What’s YOUR Plan Today?

On this morning, I am thankful. Everywhere I look people are suffering. I am not, and for this I am grateful.

I am thankful that my health is good, that nobody I am close to has come down with COVID.

I am thankful that my business has not been set upon by rock-throwing rioters, indeed, that I have a business that has been able to weather the disruptions of 2020.

I am thankful that I no longer have school aged children with all of the impending disruptions that virtual learning will visit upon those families.

I am thankful that my kids are healthy, employed and safe.

But, many of my clients haven’t been so fortunate. Many are hurting, their health and their fortunes are being compromised by things that they cannot control. Some have been furloughed, others have lost their jobs entirely. Seed corn which had been set aside for the future is being eaten now out of necessity.

My job, as I currently understand it, is to be on the lookout for people who haven’t been so lucky. Is there someone I will encounter today to whom I might be a blessing? Will God place someone in my path today who I am uniquely suited to help? If he does, will I be paying close enough attention to notice...and act? That’s the plan today. It’s the plan every day. Wish me luck.

All that is being asked of me at the moment, in exchange for all of this good fortune, is to wear a freaking mask when I enter a public accommodation.

I got this.

Something We Can All Agree On

It hasn’t taken me long to discover that we are still at each other’s throats. Despite all of the positive vibes I was sending out into the world while in Maine, America is still a nation at war with itself. I don’t even have to watch the news or read a newspaper. All I have to do is flip through my Facebook feed to see the hostility. We seem to be bitterly divided about...everything.

We can’t agree that wearing a mask in the middle of a pandemic might be a smart thing. Hell, we can’t even agree that COVID-19 is a pandemic. 

We remain stubbornly opposed on the subject of how or even if schools should reopen this fall. In this argument, many teachers find themselves disagreeing with parents, administrators and various elected officials.

The removal of Confederate statues and other symbols of racism throughout the country has done very little to assuage the appetite for protest in many American cities. Portland, Oregon seems intent on reinventing agitprop, creating all new ways to raise hell. Even here we are divided, some viewing these protests as blatant Marxist agitation, others convinced that the federal response is proof that Trump is at heart a Fascist.

Policemen have been cast as the enemy of the people by many, a tool of the establishment whose only real job is to protect property, this despite the gazillion dollars spent each year investigating murder and assault by police departments all over the country. Others view them as an unfairly besieged thin blue line of noble public servants who do ridiculously dangerous work for low pay only to be spit upon by rabble rousing malcontents. Many people view police tactics as severely flawed, far too violent and confrontational. Others believe that overly restrictive rules of engagement make it virtually impossible for them to do their jobs.

No matter what side people find themselves on in these fierce debates, we all seem to agree on one thing...it’s the government’s job to fix it. Those on the right want the government to crack down hard on rioters, and force schools to reopen despite health concerns. Those on the left demand the government continue handing out checks for every conceivable inequality that exists. 

So, maybe we have stumbled upon an area of agreement at long last....we all want the government to save us from...them.

Time For Your Vote

Y’all. The heat...

My first day back at the office was going pretty well, right up until the moment I stepped out to go get a much needed haircut at 11:00 am...

When I got home, I walked upstairs only to discover that my wife was already preparing my body for the viewing...

Don’t even ask me what the heck that is laying on the day bed in my house. It’s the sort of thing that a man doesn’t want or need to know when it’s 98 degrees outside. My nephew’s fiancé is living with us now. I assume that this body has something to do with her. 

Ok, while we were in Maine, my wife began just letting her hair go every morning. Instead of the hour it takes to blow dry, curling iron, and God knows what else she normally does in the morning, she just decided to go all natural. I LOVE IT. She’s not so sure. So, on our drive home she sent her pack of girl friends a side by side picture asking for their vote...

Her posse responded with a decisive landslide vote in favor of the lake house hair on the right. Which is better, Suburban Pam or Lake House Pam? Set aside for a moment the fact that Pam seemed far more interested in her girl friends’ opinions than mine. The real problem with this is simple...can anyone imagine a man doing this? How about if I sent a group text to a bunch of my guy friends saying something like, “Hey guys, trying to decide what’s a better look for me, this slim cut polo shirt or the fuller figure button down?” I just can’t imagine anything worse than how I would feel if one of my friends wanted fashion advice from...me?? I mean, how pathetic! But just for fun, I decided to give it a try...

On the left is button downed Doug, cotton dress shirt, silk tie, in my office. The dude on the right is in his kayak on the lake.

Or what about this shot, which admittedly has been manipulated to hide the extra vacation poundage of my gut. So which is better? Button down Doug or Lake Doug?

Goodbye, Loon Call

Heading home this morning. It’s beautiful out which makes the leaving harder. Took the kayaks out for one last sunset cruise last night.

We will miss this place. It was an adventure.

A Blind Dog

Last days are the worst. For the first time since you got here you are no longer living in the moment. You’re trying to but you know that this day has an agenda all its own. Soon, the packing up will begin. First, Pam will drive Patrick and Sarah to the airport. She will hug them tight then cry as she pulls away from the curb. It has been wonderful having them here. They have thoroughly enjoyed themselves. When Pam gets back from the airport, we will try to enjoy some dock and lake time on what promises to be another gorgeous sunny day in the low 80’s, before surrendering to the task of gathering up all our belongings, including all the new stuff we have accumulated since we arrived, and stuffing it all back into our car...hoping that all the doors shut.

But, we will leave our mark. The owner of this house has suffered a terrible loss, we discovered, the kind of loss that is unfathomable. We collected rocks from the yard and painted them. Last night we placed them around the property, hoping that maybe she will see them and take heart.

This morning our neighbor is swimming in the middle of our cove with her sweet little blind dog. They look to be around a hundred yards out, she dog paddling as the dog swims in circles around her. He loves the water because its the only place he can move around without fear of bumping into anything or falling off an edge. His silver eyes gloss over with joy as he follows her voice calling his name. The lake is the one place where he feels safe

I know how that blind dog feels.

“What do you DO up there for an entire month??”

I get asked this question a lot when people find out that I go to Maine for an entire month. “But Doug, but Doug...what on earth do you do for a whole month?” A reasonable question. A month is a long time, and Maine isn’t exactly what you would call a beehive of activity, no thriving metropolis to be found anywhere once you cross the Piscataqua River. What follows is my attempt at an answer.

This morning I was out on the kayak, minding my own business, when suddenly my wife appeared off the port side momentarily startling me. As fate would have it, about the time she appeared on the scene, I hooked in to an impressive bass and began reeling it in...

One could say that I was showing off except for the fact that it was completely random happenstance, just one of many magical things that seem to occur up here. Once she was on her way, she took my good luck with her. I only caught two more the rest of the morning, both small and uneventful.

So, yes, I fish. A lot. Fishing allows me time to think and ponder, interrupted occasionally by fish. Most of the best fishing happens in the early morning, but every now and then I’ll catch something late afternoon. 

Ok, so that accounts for maybe four hours of my day, when it’s not raining, of course. In past years, at least twice, sometimes three times, I play a round of golf at Rockland Golf Club. Unfortunately this year due to the increasingly annoying COVID-19, golf was out because the course wouldn’t rent me clubs. That was a disappointment, but allowed me even more time for another of my major pastimes up here...reading.

These are the seven novels that I have had the time to read while I’ve been at Loon Call. All but two of these were already in the house library. They were all enjoyable reads except for Hunter S. Thompson who, I have discovered, I’ve outgrown since the days when he wowed me as an undergraduate. The Sunday Philosophy Club was an annoying little thing that disappointed, but everything else was amazingly good.

Then, there’s eating. There’s lots of eating. There’s the actual eating of the food, but there’s also the thinking about eating the food. There’s the plotting and scheming involved in the preparation of the food to be eaten. Then there’s the sitting around afterwards savoring the food that has been eaten, complete with lots of ooohing and aaahing and the rubbing of tummies. All of this takes up a surprising amount of time. But it’s something that cannot be rushed. Meals are central events of each day around which every other endeavor must subject itself. “Shall we go for a swim? Wait...what about lunch??”

Last night there was a rousing game of Monikers which featured an embarrassing attempt by me (during the charades portion of the proceedings) to illustrate necrophilia to a couple of my grown children. Needless to say, much hilarity ensued. 

On days when the weather isn’t good we are reduced to driving to the coast to have breakfast (again with the eating) in Camden, followed by shopping and visits to lighthouses and whatnot, all the while keeping a sharp eye peeled for any change in the weather which might result in a hasty retreat back to the lake for some bonus dock time.

That’s pretty much the itinerary...fishing, eating, reading, eating, shopping, sightseeing, and eating. It’s not for everybody. Some of you would get bored, I imagine. That’s why God created Myrtle Beach and New York City...for the rest of you.

Gratitude

Every time we come up here I am confronted with a different emotion. Some years it’s the beauty of it all that strikes me, other years it’s the peacefulness. Some years it’s an overwhelming sense of relaxation. But this year it’s been...gratitude.

Maybe it’s 2020 that’s responsible for this emotion. COVID, racism, and politics have produced a toxic quality to this year, and being here has felt like stumbling into an oasis in the middle of the desert. Whatever the reason, I have felt an overpowering sense of gratefulness that I am here. I never want to lose that. Gratitude has fallen out of favor as a sentiment of late, I think. Nobody seems grateful anymore. If something good happens, we assume it’s because we deserved it. When bad things happen to others, we sometimes secretly think to ourselves, “serves them right, the way they live” or “well you could see that coming the way they...” Then when some huge windfall or blessing falls in our laps we secretly credit our own skill, work ethic, and righteousness for our good fortune. This is the very definition of pride, the great sin of the scriptures.

You can go mad trying to figure out why bad things happen to good people. You can drive yourself crazy contemplating why fortuitous things happen to horrible people. I have no answer for the vicissitudes of life. Here’s what I do know. I have been extraordinarily blessed in this life with mostly good health, a functioning brain, great parents and siblings who taught me the value of honesty and hard work. Those gifts have led to a degree of success in this world that has allowed me the great privilege of being able to come here every year. Why me? Others are smarter, other people I’ve known work harder than me, are better looking than me and yet, have struggled. I don’t know. I don’t think I will ever know, this side of eternity. But I do know this...I am grateful for the blessings of life. I might not know the why. I will resist the prideful attitude that says, “I deserve this.” This year especially it has been overwhelming, this sense of gratefulness. Maybe its why we love bringing friends here. Maybe it explains why I post so many pictures. Part of me wants everyone I know to come here, while the selfish part of me wants it all to myself.

So, Kaitlin and Jon are back in Columbia, SC in the unrelenting heat. Pam and I get Patrick and Sarah all to ourselves for the next three days, then we pack up and head home Saturday morning. I miss Lucy. I miss my friends at the office. But I will mourn this place on the two day drive home...