Y’all…this weather!

We are starting to almost feel guilty about the weather we have had since we arrived 5 days ago. Each morning we wake up to a chilly low 50’s experience. We make sure to wear long sleeve shirts and long pants pajamas. At 6:00 am the lake is as smooth as glass. I brew some coffee and empty the tiny dish washer. Then I take my coffee out on the deck and the complete stillness of morning. The sun rises from behind me and I wait for it to light up the windows of the camps across the lake, which it does around 6:45.

By the time I’m ready to take the kayak out for some fishing around 9:30 or 10:00 its in the mid 60’s and the lake is sparkling with sunshine and a few ripples have started to appear. When I head back to camp a bit after 11:30 it’s a delightful 75 and a light breeze has started to blow. We eat our lunch at the table on the deck, then Pam goes down to read her book in one of those Adirondack chairs. I do some writing and then take a nap. 

The late afternoon temperatures reach the upper 70’s and yesterday touched 81. The only clouds that make an appearance are the oddly shaped whispy ones that look like the brush strokes of a skilled artist. There has been no rain of any kind, not even the suggestion of the possibility of rain in these five days. That can’t hold up and the lake is a bit low and could use some rain.

Then something wonderful happens. The evening sneaks up on you here in Maine this time of year. When we were here this summer it stayed light until nearly 9:00. But in the Fall, the sun lowers itself close to the tree line across the lake around 6:15. Last night I sat down on the dock about that time to take in the sunset. Forty minutes later it was over amidst splashes of pink, lavender and purple. In one short hour the temperature had dropped 10 degrees and once again it was time for long pants.

And that is what every single day has been like since we arrived last Friday. It’s an embarrassment of riches but not the monetary kind that so often leads to despair and disappointment. These riches are eternal and transcendent, the kind of experience that stays with you forever.

First Report From Maine

The two day journey went off without incident. There were no major backups (except for the accursed Connecticut Bury’s—a blogpost for another day), no accidents and no speeding tickets. Although, each time Pam and I got out of the car for a break we looked like two octogenarians on leave from the nursing home. It was like trying to unfold a card table with rusty legs. Of course, driving over ten hours in one day with only two stops might be a travel strategy I need to revisit at this stage of life. But, the bottom line is, it was a pleasant trip.

Yesterday, I astonished my wife by eagerly agreeing to her suggestion of a side trip into Kennebunkport for lunch and some sightseeing. This, despite the fact that Kennebunkport was not on the way and in fact added over an hour to the trip. I tried to explain to her that this was me rehearsing for my soon to be roll of being retired, a chance for me to reinvent myself by trying new things, and nothing for me could be any newer than being diverted from my goal of conquering the trip!! I’ve never bought in to the its the journey, not the destination malarkey, but although I am certainly an old dog, I can learn new tricks.

This unassuming place is none other than one of the most celebrated eateries in all of Maine, Mabel’s Lobster Claw, one of Barbara Bush’s favorite hangouts back in the day. The reviews were off the charts so we gave it a shot. I got the clam chowder and Pam got a lobster roll. This citation was deservered…

It is my intention to order clam chowder at every place we go on this trip and rate them to see who has the best. It’s going to be hard to beat Mabel’s.

Just down the street from Mabel’s was this adorable little beach. The sky was clear, a soft breeze blowing and 78 degrees. Very much worth the hour diversion.

But then finally we arrived at this place…

It’s difficult for me to explain the feeling that comes over us when we arrive at this place. Despite many visits it never changes. There is magic here, a mystical vibe that’s impossible to define. We spent most of the afternoon unpacking and organizing the place to suit us. Then we ordered pizza from Fraternity and a half gallon of Cappuccino Crunch ice cream—the diet of two people who aren’t counting calories and proud of it. 

This morning I walked into the living room at 5:45. The sun was just starting to light up the lake. There were a few puffs of mist rolling across the surface of the water. It was 54 degrees. As I stood on the deck taking it all in I was overcome with a profound sense of gratitude, that I get to do this. What on earth have I ever done to deserve it? 

Nothing, that’s what…proof positive that God is merciful.

Best. Photograph. Ever.

Heading out for Maine this morning. My wife has been working like a slave to get everything ready for the journey. She has cleaned the house, packed with the meticulous attention to detail of a surgeon, as well as attending to all of the extra details associated with leaving Lucy here with a full-time pet sitter. Yes, Lucy will not be coming along with us for the Fall trip, a fact that she has not yet become aware of as I write this. There are lots of reasons for this. When we are here in the Fall we spend less time on and in the lake and much more time on excursions in and around Mid-Coast Maine. Lucy, not being a huge fan of excursions spends a lot of time alone at the house. Plus, she is getting older and is probably not up to two Maine trips in one year anymore. I will miss her terribly, but it’s the right decision.

Anyway, when we arrive at Loon Landing on Friday afternoon and after a day or so of unpacking and gettin the place set up to our liking, this woman will magically appear on the deck…

This is my favorite photograph of my wife. I took it 7 years ago during a Fall trip. I don’t think she was happy about me taking her picture without fair warning which might explain the fist on her hip stance. But she couldn’t help looking fabulous. Nobody looks better than Pam Dunnevant with Quantabacook in the background. And that apron…well that just puts this one over the top, don’t you think?

Debate Change Any Minds?

I didn’t watch the debate last night. Pam did because she’s braver than me. I spent the time finishing up a difficult chapter in the book I’m currently writing. It took me nearly two hours to write 750 words. It was excruciating…but nowhere near as excruciating as watching that debate would have been.

But, this morning my Facebook feed is full of people lamenting the bias of the ABC moderator. This can only mean one thing—Trump must have gotten his ass kicked. Not that it matters one way or the other. I’m not sure anyone’s mind was changed. Was yours? I’m truly curious to hear from anyone out there who watched the debate with an open mind, someone who was undecided or on the fence going in and came away having made a decision of who to vote for. What did it for you? What did either one of them say that changed your mind? What was it that clinched the deal for you? I would be fascinated to hear your story. In fact, I might even devote a future blog post to the topic: I watched the debate and have decided that I’m voting for _________.

Calm Before the Storm

This will be a busy week, lots of loose ends to tie up before we leave for Maine. I know what you’re probably thinking…Didn’t they just get back from Maine? Yes, we spent six weeks up there for our summer trip. This one is our Fall trip. Same place, different season…and that makes all the difference.

We arrive on the 13th of September and leave on the 12th of October. We will get to watch the season unfold on the lake. By the last week the leaves will be at their peak. When we get home we’ll get to watch it all over again in Short Pump.

There are many things we do during the Fall that we can’t do in the summer.

This, for one thing.

The coziness of Loon Landing in the Fall is one of its many virtues. But the best part of Maine in Autumn is that these type of photographs are routine…

By the time the calendar flips into October the temperatures drop up here. The sweaters come out. We go for walking tours of this place and that. We do more touring in the Fall, especially if the wind picks up on Quantabacook. We eat out more often. It’s a different vibe altogether, and we love every minute of it.

This year Patrick and Sarah will be up for a week. It’s been two years since they’ve been with us in Maine, and it will be their first time in the Fall. Can’t wait to show the place off. Of course, Paula and Ron will be up for a week too.

When we arrive back home life will accelerate rapidly for both of us. Pam’s school job starts up again the first day back, and I will be launched into the last couple of months of my business career, all while preparing for the holidays. So these four weeks at Loon Landing will truly represent the calm before the storm.

Always Bring an Extra Bag

The other day I was out perambulating Miss Lucy. I started out in the culdesac near my house and Lucy obliged with a truly prodigious pile of excrement which I gathered up in the poop bag I had brought with me. I temporarily deposited the bag next to my mailbox, as is my common practice, and continued our walk. As we made our way down Aprilbud Drive the thought entered my head that I had not brought a second bag for the trip. For a minute a sense of dread passed through my mind, as memories of previous “one poop bag” walks had been attempted with disastrous results. But, surely after the mountain of feces I had just collected from her, I would be safe this time, I told myself.

But, as is often the case where Lucy is concerned, the worst case scenario usually prevails. So there we were walking past the Oley’s beautifully maintained, meticulously groomed yard, when Lucy decides it’s time for round two. A one sided conversation ensued:

Me: Seriously, Lucy? Are you kidding me right now? 

Lucy: …..crickets……

Me: So now I’m gonna have to go all the way back to the house to get another poop bag, then come all the way back here to clean up after you?? How rude?!

Lucy:….low growl after big stretch….

Lucky for me, a sweet neighbor had just left her house next door to walk her dog and offered me a spare bag, saving me the trouble of the return trip. After dropping the completely purged Lucy back home I continued on my 6 mile walk without further embarrassment…except for one thing. On two other occasions I nearly stepped in even more canine bowel movements. As someone who walks this neighborhood religiously this is a relatively new phenomenon. We Wythe-Traceians have a pretty good record of cleaning up after our pups. As someone who has walked through several of our surrounding neighborhoods I can attest to the fact that we compare favorably with most in this regard! The sudden appearance of un-bagged doggie number twos can only mean one of two things…either dogs are roaming the neighborhood unleashed or one or more dog owners have temporarily taken leave of their senses, forgetting the number one rule of dog ownership in the suburbs—never leave your dog’s dumps in the streets! (Alert readers will note the great lengths I have gone to in this post trying to avoid the word shit). 

So, just a heads up to all of our fantastic neighbors, always bring at least two poop bags when walking your dogs. I could tell you about the time Lucy went through three bags in one thirty minute walk, but that’s a story for another day!

Happy walking, everyone!

To Whom Much is Given

Tomorrow is Labor Day, my last official one while still an active member of the working world. Since my first full-time, non-summer job was one I took during my freshman year at University of Richmond, it turns out that my working life encompassed the years from 1977-2024. Any inspection of those years will conclude that I had it much better than most of my ancestors, and maybe slightly worse than a much smaller number. I was fortunate not to have been of soldiering age during any major or minor wars. I never had to experience anything approaching the difficulties of the Great Depression. My working career coincided with no significant illnesses or debilitating diseases. In my 47 years of working I cashed exactly one unemployment check. I have never been fired. I have never once asked anyone for a raise. I have never had to plead for paid vacation because it has never been available to me. For the last 32 years of my career I have not been provided with any benefits like health insurance, a 401-k, or pension plan of any kind, a secretary, assistant or office. All of these things I was responsible for providing myself. In addition, as a self-employed business owner I was responsible for both the employee and employer contributions to Social Security. But this was the life I chose. I wanted to be my own boss, and it wasn’t cheap.

If I had it to do all over again… I would. I didn’t have the personality type required to work for anyone else. I was too stubborn, too unwilling to give away any of my autonomy to someone who may or may not have had my best interest at heart. For my way of thinking…benefits and a guaranteed paycheck didn’t seem worth it. I fully understand why so many chose differently than I did. I feel no sense of superiority to them. To be honest, over the years there were many, many times when I envied those guarantees. Having no guaranteed income while raising kids can be a gut-wrenching experience. But again, I was either too stubborn or too stupid to do it any other way.

I am profoundly grateful for the many opportunities I was given to succeed. I feel lucky to have been born where and when I was and to have lived in a country that allowed me to make my own way as I saw fit. I am thankful for the public schools that educated me. I am thankful for the great and good neighbors who encouraged me along the way. I thank God every day for the family I was blessed to be born into, the mother and father who taught me how to care about somebody besides myself, to look out for people less fortunate then me. 

Kids entering the work force today have many advantages that I didn’t have. The technology available to them is too staggering for me to even comprehend. But I feel sorry for them in a way too. No kid can get a job working 30 hours a week and hope to put themselves through college like I did at University of Richmond years ago. The cost of higher education has ballooned to such ridiculous heights that nobody can work themselves through anymore. It was hard enough back then. Today it’s impossible.

But every generation makes their own way. My Dad survived not only the Great Depression but also a stint in the South Pacific in WWII. He graduated from U of R on the GI-Bill as a father of four while working the graveyard shift at Reynold’s Metals. My struggles look like child’s play next to his. All of us, everyone…stands on the shoulders of those who came before us. I hope that my shoulders hold up for my kids and their kids. It’s the very least I can do. Its like my Mom used to say, “To whom much is given, much is required.”