A Wearisome Day

There are days in every life that feel wrong. From the moment you wake up something seems amiss. You stare longer into the mirror trying to identify the cause but you look the same, just a bit older. You complete your routine without incident. You drink your coffee and get out the door at the regular time. You tell yourself you should eat something but you have no appetite. You head to the office and don’t remember anything about the drive when you arrive. The air seems tepid as it stirs around you somewhere between humid and refreshing. The place is empty when you unlock the door.

There are a couple messages blinking at you from the phone on the credenza. You feel overwhelming dread at what awaits although you have no reason for such pessimism. The messages were both benign. You feel momentarily like a fool. You glance at your agenda for the day and there is nothing there which would justify the great unease that you have felt since 5:45 in the morning. You pour a second cup of coffee and settle in to the work.

You meet with your assistant and find it difficult to pay attention. You can’t afford a wasted day at this point. There is a lot to do, several appointments to plan for. You need to prepare a presentation. There are two clients with review documents that need to be assembled. Suddenly the tasks at hand feel leaden, too much for you. Its a ridiculous notion. You could do all of this in your sleep. You need something to eat. You pick over the offerings in the conference room but take nothing.

You begin returning calls and checking off agenda items. Nearly everything goes perfectly. You skim through the moderate number of business emails and find nothing of significance. You open up two news articles that are appropriate to your industry and skim through the first few paragraphs of each while nausea begins to build. Even though you should read each through to the end you can’t make yourself do it. 

You think of several volunteer tasks you have taken on later in the week and realize that one of them you will need to bow out of because of an unavoidable scheduling conflict. The other one you have plenty of time to do but the thought of it feels daunting even though its anything but. In fact, it happens to be something you love to do. You have to find a way to shake off this inexcusable and self-indulgent melancholy.

It is 2:45 in the afternoon and you are as unmotivated as it is possible to be. You find yourself at the Cadillac dealer having the battery replaced in your key fob. The attendant has to speak your name twice to get your attention. He hands it back to you as good as new and you can’t remember giving it to him. It occurs to you that your mind has been consumed with a minor health procedure that you are dealing with in less than a week. Yesterday you were at the doctor’s office for a preliminary checkup in preparation for the main event next week and from the second you arrived there the smell of the place has brought back twenty year old memories, none of them good. Its total nonsense to equate one with the other. Complete foolishness. But the mind has thoughts of its own and try as you might sometimes you are powerless against them.

Dinner will help. I will grill steaks. There will be tomato pie. Tomorrow will be a new day.

Free

It took a while. It was a rough transition, a difficult re-adjustment. But I am completely back in Short Pump mode, fully immersed in the life I have built here. Then, early this morning I stumbled across this photograph:

There was no identifying time or date. I recognize the dock and lake to be Loon Landing on Quantabacook. Could have been anytime in the last seven or eight years. It doesn’t matter really. It was a sunset and I thought to take a picture of Pam and Lucy admiring the beauty. But for some reason this morning it nearly brought me to tears. Its why we keep going back. Its why we spend so much money borrowing other people’s houses for insanely long stretches of time—for these transcendent moments of beauty that have the power to transform us, to make us better people for having witnessed them.

Of course, moments of beauty can be found everywhere, even Short Pump. But most of the time we are too preoccupied with our routines to notice them here. If I were better at living in the moment I would see them all around me. But I’m not, so I go to Maine where it is exceedingly difficult not to live in the moment. That’s where moments like this one come out of nowhere and stop you in your tracks.

How much would you pay for that sunset? There isn’t enough money in the world and besides—its free.

Welcome Back!

We were welcomed back into the Old Dominion yesterday afternoon at 2:00 by 95 degrees and stifling humidity. The rest of the day was taken up by the grinding slog of unpacking, laundry and reacquainting yourself with the place that has been your home for the past 27 years. Its surprising how quick you lose the rhythm.

Last night, my neighbors welcomed us back in town with the arrival of fire trucks next door and a warning text—“No worries. Its just that the smoke detectors all are going off and won’t shut off and since we left the kids at home by themselves for the second time in history we are being extra cautious and we had to cut our nine holes of golf short good thing for Stu since I was kicking ass and we called a friend from West Creek to check it out so he’s probably there by now and we are on our way home and should be there within ten minutes and how was Maine?” Nothing screams “welcome back” like the Henrico Fire Department.

Early this morning I set about doing my kitchen routine but was surprised by major lapses in my level of awareness. As is my custom I first turned my attention to the coffee maker and began going on muscle memory without thinking until…I looked at the carafe and wondered—Wait, how many cups of water do I use? In Maine, I had to use 6 cups and two heaping 2 tablespoon scoops of Coffee on the Porch to make it strong enough for my tastes. But, what did I use at home? I was momentarily flummoxed. Once it came to me I continued, only to ruin the first attempt by not pushing down on the filter hard enough to engage the dripping device—which produced a pot of coffee filled with grounds! I quickly poured it out and did a redo. The resulting cup of coffee was too weak. Eventually it will come to me.

Then I started to empty the dishwasher. There wasn’t much in it so that went smoothly and just a bit too quick. Something wasn’t right. Then it dawned on me that I had forgotten that our dishwasher has that slide out tray in the top for flat items. It was full of silverware and measuring spoons. I suppose I can be forgiven this lapse since the dishwasher at Loon landing—bless its heart—is only 15 inches wide!!

There are many things about this house that we both desperately missed, nothing more so than our large walk-in shower with the powerful hand held shower head. When I stepped in this morning it felt a little bit like I imagine heaven will be like. I was so pumped to be in such a large space that I went a little overboard with shampoo enthusiasm resulting in a pulled muscle in my neck. Small price to pay!

Then, my last chore of the morning before heading to church was a quick trip into the office to get a head start on Monday morning. When I arrived one of the first thing I noticed was this highly unusual sight…

I immediately texted one of the younger associates who I routinely harass a short message—“So, I come in for the first time in six weeks and discover that you have once again left your urine sample on the water fountain”

He promptly replied that it couldn’t have been him since he was at the beach all week. I will need independent confirmation of this convenient alibi. 

Thankfully, the sheriff is back in town!

Last Summer Post From Maine

Today is packing and cleaning day. Pam just took a kayak out for her morning paddle and I just took Lucy for her morning perambulation. After grabbing a bite to eat I might go out for one last fishing paddle this morning. But after that we will begin the process of attempting to leave Loon Landing better than we found it, which is hard to do since its always spotless when we arrive. I’ll cut the grass, rake the adorable little beach at the water’s edge and make sure that there is no evidence of Lucy’s existence anywhere on the property. Pam will be doing the same thing on the inside of the cabin, a much harder task what with Lucy’s fur bunnies everywhere. But by the time the sun sets tonight everything will be perfect. Friday morning early we will meander up Fire Lane 12 for the last time of 2023. I will be choked up and Pam will shed a few tears. It happens every time.

This particular four weeks was typical in many ways. We hosted Jon and Kaitlin for a week and Ron and Paula for another week. But it was different in one respect—all the lake house purchase drama. If it had worked out it would all have been worth it. Since it didn’t, we feel like we needed another week to replace the one that got devoured by all the anxiety! But, all is well. We will be back in another six weeks for our Fall adventure on Hobbs Pond, just about fifteen minutes from here.

Last night we had a fabulous dinner at Ports of Italy in Rockport. We heard from some friends of ours who spent all day out on Monhegan Island on our recommendation, and they loved it! That’s always a relief. You rave about a place that is magical to you and you hope that your friends agree and that it lives up to the hype. In this case it did which was wonderful to hear.

As sad as we always are to leave the lake, there are things we miss about home. We miss our friends, our church, even my office and the unique relationships I have with everyone there. We miss our neighbors, especially the three pups next door for whom we have presents from the finest toy stores in Camden. We miss our house, which upon our return always seems gigantic! I miss my yard and the yard work it requires. I’m weird that way. I miss my recliner since it fits me and no one else. I miss our well-tuned routines.

But, the minute we arrive home, we will begin counting down the days until our next trip north.

Integrity is Destiny

A good night’s sleep has done wonders for my disposition. Although I am still disappointed about the lake house, I am less so and the feelings aren’t as raw. I have also had time to reflect on a few things, a few second thoughts about what happened that have brought more clarity.

First, many times in my life I have been disappointed about some outcome which I had convinced myself was a disaster only to later learn how lucky I had been. With the passage of time comes new information that make you profoundly grateful for unanswered prayers. I have said as much to my kids at various times when they have been upset about one thing or another—“Just wait and see, someday you will thank God you didn’t get that job because a much better one came along!” Its easier to hand out that type of sage wisdom to others than to accept it yourself.

Secondly, I have discovered what I have always known to be true—everything in a properly operating system of human interaction depends on personal integrity for success. Let me explain. Yesterday in this space I threw a lot of shade at the regulatory scheme of the Federal Housing Finance Agency, and while I take none of it back, I didn’t mean to trash all regulation. In fact we were huge beneficiaries of a governmental regulation yesterday—housing inspectors. The town of Liberty, Maine insists that all homes, new or old, be inspected by licensed building experts before a purchase. It was just such an inspector who saved Pam and I from a world of trouble and expense. He explained his role to us this way—“When I inspect a house I do so as if I were buying it myself. I am working on your behalf here, trying to insure that the property you are buying is safe and properly built according to the building codes of this County.”

But, what if he were corrupt? Suppose Todd was in an unholy alliance with the builder to look the other way on violations and short cuts in exchange for payoffs and bribes? All the best intentions of regulation would be rendered useless if not for the personal integrity of Todd. My dad once told me that “integrity is destiny.” Perhaps nothing he ever told me has been proven more true more often than that statement.

So Pam and I are grateful that somewhere years ago somebody came up with the idea of building inspections, and that when we needed one, we got Todd, a man of integrity.

Dodging Bullets

Winston Churchill once said, “Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at with no result.” Less famous and far less celebrated people refer to barely avoiding something disastrous as, “dodging a bullet.”  This morning Pam and I had an experience which combined dodging a bullet and having your dreams crushed simultaneously. Put another way…this morning’s inspection didn’t go well.

The events leading up to the inspection had been tumultuous. We discovered the deleterious effects of a little known regulatory change implemented in April of 2022 that made the purchase of second homes far more costly and difficult, which featured among other things exorbitant points and higher interest rates. The purpose of this regulation was to discourage the purchase of second and third homes by people who already have homes in favor of those who have yet to buy their first. It was also enacted because of a home shortage in the land and to prevent the rich getting richer in the real estate market. Which is all very well and good except for two salient points. One, what first time home buyer will be buying a lake house in Maine as their first home? And two, this regulation—as thousands of other regulations in the past have—misses its target by a country mile. The real rich pay cash for their second and third homes!! But, I digress.

This unpleasant discovery caused lots of soul searching on our part but we finally crunched the numbers again for the 89th time and made peace with this new reality. The last hurdle to clear was this morning’s inspection. Todd greeted us stiffly at the door and proceeded to go about his job with diligence and an eye for detail. I would learn later what I suspected at the onset…Todd was ex-military. As we followed him around the exterior of the house we kept hearing him use phrasing like  that’s a cost cutting move, and I wouldn’t have done it this way, and that won’t do. After nearly an hour of this he kindly took Pam aside and suggested that if we decided at any time that we had seen enough he would cancel the rest of the inspection and only charge us for his time. This is known in the inspection trade as a fire engine red warning flag!! Tiffany turned to us at this point and made our decision far easier with this blunt assessment, “I’m sorry but I just can’t let you buy this house. It will be a money pit.”

So this two week white knuckle thrill ride is over. We have dodged a bullet. We are also very disappointed. In many ways we had already taken possession of the place in our hearts. But so many red flags had crept up over the past several days we both knew that there was a chance it wouldn’t work. When that worry becomes reality its hard to take.

But take it we will. Its not the end of the world. We will be back in six weeks for our fall trip, and as long as On The Water In Maine stays in business we will continue to rent every summer and fall for as far as the eye can see. Maybe something else will pop up when we least expect.

A Culinary Recap

Our time here is drawing to a close. Friday we will hit the road for good old Short Pump. Now seems like just as good a time as any to memorialize our culinary greatest hits of Maine 2023. The following photographs represent some of the highlights. There were lots of old favorites but also some new places we discovered this year. As a result of all this deliciousness, there will be just a bit more of us returning than there was that left—an annoying souvenir, but worth every calorie!

There was soooo much more, but I only have so much bandwidth here at Loon Landing!