A Big Day and Bad News

How’s the weather been? Although this question gets asked a lot where Maine is concerned, the truth is that it doesn’t really matter. Each kind of weather brings its own delights. But so far there hasn’t been any rain. Every morning has been cloudy with a bit of fog across the lake. Haven’t been treated to a sunrise show yet. The temperature in the morning is around 60. We sleep with the windows open. Its wonderful.

As the day progresses, the fog goes away and the clouds start to thin out. By the time the afternoon arrives the sun comes out for a few hours. The temperature tops out at 75 or so. There hasn’t been much wind to speak of, just a light afternoon breeze that dies down with the sun, leaving the lake still and calm for sunset. Pam takes her paddle board out around 7:30, golden hour.

Today is a big day up here. First there’s the annual Strawberry Festival in Lincolnville Center starting at 10:00. Last year we made the mistake of waiting until the afternoon to go and when we arrived literally every last strawberry was gone! We will be there bright and early this year. Then there’s the Arts and Book Fair in Camden. The first time we went was around ten years ago just after Labor Day on our last day in Maine. It was bright and clear, 72 degrees and as perfect a day as it is possible to have. Today it will be partly cloudy, but this event is always fun. So, after strawberries, we will drive into Camden and buy more things we don’t need and have a blast doing it.

Unfortunately, this beautiful place has made national news for a horrible reason. On Crawford Pond, about 15 minutes from here, a local woman has been murdered, last seen on her paddle board near 100 acre island 8 days ago. Several years ago we rented a place on Crawford, hiked that beautiful island, all six of us. Now, the entire place is a crime scene. The good people of Union, Maine are beside themselves with fear and worry. It feels like a violation, not just of an innocent woman, but of this entire community, this way of life. People don’t get murdered here. These are communities where people come to get away from the kind of world where people kill each other. To have one of their own struck down while enjoying the beauty of a place like Crawford Pond feels outrageous and grossly unjust. So, now news crews are up here for all the wrong reasons. 

Here’s my favorite photograph from yesterday..Pam on her paddle board.

Status Update on Lucy

I thought I would give everyone an update on Lucy, since it’s always the most popular question people ask me about Maine—How does Lucy like it? Well, Lucy loves Maine, but she is also a fanatic for her routines, and any change in location causes her much angst. It takes her a couple days before she feels comfortable with the new environment. First off she has to find her—spot—that one location that she claims as her private safe space where she can establish her dominance. For Lucy, its usually the sofa…

For this purpose we always bring her favorite blanket from home to protect Carolyn and Keith’s sofa. She prefers the exact spot on the sofa that takes up the maximum amount of space, making it difficult for anyone else to sit down. She allows it, but usually gives whoever sits with her the side eye.

The second issue is always—where to put her food and water dish. One would think that a dog could eat and drink from a dish set practically anywhere, but in Lucy’s case, not so. If it’s not just right, she will not eat. Oh, and even once we find the correct spot, she ain’t eating unless the two of us are sitting down and settled, and that is non-negotiable. Yeah, I know…weird.

The one thing she loves the most is swimming. Yesterday she jumped in for her maiden voyage with her brand new swimming vest with zero hesitation. Then a bit later she did one of her other favorite lake activities—accompanying Pam on a paddle board adventure…

When they returned from this paddle Pam noticed that Lucy seemed a little slower this year. Yeah, probably. She’s eleven now, slowing down a bit. But she still loves it.

Then there’s another favorite activity—fishing. Yesterday morning the two of us were down on the dock and I caught the first fish of the season—a smallish largemouth bass. Lucy was ecstatic, and sniffed and licked the thing to death. Later yesterday afternoon I was out there by myself doing some fishing, thinking Lucy was asleep in the house. I suddenly hooked into a pretty nice sized fish and was reeling it in when it jumped out of the water and wiggled off the hook. Immediately I heard an indignant growl/whine of disapproval from the house, turned around and saw Lucy standing at the screen door—judging me. I mean, it’s hard enough to catch fish without having to endure my dog’s deep disappointment!

So, I think its safe to say that Lucy has settled in and is living her best life.

We Made It.

We made it, a very low stress 14 hour drive with no accidents, backups, no construction delays and very little rain. My back held up, the hamstrings made it through without incident and the car ran like a top. It’s 854 miles and I’m stiff and sore, but compared to other trips up here, this one was easy.

We have unpacked the car, organized everything to suit us, and Pam even made a preliminary trip to the Hannaford’s in Belfast to pick up a starter-pack of groceries. Tonight, I picked up a pizza from Fraternity General Store while Pam made a salad. I washed it down with my favorite Maine beer—Baxter Stowaway. After dinner we walked out on the dock and watched the sun set. It was 70 degrees with a cool breeze on our faces as we watched the show…

In the morning the sun will rise around 5 am. It will be 60 degrees or so. I will take my coffee on the deck by the edge of the water. At some point I will take the kayak out for a spin, check out the water level down at the dam, pay a visit to Summer Dreams, then paddle over to the Eagle’s nest to pay my respects. We might head into Camden for a bit, or not.

I will go for my first swim tomorrow. The cold water will take my breath away, but I will quickly adjust, and when I come out of the water I will feel like a new man. Lucy will swim with me. We bought her a new swim vest and she is anxious to try it out. All the other dogs will be jealous because she will be stylin’.

So, there you have it. Vacation has begun. It’s here, wish you were beautiful.

5 Days

In five days we will turn left off of state route 131 onto Brierley Road in Searsmont, Maine. We will drive down the curving dirt road for about a mile until we arrive at Loon Landing. We will slowly emerge from the car after a two day, 14 hour road trip, bones cracking with each aching step. The first thing we will do, before unpacking anything is walk around to the lake side of the house, because we want to get our first look at this…

It was last fall when we last stood on this spot. So much has happened since then. I’ve retired. Pam has retired. We have a beautiful new grandson. But this place still holds our hearts with a tender grip.

For six weeks this lake will be our home. It will not disappoint. It never does. Just ask Lucy. She thinks that this is what heaven looks like.

She may be right.

A Milestone

So, a couple days ago this happened:

The Tempest is almost 15 years old at this point, so admittedly that’s a long time, but this is pretty cool. Over a million times someone has read one of my over 3000 posts. In the early days it would go months without attracted a thousand views. Now every now and then I’ll get a thousand in a day. I’m not sure what exactly this accomplishment says about The Tempest. Probably the most likely lesson is—stay with something long enough and eventually you’ll hit your number. There's something to be said for persistence.

However, the larger lesson for me is that I have had lots of fun here since December 30th 2010. Whether or not you have is, in the final analysis, beside the point. But, thanks for reading!

Corner Man

A couple of rough days. All is well in Columbia. Silas, Mom and Dad and Pam are all doing well. I caught some kind of cold when I flew home last week and it’s gotten worse of late. Today I stayed at home all day taking medicine and coughing my head off like a maniac. But, in time I will be fine. Pam will be heading home Monday, so I have from now until then to get well! 

The only good thing about getting sick is that it gives you lots of extra time to think and in my case that usually means writing. I’ve been working on a new story that takes place in 1939, my first attempt at historical fiction. It’s lots of fun but requires lots of research. But in between thinking about that story I’ve also been thinking an awful lot about what my proper role is as a parent and now a grandparent at this stage of life. Even though I have been a parent for over 37 years, I’m a brand new grandparent. There’s lots to learn on both counts. As I’ve pondered this over this past week I keep coming back to the analogy of boxing. Stay with me here. I’ll try to explain.

In boxing, the action takes place in the ring. The time spent in the ring can go lots of different ways, some good, some bad. But no matter how it goes, time spent in the ring is divided into rounds, at the end of which the fighters go back to their corners where they are administered to by their corner man. It’s the fighter who does all the work, takes and administers all the blows. The corner man knows he’s not the show. The corner man knows that everyone watching didn’t pay their money to see the corner man. But the corner man has a very important job, even though it’s not as important as the job the boxer is doing in the ring. The corner man watches the action from a unique perspective, one that his fighter doesn’t see. After a particularly bruising round when that bell rings, the corner man not only patches up his bruised fighter, but he also points out the opponent’s strategy and weaknesses. When his fighter has a great round, the corner still patches him up but this time warns his fighter not to get cocky. It both cases, after good rounds and bad, a good corner man is the ultimate encourager…You’ve got this, champ. I believe in you!

But it’s hard on the corner man…because at the end of the day he can’t fight the fight for him. He has to sit back and watch and sometimes its scary and heartbreaking…and you find yourself counting down the seconds until that stinking bell rings so you can wrap your hands around him and tell him he’s going to be alright. 

That’s exactly what being a parent is like.

But becoming a grandparent feels different to me. The corner man analogy doesn’t hold up very well. When it comes to a grandchild I’m ready to body slam anyone who comes within an inch of hurting that child. There will be no waiting for some bell to ring. I know it’s an overreaction brought on by the newness of it all. Like every other role I’ve had to play in my life I will grow into this one. I will mature, learn to relax. But for now I am in full protection mode. Instead of just being the corner man, when it comes to Silas, I’m the corner man, his manager, the referee, I’ve paid off all the judges, and I’ve bought off his opponent and ordered him to take a dive!

The Nerve of These People…

So, while I have been busy welcoming my grandson into the world, that world has suddenly become exponentially more dangerous. Seriously, I turn my back for what—ten days—and this is what happens?? I mean, the nerve of these people!! First, the Israeli Air Force attacked Iran, specifically its nuclear facilities and related human leadership. Then the Iranians lobbed missiles and drones into Israel, specifically Tel Aviv. Now comes news that United States B-2 bombers have attacked the same nuclear installations, sending us to war with Iran. The Iranians responded with a lot of hot rhetoric including an order closing the strait of Hormuz, through which flows 20% of the world’s oil.

I for one would rather talk about Silas Nathaniel Manchester any day than a fresh war in the Middle East. Especially when I don’t even know what I should think about it. When it comes to all things Middle Eastern my first reaction is always—What?? Again?? These people are infuriating with their thousand year old feuds, Imams and Rabbis. If the place wasn’t dripping in oil, the rest of the world would have walled the entire region off behind 1000 foot walls three centuries ago. “You stole my land!! NO!! You stole MY land!! Did not! Did too!!

The thought that a theocratic regime like Iran might build an atomic weapon is not exactly the sort of thing that helps anyone sleep at night. I feel relatively sure that if it were the Iranians who got atomic bombs before Israel did, that they would already have used them against them—making good on their constant threat to wipe Israel off the map. Israel rightly worries that if the Iranian state were to acquire a bomb, it would attempt to do just that. So, I suppose I understand why they acted when they did. I try to think about how we would feel if the shoe were on the other foot and it was the Canadians who were determined to turn the US into smoldering rubble.

But, I guess thats where it ends with me. Yes, Israel has every right to act to insure their continued existence. But what about us, what about America? Why are we jumping in the middle of that cesspool of treachery? Why did the President commit us to another Middle East war when he ran as the candidate who wanted to end—endless wars. There is no war in history more unending than the Arab-Israeli war. Will this escalation bring this conflict to a miraculous end, or will it just widen it and raise the stakes from maddening, annoying, Middle Eastern Bullshit to unimaginably dangerous WWIII? Time will tell.

Still…sometimes I look at a map of that region and it staggers me that the tiny state of Israel has lasted this long. They are totally surrounded by people who despise them. There are less than ten million of them. There are almost more Jewish people in America than there are in Israel. They have been attacked many different times by their neighbors, several times on different fronts—and yet—they abide. But like everything having to do with real estate…it’s all about location, location, location! The Holy Land is without debate the worst neighborhood in human history. 

Here’s an idea…Israel is roughly the same size as New Jersey. Mr. Trump is always talking about how he loves to make deals. Here’s one…how about New Jersey for Israel—straight up. That way, our allies, the Israelis get out of harms way. Then the Palestinians can try their luck with New Jerseyans. If they think that the Mossad was tough, wait until they run up against the Mafia mobs from South Jersey!

Seriously though, maybe making jokes about such a huge geopolitical nightmare like this is in poor taste. All I can really do right now is hope wish and pray that our leadership knows what they are doing. The optics in that regard are not reassuring. But, I pray Godspeed for the men and women of the armed forces who will be tasked with doing the really hard work of making somebody else’s plans a success.