Birthday Girl

Today is Pam’s birthday. I can hardly remember a time when we have been anywhere other than Maine to celebrate it and it’s just as well. I shopped for her presents in town yesterday. Hope she likes what I bought.

She started the day the way she always does up here, with her 7:30 kayak paddle…

She slips out of our little cove and disappears around the corner and doesn’t return until around 9 or so. What she does out there every morning is anyone’s guess. When I kayak its to fish. With Pam its more like she’s surveying her kingdom, checking up on the loons or something. When she gets back this morning there will be a pancake breakfast waiting for her courtesy of Ron and Paula. Then Paula will be taking her out for a shopping trip to the little red store in Lincolnville Center. Tonight we have a reservation outside at Fresh & Company. To honor her, God has presented us with the best weather day since we arrived four weeks ago. It was 60 degrees this morning at 6:00 and the high temperature today will be 80 with no humidity and light winds—finally—from the north!

I have known her since she was 10 years old, fell in love with this stunning blue-eyed beauty over 40 years ago when she looked like this. Can you blame me? But when you fall in love with someone you take a big risk, right? You fall in love with a person at a point in time, the person they are then. But, the risk you take is —what happens if the person they become ends up being horrible? After all, people don’t just stop growing and evolving as they age. Suppose the person you fall in love with evolves into a selfish, arrogant monster. I exaggerate but only a little. I mean, all of us are essentially under construction, a process that never truly ends. But in this regard I needn’t have worried. Pam is a better human being today than she was when I fell in love with her. I hope I am too, but that jury is still out.

So, the happiest of birthdays to this incredible human being!

A Meh Day

Today was one of the rare meh days here on Quantabacook. You wake up after a restless night of fitful sleep. It’s humid outside and a bit warm, almost sticky. Yes, I’m aware that practically everywhere else in America you have it much worse than we do, still the weather forecast was calling for upper 80’s with humidity. We have been spoiled by decidedly lower humidity as well as lower temperatures. Both Pam and I were out of sorts. We put very little thought into our adhoc plan to get some breakfast at Fraternity Village. After eggs and bacon we decided to drive into Camden to see if I could pick up some cheap fishing gear at Reny’s. No such luck. Instead, I found some ridiculously overpriced fishing gear at Maine Sport. Serves me right for hooking more limbs than fish of late. Anyway, as we were walking to the parking lot Pam says to me, “Let’s go to Camden Hills State Park and walk on the Shore Trail.”

It is one of our favorite and most beloved spots in the Mid-Coast area. In fact, a scene from my second novel, Saving Jack, takes place there. Like so many other spots around here it is filled with magic. We arrived at 11:00 and had the place literally to ourselves.

From the parking lot you enter into thick woods of towering pines. There is a stairway made from rocks and pine needles that you follow. In the distance you can hear the ocean and each step you take, the briny air from it becomes more dominant. Eventually through a break in the trees you see Penobscot Bay…

The first thing we noticed was the cooler temperatures the closer we got to the water. There was a great mixing and swirling of the winds above us, a fresh breeze from the direction of Mt. Battie with the powerful winds from the bay. Then we made our way down the great stone steps to the rocks below. They call the town of Camden, Where the Mountains Meet the Sea. The only other place where this happens on the Atlantic Ocean is in South America. It is quite a sight to see, especially when you’re having a meh day. 

I took the following picture once I had climbed down the rocks to the place where the waves were crashing. When I turned around I saw Pam sitting on a rock. The enormity of this place makes you feel so small…

Its hard to describe the sensation that comes over you the first time you break through those trees and see the sparkling blue waters of the bay, the massive rocks and the waves crashing against them when just a few minutes before you were walking through a forest. So, what was Pam looking at?

We sat down together on that rock. After a while I laid back and closed my eyes. After thirty minutes neither of us were ready to leave but we managed to get to our feet and head back to camp. On the way back through Camden we stopped to buy slices of Raspberry and Blueberry pie from the Camden Deli, then a bit further down the road, some sandwiches from the 207 Eats food truck.

So much for a meh day.

This Is Who We Are

We enjoyed a dinner of toasted tuna rolls and leftover side dishes from earlier in the week as the cool air from the lake whispered through the trees. It had been a very good day spent frolicking on the lake. Somebody suggested that we see if we can find the movie, On Golden Pond, that maybe it would be the perfect movie to watch after such a day. After dinner I took a shower, wondering how the old classic from 1982 would hold up after all these years. When I walked into the living room all fresh and clean shaven, Pam and Paula were huddled over their cell phones while the television screen in the corner screamed the headline about an assassination attempt on Former President Donald Trump. 

I watched the video, heard the sound of firecrackers and saw him reach for his ear then drop down behind the lectern. I watched the Secret Service storm the stage, eventually lift the man up, whisking him away to a black SUV. I saw him clinch his fist and yell at the crowd, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

And just like that…this national moment of chaos and despair just got immeasurably worse.

The photograph of Trump, face bloodied by a would-be assassin’s bullet, fist raised in defiance and anger, will become an icon. I am left with a profound sadness and memories of my parents. As a five year old child one of my very first memories of any kind was the ashen-faced reaction of Mom and Dad the day John F. Kennedy was killed. Then, almost twenty years later, I walked in the house and saw my father standing alone in front of our old black and white RCA Victor watching a breaking news report about Ronald Reagan being shot and whisked off to surgery at a nearby hospital. My dad had tears in his eyes. One a Democrat, the other a Republican, but both Presidents. Dad made a point to me about respecting the office over the man. I have never forgotten the scene, my Dad never having been much of a cryer.

We eventually settled down from all the news and watched the movie. It was transcendently beautiful. From the very first scene to watching the credits roll over the shimmering water, I was on the edge of remarkable emotion. Henry Fonda. Katherine Hepburn. A story about aging and family and a magical place that brings them together. It was a lot to process at the end of such a day.

Then, I was awakened by the morning sun filtering through the blinds. I glanced at the bedside clock…5:22. I got up, threw some clothes on and walked down to the lake. The sun had just risen…

I am at the point in my life where the sight of any politician on my tv screen makes me almost physically ill, none more so than Donald Trump. I have made my views on this man abundantly clear in this space over the past eight years. But, he was our President and very well may be again. Like my father before me, I respect the office he held, and hate seeing it diminished by violence. The only thing that feels different now is that nobody is shocked by this. Deep down, most people in America who have been paying attention expected this. I know I did. I wasn’t sure which one of them would get shot at, but I was sure one of them would before Election Day. The painful truth of the moment is—this is who we are now.

But, as Ernest Hemingway reminded us…the sun also rises. Today is a new day and the possibilities are endless. As I stood on the dock watching the sun peaking over the pines I said a prayer for my country.

Decisions, Decisions

Ok, some big decisions are going to need to be made today with regards to tomorrow, Saturday, July 13th, 2024. So far, the only thing that has been firmly established is the time for me to pickup our donut order at Ruckus Donuts in Rockland. That would be 7:30am. You read that right…this is a donut order, one that had to be placed on or before 7:30 this morning for pickup 24 hours later. This is a supply and demand phenomenon, this Ruckus Donuts outfit.

But, after our donuts there’s a universe of entertainment options available to us. All we have to do is prioritize them, do a cost/benefit analysis and make a command decision. Here are just a few of our options:

1. The North Atlantic Blues Festival in Rockland, Maine. This prestigious event will be headlined by Buckwheat Zydeco. I mean, how many chances are you gonna get to hear him??

2. The Moxie Festival at Beaver Park up in Lisbon, Maine. This event celebrates a truly horrible tasting soft drink indigenous to Maine…

Lest you dismiss this as not a viable option for our entertainment dollars, I probably should mention that there will be a…

3. Union Fair’s Maine Wild Blueberry Festival. How many times can I miss this?

4. Lincolnville’s Strawberry Festival and Parade. Last year we saw this parade and made the ghastly mistake of thinking we had time to head into Camden for breakfast first before attending the festival. Unfortunately, by the time we made it back to Lincolnville every single strawberry and every derivative dish featuring strawberries had been completely sold out.

5. Searsmont Library Book Fair and Sale. I love books, and Searsmont is our hometown of sorts here in Maine so shouldn’t charity begin at home?

Of course, as is nearly always the case, the weather forecast for tomorrow calls for gorgeous lake conditions. This just makes this decision all that much more difficult since it introduces a sixth viable option…

6. The “Lay around on floats on the lake all day soaking up the sun” Festival on Quantabacook Lake, or LAOFOTLADSUTS Day, as we like to call it. It features lazy white folks doing nothing productive while their dog swims in circles around them. Lunch will most likely come from Fraternity Village General store since none of the aforementioned white folks are industrious enough to actually make something.

So…what should we do? We are open to suggestions.

One-Eyed Jack

I have come to believe that historically cold and snowy places have a tendency to bake in a certain weirdness in the population. Take Maine for instance. This place is an icebox for five long months in the late fall and winter. Snow is everywhere, all the lakes freeze over, and after that the spring brings mud and lots of it. So what are a people to do when faced with this sort of dreariness? Well, for starters, they do stuff like this…

Meet One-Eyed Jack, an otherwise nondescript maple tree here at Fernwood Cottage. Someone—it would be presumptuous to assume its the owner of Fernwood—went to the trouble of adorning this tree a full twelve feet from the ground. The droopy eye, puckered lips and aristocratic nose suggest a level of sophistication. Did he/she start out with two eyes only to lose one during a particularly violent winter storm or was he born this way? It only adds to the mystery. It would be one thing if this was a one off. But in our years up here we have encountered these type of anomalies all over the Maine woods. There was one on a gravel path at Crawford Pond several years back who we fondly nicknamed Donald Trunk. You take enough hikes down random trails up here and you will meet all manner of decorated trees, weird stick men engaging in sword fights, the occasional display of gnomes decorated with outlandish beads and trinkets. It’s like a museum of oddities.

This guy here, One-Eyed Jack, is placed directly in the line of sight of whoever happens to be cooking dinner on the grill out on the back deck. At first it’s kinda cool, but after a while you start to think that he’s mocking you—“Look at this Virginian trying to cook steaks on the grill. He wouldn’t last ten minutes here in February. And how about that accent?! What a hick!” You can practically smell his attitude! 

But the snarky vibe that this guy gives off isn’t limited to dinner time. Yesterday I went for a kayak trip that was quite extensive…

 

It took over an hour and a half to paddle this 5.3 miles. As I was walking up the path to the cabin I passed One-Eyed Jack and could have sworn I heard him say…If you were a real Mainer you would have gone all the way around the lake. What a wuss!! It could have been my imagination, but honestly I wouldn’t put anything past him.

A Gorgeous Morning and an Annoying Swimmer

This is my view at the moment. It’s only my second morning here and yesterday’s was plagued by that rarest of conditions up here—humidity. But this morning, order has been gloriously restored. 67 degrees and a cool dry breeze drifts through these screens. The only ripple on the lake is being made by a single swimmer, slowly cutting through the silky water, a wide v-shaped wake drifting behind. The nerve of that guy, reminding the rest of us how out of shape and lazy we are. He probably will swim five miles then head back to his camp and eat plain yogurt for breakfast. Me? I’m thinking about doing some pushups, then I’ll broil up four English muffin halves, slather them with peanut butter and jam and thank Almighty God that I will never be forced to choke down yogurt in this or any other life.

It’s hard to concentrate on writing this blog out here on this porch. Except for triathlon dude, every sound I’m hearing is being made by something other than human beings. I am surrounded by a chorus of birdsongs, four specific melodies that I can pick out and a lone woodpecker tapping away in the distance. Every once in a while a loon call drifts across the lake. The clouds in the distance are slowly taking on a pink and orange glow which, blending in with the Carolina blue morning sky, reminds me of the cotton candy stand at the State Fair. Now that buzz-kill bro is gone the lake is still again, the only blemish coming from insects touching down here and there, their presence sending tiny rings out on the water’s surface. Now, another woodpecker, closer and from the north, this one whacking a softer tree. It’s almost unbearably beautiful.

I got my first sales numbers in from my publisher for A Life of Dreams. They weren’t very good. It was only for the month of May but still, I couldn’t help being disappointed. I’m a competitive guy. I’ve generally succeeded at most things I’ve taken on in this life, so I naturally took the low sales numbers personally. But then last night I got a text from a friend who wanted to let me know that her and her husband had just finished reading the book and they both loved it. She was by no means the first reader to tell me that the story had brought her to tears. The encouragement of her words helped my sour mood with the sales numbers. It also reminded me that I am not even halfway through spending six weeks in Maine and feeling sorry for myself is a very bad look. 

And here comes Mister Showoff back from his Olympic trial run…I must say that his swimming stroke looks quite awkward and choppy. Wait..hold on…it’s a woman. Great. Oh, and now that I’ve got the binoculars out I can see that she is a quite elderly woman. Wonderful. Yeah, well…but is she happy? That’s what I want to know. But, even if she is, there’s a bowl of plain yogurt in her immediate future. Pssshh! No thanks!

Moved In at Fernwood Cottage

Today was moving day #2. We packed up and left Summer Dreams around 9:00 am and took up residence at Fernwood Cottage on the west side of Quantabacook. There will be pictures to come later. So far we are loving the place. Also, Ron and Paula arrived today much to the delight of Lucy who continues to live her best life here at the lake.

This blog is about the one indispensable institution in the town of Searsmont—especially on moving day. Of course, I could only be referring to the Fraternity General Store. For lunch I picked up sandwiches, for dinner we ordered a pizza. Each meal was delicious and reasonably priced. The store is only 1.5 miles from our camp. Around 6:00 we were all sitting on the dock enjoying the gorgeous views and feeling the delightfully cool breezes blowing in our faces when someone said something about what we were going to do about dinner. Within a few minutes Pam was on her cell phone with Fraternity ordering our pizza and was told that it would be ready for pickup in 30 minutes. Paula made the wry observation of how incredible that we could be in such a secluded slice of Maine natural beauty and be enjoying a slice of fresh pizza in a mere thirty minutes!

So, I thought I would share with all of you just what sort of place Fraternity is. Each town, village, and glorified intersection in rural Maine has a store very much like Fraternity General…

As the sign says, it’s a combination cafe/general store/deli-bakery/produce stand/ pizza joint. Oh, and in its spare time it’s also a game inspection station.

This bakery produces some killer delicacies, everything from whoopi pies to blueberry muffins. But the real action takes place in this piping hot kitchen where an assortment or sandwiches, Italian subs and pizzas are expertly prepared on a daily basis.

Now, we try not to make a habit of eating meals from Fraternity. It’s the kind of food that could put 25 pounds on you quicker than a knife fight in a phone booth. But, when you’ve packed up one house, unpacked at another and are tired and sweaty, it’s nearly the best food in the world.

I do have one photo to share from our new home. This one was taken down near the dock around 7:30 or so. Look at the big smile on Lucy’s face, hoping that Uncle Ron might reel in a fish!!