevitable mistakes I will have left behind, reminding her of proper protocol for fixing them while I’m away...you can call, but I can’t promise I’ll answer. Remember to buy her a bag full of Maine gifts to present to her upon my return since I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be pretty pissed at me by then.

What’s Next?

You never know how a year is going to turn out when it starts. You can plan all kinds of things, but then stuff happens. 2018 has been an out of nowhere type of year where it’s been one thing after another. So, if you can tolerate it, let me catalogue the weirdness for you...

January...dishwasher blows up, flooding our kitchen, resulting in a week and a half stay in a hotel while our entire downstairs got ripped up and replaced. $

February...hole in wall caused by furniture movers takes two weeks and two different contractors to repair. One of our dearest friends in all the world becomes horribly ill and nearly dies, spending most of the month in the hospital clinging to life. Washing machine dies. $

March...Pam’s sister and mother have back to back surgeries. Pam has her credit card info stolen and some dude tries to buy a computer with it while we are in Myrtle Beach trying to get away from all of the tumult. We learn that Patrick and Sarah’s wedding is going to be a lot more expensive than we thought. $$$

April... I turned 60 and, as if on cue, begin having age-related difficulties...which are not only troubling, but also...$$

May...preparations for son’s nuptials heats up. Stress and strain begins to build. $$$$

June...wedding a fabulous success. Relief palpable.

July...back in the fall of 2017, flush with cash and optimism, and before I knew what a dumpster fire 2018 would turn out to be, I made the decision to book TWO three week vacations in Maine. Deposits were made, reservations confirmed. The July trip was a triumph. The upcoming September-October Trip feels excessive in light of...

August...upon our return from three weeks in Maine, our upstairs air conditioning unit rudely expired, along with our water heater...$$$$$

Although the amount of money I have spent this year on both the unexpected and the excessive is staggering, the silver lining is that business has been brisk, and has...so far...kept up with the deluge.

Nonetheless, despite the foolishness of it, I have not cancelled my second Maine vacation. We leave in one week to once again escape the madness of 2018. This will be our home for another three weeks. We will entertain a few friends for part of that time, and for all three weeks I won’t be thinking about how much any of it cost. I will live in the moment at this place...

It won’t be until the drive home when I’ll start worrying about which appliance will blow up when we walk in the door.