Making Dinner While Arguing with Myself

I’ve cooked several dinners since Pam broke her wrist. It’s not like I have no experience cooking, so I do alright. But as I laid all the ingredients out that I would need to make tonight’s meal it occurred to me that for 40 years Pam has made roughly 90% of our meals. That’s an incredible accomplishment. Yeah, I clean up the kitchen afterwards, but that takes no time at all and certainly no planning or shopping. 

I made soup. Black-Eyed Pea with collard greens and sausage soup. I had made it before. As I set about slicing up the carrots and celery my mind began sifting through the news of the day. There’s more death and dying in the Middle East. The Republican Party seems completely inept, unable to elect their own Speaker of the House. The President of the United States seems small, ancient and not up to leading the country through what could possibly end up as World War III. As I turned my attention to dicing up a cup of yellow onion I thought how easy it would be to write a blog entitled, “The Case For Panic”. The world seems on the precipice of something foreboding and dangerous, and most Americans I know have lost all faith in the institutions of the country. The reasons for despair are ascendant in practically every segment of society.

I forgot how long it took me to get everything cut, chopped, diced, measured and into the pot. Time stands still when you’re cooking it seems. Plus, its hard to stay in the moment when you’re arguing with yourself. Couldn’t I just as easily write a blog entitled, “The Case For Confidence” ? If the experiences of my 65 years have taught me anything its that things are never as bad as they seem. Are the present troubles more fraught, more dangerous than what our parents endured from 1929 through 1945? How many Americans must have looked at the devastation of the Great Depression and thought “How in God’s name are we going to survive this mess with an aristocrat President who’s never done an honest day’s work in his life?” Haven’t the times managed to forge the leaders we needed for the moment in the past? How many catastrophes have we survived just in my lifetime? Isn’t the lesson of history one of survival?

As the soup simmered on the stove, I whipped up the Red Lobster biscuits. Don’t panic. It was from a box. Even an idiot could do it…

Now all that was left was to wait around in the kitchen watching the oven, making sure not to burn the biscuits. As I poured the tea I thought about how much worse off we are as a people because of social media and the 24 hour news cycle. We are bombarded with every snippet of terrible news. All. Day. Long. If there was no such thing as the internet, we would be busy living our lives instead of counting down the doomsday clock every day. Of course, without the internet, this blog would make even less sense than it normally does.

Dinner was pretty decent, at least Pam said so. Cleaning up the mess afterwards was a picnic compared to cooking. I’ve definitely gotten the best end of that deal for 40 years. I think I owe her.

That Hospital in Gaza

I heard the report on the radio as I was driving home from work. A hospital somewhere in Gaza had been hit by a rocket and hundreds of people had been killed. The very first thought that flashed through my mind was—How will this effect the markets? It was a shameful moment. Later last night after recovering some moral balance I began to think about the ghastly scene in that horrible place, dead body parts strewn around like so much garbage at a landfill. The number of deaths had been estimated at 500. I found photographs on the internet, most of them unsuitable to publish in this space.

Predictably, two narratives have emerged. Palestinian representatives immediately blamed a rocket fired by Israel. Spokesmen for the IDF blamed a misfired rocket launched from a nearby cemetery by one of many free agent terror gangs operating in Gaza, the Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Most western journalists first went with the Palestinian story, only later adding the rebuttal from the Israelis. Who to believe in this case depends very much on which side you’re on, I suppose. On the one hand, various terrorist organizations in this troubled real estate have routinely situated military equipment in and around hospitals and schools, using these civilian areas as human shields against just such an attack. On the other hand in the past the IDF has shown no hesitation in ignoring the shields if the target was rich enough. Regardless of where the bomb came from, a hospital in Gaza is now a morgue.

Into the midst of such carnage and inhumanity strides our President. The decision to send Joe Biden into a war zone is meant to demonstrate support for our long time ally and to signal our firm resolve to other actors in the region. There are also political benefits to such a dramatic and potentially dangerous trip for the President. It will go a long way to dispelling the he’s too old narrative. This will only work if he can avoid a meandering, slurring, incomprehensible press conference performance—never a sure thing.

It’s difficult for me to conjure up a rooting interest. The list of innocent civilians targeted and slaughtered by Palestinian terrorists in my lifetime is staggering. Neither am I a fan of the State of Israel. They are an independent nation with their own interests which often conflict with ours and yet we seem hell-bent on marching with them into each and every abyss they have stumbled upon for the last 75 years. In addition, being a proud isolationist when it comes to foreign policy, I am always against spilling American blood defending someone else’s interests, no matter how many innocents are caught in the cross-fire. War is hell, after all.

However, if I was forced at gunpoint to pick a side, to declare myself, it would be an easy choice. Israel. Why?

Is it because of some tortured theological interpretation from Christianity which confuses the State of Israel with the Jewish people? That whole “any nation that opposes Israel be damned” business? No.

Is it the brutality of Hamas, the shooting of babies, the indiscriminate murder and rape of grandmothers? No.

For me it comes down to something very simple. Who is more likely to kill me if they encountered me on the street, an Israeli citizen or a member of Hamas? If I, a 65 year old American man, was found walking down a residential street in Tel Aviv as opposed to say Deir al-Balah, where would I more likely get killed? Where would I feel safer, Riyadh or Jerusalem? Tehran or Haifa? San Francisco or Chicago? (No, just kidding about that last one!!)

I suppose it boils down to which of these two troubled populations have the higher respect for innocent life? Although neither of them are exactly Quakers, the society that has demonstrated the most regard for the traditional virtues prized by civilization would be Israel. Which of them is more likely to shoot me point blank in the face? Hamas.

I just wish that my first response to this horrifying news had been a deep mourning and regret for the spilt blood of innocents instead of something as temporary and self absorbed as the balance of my investment accounts.

The Luckiest

We rolled into Short Pump just before noon yesterday after a thankfully uneventful two day drive. Three things happened that I want to tell you about, all three remarkable.

When you return from three weeks away from home, there’s a lot to do and all of it needs to be done right away. Arriving home on a Sunday makes this situation even more stressful and hectic than normal since the working world lurks a mere 20 hours in the future. Unpacking the car, washing, drying and folding loads and loads of laundry, and replenishing your bare pantry all demand attention at a time when you’re already worn out from two days on the road. Now, throw in a wife who has only one serviceable hand and…well you get the picture. I am told that times like thsee are learning opportunities and indeed I have found this to be true. With each load of laundry that came out of the dryer I was enlisted to place clothing on hangers as Pam handed each item to me. I have learned that there is a right and wrong way to hang clothes. I always thought that all you had to do was pick up a hanger and shove it in the neck area of the shirt. But, Pam was aghast at this technique. Apparently, there is a better way. One must always point the open end of the hanger to the left, and when hung in the closet, the front of the garment must always face left. I never knew this. I always thought that nothing approaching a protocol would exist for the hanging of clothes in a closet. I certainly felt sheepish to be taught this at age 65.

But, I digress. Now, for the three remarkable things.

First, my mother and father-in-law showed up at the house after they got home from church with a delicious chicken casserole and a tin of fresh baked brownies. In our forty years together, my in laws have always been so clutch. They always turn up at the perfect time with help in its perfect form. Thanks, Russ and Vi.

Then our friends Chip and Lynn show up with a Mexican casserole, a bag of tortilla chips and two cans of some quirky high octane IPA that Chip found someplace. In addition, Lynn thought to bring some gadget that she thought might help Pam with her one-handedness, a very Lynn thing to do. Now I won’t have to actually make dinner until Tuesday night. Thanks, Lynn and Chip.

Finally, it was time for the two angel girls who live next door to show up on our steps with a handful of “get well cards” they had made for Pam. Each was a delight. The oldest, Kennedy, had also broken her left wrist a while back and was acutely aware of how painful it can be. Here is a portion of one of her cards…

Out of the mouths of babes…She is the cutest philosopher to ever live. Thanks, Sully and Kennedy.

A person can handle a lot of adversity if they have a family who loves and supports them, devoted and thoughtful friends, and neighbors who love and care for them like family. 

We are the luckiest.

Last Day in Maine and Thoughts on Israel.

Pam and I will be joining Paula, Ron, Linda and Bill for brunch this morning at The Hoot, one of our favorite eateries on the coast. Afterwards we will probably tool around in Belfast for a while before heading back to camp to meet with an insurance adjuster at 1:00. Yes, nothing says “we’re on vacation” like an hour and a half with an insurance professional. Once that colossal annoyance is over with we will begin the process of packing up our stuff in preparation for the two day drive back to Short Pump.

Obviously this particular vacation has been a disappointment. Being in this beautiful place is never a complete disaster, but having your wife break her wrist on day 3 was the ultimate buzz kill. Looking back over the past three weeks I believe we have made the most of the situation, enjoyed our time as much as dealing with the injury would allow. Lucy was probably the most disappointed of the three of us since we were away from camp so much more than normal. But she had her moments of fun and frolic.

But our travails amount to nothing more than a mild annoyance when compared to what has been happening in the Middle East. When you don’t watch television you have to find out about events by reading about them, which I have been doing a lot of since it all started. What I don’t know about the pathologies of Arab-Israeli hatred would fill an encyclopedia, but I do know this, I was born in 1958 and for all of my life this has been going on. Indeed, Israel has been dealing harshly with and being dealt harshly by various iterations of enemies since the days of the Jebusites, Hittites and Philistines. Of course the story of Israel and the Jews cannot be separated from their identity in two religious traditions as God’s Chosen People, and The Holocaust. Any discussion about the Middle East seems to begin and end there. 

From what I can gather from the commentary of this latest shooting war, I am asked to be outraged by the indiscriminate killing of innocent civilians by Hamas, but to understand the killing of innocent civilians by the Israelis as self-defense. I am supposed to be appalled that Israel is carpet bombing the Gaza Strip without first warning the residents, but the lack of warning issued by the Hamas terrorist attack is to be considered tactical brilliance. For me, I’m finding it very difficult to tolerate the killing of infants and old people. Full stop. Both Judaism and Christianity extol the virtues and inherent dignity of all human life. I assume this means—even those we hate. And hatred is the most important factor in this centuries old conflict. Not land. Hatred.

So, in the morning we will leave this place. We will return to our normal life and be thankful that we don’t live in the Holy Land.

A Much Needed Win

So, yesterday was a win. Pam’s wrist didn’t hurt, the weather was delightful and Lucy finally got to go on an adventure. We all went into Camden to pick up sandwiches from The Deli, then took them over to Camden Hills State Park for a picnic overlooking the majestic Penobscot Bay…

After lunch we hiked down to the water’s edge through the towering pines. It was Linda and Bill’s first time getting a bird’s eye view of why Camden’s slogan is, Where the Mountains Meet the Sea. Of course, since they are the Hip Sisters, they found a few moments to do what they do best…

Then we drove across the road to the other side of the park, to the peak of Mt. Battie to see the World War I memorial and the gorgeous views of Camden and the bay…

Today’s plan involves a rendezvous at Pemiquid Point and lunch at some place where Linda can get a lobster roll. Lucy will stay at camp this time which she seems fine with after yesterday’s exhausting work…

Tommorow Pam has her follow up visit with the surgeon to get her stitches removed and a new cast/splint. More importantly she will learn more about what she can and cannot do with that hand as she rehabs it while starting back to work next Monday morning. Yikes. I think she will feel better with this knowledge than she feels with uncertainty.

The Gauntlet Chronicles

Long time readers of The Tempest have had to endure many glowing testimonials of our many Maine adventures over the years. I have written of the idyllic tranquility, the fresh air, the off the hook food and the enchanting vistas. I have regaled you with a thousand photographs of us in varying degrees of frolic, smiles plastered all over our faces. Most of you tell me how much you love the stories and pictures but I’m sure that there are at least a few of you who get tired of the Garden of Eden shtick. For all those in the latter category—this blog is for you.

So far, our Fall 2023 Maine trip has been a comedy of errors, none of which have been funny. I use the term “so far” with great care since there are five days remaining in this misadventure and I don’t want to further jinx what has so far been a woe begotten mess.

Saturday, Sept. 23rd.

We arrive after a deceptively easy two day drive to our camp, the ironically named Vacationland, where we both casually noticed a missing paving stone at the stairway entrance. I made the prophetic observation, “Hmm..that’s a tripping hazard.”

Tuesday, Sept. 25th

Pam fulfills the prophesy by catching her toe on the stone, face planting on the flower bed’s border stones, breaking both bones in her left wrist, scratching her face, chin and chest while knocking her teeth temporarily out of alignment. 

Thursday, Sept. 27th

After two days of hospital visits, pain and angst, Pam undergoes surgery where she receives parting gifts in the form of a stylish, cutting edge metal plate inserted permanently in her wrist along with several screws to hold it in place. We spend the following four days dealing with this new reality meaning that our first full week of vacation turned out to be the opposite of everything that term is supposed to mean.

Saturday, Sept. 30th

The cavalry arrives in the form of Paula and Ron Roop, who thought they were coming to Maine for all the usual reasons only to discover that their real job was now cooking and helping me take care of my disappointed and traumatized wife. I should say at this point that Pam limited her “disappointed and traumatized” moments to one or two brief tearful minutes per day. The rest of the time she was an amazingly brave and resilient patient.

Friday and Saturday, Oct. 6-7

Some tropical storm rolls into Mid-Coast Maine dropping 2-3 inches of rain which transforms our formerly useless dock into a completely useless one. Now, in  addition to the mud-guarded quagmire guarding the approach to the dock, we had water blocking all other available angles of approach. Luckily for us, the next door neighbors had a natural boat entry style beach area where I could with great care manage to get my kayak into the water without incident. Unfortunately after the rain, that too was rendered unsafe, which I observed first hand when on…

Today, Oct. 9

…I unsuccessfully attempted to exit my kayak after a morning fishing trip. The incline was too steep, the grass too saturated with water which resulted in me and all of my gear being unceremoniously deposited into the very cold waters of Hobbs Pond. While this was happening everything seemed to move in slow motion. Instead of being angry and thrashing about like a lunatic I was strangely calm and methodical. After all, no bones were broken, nobody was there to witness this embarrassment, although had a video been taken of the entire affair it surely would have gone viral. It seems appropriate to point out that the fishing trip was not a total loss since I did catch this guy…

Our trip has not been a total loss. Nobody has gotten COVID. So far this entire trip has been vomit-free. We’ve got THAT going for us. Oh, and war broke out in the Middle East, which seems entirely appropriate at this point. I can’t wait to see what God has in store for us on our drive home.

On a positive note my big sister Linda and her husband Bill arrived for their first Maine trip. They are staying on a different lake with Ron and Paula. We drove over to their camp last night for dinner and had a wonderful time. Tonight the plan is for the four of them to make soup and bring it over here. As fate would have it, we have now discovered a foul odor coming from downstairs where a dehumidifier used to be. Its not there anymore because it stopped working about the time we arrived. We have finally discovered why it had been placed inside the downstairs bathroom, even though there was a fully functioning dehumidifier in the great room downstairs. We will do our best to mask the smell by dinner time tonight. Hard to describe the odor…its kinda like good luck gone bad!

Calm Before the Storm

Tomorrow is the beginning of our third week here on Hobbs Pond. When we head home next Saturday it will be nine months before we return. Rain is expected for the next couple of days and our last week looks to be considerably colder and wetter than our first two were. Linda and Bill are expected tomorrow afternoon.

Today started still and foggy on the lake so Pam and I decided to take advantage of the calm waters and tour the lake. Just as we were getting started I snapped a quick picture of her floating along behind me. It was only much later when I discovered that we were photo-bombed by a creepy dude standing among some bushes on the shore. Probably with the Illuminati or the Brandenburg Group keeping a sharp eye out for trouble.

The first half of our paddle was a delight. The water was still and the views along the edge of the shoreline were stirring. We got to gawk at the huge homes that dot the woods of this lake like citadels of wealth, their giant plate glass walls staring down at us from above. But there were also more modest, traditional Maine camps to see, many of which I could picture us living comfortably inside. There were a couple thick, knotted ropes hanging from tree limbs near some of the more worn out docks. Some of the old style camps left ample evidence that small children were welcomed, swing-sets and children’s toys still strewn about the yard.

By the time we reached the northern end of the lake we spotted a lonely swim float farther from shore than is customary with a passenger on board…

He let us get very close before he flew off awkwardly, his huge wing tips slapping the water as he tried to gain altitude. It was about this time when we finally had to change directions and paddle south. It was also when the wind started to blow, a chilly wind filled with mist. Towing a second kayak with a passenger, even one as delicate as my wife, ain’t easy into a stiff breeze. By the time I made it back to camp, my biggest concern was how I was going to get out of the kayak without popping a hammy. This was seven hours ago now, and my back is trying to explain to me how much things have changed since I was 30. I am beginning to get the message. The entire trip was only 4.6 miles, but it felt like much more. Still, it was worth it. We both got to see the lake in her entirety. Plus it might be a while before we get out again if the weather nerd websites are to be believed. 

Predictably, Lucy is nonplussed.