The Presidential Debate Debacle

Ok, so last night there was a presidential debate that I didn’t watch because, well…ewww. Look, I’m in Maine and there are certain privileges and responsibilities that come with it, primarily the fact that you never intentionally expose yourself to things that have the potential to inflict mental, emotional, existential or physical trauma to either you or your loved ones. At the very top of the list of such things would be presidential debates. So, Pam and I abstained. Instead Pam busied herself with her cross-stitch project while I tore into a paperback I found in the house library entitled The Couple Next Door. Two chapters in it dawned on me that I had already read this book a couple years ago, sprawled out on the exact same sofa! It was Deja-vu all over again.

While all of this excitement was happening the wind began to pick up. The gusts seemed to shake the house. The weather people had been calling for a clear but (very) windy day on Friday, so maybe the wind had arrived early, I remember thinking right before going to bed. When I woke up this morning at 5:00 it was still howling. The thought occurred to me, maybe it’s an ill-wind that blows across this lake. Perhaps something terrible has happened somewhere and this howling wind was our warning. The next thing that popped in my head after the “something terrible” thing was—“wait, there was a presidential debate last night!”

After brewing some coffee and trying to summon up some courage, I decided to do my civic duty and find out how the debate went. Maybe one of them had a heart attack on stage. Maybe Trump spontaneously exploded in the middle of one of his outrageous whoppers, or perhaps Biden wandered off the stage asking why he wasn’t given any bingo cards. 

To educate myself I travelled the slow internet to several different platforms that I barely trust and a couple more that I don’t trust at all but each had the same basic theme—“the president bombed” Sure, Trump told one laughable lie after another. One fact-checker counted 30 from his Orangeness, while tallying only 9 from Biden. But the big story was that Democrats are left in full panic mode over what to do about their nominee. 

Then I made the grave mistake of watching some video highlights of the event. I’m not sure I will ever recover. Something close to a miracle will be needed to rescue our Republic from the coming unprecedented election debacle. The world’s most powerful economic and military power is about to have an election featuring a congenitally lying convicted felon vs. a doddering, slack jawed old fool who can hardly string one coherent sentence together.

This country needs to be placed in Time Out. The Republican and Democrat parties need to be sent to their rooms and told that they will not be let out until they have nominated two new candidates, neither of whom can be over the age of 60. Maybe something like Marco Rubio v. Gavin Newsome or Ocasio-Cortez v. Marjorie Taylor Greene. As terrifying as those two contests might appear to be at first glance, none of those people have criminal records and none of them are on Social Security and all four of them will actually have to live with the consequences of whatever half-witted laws they inflict on the country while in office, unlike either Trump or Biden who are neither very long for this world.

There. That’s my take on our politics. Now I will have to figure out how to deal with 25 mph gusts whipping off this lake all day. I knew I should have packed those long sleeve shirts!!

Never Give up on a Sunset

There’s a lesson that this lake teaches us every year…be patient. Considering how many years we have been coming here you would think we would know it by now. But there we were last night, in class again.

Pam headed out for her sunset paddle too early. Our neighbor, Michael, took this picture with his real camera. That’s her out there with the sun still over an hour away from slipping past the horizon. 

But then it got hazy and the clouds started to thicken. By the time she returned to the dock we were both thinking that the sunset would be a dud. Suddenly, just as we settled in our chairs for the evening we noticed a brightness in the room…

None of the pictures I took were able to capture it. From this point it began to expand north and south. Multiple colors began to arrive, painting the cloud layers with new light, setting the lake on fire. You’ll have to take my word for it, or come see for yourself. 

Looking at these two photographs, its hard to believe they were taken on the same evening, on the same lake. A mere hour made that much difference. We are always surprised by this. We shouldn’t be. We watched this unfold from about 8:15 until 9:00. Every time we looked something had changed, something we hadn’t noticed before, something new and astonishing. 

The experience has gotten me thinking, sometimes a dangerous thing. How often have I given up on something prematurely, some thorny situation, a difficult project, even another human being? Suppose I had just stepped back and given the situation time to grow? Would a bit of patience have rewarded me? Living on this lake forces you to be patient. There is no other option. The weather changes on a dime, so you wait until it blows over because it always does. Yesterday started calm, turned windy, started with clear blue skies only to have a torrential downpour rumble through for 30 minutes in the middle of the afternoon, then clear out again. By nightfall, the lake was once again as still as glass. Patience.

Back home I tend to want everything five minutes ago. I have a difficult time waiting for anything. Why should I? Nearly everything a human being could want or need is available to me after a two minute drive. I have become accustomed to instant gratification. FedEx and UPS are on my payroll and my internet is as fast as lightening. But not up here. It takes time to do anything. There are two photographs in this blog. It will take a while to download. Might have to try several times before it works. The result of it all is that I am slowing down. Step by step my pace of living is starting to match my enviroment. This morning I will finish my second Kristin Hannah novel in the four days since we arrived. My screen time has plummeted and with it what feels like a burden is lifting.

Hitting Our Stride

We have hit our stride here on Quantabacook. The skies have cleared, Lucy has had her first swim, I’ve read my first book, caught my first fish, and I have cooked a couple meals on the grill. I have not left the lake since arriving here 3 days ago, Pam has only twice to pick up groceries. I suppose at some point we will head into Camden for breakfast or something, but there’s no rush. Pam has been busy with a new cross-stitch project. We are two matches into our annual Rummikub competition. If this all sounds a little, well…boring, then you just don’t get it. And, that’s ok. Lake life in Maine isn’t for everyone.

If Lucy could talk she could probably explain the vibe a lot better than I can. This was from yesterday afternoon. The sun had finally come out so I took the kayak out for some fishing and of course, she jumped off the dock after me before Pam could stop her. She had waited long enough apparently.

On my way back in I was surprised by the silent, sudden appearance of these two loons who popped up out of the silken waters maybe 15 feet in front of me. They stared at me for a moment then lowered their elegant necks and disappeared without leaving the slightest ripple on the water’s surface. Magical.

I took this one this morning around 5:45, the first blue sky morning since we arrived. This is looking south, down towards Loon Landing. Today I will kayak down to the dam to fish. I will stop by and see if Keith and Carolyn are home. On my way back I will paddle against the western shore looking for Fernwood Cottage where we will be spending 4 weeks in July. We are told by the constantly changing weather forecast that today and tomorrow the high temperature will be 83, with highs falling back into the 70’s after that.

We will manage…somehow.

Lucy’s Magic Blanket

There are only two days that we “work” in Maine. Arrival day and departure day. Everything else is relaxation and the long slow process of undoing the damage that the rest of the year does to our dispositions. Today, being arrival day, was a work day.

After two days and 14 hours on the road covering 850 miles, we arrived at the Fraternity General store to pick up the sandwiches we had ordered twenty minutes earlier from Pam’s cellphone. Then another four minute drive to Summer Dreams. It was 62 degrees and misting rain. Lucy was excited and agitated at once. Before unloading the car, we reveled in this delightful cabin, walking through every room reacquainting ourselves with its charms. Then we sat down and ate lunch while Lucy paced around the house. 

Once we got the car unloaded, Pam drove to Hannaford’s in Belfast to buy groceries from the meticulous list she had compiled as soon as we got on 295 outside of Portland. I stayed at the cabin unpacking while Lucy roamed and sniffed every square inch of the place, letting out an occasional mournful whine at the fact that Mom had left. When we are in Maine, while Lucy doesn’t mind being left alone, she does not at all like it when one of us leaves. She believes that it is her job to keep all three of us together. Last night at the hotel, we had a two room suite, so Lucy plopped herself down near the interconnecting doorway so she could keep a sharp eye on both of us at the same time!

Pam finally got back from the grocery store, to Lucy’s great relief, but still she was not completely relaxed. She continued her nervous wandering around the house.

Then Pam unpacked Lucy’s designated light teal blanket, the one that we always use to cover sofas where Lucy intends to sleep. She knows this blanket through and through. She knows the look, the feel and the smell. Pam covered the sofa in the front room of the house, the one where Pam and I sit at night, the one that faces the lake. As soon as the blanket was in place, Lucy found it and launched herself up. Finally, she knew her place. Her blanket had arrived and now she was home…

This progression didn’t take long. She is sleeping through her usually etched-in-stone dinner hour.

The next couple of days promise to be chilly and rainy. This is not bad news. There is beautiful weather in the forecast later in the week. Rainy weather at the beginning of a trip gives us time to slow down, time to get acclimated to a different way of living. Our neighbor saw me out on the dock earlier, recognized me from past years and said, “Welcome to Maine.” I think that maybe all of us need a special blanket that tells us where we belong, something that reminds us that we are home and all is well.

Officially Geeked

I’ve got a long to-do list today. We are 48 hours out from the trip and today I’ll do most of the harder physical things that need to be done before we leave. That way, Thursday’s activities will have a smaller chance of throwing my back out. Such are the adjustments I’ve learned to make as I have gotten older. Driving 860 miles over a day and a half makes demands on my back, hamstrings, and nerves that were never a thing back in the day. Now, I have to get a massage the day before I leave. Grrr…

I will cut the grass today, the comprehensive deluxe package including trimming and gathering up sticks and pine cones. I have to leave the place spotless before I hand over maintenance to Cash-Man, my neighbor’s strapping boy who will be responsible for its care and feeding while I’m gone. Cash and his two adorable sisters have been my “practice grandchildren” and I their practice Grandfather for over ten years now. I must say that the three of them are getting harder and harder to buy presents for when we are in Maine. They’ve gotten so stinking big and their tastes have changed. 

Lucy heads to the groomers this morning. I’ve been telling her for days now and she is pumped. Nothing like a trip to the doggie beauty parlor for her special Maine cut.

I still have some last minute things to get buttoned up at the office, so I will go in this afternoon for a bit and say my farewells to everyone. Unlike the aforementioned practice grandchildren, the girls at the office are super easy to buy for. They all want blueberry jam, and maple syrup and anything else edible.

I will make one last visit to the Thrift store to bring treats to the saints who volunteer there every day.

I will then start packing my stuff, and trying really hard to look like I’m thinking it all through carefully instead of merely throwing a bunch of random t-shirts and gym shorts in my suitcase. I do this to impress Pam who has for days now been methodically laying out a variety of potential outfits all over several beds in our house. She packs for Maine like a NASA engineer making a flight plan to Mars. Although it should be noted that while I have on occasion forgotten things due to my ADHD packing style, it was my wife who left every single one of her bathing suits at home one year and her contacts the next year. Of course she would counter with something like—“ perhaps if I didn’t have to check up on your unorganized mess of a suitcase, I would have been less distracted.” Excellent point.

The time is growing short. The excitement is building. And I can hardly believe I am still this geeked up over a trip I have made at least 40 times in my life.

My Father’s Day Gifts

For Father’s Day, I got to video chat with each of my kids, who still insist on living in other states despite the manifold blessings to be had by living closer to their mother and me. Be that as it may, it was wonderful seeing their faces and catching up. Kaitlin called while her and Jon were driving somewhere in Columbia. Patrick called from his living room, sitting next to Sarah, only to have their Golden boy Frisco pounce between them when he first heard Pop’s voice. Adorable.

So, they both bought me special Father’s Day gifts. I dare say that no father out there got better gifts than I did. This is because my children know me so well. Why? Well, it’s basically the fact that I’m not very complicated. I’m pretty easy to figure out, I’m nobody’s enigma…just your basic garden variety Dad. Consequently, each of them gave me perfect gifts, both of which reflected the personality of the giver. First up…Kaitlin.

Cannot wait to read this since I’ve heard nothing but good things about it. Of course she took special care when sending this photograph to include the fact that Ms. Hannah’s book has 122,951 ratings, while mine has…8. Oversight? Coincidence? I think not. Then she included a gift card to Barnes and Noble with a special reminder to me…

This particular apple came to rest against the very stump of the tree.

Then there’s my only son, Patrick. His gift was uniquely satisfying since it includes some of the finest things on earth…

That’s right. This is exactly what it looks like…2 pounds of bacon, a pound of sausage patties, a pound of loose country sausage and a pound of loose Chorizo, all from a local Nashville meat store, shipped in dry ice directly to my doorstep. He knows full well my love of any kind of meat derived from pigs. He also loves nothing more than supporting local businesses while giving the finger to national chains—a chip off the old block! The only downside to this fabulous gift is that it will most likely arrive the same day we leave for Maine.

So, I hope all you dads out there had a wonderful time yesterday. I certainly did!

Like a Child…

This photograph was taken on July 7, 2019. It was 8:30 in the evening after a long delightful day of fishing, kayaking and lounging on floats in the cool water of Quantabacook. I was standing on the deck at Loon Landing, and took this picture with my cellphone. I remember walking out to that chair on the dock after I took the picture. I watched the sky travel through the stages of light until it was finally just an orange flame just above the tree line across the way. I watched the water bugs dancing on the water’s surface making it look like it was sprinkling rain. I heard the hum of insects high in the pines on the shore behind me, then the plaintive call of loons coming from the southern end of the lake. It was a cool night. I wore long sleeves

This is not an uncommon sight on Quanty. Happens all the time. It’s one reason we hesitate to make plans that involve leaving for too long in the evenings. We don’t want to miss it, even though it seems we have had a front row seat for this majesty hundreds of times. It doesn’t grow old. We never get accustomed to these sunsets. They always manage to leave us breathless. I never want to be the guy for whom looking upon this kind of beauty becomes passé. I always want to feel a bit like a child on Christmas morning when this happens.

Don’t you?