live from east boothbay

It's still January and...

2012-01-28T12:00:00.001-08:00

my snowdrops are blooming! 'Galanthus' are usually early, - really the first to bloom, - but I have never known them to bloom in January! I hope this does not mean a prolonged winter/spring when mud season doesn't end until May. On the other hand, it is quite wonderful to have snowdrops blooming in January!

The rest of the world looks troubling, what with Syria still in turmoil and Egypt flexing some mustle in retaliation for the suggestion that we might withdraw aid to its military. Iran is ever difficult, and Israel refuses to act responsibly to its Palestinian population. Ron Paul begins to look like a solution, though we know from history that isolationism does not work. Still, some withdrawal from the world's theatre begins to feel necessary. There is still much work to be done at home vis a vis infrastructure and renewable energy, if our grandchildren are to have a future as good as our past has been.

So I shall pay attention to my gardens, my family and friends, and do my best to vote for people who have my same concerns. I don't yet know who they will be, but elections will come sooner than we expect - like snowdrops in January.

fierce and passionate beauty

2012-01-12T16:09:00.000-08:00

"Snowshowers" is one of my favorite images. In the grayest, blackest and whitest of weather, there is always a bit of blue somewhere - either in the sky or in a shadow. Usually it is seen through a veil of white, but it will be there somewhere.

Lately, I have felt a bit like this small island. Life has been either black or white, and always seen through a veil of snow showers. Now, I feel a bit of the blue, and while the blues are not usually a relief. In this case, the blues are just fine. Adding a bit of color to my life has freed me from the frozen waste I've been in for 5 years. I will not melt again very soon; it is after all, January. But the New Year holds the promise of color - a welcome addition to my life.

the joy of owning an old house

2012-01-11T09:50:00.000-08:00

I spoke too soon about the end of the year 2011. My old Whirlpool frig gasped and died that very day, melting a year's worth of garden veges and freezer jam, plus sundry other stuff. Then came the New Year weekend, so it wasn't until Monday, the 2nd, that I could shop for new frig's.

The first difficulty was finding one which would fit into the cabinet space. I don't need a large frig, but it did need to fit into a space 30" x 68" maximum. Going on line, I managed to find 4 models at both Home Depot and Loew's, only two at Agren's, the local appliance distributor. So I went back and forth that Monday between Loew's at Cook's Corners, and Home Depot in Topsham negotiating price, delivery costs, and times between the two of them. Home Depot won out because it could get me the frig today, vs. Jan. 24th at Loew's.

But today it arrived, and wouldn't fit into the kitchen!!!!!! My kitchen has a great many wonderful handcrafted features, all carefully built into an old kitchen. But the doorways have been sacrificed in size to the joys of beautiful craftsmanship. The logical doorway to take out the old frig and bring in the new, should work by itself, but it is compromised by a clever corner cabinet that reduces the opening to 25" wide. The old, let alone the new, was not going to fit in or out of that.

So I called my contractor, who after conferring with the delivery boys, decided that they could leave the new frig in the dining room. Bill Dighton will come in on Friday to take out the other kitchen door frame, bring the old one out via the dining room, and install the new one in the kitchen - finally.

In the meantime, it feels like I still have a dead body in the kitchen, while the dining room fills up with strange, dysfunctional sculptures. The old frig does not smell quite as bad as it used to, because Nancy Adams came and helped me clean it out. But it still smells a bit. At least the new one doesn't smell bad, just like new plastic. 2011 went out with a big bang and a plop; 2012 started out well but it seems there's still a bit of a hangover from 2011 with the cast on my arm and the frig in the dining room! What's next I wonder?

oops!

2011-12-30T14:08:00.001-08:00

Though I had clothes on, I do feel like this girl after falling on some black ice after yoga class. What irony - when I had just successfully done 'tree' on my left foot, I fell on my right hand and broke the bottom of the radius bone as it meets the thumb joint. Just before Christmas!

I still drove to Vermont and had a wonderful time with 2/3 of my little family, plus others in the extending family. The snow was nice, not too much, and the Waterbury church was magical.

I am finding though, that I am very glad to have this year gone by. Lots of things ended this year - my underwater mortgage, Osama bin Laden's unfortunate life, the unfortunate war in Iraq, a good friend's life. Many good things happened, too, and I shall work hard tomorrow evening to be grateful for a new daughter -in -law, for connecting with cousins, new friends and adventures.

The rug I bought in Turkey arrived just yesterday, after drifting around the transportational netherworld. It made me realize that trust is a simple thing if you only give it a try.

Imaginary visions

2011-12-20T12:47:00.000-08:00

Some of my best images have come from a passing glimpse of someone or thing. Others come from long, careful study. This image came from a boat and man glimpsed going out to sea at dusk from Monhegan. He had a beautiful dory workboat all fitted out, and the evening felt like it would be very profitable for him.

So I put this together, though the background really doesn't look like Monhegan. Sometimes you just have to make stuff up. It was important though, to get the boat and the guy driving it, right, or nearly so. I hope it is.

I'm going to do some more of these blogs, of my art work, as a way to explain some of it, and to spread it farther around. It is also a way to keep it in front of me. I've just sold some things; sometimes I am glad to be rid of stuff, and sometimes I want to be able to look at it - to remind myself that I really can produce some good, interesting work. I hope you'll enjoy this new focus.

extreme plein air painting!

2011-12-07T17:34:00.000-08:00

Though we aren't actually shivering here, we all ended up in McSeagull's Restaurant in the Harbor this noon, after trying to paint, draw and otherwise note scenes in the Harbor this morning in the rain/sleet/freezing rain. Probably we shouldn't have stayed as long as some did, but when else are you going to paint in December in Maine?

And the clam chowder was really good!

left to right: Bill Tomsa, Tony vanHasselt, Corinne McIntyre, Suzanne Brewer, Allen Bunker, and me.

Now, let it snow for some really good color!

tis the beginning of the other season

2011-12-03T16:17:00.000-08:00

The other season here in the greater Boothbay region is the holiday season. It is a time for those of us tough enough, or poor enough, or just stubborn enough to not go south when it finally gets cold. This year it hasn't been cold at all, until now, after Thanksgiving. Finally, it has gotten cold enough to matter - to buy the salt for the walkways, and to get out the hats and mittens.

Tonight, though, I had on the mittens and my Christmas coat for an annual ride on the Harbor Princess, at the tail end of the Lobster Boat Parade. Last year, I was too sick to go out. Two years ago, I went out but it was cold and snowing and was kind of miserable. This year, it was as wonderful as it could get.

There were 16 boats in the parade, all lit up and decorated. It is impossible to photograph it because it is so dark and the boats must be pretty far away, so you'll have to either come and see it for yourself, or imagine it. There was a boat with Rudolph on the bow, pulling Santa on top of the boat. There was a boat all outlined in blue lights with a red Rudolph on the top. There were two boats, one with a candy cane gateway into the cabin of the boat; there were two boats all lit up towing little dinghys lit up with Santa sitting in the stern. The Coast Guard boat was also done up with Santa aboard. I felt like I was a Babe in Toyland. Magic.

We went out as the sun was going down - hence the photo above of the sun sinking behind the pines on Juniper Point. The day is called Harbor Lights, when the Library tree is lit; Santa arrives by lobster boat. The shops and galleries are open until late, and most importantly, the Opera House is full of the Festival of Trees. Each year the Garden Club members, plus others like the Land Trust and the Botanical Gardens, decorate a fake tree of differing sizes, and they are put in the Opera House, which becomes a fairy land of beautiful trees. Martha Stewart has nothing over these trees. They are gorgeous.

Of course, the one I helped put together for the Land Trust, is one of the nicest. Carol, Stephanie, Pam and I had a wonderful time spending an inordinate amount of time and effort on a table top tree. It had pine cones treated with glaze and soap-snow, winterberries in tiny clusters tied with yarn, photos of different Preserves in the Land Trust mounted on foamcore and painted with gold paint, plus a wonderful cardinal in a winterberry nest on top of the tree. We are very proud of it, and hope someone buys it for a lot of money!

On a more mundane level, the Inter-Island News reported this week that lobsters talk. A research team at the University of New Hampshire has documented 50 different sounds that a lobster will make at the approach of a cod fish. Their conclusion was that the lobsters are "sounding off in order to discourage fish predation." I can only imagine what they say on the approach of a kettle full of hot water.

back home in east boothbay

2011-11-13T07:16:00.000-08:00

I am home again after nearly two weeks spent in the mid-east. It was a not very fortuitous trip, though stimulating and ultimately valuable trip. I was briefly ill with stomach trouble in Jerusalem and caught a bad cold in Turkey.

I went with a group of friends from the Congregational Church in Boothbay Harbor, first to Jerusalem for 4 days, then to Istanbul, Izmir and Ephesus in Turkey for 5 days. Jerusalem I found to be an armed camp, regardless of which side of the West Bank wall you are on, and regardless of what religion. Returning home, I read Moshe Dayan's widow's story in the New Yorker about the death of Israel, and I couldn't agree with her more. And from what we heard, there is very little hope that Israel and Palestine will resolve their differences peacably. The lack of hope was palpable. The one bit of spirituality I found was a bird singing outside the window of the Russian Orthodox Church in the Garden of Gethsemane.

In Istanbul, however, I found a thriving, growing city full of pride for what it has become. Although the current government is conservative and Muslim, the separation of church and state is written into its Constitution, and the pride of the people in Istanbul is tangible.

One of the major reasons for going on this trip, besides curiosity over the presence of any form of spirituality in Jerusalem, was the Hagia Sophia. Ever since Prof. John McAndrew cut up his oranges and grapefruits in front of us in Art 100, thus demonstrating the ability of a round arch to support other round arches and barrel vaults, and thus to build the Hagia Sophia in 533AD, I have wanted to experience that space. Even today, it is the 3rd largest dome in the world, though it is over 1500 years old. I don't know the others, probably football stadium domes, but this surely beats them in impressiveness. It was built as a Christian church; its apse faces east. Today it is a museum but it was a mosque for over 500 years, and the small enclosure where the Imam reads the Koran is in the apse, slightly off-center, facing Mecca. (see above right-hand photo)It is a happy enough arrangement, with some of the original Christian paintings being exposed, even as they are covered still by the beautiful mosaics of the Muslims.

Our later visit was to Izmir, or Smyrna, Tardis, and Ephesus. The layers of civilization to be found there are stunning, as is the current countryside, and food! The cabbages are literally nearly 3feet in diameter; the yogurt so creamy! It was too much for this poor body and I stumbled back onto the plane in Izmir and have been sleeping for 3 days now. Finally I am beginning to come out of my cold-induced stupor. When I remember more, I will write more!

out of Jerusalem

2011-11-04T13:02:00.000-07:00

I am glad to be in Istanbul, and out of Jerusalem.

camels etc

2011-10-28T12:58:00.001-07:00

I am off to the land beside the camels land - to Israel and then Turkey. I hope to be able to post photos and stories, but first the planes have to get out of the way of a big Northeaster barrelling down on the coast! We shall see what develops.

A time to be born and a time to die...

2011-10-19T11:06:00.000-07:00

A neighbor friend has died this past week. This summer she added a beautiful baby boy, Finn, to her repertoire of grandchildren; Jessie Marina Ullo was born just a few days before Chalmer died, too. So there are times when the population of our worlds turns over. Births come, and people go.

Inevitably, we search for the reasons why people go. Rarely do we find them, especially when they are the people that bring us together, that help us when we need help, that welcome us when we are new, that count for something positive in our world. As Clint says in the movie Unforgiven, " Deserves got nothing to do with it." It just happens, and we are left with the feeling, and the song, "Sometimes I feel like a motherless child."

Chalmer died of mesothelioma, a lung cancer that stems theoretically from exposure to asbestos. No one can pinpoint her exposure, but somewhere along the way something must have happened, and because she was sensitive to it, she acquired the cancer. It is a cruel one, and I am glad that I have not developed it.

We do not know what we will die from, before it happens, but we do know when babies are born. We celebrate birthdays, and we celebrate the people who leave us. We celebrate hope first, and then we celebrate the past. With the dying of the summer season, let us celebrate both the newborn babes, and Chalmer - who loved them.

Swimming?????!!!! in late September?

2011-09-25T15:12:00.001-07:00

Grimes Cove at the end of Ocean Point in Boothbay looks nothing like Sand Beach in Acadia National Park. But I didn't go swimming at Sand Beach today, and I did swim on yes, September 25, 2011, at Grimes Cove. I planted tulips in my garden for my son's wedding next spring, and got soooooo hot, I just had to go swimming.

Not that it was a completely new idea for me. As I was driving around Ocean Point yesterday afternoon, I saw 4 floating heads - a la Mao in the Yellow River - and thought to myself that it might be nice to go for a swim. I quickly thought better of it though, as darkness was descending, and I was hungry. But today, after sweating through the planting of 75 tulip bulbs, it was a really GOOD idea, and off I went.

The four floating heads had the same idea, and the 5 of us went for a swim, out and around a buoy in the Cove. It wasn't a long swim, but the water was in the mid-high 60's, which is warm for around here, and as long as I held my hands out of the water occasionally - to thaw out - I was happy, and it felt really good. A crowd gathered to watch us, but no one else seemed willing to come in. Even a Golden Retriever didn't come in. Still, it was well worth the effort, and I'm quite proud of having done it.

Now the challenge will be the Polar Bear Swim on New Year's Day!

Gardens vs. Boats

2011-09-12T13:51:00.000-07:00

Yes, that is a tomato next to a pumpkin. This summer has been an amazingly productive summer for the garden. And the tomatoes! They are large, or tiny, sweet and red, delicious and numerous. But really, I've had enough. My stomach hurt the other day for all the tomatoes and cucumbers I've been eating. I had to give up cukes and start pickling!

So I'm making a resolution to better balance my need to sail with my need to eat. Some might suggest, this resolution is a long time in coming, but I've only felt it now, and it's my body.

So, next summer, I vow to grow fewer tomatoes, cukes, and zucchini, more corn and onions and leeks, less lettuce and more arugula, less chard and fewer beets. This will be easy to do next year because a major part of the garden will be taken up with tulips for Dan's wedding on Memorial Day. So lots of things won't be planted until after tulip time, thus making the season shorter than it was this year and last. Time will tell.

In the meantime, I'm yanking up the zucchini plants, and tomato plants, and soon the cucumbers, after I get one more crop of mature ones for Nancy Bither's Bither Family Cucumber Relish from Houlton, Maine. The tulips will go in soon after, and hopefully be perfect - just in time for the wedding next spring! Maybe I'll get some late summer sails in now!

One Year Later, Ten Years Later

2011-09-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

I'm tired of all the 9/11 talk and stories of firemen, and First Responders. I do not mean to deny their heroism, but there are other heroes, and heroines, in the aftermath of 9/11.

A year after 9/11, my son Ben and his wife Torrey had a six month old daughter, Sarah Kate. They were living in Denver then, having moved there after Ben graduated from medical school. Ben was doing his internship in the Emergency Room of Denver General.

On 9/11, Torrey was teaching 5th grade at PS 234, the elementary school next door to the World Trade Center. As happens in the first days of school after summer vacation, Torrey had the flu that day, and a substitute teacher took her class. Ben was doing a 6-week residency in Farmington, New Mexico, and driving to work when he heard about the planes flying into the Towers. He tried to call Torrey but couldn't reach her by cell phone or landline. So he called me, in California. He had to go to work; I could and did, spend the day trying to reach Torrey.

I finally found her at home, on the computer. She was OK and hadn't been at school that day.

But she spent the rest of that day and year, and really the last ten years, dealing with survivor's guilt. And she, like all the other teachers in PS234, dealt with the childrens' stories, their fears, their horrid memories of that day for the remainder of that year. The school, when it reopened two weeks later (?), opened in an old Catholic school, in the neighborhood. Three 5th grades had to meet in an old gymnasium. The class moved to a different place 3 times that year, trying to find a safe and secure place to meet.

Those children were ten years old then. Now they are twenty somethings. The memories that they wrote about that year, were the sights and sounds of the bodies falling from the sky as they were evacuated from their old school. And their relatives who died. I can't begin to understand the strength and courage that those teachers used to deal with the nightmarish lives of their kids that year. And the parents who were left.

The firemen who risked their futures working to clear debris and find remains are undoubtedly heroes. But so are the teachers, parents and children of PS234, who survived and have been dealing with the horrific memories of that day, for the last ten years. I hope they have found some measure of peace.

after Irene

2011-08-29T14:26:00.000-07:00

Except for the empty marina, you'd never know that we had a hurricane yesterday. Irene screamed into new England, faded, and blew on up through Vermont. Here, on the coast of Maine, we had lots of wind, an inch of rain, and power outages. In Vermont, bridges are out, roads are washed out, and downtowns and homes destroyed. I never thought I'd hear the words, "The eye of hurricane is just now passing St. Johnsbury, Vermont." But I did, and Irene about drowned Vermont.

I am sorry about all that; I kind of wish we'd had some more drama as most of us were very prepared. Really though, I am happy for the sun, and the September - like weather, and hope another hurricane does not come this way soon.

"and the restless wind.........."

2011-08-28T16:21:00.000-07:00

These are the last boats to be hauled in advance of Irene, the hurricane of August 2011. For 3 straight days, the crew plus others at Ocean Pont Marina hauled boat after boat after boat. They barely slept, I think. But today when I went to look, there were a few big boats out on moorings, but the slips were empty - even the Boat US Towboat was gone.

They hauled Priscilla on the second day. She's comfortably up against one of the big sheds, safe and sound so far. The dinghy is turned over on the wharf, but is somewhat vulnerable to the storm surge expected tonight at high tide. I expect to sleep through it; it occurs at 11 pm. But it is a bit of a worry in that it is an astronomical tide - there is no moon at all now, and will be a 10.6' tide, higher than normal and a challenge to the Post Office, Lobsterman's Wharf, and the Marina. If there is a surge also, this far up the River, it could spell trouble for things at the above places - including dinghies turned over on the wharf.

So here I am in the middle of a hurricane. Actually EBB is on the eastern side Irene, hence we've not had as much rain as Vermont has had, or the rest of the Eastern Seaboard. But we have wind, and wind gusts of up to 75 mph. And we will have surf with wave heights of between 20-30', they say on the Weather Channel. Not good for people living closer to sea level than me, but dramatic if you don't live there. This afternoon, at dead low tide, it was pretty exciting but not close in. The rocks and the seaweed kept the water away. Tomorrow at high tide at noon, it should be quite dramatic.

"And they called the wind,"...Irene?????

Altogether too much joy along with problems!

2011-08-23T18:24:00.000-07:00

There's been altogether too much joy here in East Boothbay lately. Too many families coming together; too much wonderful weather; too many trips out to Monhegan to build fairy houses. But so be it. Take it in, breathe deeply, and enjoy. Even the garden threatens to take over.

My grandgirls came here, and then I went up to Vermont to see them again, plus all my boys and their Significant Others, for the first time in a long time. I had ex-in-laws for a visit which was good fun, too, and all my mother's family for a picnic. It's been too good.

So today, I took a friend down to Maine Med in Portland for an MRI because the local hospitals were too busy - not a good sign. There's no diagnosis yet, but she is relieved to have begun a diagnostic process.

And I heard a final story from the Shipyard Cup races. The largest yacht here, Christopher, at 154', has a keel draft of 9', but a centerboard which drops down to a draft of 31'. Thirty one feet is pretty much lowtide depth in much of Boothbay's harbors and coves, which Christopher found out. Apparently she grounded sometime during the race, was pulled off but could not get her board back up. So she had issues finding a place of rest and security. I haven't heard yet whether or not they got her board back up, and I've been speculating on how they could do it.

Divers? I'm sceptical.

I've been thinking that they should hire the crane that lifted one of the tugs finished by Washburn and Doughty after the fire in 2008. It was the crane that Howard Hughes had built to raise the Russian sub sunk off the coast of California, and is reputed to be the biggest in the world. On the other hand, the Navy is dredging the Kennebec as we write, in order to get a new destroyer out of Bath Iron Works with a draft of only 27'. So maybe they could get Christopher up the Kennebec to Bath, and raise her up on one of their giant cranes - to unstick the centerboard. Aah, the woes of boat ownership!

I will let you know what I find out. In the meantime, enjoy these last days of summer!

what a difference a year makes!

2011-08-14T17:28:00.000-07:00

Last year, it was glory sailing. This year it is best not described. The big boats emerged out of the hazy fog, crept across the finish line and back into the Harbor. The air show at the end of the races helped, but yet I wish I'd been able to see some spinnakers flying. Still, the Shipyard Cup made everyone in Boothbay sit up, take a breather, and drive on out to the rocks on Ocean Point if they couldn't get a ride on a boat.

It's really been a grand and glorious few weeks. Priscilla's engine got fixed and I've had some great sails; the garden overfloweth; I picked a few blueberries from my canoe in New Hampshire again; and the grandaughters began a parade of family that still continues. Saturday, 27 people from my mother's family came for a picnic, and appeared to enjoy themselves! Babies and grandparents all. Perhaps the nicest thing of all, is that my son and his girlfriend have decided to get married!

I am quite pleased, knowing at the same time that I really have very little to do with it.

Despite the weather for this last day of the Shipyard Cup or perhaps because of the family picnics, this summer has been wonderful up here on the Coast of Maine. That makes it hard to think why Congress can't do what we elected them to do - reach reasonable compromise and make a decision in favor of the country and not their own reelection, when the possibility of spending time here in Maine during a beautiful summer hangs in front of them! let's hope the stock market thinks of this possibility also, this coming week!

What goes up, must come down

2011-07-24T17:09:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, when I lived in Paris, I spent three days in Oslo, Norway. Most of that time, I spent at the Naval Museum area, where I could explore boats that were used to explore New England long before it was called New England. Thor Heyerdahls' Kon Tiki was also there. I was quite pleased that I could find my way around Oslo quite safely without speaking a word of Norwegian.
My naivete has been shattered with the bombing and then the massacre of the youth, in Norway yesterday, on an island which looks a lot like the image of Oslo here. The psychic break with reality that people can talk themselves into, which allows them to commit such crimes, is unbelievable to me. But it hasn't been so long since it happened here - Gabby Gifford's shooting most recently.

Still I have always thought of Norway as different. Perhaps because my uncle, Streeter Bass, was one of the skiers airlifted into Norway during World War II, who managed to sink the ferry carrying "heavy water" to Germany. That water would have allowed the Germans to develop an atomic bomb. The skiers were airlifted into northern Norway, and then, miraculously and only with help from the Norwegian Resistance, they were rescued by submarine after the ferry sinking.

The Norwegian criminal who committed these crimes has betrayed the Norwegians who survived that war, who lived to create the vital, multicultural community that Norway is today.

That is not the only tragedy of the moment though. Priscilla's engine has blown a gasket of some sort, and the Marina is so busy that no one has been able to look at it yet - after a week.
It has been superb sailing, too, and for the first time, I am thinking that if she were on a mooring, I could still sail her. But she's not; she's in a slip. I am quite frustrated by this, and by the rule that you can't bring in an outside mechanic into the Marina. I'm not sure whether this is part of the territoriality of fishermen, or what. But it is completely frustrating, and puts me in the position of nag as I try and get Brian, the mechanic, to hurry up on the other boat that has broken down.

In the scheme of things, I cannot help but feel frustrated - except that it dwarfs in comparison to Norway's sorrow. For now, I will put aside my simple frustration, and hope and pray that some sort of justice is brought to bear on the horribly warped man who created the tragedy in Norway.

glory days of summer

2011-07-11T13:04:00.001-07:00

Though Priscilla looks nothing like this big, there have been several glorious sailing days of late - including today. Summer so far has been a total delight, except for the spider mites on my nasturtiums. But there has to be at least one or two problems or we humans lose our touch at solving problems.

I can't think why DC is having such trouble putting aside election issues when so much is at stake economically. Do they not realize how dangerous is the game they are playing??? You cannot be a leader of this country and be rigid. Presidents and Members of Congress and the Senate all represent All of us people, and there must be give and take on both sides.

Have they forgotten when the budget was last balanced? It is within their memories - all of them. It was at the tail end of Bill Clinton's second term - before 9/11, Iraq and Afghanistan, before George Bush's tax cuts for the rich. The budget was in balance for the first time since World War 2. How is it too much to ask that those tax cuts be rescinded, that we leave two countries on the opposite side of the world, and where we finally accomplished revenge for 9/11.

I see people making less than $100,000, now struggling to hold on to homes, jobs. I rarely see people making over that limit struggling. It cannot be that rescinding those tax cuts will hurt many people, and it would provide some economic justice! As Nancy Reagan said the opposite way: "Just do it," DC!

Summer guests and the weather

2011-06-29T17:59:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I had the second batch of company this summer. As are so many of my friends this year, they came to celebrate a 65th birthday! They were also sailors hoping to get a ride on Priscilla, my 30' sloop. As it does from time to time, the weather did not cooperate. In fact, it was really miserable and cold, in the 50's and raining hard. So instead of sailing about in balmy breezes, we ate oysters at Lobsterman's Wharf, drank Cold River vodka - a new Maine vodka made with Maine potatoes, and lobsters cooked right at home.

On Sunday morning, though, we had to buy newspapers at the General Store - along with their delicious muffins and breakfast pizza! So home came the Boston Globe, the New York Times plus the Portland Sunday Telegram - enough newspapers to keep all 5 of us college-educated people entertained for a morning. I went straight for the NYT magazine, and managed to get it first. I was after the Letters to the Editor, and I found what I was looking for.

Two weeks ago, the NYT magazine had published a story on the Erie Canal in their Voyages issue. The story was written by a woman whose friend had made a small, flatbottomed dinghy which the two of them intended to paddle(????) along the Erie Canal. The photo was unforgettably pathetic. So I wrote a letter complaining, explaining that 20 years ago, my 11 year old son and ex-husband, and another family with two boys spent 10 days on two 20' motor boats going down Lake Champlain,

through the Champlain Canal which links the Lake to the Hudson River,

down the Hudson River to Troy, NY,

up the "Mohawk Stairs", locks which take you from the River up to the Erie Canal,

out the Erie Canal which is over 400 miles long (not some dinghy trip!),

through Lake Oneida,

up the Oswego Canal to Lake Ontario,

across that Lake and down through the Thousand Islands of the St. Lawrence River,

through the St. Lawrence Seaway into Montreal,

on down the St. Lawrence to the mouth of the Richelieu River which drains Lake Champlain, and back up the River to home. It was 700 fabulous miles of modest excitement.

The Canals of the early 19th century are still for the most part, viable, especially in Canada, and are great fun to travel on. Who knew that you could circumnavigate the Adirondacks? These remnants of long ago travel deserved more than a pathetic attempt at boating on a 5 mile stretch of the 400 plus miles of the Erie. So I wrote my letter of complaint, and the NYT edited it, and published it, which of course, pleased me immensely. I hope it challenges more travel on the old canals.

Then George and Fred went after the crossword puzzle and finished it on their way home!

Windjammers Day 2

2011-06-26T16:41:00.001-07:00

Rain held off until late in the evening of Day 2 of Windjammers in Boothbay, so the parade with the Land Trust float seen here, stayed together and did not fall apart. For the past two weeks, Dick Palmer, Debbie Moorefield and myself worked to build this float, and were we ever proud!

Called "Take a Hike", we entered it in the Green category using all recycled or "green" materials, including foam from the YMCA Pool Building project (the osprey, and the fish), foam from dock building (the rocks), and an old dinghy filled with used lobster traps, a kiosk from one of the Land Trusts' sites, etc. We did buy stuffed baby osprey just for the pleasure of having them and now we each have recycled them into our homes. The nest we built with driftwood and sticks from Debbie's collection, tying it together with old lobster line.

It's always a bit anticlimatic after such an effort, but the parade was one of the biggest I've ever been in, and as such was great fun - lots of music and small Shriner cars zooming around, etc. No politicians were in this one which was just as well. That would have reminded me too powerfully of all the parades I used to do with my boys and their father. But it was fun, even knowing that the end of the parade is always every "man" for themselves, and getting home is a trick to get around the rest of the parade.

Summer has officially begun now, and guests are arriving now. I can't wait!

windjammers day one

2011-06-21T16:59:00.000-07:00

They came this year on a brisk NW wind; between 12 and 3pm they passed Damariscove and Fisherman's Islands, and sailed on in to Linekin Bay. They were having just a lot of fun, it was clear. Though I've had to use a photo from last year - this year I was too busy sailing myself -, this photo gives you an idea of what they look like.

In the meantime, Priscilla got all decked out with flags borrowed from the Marina (thanks, Dan), and we sailed a bit and motored a bit over to the Harbor to be in the Antique Boat Parade. Priscilla was launched in 1965, so we were the 5th or 6th boat, depending on whether or not you counted the lobster boat that horned its way in front of us in the parade. It was a nice clean boat so I didn't mind, but he was not Us. And there were about 15 legit boats in the parade - lots of beautiful launches, and two sailboats actually sailing!!!!

For a time I thought the two Boothbay Harbor One Designs were just harassing the parade, but then discovered that one of them had two friends on her and she was an official part of the parade. I was a bit chagrinned as I had been swearing (silently) at them throughout, but I am extremely proud of them now, to know that they actually sailed all the way through the parade!

Hooray for you, Patty Berger and Nancy Adams!

Afterwards, we had a gorgeous sail to Fisherman's Passage when the wind died and we motored the rest of the way home. It was idyllic. Summer has begun!

May vanished

2011-06-01T16:45:00.000-07:00

May vanished into grayness, even as the traps and buoys waited on the shore in Lobster Cove. My birthday is in May, and I can remember planning and hoping as a young girl, that I could have an outdoor birthday party at someplace like Sand Beach in Acadia Nat'l Park. But it never happened when I was a child and it certainly didn't happen again this year. Not until the last day of May did we see spring time temperatures, even as approaching thunderstorms threatened to cool us off again.

But today is another month, and hopefully another start to spring and summer. Windjammer Days are coming, and that means all sorts of things to do. Priscilla will go in the Antique Boat Parade again this year, with Jack and Holly and others as crew. Then on Wednesday, the Land Trust will sponsor a boatbuilding tent for kids, and a float in the parade which will be pretty special. We're building an osprey nest on a boat trailer, and will fill it with stuffed baby ospreys. A child will wear an osprey costume and fly around the float - catching fish???? or distributing them, I'm not sure yet.

Traps and buoys are finally beginning to accumulate in the River, though Priscilla is hardly ready for a cruise yet. Other boats are, and I went for my first row yesterday- just out around the shipyards, but it was a lovely feeling to be floating and moving around on the water again. If only the temperature will remain above 60, I will be happy to get going on the water.

The garden remains in a bit of limbo, growing like mad, but because it's been so chill, it has been discouraging to try and weed. So I've mulched the tomatoes and lettuces, peas and cucumbers, but not the corn, and I don't have straw yet for the asparagus. Still, the first asparagus was really tasty, and the rhubarb terrific. Perhaps this weekend it'll warm up again so that people will want to weed!

The General Store opened in the middle of May, and all the town is glad to have them back. Lobsterman's Wharf is open now, too, usurping the Post Office as the place to be.

Most of us are dying to know how the new Bigelow Lab is coming along, but a big gate keeps us locals away for the moment - except if you know where the back trail is, or if you can get out on the water. But for the moment, we leave them alone. Windjammer Days are coming, and there's a lot to do.

spring is sprung

2011-04-24T16:22:00.001-07:00

Easter brought spring to East Boothbay. Suddenly the thermometer has broken the 60 degree mark, much to everyone's relief. People are beginning to flood the roads into town; Sugarloaf-stickered cars are beginning to reappear; lobster boats are filling up with traps; yards are emptying of traps and buoys; daffodils are popping up.

My church was filled to the brim today. My neighbor down the road, with mesothelioma, read the lesson - a real victory for her, but I didn't make it to the fog-rise service at 5:30am. The sun did not come out until about 9, and I decided to wait for the sun.

I dug up the last of the wintered-over parsnips and carrots, fed the rhododendrons, and began to make garden to-do lists. I've been varnishing the oars to the dinghy lately, but that project's about done. Things are gearing up for "the season," like the lobster boats. I guess I'd better, too.

A Terrible Fuss

2011-04-10T17:31:00.000-07:00

I wish I could post a photo here, of the mural that has been creating a terrible fuss here in Maine over the past two weeks. But I can't seem to get one off the newspapers or online media and onto my blog, so we'll have to do without. The gist of the matter is this though: A few years ago, Judy Taylor of Tremont created a mural in 11 panels depicting a history of the labor movement in Maine. It hung in the State Labor Department these past few years with nary a protest or really much comment.

However, a few weeks ago, our Governor allegedly got an anonymous letter complaining that the mural was anti-business and should be taken down. So our Governor took it down surreptitiously over a weekend without any warning or hearing. It has been in hiding ever since.

It has been my experience with murals that once one has been removed from sight, they fall largely into the domain of maintenance or security personnel. Some of them know how to care for a work of art; many do not. Once, when a large and valuable mural was in the process of being stolen from Stilwell Hall on the old Fort Ord in Marina, CA, the MP's who chased off the thieves, took the mural and stuffed it into a janitor's closet in the Police Station, where it remained for the better part of three months. The public assumed that it was being taken care of because the thieves had been chased off.

After about three months, I began to wonder where the mural was. A search was launched with the Commandante of the Fort helping, and lo and behold, the mural was found rolled up and standing in the janitors' closet in an old wooden barracks. Paint had been chipped off and it was in danger of being mildewed. It took nearly $50,000 and six months to restore that mural, which had been painted by Vinegar Joe Stilwell's daughter in a Chinese manner, and was 8' high and 11' long. It hangs now in a lobby at Cal State University Monterey Bay, very near where it hung originally.

Public Art is rarely "high" art. Public mural art usually tells a story; it is a visual narrative that communicates stories with images instead of words. Often, we do not understand what the story is, or how important it has become to us, until it is taken away. Often also, we never get the story back. The WPA murals in Stilwell Hall at Fort Ord were saved with the unlikely cooperation between the US Army and Cal State University. The State of Maine could use some unlikely cooperation now - between Governor Lepage and the rest of us who would like to read the story in Judy Taylor's murals once again. And then, let's move on!

Heading Home

2011-03-26T16:00:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time, I lived here in California, near Monterey. It still feels like home in many ways; I have great and loving friends, work to do, and I love the landscape, weather and flowers. But my 'people' are in New England for the most part, and it is time to go home - though it is still freezing at night, in East Boothbay.

When the father of my children decided many years ago to pursue careers which located him, and then us, outside of New England, I understood what a grand adventure life might be. I thought it would be good for my 3 boys to see and participate in a larger world, and that it would be exciting for me. It was all of that and more. We travelled the world; the boys were educated as well as is possible these days. I started and then stopped more projects than most people ever get to even begin, and for the most part, I loved it.

But when the marriage fell apart, I was caught in Paris, France, and had few resources with which to deal. I have never felt more isolated, and trapped. I knew I had to get home, and for me, that has always been Maine. It took me 3 years - 6 months in Paris, two and a half years

in Pacific Grove, California, and now I'm finally living back home in Maine. It feels good even though spring never comes soon enough, and it feels even better when I can get to California again each winter.

Home has been a lot of places for me: Orono, Maine, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Montpelier and then Middlesex, Vermont, Arlington, Virginia, Marina, California, Paris, France, Pacific Grove,

California, and now East Boothbay, Maine. I am a little bit urban, and a lot country. I loved all those places for very different reasons. I may get too old and decrepit to stay in my current house in Maine, and have to move near some family - a very nice concept I think. But Maine will forever be my geographic anchor, and I'm quite happy to be heading home again - even if I have to leave California.

Tsunami!

2011-03-14T19:44:00.000-07:00

It was 4:20 in the morning when friends called from Cambridge to let me know, here in California, that I was about to experience a tsunami. It wasn't, however, until 5:50am that I got the first of two reverse 911 calls, saying that there was a tsunami coming and if I was in the zone, I should go immediately to higher ground. I'm not in the zone, but the second call was more relevant: at 7:15, a second reverse 911 call came that said that the State had decided to close all the beaches in Monterey County, and that we should not try to access the shoreline at all.

Perspectives on tsunamis here on the West Coast are considerably different than on the East Coast. I do not ever remember, in all my months and years on the East Coast ever being told I was in a tsunami zone, or ever seeing a sign such as I used to see in Pacific Grove, that I was then in a tsunami zone. But the threat is real here, and is ever present. The same kind of subduction zone that caused the earthquake in Japan, exists off the northern coast of California, Oregon and Washington. It is a not-so-theoretical possibility that something like what happened in Japan, could happen here. Especially as we consider the "Ring of Fire". With one devastating earthquake in New Zealand in February, another in Japan in March, where might the next one be?

News organizations out here are quite specific now, that they are letting us know what's happening so that we may be prepared. But they also say, quite specifically, that they are not trying to "scare" us. What? What is this news if not scary, that the Japanese still do not have control of the 3 reactors in Fukushima? Authorities are saying that after a meltdown, it will take 10-14 days for radiation to reach the West Coast, and by then it will have dissipated in the wind

to a level that will be tolerable. Really. It brings all those things to mind, like well, I've lived a good life. If God wants me now, he will have me. There's not a great deal I can do about things. and Que sera, sera.

The situation has caused some conversation about the difference in people's behaviour on the East and West Coasts. It has been generally conceded out here, that people in the East are better at knowing their neighbors on an ongoing basis, than people on the west coast. But that when a big one happens, people on the west coast are better prepared. This shows up in interesting ways in the budgets of non-profits and governmental agencies. Back East, we really worked hard on the school boards, United way agencies, and other boards that I have experienced, to balance the budgets fairly precisely each year. Here on the West coast, those same sort of agencies always have a "reserve" of 3-6 months, left in their accounts, or generally set aside for just such things as tsunamis.

I think it is in the way of the weather in both places. The seasons back East demand that people be always at a relatively low level of preparedness, whether it be for hurricanes or blizzards or torrential rains. Out here, the weather is usually not the problem. Devastating earthquakes, tsunamis and radiation from far away places are the problem - less frequent, but more disruptive. So we people adapt to our situations, and organize ourselves accordingly. Let's hope those reserves are not necessary at least while I'm still in California!

Being Away

2011-03-10T15:44:00.000-08:00

The advantage of being away for March, from Maine to California, is that you get to witness spring twice. Here at the entrance to my tiny cottage, the Japanese maple is leafing out right by the door. Not that I wouldn't like to see the 2 1/2 feet of snow that my granddaughters just got in Vermont, but I'd really rather see the leaves coming out and the orchids blooming - at least for now.

The other advantage is that time slows down. There are fewer things to do out here - no spring cleaning to be done, no snow to shovel, no Boards and committees to attend. I find my own agenda each day, and somehow I get more done. Life is simpler, and for me, that helps sort out what's important versus what is simply time-filling activity.

For instance, I've been reading poetry this week. When I first arrived, I bought Barbara Kingsolver's book, 'Lacuna,' and read it and really enjoyed it. Then I found a first edition of Jack London's 'Valley of the Moon' for $5.00 in a little shop in Bodega Bay, and read that. Sonoma is the Modoc (Native) name for Valley of the Moon, and I am always pleased to know the meaning of the names of places I love. Then I rediscovered Willa Cather's 'Death Comes for the Archbishop.' and read that. Now, I'm reconnoitering a collection of Robinson Jeffers' poetry.

Jeffers' house and tower are about 8 blocks from my cottage. They are right on the edge of Carmel Point and overlook the Bay. He lived and wrote here in the first half of the 20th century, and his works reflect the dark history of that era. I'm finding they resound at the beginning of this century, too. He likens the cities crowding along the coast of California to a purse seine gathering in sardines, flashing in the light as they leap for freedom and are restrained: "...we have built the great cities; now there is no escape."

But rarely is all lost in his work. There are glimmers of how to behave justly, act kindly. I found one line this morning, in a poem called "The Great Sunset." The last line of the poem, in which he turns from the "glowing west" to the "cold twilight," he says, "To be truth-bound, the neutral detested by all the dreaming factions, is my errand here." I can think of no better description of how a life should be lived, than to seek truth, to balance judgement, and act compassionately. A great thing to be reminded of, when we have time to slow down, and read poetry.

getting away

2011-02-25T09:46:00.001-08:00

After all the snow we had in East Boothbay, perfect for X-C skiing and snowshoeing even on West Harbor Lake, - it was time for me to "get away." So I've come back to California, to my part of California anyway, for a month. I get to rent a place from friends in Carmel, a cozy cottage with a gas fireplace for when it rains, which it is doing right now. It is even supposed to snow here tonight. Oh, well. It won't last long, and it does turn the hills electric green. In Vermont, we called this kind of snow, "Poor Man's Manure."

The news from East Boothbay, though, is not so good. A good friend and neighbor has inoperable cancer, and will be returning home from Boston before I get back. She was hoping to read the lessons on Easter Sunday this year. I hope she makes it.

"Getting away" is what we do in Maine in winter. Some go south as "snowbirds;" I like to go West although we have no name for this yet. Even those who stay, and they are a rugged and tough bunch who make a good deal of fun of us who get away, get away to friends' and neighbors' houses more in the winter than in the summer. There is work to be done in the summer, less in winter, and people see more of each other in January than in June.

I do not mean to run away from all my new friends by "getting away," I am instead running back to my old friends, just for a month, to an old life which was fulfilling and happy, too. I work at Point Lobos State Park, doing history walks, and paint with great old friends and artists. I go to an annual scholarship auction at Cal State Monterey Bay. I visit and walk along the beaches here.

It reminds me of old times, happy times, and gives me a larger perspective on my new home in Maine. Hopefully when I get back, the snow will be gone and the forsythia will start blooming. Although I am not counting on it. I was counting on no snow in Carmel and here it is.

Getting Fleeced

2011-01-31T15:29:00.000-08:00

There will be no photo here even though it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon on January 9th. I had been promised, by mailed invitation and 2 follow-up phone calls, two tickets to Orlando, Florida, or maybe an SUV, all for just showing up at a timeshare presentation. So off I went to the Tradewinds Motel in Rockland at precisely 1:45 pm. I was there on time and in place, and I wish I hadn't been.

I was ushered into a large room where a woman came and began speaking with me about travel plans, showed me the timeshare space in the Motel, and talked about divorce, a subject about which I am still not entirely rational. After agreeing to take what I thought was information about their offer, and signing many pieces of paper, I left. I had no tickets to Orlando, nor a car.

ON getting home, I put the packet of papers on the pile with the tax stuff and the refinancing material from my other mortgage. It was a large pile, not entirely well-organized. I then went off to a ski weekend in New Hampshire with some women friends, came home, shovelled snow, and then went off to Boston to see friends. On Sunday, January 23, I was going through the pile of papers, and found the Tradewinds stuff. Oops.

I started going through the papers to see what it was all about, found a paper that said, ' sign here if you don't want us to resell your personal information.' I decided that I really did need to look at the stuff if they had a 'do not sell form', and started looking through it for something that looked like a description that I could understand. I found one form with a Notice To The Purchaser at the bottom. It said,
" Buyer's right to cancel: You may cancel this contract within ten calendar days following the date of execution of this contract or the receipt of the public offering statement of Tradewinds on the Bay Vacation Club, whichever is later."

I rustled through all the papers and found no "Public Offering Statement," and thought I was home free. I wrote out a letter asking to cancel the contract on the basis of not having found a Public Offering Statement, and packed up all the paperwork I could find, and shipped it back to Tradwinds. They received it on January 26th.

On January 27th, I got a call from Stephen Cobb at Tradewinds. He tried to talk me out of rescinding the contract, but I wouldn't budge. He made a phone appointment with me for 10am the following morning, with Joseph Hart(?), who was not so amenable. He accused me of lying, of being foolish, and of looking really stupid in a court of law. He was yelling by the time I gave up and asked him what to do to get rid of the property. He sent me to a man called Edward Magee at Resort Solutions in Williamsburg, Virginia. Edward offered to sell my property for a $199 fee and no closing costs. I said I had to think about it. By then, I was completely confused about what I had done, or not done, and very confused about what to do next.

I went to the Consumer Protection site on the web and found Maine's consumer mediation site. I filled out forms; they returned with an email asking for more information, and I responded with what I had. I still am confused, but now am quite angry. When I looked at my credit card statement today, I discovered that not only had they taken their money from my credit card on January 20th, but this Sunday, on January 30, they had again tried to get my deposit from my credit card, and then tried to rescind that transaction.

I remain confused as I still don't have any record of what I signed, having sent all the paperwork back to them. Nor do I know what may or may not happen next. I filed the complaint with the consumer mediation service. We shall see what happens next.

Glory Snow

2011-01-17T16:13:00.001-08:00

It snowed gloriously last week. I enjoyed this first 'snow day' in a year enormously. Then for this Martin Luther King weekend, I went off to Waterville Valley in New Hampshire with a bunch of women for a winter ski weekend.
It may seem a bit off, to go off with some women friends for an MLK weekend, particularly to New Hampshire where the weekend is called 'Civil Rights' weekend, and especially after the events in Tucson on the prior weekend. But I am neither unhappy nor feeling guilty about it.
I am not unhappy because the joy I felt in finding my ski legs again, is not to be replaced. I have not skied for over 10 years, and I was a bit worried about skiing downhill. The possibilities of breaking things is higher than in CrossCountry(I felt), and I could ski right out the door on XC skiis. But it IS like riding a bicycle; I put on my newish XC skiis and glided right on down to the Village Market in Waterville Valley. It felt terribly good, and was a great workout!

I skied the next day, too, with the women I was staying with and we covered a series of trails. The snow was as perfect as it gets for XC skiing - on two inches of fresh powder on slightly packed trails. Glorious!

Not the sands of Tucson - which was on everyone's mind still.

I cannot understand the inability of us as a people to do something about the availability of multiple shot weaponry, whether we talk about automatics, semiautomatics, or multi-bulleted magazines. When my ex-husband took a stand in Congress against semi-automatic weapons, and then was defeated in his reelection, some hunter friends who understood the problem created a bumper-sticker, " Real Vermonters Only Need One Shot."

People in rural places need to be able to hunt, often to feed their families. People in suburban and urban areas are only shooting other people. So why should we provide them with easy access to semi-automatic weapons? It is something that I will never understand, and I used to be a member of the NRA as a Girl Scout camper!

Unlike the shooter in Tucson, us women this MLK weekend thought a lot about staying in the present, and living life to the fullest - for ourselves so that we may serve others. Feeling the glory of great snow under skiis replenished my soul this weekend, and I do not think Martin Luther King would begrudge me that pleasure every now and then, when the snow is glorious.

Home again!

2011-01-06T13:00:00.000-08:00

I made it home to Maine yesterday, after 3 whole weeks away and who knows how many miles travelled by air, sea and car.It was worth every sun-poisoned blister, and every penny. But what did I learn? It was after all, a Semester at Sea voyage sponsored by the University of Virginia.

I learned that I could live in a tiny space for 3 weeks as long as I could get out of it during the day; I learned how to live with a 90-year old in that same space - albeit a very spry and "with-it" 90 year old. And I learned a great deal about the places we went, and I met a goodly number of new friends, some from Maine in the Road/Scholar program of Elderhostel, lots from California, one in the same position as I am vis a vis dating again at 60,from Oklahoma, and one, a British Ambassador to Unesco.

The stated goals of Unesco, the Paris base of the UN, are called the Millenium Goals, the education portion of which intends to raise literacy standards in the under-developed world. At each stop along our way through Meso-america, we were treated most proudly to a discussion of the literacy levels of Guatemala, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama. At least it was usually given proudly. There were some differences though that reflect each country's approach to its minorities, usually the Maya.

Mayan history is a proud one; they were after all the dominant culture in southern Maxico, the Yucatan, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, and their cities were larger than Paris before 1500. They had calendars and science, religion and trade. But they shrank dramatically just before the Conquistadors arrived, and no one is sure why or how. The Conquistadors finished them off. It is interesting to speculate whether the disintegration and disappearance of multitudes of Native American communities in New England at the same time, is related.

Today, however, the Maya are the dominant sub-culture in all of the Meso-american countries except for Panama,and they hold onto - or try to - their own traditions and culture. Guatemala approaches them quite differently than the other countries do. In all the other countries, there is required school attendance through the equivalent of our 8th or 9th grades. Literacy rates are fairly high and improving because of that. In Guatemala, the Maya are forgiven for not going to school if they wish. They are allowed to apprentice their children to the trades of their fathers and mothers, and you will see children doing all kinds of things with their father or mother. Often it is selling crafts.

Their crafts are by far the most dramatic and well-done. Their fabrics are more diverse, their patterns more dramatic, and their colors are unbelievably vivid.
Possibly that is because the cocchineal bug, which produces the red dye that is used throughout the world, and was the cause of many a battle between Spain and England, lives there in Meso-america. It is a whole interesting story in itself, the story of the search for the red color that the Conquistadors found and sent back to Europe as treasure. Another time.

I do not mean to suggest that education is not necessary. The Maya that I bought things from were generally very literate, as wellas bi-lingual, and Spanish Guatemalans can be accused of being paternalistic in some sense. But it was an interesting divergence in social pattern, with unique consequences. And it does reflect how deeply the Millenium Goals are affecting development there. My conclusion is that while NYC's UN is mostly the theatre of the big powers, even the G-20, that for the smaller, less developed countries, the efforts of Unesco in Paris remain significant and are the theatre where their voices can most easily be heard. After you subtract the 20 economically large countries of the world, you are still left with 172 (I think). So sticking with Unesco seems to me to be a good thing for the US to do. I hope we do.

The other Unesco presence in Meso-america are the World Heritage sites, protecting in general Mayan ruins: Chitzen Itsa, Coba, Tulum, El Cedral, Quirigua, and in Nicaragua, Viejo Leon, which is not Mayan. Viejo Leon is a ruin of one of the earliest Spanish towns, built on top of a Mayan town and destroyed soon after its building by a huge earthquake. It is located in the shadow of several volcanoes, on the banks of Lake Managua, and is protected in its half-uncovered state by Unesco's World Heritage site program. New Leon is nearby, but Unesco's protection has made Old Leon into a lovely park.

I really did learn a lot, saw a lot, heard a lot and will continue to sort through memories and dig out the good stuff for story-telling. In the meantime, I've got to make some chowder again, before the next snow storm comes!

the back end of a year

2010-12-31T07:05:00.000-08:00

One should never get too smug about people being seasick. Just as Aunt Bette started to get better on the way to Santo Tomas de Castillo in Guatemala, I got covered with what looked like bites, but now appear as Poison Ivy or Oak. It is aggravated by being in the sun and wind, which I have been for the last two days - perhaps my favorite days of the trip.

At anchor in Roatan, we went ashore in our first Garifuna commmunities of the visit. Garifuna is the name given to the cultures of the Afro-Caribbean peoples, many of them escaped or mutinied slaves, many of them also pirates. They are a wild and colorful people, and a significant minority along the Caribbean coast of Mesoamerica.

But I, along with several friends, went to 'Fantasy Island,' to swim and snorkel. I had not been swimming until this day, so I looked forward to seeing the fish on this gorgeous Caribbean reef, and to just plain swimming around. It was glorious.

The next day we arrived in Santo Tomas de Castillo in Guatemala, which was also a total pleasure. I went to visit the Mayan ruins of Quirigua, and then on to Rio Dulce, a town at the mouth of Lake Isabel. There, we boarded river boats which reminded me of fibreglass versions of the river boats of the Mekong Delta, except the ones in Guatemala were much faster. On the boats we zoomed down the Rio Dulce, to a restaurant on the waterside. Under thatched roofs and on decks over the water, we ate whole fish and rice and beans, drank beer, and thought about swimming like the little kids that paddled around in their small dugout canoes. But the water was pretty muddy and I don't really like muddy water when I don't know what's in it, so no swimming yesterday.

After lunch, we got back in the boats, and went zooming off again, down through a dramatic river gorge, on past the village of Livingston and out into the sea and back to our ship. It was a glorious day, beginning with ruins and ending with a long boat ride.

Now it is December 31, and I am taking it easy today because my skin is telling me to go home, stop being so much in the sun and wind, that there is a reason I live in the cooler climes. So I'm not going ashore in Belize City to find an old friend Julie Babcock...who lives on Caye Caulker not far from here. I am letting myself recover from the days of sun and wind, getting laundry done, and letting the drugs the doc has given me do their work. I HATE feeling so fragile, but I guess I'd better get used to it.

Celebrating the New Year will go on for a while aboard ship, and I have no idea whether I'll make it to midnight, but I do not regret much of this past year, so I'll be celebrating both the finish of this year and looking forward to the New. In the meantime, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A Wild Ride!

2010-12-29T05:06:00.000-08:00

It's been a wild ride from Panama to Costa Rica and now to Roatan, Honduras. Aunt Bette and John have both been seasick; Aunt Bette was the more serious. But we are now anchored off Roatan, in a calm spot and people are beginning to recover.
For those of us who don't generally get seasick, it's been kind of nice in that the ship is all of a sudden quiet and nice. To ride up in the 7th deck lounge, watching the horizon line appear and disappear, and playing games and reading, is pretty great if you're me, and I have enjoyed this as much as anything else really.
It has reminded me of another time, on another ship, the Queen Mary. Coming home from living in Paris, on the second day out from Southampton, as the Captain said: "Coming out from the shadow of Ireland...", and while everyone else on board got seasick, I bought myself a massage in the spa on board.
The massage itself was one of the better ones, rocking and rolling on the table with hot stones pressed into me. But it was followed by a time in the hot tub, which was really more like a small pool with a waterfall at one end, and a fountain in the middle, which I had all to myself. Swimming about in the hot tub with the water rolling and the jets gurgling, and the fountain spraying was about as luxurious as it gets, and I lasted about 45 minutes.
That will not happen on board here though. This is an adventure trip, sponsored by the Institute for Shipboard Education at the University of Virginia, and has been in general well-run, and fascinating, even after the "Arch" and his family left.Usually at each port we have a choice of going on an adventure expotition, a service trip or a cultural trip. Most of us mix and match, rotate, but there are some who just do one or the other. At the last two stops, in Porto Limon, Costa Rica, and in Cristobal, Panama, the service trips have been cancelled due to the POURING rain, so I've not been able to use my iguana puppet yet, but I will, somewhere...

PS I've had trouble loading images. Google says I have to buy more space in a Picasa album site, buit since I have no idea how to do that, here on board, the photos will have to wait until I get home and can figure this out. Sorry, as the Canal pics are quite interesting.

A Different Sort of Christmas

2010-12-27T05:33:00.000-08:00

I woke up at 4 am this Christmas, but not from excitement over the getting of something. I was really excited about going through the Panama Canal. I tried working on some email, as it was really dark still, but the boys from Morehouse, who had been up all night and were tweeting while having drunk a fair amount over the night, kept me distracted, so nothing of import was written.
When it got light I went up on the 7th deck, to watch the approach to the Canal. The geography is very confusing. We were approaching from the Pacific side, but the sun was rising behind me as we came into the channel. As it goes from the Pacific side to the Atlantic, we go east to west with a little jig to the south as we go north. It felt very confusing, but the sun kept rising.
Panama City was another surprise. After the small port villages that we had been going into, in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica, suddenly a city full of significant high rises appeared on the horizon. Panama collects funds from all over the Americas these days and has become a center of finance, hence the excuse for the high rise buildings. Plus they do not have many earthquakes, or any volcanoes like its canal competitor, Nicaragua. An obligatory Frank Gehry building guarded the entrance to the Canal’s channel.
The channel took us about 2 miles past Panama City to the first set of locks, the Miraflores. As locks in the world go, they are big, but so are the boats that go through now, and Panamanians have decided that they would like to build another set of locks that are larger, to accommodate even bigger container and cruise ships than is possible now. Beside the Miraflores locks, you can now see the beginnings of another dig, with new locks planned to be open by 2014. Nicaragua is planning, in conjunction with the Japanese, a’dry’ canal across the old route through Nicaragua. It will be interesting to see which happens first.
So we entered the first set of locks with all hands on deck, and learned that there are webcams beside each set of locks (there are 3 lock sets – two on the Pacific side, the Miraflores and the PedroManuel, and one set on the Atlantic side of the Gatun Lake, the Gatun). To see a video of our boat going through the locks, go to //Fs2.semesteratsea.net/public/panama_canal. It is one of those situations where a picture is worth a thousand words. The brilliant simplicity of the idea of locks is transformative, but hard to explain.
But I will try as it is a real challenge to understand why the French failed to build a canal at sea level, and why the Americans were able to as soon as they decided to build the locks. For several days now, I have been asking the question, “Why is the sea level higher on the Pacific side than on the Atlantic side?” That is the reason for the locks, but it has not been the simplest thing to understand – at least until someone finally said that it had to do with the tides. The tide on the Pacific side has to come way up into a shallow bay, and so is higher than that on the Atlantic side. That, in combination with the huge amount of water that flows down the Chagres River into Colon on the Atlantic side, makes for a more difficult situation than what occurred when the French built a sea-level canal at Suez, hence locks became necessary.
Nearly twenty years ago, I went with my son, David, his father, and some family friends on two small motor boats 20’ long, down Lake Champlain in Vermont, down the Champlain Canal and through small, 175 year old locks to the Hudson River, down the Hudson River to Troy, N.Y., up the ‘Mohawk Stairs’, - 5 locks rising 100’ up the Mohawk River, - out the River which becomes the Erie Canal, through dozens of nearly 200 year old locks on the Canal built for canal-sized boats. We hung a right on the Erie Canal onto the Oswego Canal, went through more locks and came out onto Lake Ontario at Oswego, crossed the Lake and entered the St. Lawrence River. Down the St. Lawrence we went, through the Thousand Islands and the Akwesasne Reservation, to the St. Lawrence Seaway and the locks there and on to Montreal. After Montreal, we continued down the St. Lawrence to the mouth of the Richelieu River at Sorel, went up the Richelieu and through the tiny wooden locks at Chambly, and on up the River to Lake Champlain and home again. Wherever they are, locks operate in the same way – water comes in, gates open, the boat comes in, water goes either up or down with gravity and the boat floats up or down with it, the gates open and the boat floats out – whether the locks are small ones like the ones at Chambly, large ones like those on the St. Lawrence, and medium-sized, ancient ones like those on the Erie Canal.
Locks on the Panama Canal work the same as all the others; it’s just that they are bigger. Water flows into and out of them in the same way; ships float up and down in the same way whether they are 20’ motor boats or 1000’ long container ships. It is size that makes for the drama here. And it is size that is now the problem. As you can see in the photos, I hope, the scale of the container ships sooooo enormous now that they are beginning to dwarf the Canal; one false move by a tug or a hand on a throttle, could doom the whole project –even after 100 years. But the plans for the expanded locks are here. Is there a limit? Can we just keep building bigger and bigger things on our smaller and smaller planet? It is a dilemma. I’ll be watching to see what happens here in Panama. In the meantime, it was a very different sort of Christmas!

Upon editing, and with help from the techno wizard Rita on board, I know have some canal photos to share:

reading landscape

2010-12-25T01:15:00.000-08:00

Three days, and three ports later it is Christmas and we are coming into the Panama Canal. These boats were at the port in Nicaragua, the middle stop on the Pacific Coast of 'Mesoamerica,' as I have learned to call the small countries of Central America. But I am up early to see everything to do with the Canal, and am surrounded by the kids from Morehouse who have had a wild and wonderful Christmas Eve apparently. So, I may be a bit distracted.

Guatemala was beautiful, fiercely proud, with extraordinary, colorful crafts...I went up into the highlands to a crafty village and and then on to Antigua, a lovely, old town with lots of language schools. I loved it. The reds of the cochineal bug are fresher and more vibrant here, I think.
Then we sailed overnight to Nicaragua, got on buses and went to Old Leon, protected by Unesco's ICOMOS program, then on to the new city(since 1610) of Leon. I got tired of seeing bullet-pocked cathedrals, but they have had it a bit difficult what with our own interventions. The poverty was dramatic, and everyone was dressed in American clothes.
Then it was onto Costa Rica, which was pretty Americanized, but the landscape is gorgeous - very steep, like Highway One from Big Sur to Carmel Highlands but with 5 times the number of bridges, and another thousand feet on either side of the road.

Reading the landscapes of the three countries suggests that Guatemala is rich in culture but not too much money, Nicaragua in pride and poverty, Costa Rica is rich in pride and immigrants with money.

I meant to be serious here, but I am in the middle of a pretty wild computer lab, so I'd better sign off.

Feliz Navidad!

Porto Quetzal, Guatemala

2010-12-20T11:55:00.000-08:00

We have landed - finally - in a little, pretty industrial, fishing port on the west coast of Guatemala. There's not much here, but we will get in a bus tomorrow and go up to Antigua, a lovely city, at the height of Denver. Today we rested and shopped at the little market by the docks, in anticipation of the long drive up and back tomorrow...
We're right on the edge of the sea, and came gently into the dock courtesy of two tugs, just like the Moran tug being built or fitted out right now in East Boothbay. We pulled in just at breakfast time, and could watch and wave at the dockworkers. Cliff went off to a beach, while we shopped.
Semester at Sea does a great job of briefing everyone before we enter a port. Jill, the Academic Dean on Board, gave us a synopsis of Guatemalan history that was as clear and unbiased as one could wish. The US' role in its history is troubling as usual. Where did we get the idea that we should be the guardian of our concept of democracy? The Monroe Doctrine notwithstanding. That was 125 years ago, and our role here was expanded in the 1980's at the request of United Fruit, which did not want to give up its unused land at the price that it had been quoted and wwas paying taxes on. We upset a country that had been under some peaceful politics for a long time, and even now, you are asked not to go out alone, nor ride in an unauthorized taxi. The "banditos" are still very much active,- in rural areas.
But it's pretty peaceful here in port, although I have been frustrated in finding an ATM. We are told not to use any ATM unless it is in a bank, which does not exist here in the little port. So I have gone into debt to Nancy already, and we've only been in two ports.
We did have some fun in the Jade Museum though. We found a young woman with good English, who helped us find our Mayan 'signs.' Bette, and Nancy are the same - Owls, but I am a 'jaguar.' I like being a jaguar, a protector, etc., and have a little charm with the symbol on it....better than being a Bull (taurus). More later... when maybe the blog will import a photo or two!

well, I'm on!

2010-12-19T11:35:00.000-08:00

Just when you least expect it, you can get on the Web here on board. And now, I've tried to put on a photo of Tutu, but the only way I can read it, it is in script. So I hope it comes through for you all.
Desmond Tutu gave us a sermon? a talk? on the first morning at sea - a rabble rouser with a very gentle message. It was wonderful, and he is a wonderful, modest man of presence. I have a good photo of him doing his thing, and will post it when I can. In the meantime, I bought his book, A Child's Book of Bible Stories for the grandgirls, and had it signed by not only the "Arch", as he is known by the kids on board, but his daughter, and even his 4 year old grandaughter, who was sitting at the end of the line, signing with crayons! It was fun.
The trip is full of many generations, which seems to energize everyone including the "Arch." Each day brings different interactions, with different people. There is a large group of kids from Morehouse College in Atlanta, beacuase of the Arch, a large group of high schoolers from NH, SoCal, and somewhere else, a group of Elderhostelers called the RoadScholars, and random people like us, all of who seem to have some relationship to Semester at Sea. I don't know how I missed it when I was in college, but oh, I forgot, I worked at Mystic Seaport.
On Dec. 24th, Aunt Bette and I are going on a Bridge tour as we as we approach the Panama Canal. I am quite excited about that as I seem to know a great deal about the Canal, thanks to David McCullough. Other than that, when at sea, I get up in the morning and go to yoga at 7. Yoga is usually on the floor or at most sitting, as the boat does rock and roll a fair amount. Once we tried a kneeling warrior, and the boat rolled and we all went over. Sometimes I go to lectures, other times I read my McCullogh book about the Panama Canal, and other times I stare at the sea and watch the sea turtles, the flying fish, and the sun go down.
We have bypassed Acapulco, "for security reasons," so now, after a brief day in Cabo san Lucas, we are into our second continuous day at sea on our way to two days in Guatemala. I have a day on the beach there, and a day touring Antigua and Guatemalan textiles. I am excited about both.
The last time I was in Cabo, was with David Smith and his friend John Carta. Fifteen years ago, there was not a whole lot of development along the shoreline from Cabo to San Jose del Cabo; now, it is solid development, most of which was empty while we were there. The weather however, was perfect, and taking Aunt Bette on a glass-bolltom boat ride out around the Cabos, or capes, looking at the fish was great fun. Then having her try Mexican food - real cheese quesadillas, was great, too. They went down well, and stayed down!
In the evenings, at sea, we tend to sit in the piano bar and play Scrabble, which I lost at per usual, and last night, I was reintroduced to Cribbage, which I won, unless there is Team Trivia being played. That really is fun, and we are not bad at it, though we haven't won yet.
I hope the photo comes through; if it does, I will post some more photos, now that I have done it. But I'm going off to be briefed about Guatemala right now. Who knows when I'll get on next? ciao

Limited connectivity!

2010-12-17T17:16:00.000-08:00

Writing this blog, which I have been looking forward to, has become a real challenge. With only 50 lines available, a.d 800 leople on board, it is real trick to access the Web. I will try again later tonight, as we are leaving Cabo san Lucas right now...

learning life aboard

2010-12-15T20:22:00.000-08:00

Dinner tonight was in a smallish room on the port side of this medium sized cruise ship,next to Desmond Tutu and his family. Aunt Bette said hello, and welcome. He waved back. It is enough already, but tomorrow he will speak if we can get seats in the too small Union room. But he will be around for a week, so there will be more times for real interactions...
In the meantime, we've been doing the life boat drill, and figuring out where everything is, and how to live in a very small space - us two old women who are used to living alone. The motion of the ship should be enough to put us both to sleep, but we do have ear plugs if either of our snoring becomes too unbearable.
Loading a ship like this, takes time and we have basically spent the whole day, waiting to board a bus, and then boarding the ship so it has not been very exciting - except for dinner - which was unforgettable.
(I'm still learning the best way, and what is the best machine on which to do the blog. - Yesterday's effort was on my new Samnsung Galaxy, but it is sooo sensitive, and I am so new to it, that I'm really liking the old time computer keyboard in the computer lab tonight!I'll try and figure out how to input photos tomorrow, while we're at sea, heading down the Baja coast.)

San diego fog!

2010-12-14T14:58:00.000-08:00

Surprisingly, it is foggy here in San Diego, but not half as cold as it was in Boston this morning...though this is not news. The flight was easy and pleasant and I remembered how much I always enjoy flying across this country. Today there was a lot of snow in the sky, so not much was to be seen until we were over the Grand Canyon. And then we were over Bullhead City, and I started to think of the people I know down there.
They are old friends from early CSUMB days - Tom and Alida Fitzpatrick, Hank Hendrickson. Every other year, Tom comes home to Maine, but he worked in California most of his life. Last summer, Tom and Alida came to visit for a few days and I took them sailing during the Shipyard Cup races. (see Shipyard race blog) At Cal State Monterey Bay, he was the first Chief of Police, and when I walked into a room the first day I was there, he said,"Hi, Sally Giddings of Orono, Maine, I'm Tom Fitzpatrick of Mattanawcook Academy in Lincoln, Maine." We actually overlapped in high school, though he was a big basketball dude, and I played the flute in the band at basketball games.
We became close neighbors- Maine expats on Fort Ord, now Cal State Monterey Bay, and lived in a small, tight-knit world for a few years. But I learned that day in 1995, just how small the big world is, and now, just how small it stays when you can fly across country, look down and remember all this.
(this is the new edited version!)

off I go!

2010-12-12T12:36:00.000-08:00

At Thanksgiving, I took the girls some new winter hats I found at the Craft Fair at the Railway Village on Columbus Day weekend. Now I know that their little heads will be warm while I am off on a Semester at Sea 'Enrichment' cruise with Desmond Tutu to Central America! I was invited to go by the Adelmans, Nancy and Cliff, whose son Jon is a filmaker hired to make a film of this voyage. Nancy's Mom, Bette Taverner, who turned 90 last spring, needed a roomate. So off I'll go, and am pleased to do it!
I purchased a new toy, a Samsung Galaxy, (like an IPad, but better), so that hopefully I can continue this blog in a warmer clime. And get email, Skype and buy and read Kindle books - all on the same machine. It should be a treasure once I figure out how to use it.
I also purchased a quite adorable iguana puppet, who should be able to help me communicate with kids - even without any good Spanish. Perhaps I will find an interpreter for 'Toad', the horned iguana.

So off I go tomorrow, in the middle of a storm, to sunny San Diego, then Ensenada, then onto the M/V Explorer, headed for Cabo first, then Guatemala, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and the Panama Canal on Christmas Day, with one of the most inspirational leaders of our era. It will be a special trip!

The girls, I think, will survive without me for this one Christmas. East Boothbay surely will, though we all wait with baited breath to find out what has happened to Mr. Murphy, the owner of Lobsterman's Wharf. He was in a terrible accident recently, and is still in Maine Medical Center in Intensive Care. Let us hope that everyone recovers who was in that crash!

catching the sun's last rays...

2010-12-08T13:56:00.000-08:00

Elizabeth Edwards died yesterday. I can't help but be grateful that at least I did not develop cancer as my husband drew away from me, and left. She lived what life she had left with more grace than anyone should have, and she set an example of openess that all of us who've been abandoned should share.

But back to East Boothbay where they are blasting away again. This time, though, it is for the new Bigelow Ocean Lab being built over on Farnham Cove. The big dump trucks rumble through between 6 and 6:30, and then the blasting starts around nine. My old house shakes with each blast, but so far nothing has broken or cracked except the hand-painted Greek platter which broke last year during the water main blasting.

That project did the Town Manager in. John Anderson, beloved supplier of the Camel during last year's blasting siege, took a job in New Hampshire, which of course, pays more. His last gesture for the Town was to put two speed bumps in the road by the Post Office and by the General Store. Well, you would've thought the world was coming to an end at the resulting hubbub. The big dump trucks had to slow down to about 20, and the shipyard workers had to start to work earlier to get to the yards by 7. Time was awasting! We even had some graffiti painted on the bump by the Post Office! So no sooner than John was gone, but the Selectmen in their wisdom, had the speed bumps dug up. And now we're back to wide open spaces by the Post Office and trucks careening around the corner by the General Store.

The only good news in this scenario - which is really not good news, - is that the General Store has closed for the season, i.e. until next May. It is very sad though all of us know that we alone cannot support the Store, and since the shipyards have put in vending machines, the guys spent less money in the Store anyway. But we miss Liz and Dom and little Sabine and Crystal and everyone else, and mostly pizza on Friday nights, and for breakfast. So for now, the trucks can whiz by without a pause - at least until next May 1. By then, who knows? Some of us old ladies might put a petition together to replace those speed bumps and even add another for the Camel Crossing!

I'll get an update on the steeple tomorrow night - the steeple which was trying hard to hold onto the sun's last rays tonight. It couldn't do so well as last year because it is still shorter. I'll let you know what's happening.

on Thanksgiving

2010-11-30T18:00:00.000-08:00

After divorce, the holidays become a long series of elaborate negotiations about who will do what to whom and when. It is never a pretty process, and one that I have come to dread, even fear - that the fragile bonds of a fractured family will finally break.

So it was with great pleasure that I spent Thanksgiving this year with my oldest son, his wife and 3 daughters, up on the western side of Mt. Mansfield with ex-in-laws at their cabin in the woods. And we all had a marvelous time. Everyone contributed something, and we hiked up to the family's grave site, and said a prayer over my ex-parents-in-law.

The prayer started with a quotation from Eric Hoffer which had been sent to me on some site or other: "The hardest arithmetic we are asked to master is that which allows us to count our blessings." So we all counted, each in our own way.

One of us had lost an election that month; one was about to lose his mother-in-law; one had lost her father last summer; another of us had lost another election; I had lost a husband and friend to divorce. But each of us could feel up there on that mountain, that we had each other - regardless of blood line, marriage, divorce or whatever. They had been my family for nearly 40 years, and that was not to be lost.

So I counted my blessings, and they were all in front of me - the 5 in my immediate family, plus all 6 of my ex-in-laws. It is not an exclusive group, but it made for a very special time. I feel very grateful for that day and those people.

MassMOCA and the architecture of installations

2010-11-17T13:42:00.000-08:00

I have loved museums since I was a child. I'd say it was mostly due to my mother who liked them, too, and would take me to them whenever we were in the vicinity of one. I like all kinds, but now, I particularly like visiting new ones, or new additions to old ones.

Last weekend, I went with a friend out to North Adams, Massachusetts, where the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art is renovating a set of old, brick manufacturing buildings as a setting for art installations. MassMOCA has been up and running for a few years, but money is not plentiful in North Adams, so only a part of the plan has been developed. But what has been developed is pretty interesting.
The buildings themselves are brick shells supported by massive wood posts and beams. The building housing the major art installations has been opened up with some nice engineering so that the spaces are quite large for a non-metropolitan structure. And the exhibits fill the spaces well.

A current special exhibit by Petra Coyne has a whole tree and stuffed birds flying around in one room, but lacks much visual challenge, though a pleasure to look at - more like elaborate stagecraft for an elegant party. The real pleasure comes from the more permanent installations on the second level of the building.

The first installation comes into view as you climb the stair. Fishline - of considerable weight I'd guess - is strung from one end of the very long room to the other, in the expanding shape of an upside-down horseshoe. A spotlight shining through the fishline to the opposite wall, creates an unexpected and visually confusing series of shadows. There is a quite real light created by the reflected light of the fishline, and then there are moving shadows on the wall. The effect is to confuse our sense of reality and space. You reach out to touch the fishline but it is a shadow; when you get inside the horsehoe shape made by the line, the reflected light changes shape as you move. It is a challenge to constructed reality as we normally perceive it. Such an installation is only be possible in this size room, and is effective precisely because of its size and the ability of the viewer to get into the shape and wander through it.

Another of the large installations begins as you wander into the next room. A red wall made of hemp rope tied in a kind of fishnet knot, hangs to one side and is bordered by two white walls. It is nice to look at, with good color and texture, but makes you question its intent. However, as you step past the far white wall, you realize that the red rope continues - smashingly - into the next room and falls out in spiralling piles onto the floor, filling the room with its curly legs. It has become a huge, red, fishnetted squid, bursting through the wall into the other room, with long tentacles spreading out in the far room. It has become a metaphor for the fearful power of sea creatures, but with some humor and challenge.

Beside the giant red squid, is a series of crunched, white, paper constructions, which in the context of the squid looks and feels like a kelp forest. There is little else to define its intent until you climb the set of stairs to the third floor. There the white paper crunches are transformed into tree trunks, twisting one way and another. MassMOCA has created an aquarium with a state park on the floor above. Only in such large, industrial spaces could such an effect be possible, and actually succeed. It was a wonderful installation.

In contrast to this uniquely effective use of space, in a smallish rectangular gallery on the first floor, was an exhibit of "Dr. Spock's" photography. In reality, Dr. Spock is Leonard Nimoy, who though living now in LA, comes from the North Adams area and is a gifted photographer.
His installation of photos of individuals' Other Selves, is a powerful and often humorous exhibit. It left the two of us smiling and thinking hard about just who our alternate selves might be.

The two uses of space - the gallery with Spock's photos, and the installations' space, - are opposing ideas of museum architecture. In the gallery space, the rectangle is used as an envelope for a flat, two dimensioned exhibit. People provide the third dimension. In the installation spaces, the architecture provides a volume inside which a 3-D art form is created. People become a part of the art, and move through and around it. Both kinds of spaces are useful, and it is a tribute to MassMOCA that it has allowed for the development of both kinds of art within its architecture.
It will be interesting to see just how Norman Foster's new wing of Boston's Museum of Fine Art allows for both 2-D and 3-D exhibitions!

Freedom?

2010-11-05T05:15:00.000-07:00

There's a lot of talk these days about government restricting our freedoms. Against a backdrop of people without jobs, it's hard to see that government is the problem. But here's a solution.

The military is still looking for a few good people, and it has no unemployment problem. AND THE PENTAGON HAS NEVER BEEN AUDITED - EVER, so it can spend whatever it wants and know that Congress will approve.

So perhaps we should simply expand the military to include all of us. We could then:

1. all have good health care and a pension after 20 years of service;

2. rebuild our aging infrastructure with new roads, bridges, even trains and power lines;

3. keep our young people in line; and

4. continue to arm the world with our own weaponry, thus justifying the continued militarization of the country.

I am only joking a little bit. One of the most discouraging things about this year's election process, was the total lack of discussion about real issues facing all parts of the country. Of course, unemployment and foreclosure are a problem, but they are the direct results of overbuilding and the globalization of manufacturing. Rebalancing globalization with enlightened self-interest makes way more sense than dumping tea into the harbor.

And of course, that makes taxes all the more problematic. If you don't have a job, and can't afford your mortgage, it's tough to figure out how to pay your taxes, too. So the Tea Party had a field day. But so far, they've haven't even begun to deal with real issues. Continued demagogery will simply keep us on the path I've described above - the militarization of the country. But I will know that the Tea Party is serious when they start throwing beer in the harbor, instead of using the antique analogy of Tea, which no one in the Party has probably ever drunk.

In the meantime, when I want to feel free, I go sailing.

leaf peeping?

2010-10-17T12:16:00.001-07:00

Back in Marina, California, I participated in developing a landscape plan for a new California State University - Monterey Bay. In initial discussions, we talked of remedies for the very flat landscape of dunes on the former Fort Ord, which was our campus. Since there were a number of giant eucalyptus in a couple of places on campus, I suggested we plant some more. The look of horror on everone else's face told me that I had just stepped in a major mudhole.

California has major issues with plants imported from Australia to stop erosion - ice plant, and to bring some shade - eucalyptus. When I asked what was wrong with eucalyptus - because I still think they smell really good -, I was told that they were "messy" trees.

When I asked what made them "messy," I was told that they dropped they leaves.

I was rendered speechless, while everyone else stared at me. I sputtered, and finally managed to croak that most trees in the East drop their leaves each year, and we love them. What's wrong with that? Nope, there was little comprehension of the magnitude of the gulf that separated us. Later, I came to realize that eucalyptus don't just shed leaves, they also shed bark which is quite beautiful, and drop round, golf ball sized seed pods, which really are a pain as you walk along.

I lost the battle to plant eucalyptus on the new campus. Perhaps time will allow more flexibility in the plan, but for now, the campus has gone - mostly - "native." In the meantime, back East, I find myself in another difference of opinion over trees. The whole world, I think, believes that the only thing that happens in the fall in New England is that the leaves of maples trees and oaks, birches and poplars, turn colors. Well, my favorite thing that happens in the fall in New England occurs when the pine needles drop. It is actually the needles of the white pine that fall in October and carpet the forest floor with orange; leaves fall off and turn brown. But when the needles drop, the world turns orange - a time when walking in the woods is most rewarding.

But it is also hunting season, so often we do not dare to venture out, and that's a shame. Between the politics of the season, and hunting, we are kept inside, holding our ears, unable to see the spectacular orange carpet under the pine trees.

the barn est fini!

2010-10-13T14:31:00.000-07:00

Most of this summer, I have spent designing the new barn, watching the old barn come down piece by piece, and the new barn go up. And here it is. I am very pleased; - it is a long term dream realized.

The left hand side is obviously a garage, but big enough for a work bench at the rear, and to hold my canoe, too.

The right hand side is a studio - a place for me to make a mess and not have to clean up, a place that is heated with a very green, propane fired, efficient boiler feeding the plastic tubing underneath the concrete slab floor. It is quite toasty.

Upstairs is completely undeveloped, and everyone but me seems to have grand dreams for it. So far, no one has contributed any money though, so nothing will be done for now.

Some memorable parts of the barn, however, are inside. I could find no one who would say that they could save the old barn, but my contractor Bill Dighton was good enough to take it down piece by piece, saving what he could of posts, beams, and planking. In the end, not many of the posts and beams were worth much, though there is one that was 20 feet tall which we used in the stair well. Others were used at corners, under sinks, and for general support here and there.

The real treasure that we found was in the haymow, where the floor was just rough sawn boards that had been laid down perpendicular to each other, in two layers. These were all mostly 18-23 feet long, and had no nail holes. They had never been nailed down - virginal if you will. We used these to create the ceiling in the studio, and to line the stair well. They are gorgeous and make me very happy.

Another memorable thing are the stair treads. The old barn was in large part supported by a large white birch. Not thinking everything through very well, I had the tree taken down and sawn into boards - beautiful ones, too. But taking the tree down, and then pulling out the stump had the effect of removing one quarter of the sill of the old barn. The tree had grown into, around and through the sills of the barn, and the barn started to tilt. So it had to come down. But I still had the birch boards, and now they have been made into the stair treads of the new barn. They, too, make me quite happy.

But the most memorable part of the barn, really, is the weathervane - the subject of a prior blog. It was my father's, and now resides on my barn. Who knows where it will go next? Or where I will? Mostly though, for now, I am happy to stay right here, working in my barn, and staying warm!

the hole in the sky

2010-09-26T11:53:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, like 6 months ago, there was a steeple on this bell tower - with a codfish weathervane on top. It occupied a big place in the modest skyline of East Boothbay, and it was noticed by all of us here, on land or sea.
But the steeple was struck by lightning this summer, and began to burn. Luckily, the Fire Department - also of modest size - is very near, and they put the fire out before the whole tower was engulfed. But one of the 4 wood struts was completely burned through, and a resident engineer thought we should take the steeple down to fix it.

The insurance adjuster thought otherwise, - at least until Hurricane Earl approached.

At the approach of Earl, the adjuster all of a sudden gave us permission to take the steeple down. But of course, there wasn't time to do that before the hurricane got here, and we got lucky that Earl did not do us any damage.
Now, the steeple has been removed; the insurance company has agreed to pay $42,000 to rebuild and re-install the steeple, but has decided not to pay for lightning rod protection, estimated at $7700. I can't quite imagine the rationale, but it leaves our little Methodist Church with $7700 plus $1000 of the deductible to raise.

If anyone has any ideas about how our small community can raise nearly $10,000, please be in touch with Alan Lewis, 207-633-2510, in East Boothbay, Maine 04544.

taxes and statistics - help!

2010-09-20T09:47:00.000-07:00

Right after 9/11, came 9/15, when individuals not affiliated with any institution or corporation, have to pay their income tax. I had a tea party while I wrote my checks. They were not large, unhappily for the state budgets of the world, but they were significant for me, and I wonder if they will be appreciated by the State of Maine and by the United States.

The current public dialogue about taxes drives me crazy. I believe in progressive taxation, to serve the larger needs of the community, and I do not believe we are close to a fair tax policy, either at the State level nor the federal level today. There are three things that governments can raise taxes on:
1. property - which is traditionally a local tax providing local services like education.
2. income - which is traditionally a federal tax, providing for defense and health care.
3. purchases(or sales) - traditionally a state tax for building roads, universities, etc.
Most governments have a mix and match scenario right now, but it helps to think about where we have deviated from traditional patterns when thinking about these things.

The income tax has been the most progressive, beginning with its 90% tax on high incomes in 1914. Today I believe the highest tax rate is 35%, which on an income of, say $500,000 would be around $175,000. I think that's a tad less than it ought to be and think we should not extend the Bush tax cuts on the wealthy, or those with incomes over $250,000.

The sales tax is the least progressive tax by equally taxing those of all different income levels. Often there are exemptions for things like food and medecine. But soda is so much cheaper than milk that the intention of exempting things for health reasons is a bit obscure.

The property tax is somewhere in between the two, with some people choosing to be land rich and income poor, - like farmers, - and others selling land when they need to in order to retire.
California has so skewed the property tax system that it rewards farmers with federal crop and water subsidies, but has refused so far to reform the property tax structure to account for the extraordinary increases in property values. Anyone moving into California now, pays double or more of the taxes that a neighbor who was there before 1978, pays. The farmer pays on the land values of 1978 or before. It is painfully unfair and totally inadequate for paying for the state's very generous pension and health care plans.

If a state like California refuses to provide a fairly progressive tax structure, it borrows and borrows until today happens - when the banks that lend it money, stop lending. We really don't know what happens next. Does the Army take over? acting on behalf of the federal government?
Does the National Guard defend the state? But ooooops. I forgot. Most of our National Guard troops are over in Iraq and Afghanistan, just as they were for Hurricane Katrina and for the BP oil spill.

Congress' refusal to be intelligent and straightforward about the cost of these wars, and the Bush administration's blindness to that cost, strikes me as positively treasonous. And it is what has led directly to the rise in the Tea Party movement. Thinking of the Tea Party as a metaphor for a primal scream for help by the people, I am sympathetic. But they are not very smart about their solutions. Gutting State, local, and federal services - which makes this country habitable and the future livable, does not strike me as smart.

Looking clearly at where we are spending our federal dollars, as well as how we are raising our tax dollars makes more sense. Returning our military toward a more defensive posture, and our dollars to the local services where they are much needed - for infrastructure redevelopment and education, makes more sense, too. Reevaluating and redesigning our tax structures, and returning to a goal of fairness and progressivity, makes the most sense. Let's hope that not only Congress - in whatever shape it occurs, and all our State and local governments, has the intelligence, sense, and yes - courage - to do this, and soon - before the National Guard comes home and has to defend us from the Army!

Here's to water main redevelopment and property tax reform!

nine years later

2010-09-12T09:22:00.000-07:00

I had not been paying attention to the date, nor the news, so when the offer came to go out to Damariscove Island to do some shore clean-up, I jumped at the chance. Damariscove is one of those places where people of European and native American descent have been visiting for over 400 years, and you can feel it. It belongs now to the Boothbay Region Land Trust; lobstermen love it that it's mostly public and they can use it as they always have.

Rusty Brewer took the Browns, the Palmers and Al Strauss and me out, and helped us haul over 40 smashed traps off the north shore of the island, off the beach where I went swimming nearly 50 years ago. Later, the traps were piled on the pier to wait for a rubbish barge coming on Tuesday.

And then I realized it was 9/11.

A bonfire had been built to take care of the wood and other burnable trash. Larry Brown and some others had found an old, torn up US flag, and decided we should burn it - the way you should when a flag is old and worn out. So a number of us stood around the bonfire, and shared where we were - nine years ago. Al Johnson and Dick Palmer had gone kayaking out to Damariscove, and hadn't known what happened until they saw their wives waving at them from the shore at Grimes Cove. Others had been glued to the TV, even at their jobs. I was glued, too, while I tried calling and calling my daughter-in-law, a 5th grade teacher at PS 234, the school right next to the Trade Center.

Her husband, Ben, was doing a medical internship in Farmington, NM, and not home in NYC on 9/11. So he'd called right away to me in California when he could not reach his wife, Torrey. We finally got through to her late that day when the computers got going again. Later that year, after many moves with her 5th grade class, she commented that in their writings, the dominant memory these 9 and 10 year olds had, was the sight and sound of the bodies falling from the sky.

Today, these young people are 19 and 20 year olds. I wish that I thought that we as a people could honor their memories in a better way than to fight endless wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. No amount of rational terror - like a vengeful war - can erase the sight and sounds of those bodies falling from the sky.

Of Finns, hurricanes, and fish at the end of summer

2010-09-08T17:52:00.000-07:00

The Finns arrived with friends George and Jane last Friday when Hurricane Earl was supposed to arrive, but did not. Pirkku and Simo, Markku and Raili, are from Helsinki, Finland and love to fish. Markku and Simo fished out of Lynn, Massachusetts, on their first day here. When they arrived in Boothbay, they were to have fished right away, but Earl decided to intimidate us all, and we postponed it until Labor Day. Priscilla came out of the water and then went right back in. So, on Labor Day, MArkku and Simo and George went fishing again, this time with Capt. Dan Wolotsky out of Boothbay Harbor. They caught 10 fish, a mix of stripers and blues; Markku had a battle with a seal over one fish and won the battle but lost the fish; and they brought home 4 stripers.
Later, we went for a brief sail, and then headed up to Castle Island Camps in Belgrade for some fresh water fishing.
Castle Island Camps is an old-style fishing camp - with small cabins and great views, and a dining room with a bull moose head and a big stone fireplace. I took Pirkku and Raili on the Great Pond mailboat while the guys went out on their own to fish. Great Pond is the place that the story and movie, "On Golden Pond," is based , and Capt. Norm of the mailboat was a wonderful storyteller. The guys caught some bass, we had a wonderful picnic and then I came home.

I can't remember when I've had such a wonderful time at the end of summer!

an 8th birthday and the Shipyard Cup

2010-08-31T11:22:00.000-07:00

Three days ago, the Shipyard Cup was reinstated as a big boat race. The boats had to be 70' or longer, though an exception was made for Available, Tim Hodgdon's spec boat, because he was a major sponsor of the race. The weather was divine, and after a day spent taking Tom and Alida Fitzpatrick, friends from CSUMB days, out on Priscilla, I filled Priscilla up with more friends to watch the races on Saturday and Sunday.

It was magnificent weather, with a 7-15 knot breeze, and 6 big boats racing with the Weyant, a topsail schooner standing by. Us little boats just sailed in circles watching. This one here is Tenacious, owned by Southport people, the Bosarge's. She lost the first one and won the second race, though you can check the final standings on http://www.theshipyardcup.com/.
,
Then,
Sarah Katherine Smith turned 8 yesterday at the American Girl Doll store in Natick, Mass., with her other grandmother, grandpa Joel, her mother and her sisters, and me. It was a grand moment; the dolls got their hair done and their ears pierced; we all shopped, and the girls got to spend some of their own money. I am a very happy grandma!

c'est fini almost

2010-08-31T10:33:00.000-07:00

The outside of the barn, it is finished, except for some doors. As the final touch, Bill Dighton, the contractor, put up the ship weathervane from my father's garage/barn. My cousin, Joanne Bass O'Connor, had climbed out on the garage roof in June of 2001 to get it when I moved my family stuff out of my father's house. I will never forget that, and always be grateful. Now it has a new home and it looks very grand!

I was going to let Joanne put the ship on the top of the 'vane, but the scaffolding is very high, and Bill was not sure he wanted to let her get up there. I know she would done it happily, but it is very hot here now and she is busy on Tuesdays, so he did it for her. I know Dick, her husband, will be happy that she doesn't have to do it.

It is very hot - we are waiting to see what Hurricane Earl will do later this week. But at the moment, he is keeping the cooler weather up in Canada, and we are sweltering as we rarely do. The carpenters are slowing down now that the exterior is done, and are quite happy that they don't have to work in the direct sun. I am not eager to see them go, to finish this job, but I know they are eager to get on to the next thing. And I am eager to move in, really. The barn represents for me, a place where I can make a mess and not clean up every night...where I can make big things, big drawings, paintings, constructs, and do some design, too...I hope. The design just came to me, and though George calls it Versailles west, it will not have chickens and pigs in it...and I like it. I haven't designed anything for a long time, but now I hope I can do more because I love it. There is simply nothing like imagining a 3-D space, a form, and then watching it develop and FEELing it when it is complete. It is quite wonderful.

So thanks to Bill Dighton and his crew, for making it all come out right!

a time warp

2010-08-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

I should be sailing, but am not, so I started to work on catching up on art stuff, and found myself reading Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, a "blog before there were blogs" that is attached to my name and my website when you Google me. It is rather personal, but interesting, so I've decided to give it some context here on this blog.

These "chapters" of Mr Toad's Wild Ride were written in Paris while I was there and still married to Peter Smith, then Deputy Director General for Education at UNESCO. If they have a somewhat strangled flavor to them, that's because I was in huge denial about his affair with Letitia Chambers, his "consultant." But they reflect some of the events and adventures of my life in Paris, living in the 15th arrondissement at 76, rue du Commerce for a year and a half.

Essential to this story is understanding how important Mme. Emily Keast Donohue of 18 bis, rue Amelie in the 7th arrondissement was. Without Emily, I do not think I would have dared to move to Paris; and without Emily, I would never have found the apartment on rue du Commerce that was such a treasure. UNESCO wanted us to live in the 16th arr. or over nearer UNESCO, but I continue to love the International-style, 60's penthouse apartment that Emily and I found on rue du Commerce. I would move back there if I had any excuse at all, though now there is a gate and a real concierge; our concierge was never sober that I can remember, and never really did have a clue about who we were, or what we were doing there.

But I loved it, except for the personal part. I loved having to walk everywhere or ride the Metro; I loved meeting Emily and Joy, the dog, every morning for a walk in the Champs de Mars; I loved carrying my fold up, Orchard Supply chair into the Louvre every day for a Paris Sketch class; I loved hopping on the train to go north, south, east or west, or to the UK to visit the Rev Dr. Jennifer Smith, or to St. Jean de Luz and San Sebastien, Spain; or hopping in a plane and going up to Oslo, or east to Doha, Qatar, and then even Vietnam.

I travelled alone or with someone, especially Emily, here and there for a year and a half, and I'll never forget it.

And I miss it occasionally - the bay tree and herbs I planted on my street-side balcony beneath my kitchen sink view of Montparnasse; I miss my terrace with a view of la Tour Eiffel and the bonsai pine tree; I miss the free concerts at the American Church in Paris on Sunday afternoons at 5. I miss the wonderfully deep bath tub with shower and glass wall that overlooked nothing but rooftops. And, of course, I miss the food - at Cafe du Commerce, an authentic, old-style French restaurant where you took a jug, and they filled it up with cask wine. And I miss Cafe Constant, over near Emily, on the rue St. Dominique, where Christian Constant fed people reasonably in an upstairs cafe, next to his 3 star and down the street from his 4 star restaurants, one of which Obama dined at when he was lately in Paris.

And I miss the people - Mme. Emily Donohue, Jan Olsson who ran the most wonderful "stages" or drawing and painting workshops in her artists' studio apartment at rue Balard, and all my artist friends from there - Susan Grieg, Jeannette, et al.; I miss the cheese ladies in the fromagere just down the street, and the Vietnamese market ladies; I miss my friend Kara and her two little girls, Kara who works for UNESCO still, and Mme. Odile Blondy, who took me to the Police Station to file "Un Declaration du Main Courant," which you must do when a spouse abandons the household in Paris.

But most of all, I miss the spirit of Paris - finally and most dramatically experienced by me, when I came down the Ave. Motte-Picquet on the day after Peter left. The man behind the newspaper kiosk, just there by the Metro stop at Motte-Piquet, came leaping out from behind his counter to give me a huge hug, saying "Je t'aime; je t'adore." Whereever he is, maintenant, I will be eternally grateful to him for reminding me that I was a person, and a lovable one still. So, vive la Paris, et a bientot.

the barn leaps up

2010-08-18T17:01:00.000-07:00

I can't keep up with it - the barn keeps leaping up and out, now even the roof is on, and the windows are going in. So I've had to spend the last few days ordering parts for the weathervane that my cousin Joanne rescued from my father's house when my wicked stepmother sold it years ago. The colors of everything have to be tinkered with, also, and I never finshed a lighting plan so that needed doing. And now a finish grading plan needs concocting.

So I haven't been painting, but I have been having a great deal of fun finishing off the barn. I even have ordered a slate sink from Monson, Maine, having coveted one since my grandmother's in the house in Wilton.

The big anticipation of the moment is the arrival on Labor Day weekend of my friends, Raili and Markku, Simo and Raili's twin sister, from Helsinki, Finland. They will be here in Boothbay for the weekend, and we already have reservations for the men to go fishing with Capt. Dan Wolotsky, and we will also go sailing on my Priscilla. Nash and Marion Flores will also do a cocktail party for them on Southport. And then we will all traipse up to Castle Island Camps in Belgrade for two more days of fresh water fishing, and a ride on the Belgrade Lakes Mail Boat.

The two men are big hunters and fishermen. The fishing I can deal with, but the only hunting allowed in Maine at Labor Day is hunting bear with dogs, and I just could not arrange that. Nor actually have I really tried. It's just not my thing. But I do wish there was a bird season around now, and the turkeys and geese - the two-footed kind - seem to be invading.

The leaves of the red maples are beginning to show signs of changing color. Nothing serious now, but I do have 5 ripe pumpkins and I canned the first tomatoes today. So fall is coming; lobster is getting cheaper; the winds are coming out of the north and west now as much as the south and east. Rides on Priscilla will get to be fewer and farther between now, but it's been a great summer all in all. There will be plenty of time to recoup after Labor Day. I actually can't wait.

where went summer?????

2010-08-02T19:01:00.000-07:00

The Bowdoin and the Harvey Gamage

Several days ago, or maybe last week, I started to write a story about "Where went summer," based on a comment my oldest grandaughter had made when we moved away from California. She could not understand why, and she asked me, "Where went California?" One could ask that now and mean something very different about California, but here I am now in Maine, and I'm wondering, where went summer."

I started to write again this afternoon, but alas, the power went out. It was taken out by a runaway pickup that had been parked by the side of a house on a very steep hill, across the road from the Mill Pond. And you guessed it, the parking brake was not on. The truck nailed the power pole as if it were a bulls'eye, and carried right on, under the power pole, across Rte. 96, and down the hill, stopping just about two feet from the Mill Pond itself. It was quite a ride only there wasn't anyone in it.

Perhaps I'm not supposed to write about 'where went summer,' but it has been such a grand and glorious summer that I need to keep trying. Tonight I've just come from a Garrison Keillor type presentation of stories and music by Danny Beal and the Holy Mackerels. It was marvelous and somewhat more original than Tim Sample in that Danny has not been discovered, and allows an occasional emotion to show. But I haven't heard Creedence Clearwater music played so well in 40 odd years, and they led with Tombstone Every Mile - my mantra song at college.

Last weekend, I spent time thinking about 45 years ago, as I sat with Holly on Priscilla (see photo) all dressed in flags for the Boatbuilders' Festival here in town. We sat on her on Saturday night, having cooked,organised, and decorated, and ate pizza from our terrific General Store, drank a good Barbera, and watched the schooner Bowdoin come into the harbor, followed by the schooner Harvey Gamage. The Bowdoin is on its way to Halifax, on a summer cruise with Maine Maritime students; the Gamage does semesters at sea for the Ocean Classroom here the Harbor.

But it was the Bowdoin that sent me into the past. Admiral MacMillan who commissioned her in Boothbay 50 years ago, was an arctic explorer of some renown, and a good friend of my grandfather Bass.' He and his wife, Miriam, used to come up to Wilton before and after various expeditions, and I have childrens' books that Miriam wrote about Eskimo adventures. Even before my time, my uncle Streeter went with Admiral Mac to Baffin Island and Greenland on the Gertrude Thebaud in the summer of 1937.

The Bowdoin was also at Mystic when I worked there, but that was not such a happy time. The Seaport had no money to keep her up, nor use her appropriately. So she has found her way back to Maine, at Maine Maritime in Castine, and she looks very happy - workable and fit. Her people seemed pleased to be there also. It made me happy to see that.

At Boat Builders, I display art and work at helping children build boats out of odd pieces of wood. They are wonderfully creative - if their parents let them be, and I love doing it. It does tire you out though, and I admit to falling asleep in my chair in the afternoon when I should have been selling art.

It was a magical day though, 72 degrees and dry, just like the Fishermans' Island event for the Historical Society, and as the days have been when I've been out sailing with all the good friends and family that have come to visit. It has been as close to perfect as I can imagine a Maine summer being, and I suppose that is why every time I've sat down to write about it, something has caused me to stop writing. I was not meant to spend the summer in front of the computer, and I haven't. But it will take me awhile to pick up the pieces - the couch that came that wouldn't fit in the house, the Genoa jib that ripped - again, and the barn sink that needs ordering. Yet the barn keeps going up, and the puppy is turning into a dog, and I need to go to bed - even though the Holy Mackerels are playing at McSeagull's tonight.

90 year birthdays

2010-07-11T18:04:00.000-07:00

Last week, my Aunt Bette turned 90 and had a birthday party at my house here in East Boothbay. She lives in Concord, Mass., but she wanted the party to be here, with all her clan in attendance. It is not a large clan, and she is not my real aunt, but we are all bound by the common bond of being only children, and we have made our own family.

Aunt Bette's daughter Nancy, grew up with me while her mother worked, and her grandmother took care of us. Now she and her husband Cliff, live and work in the education world of Washington, DC. They have two sons, one of whom is married, with twin 3 year old daughters, who all live in Minnesota. Their other son, John, is a videographer in DC, and he brought Aunt Bette up from Concord 3 days before the others got here.

None of us had ever really lived together - ever. I really barely knew the boys, let alone Nick's wife and the twins. But we had a remarkably genteel time together, including a large party of Aunt Bette's old friends and relations from Aroostook, Lewiston, and other odd and remote parts of Maine. I am quite proud of us all. It worked quite wonderfully for all of us, and especially the 90 year old at the top of the pyramid.

I can't say exactly why it worked so well, perhaps because all that was expected was that we interact with Aunt Bette, and have a good time. So we played a lot of cribbage and Scrabble and other new games, generally ignored the important affairs of the world, went for a wonderful sail on Priscilla, and ate some good cake but forgot the birthday candles. Oh well. What was important was that we were together with her to memorialize a big day. That was enough, and it was everything.

not your California water issue

2010-07-09T09:51:00.000-07:00

Somehow, water main issues just keep popping up. I have been on Town water that comes up behind my neighbors' two houses and barns. It was a 3/4" line and did just fine as far as I was concerned. However, since I wanted water to go into the new barn, the Water District guys - who have still not finished the new Water Main work - decided initially that the barn could be serviced by that line, but that my house needed to be serviced by the new 1" line that they had put in from the brand new water main. The trouble is that the new line was in the diagonally opposite corner of the house from where the water services emanate.
That was solved by just putting the line into the house on the corner near the water main. So they dug down into my old stone foundation, found a hole to put the water line through, and did it. But then the Water District guys came, and decided that I should have the new water line go all the way across the front lawn and down into the barn so they can turn off the old line, which was not convenient for them to service - not that it had ever needed servicing. So now, I have a trench across the front lawn and down across the driveway - just in time for my little grandaughters to come and visit. The trenches are just perfect for them to play in and/or fall in.
So I have called Eric Wood, who is doing the dirt work, and suggested that I will be VERY unhappy if the trenches are not filled in by tomorrow, Saturday, when everyone arrives.
It is a classic, summer-in-Maine issue: outdoor construction work needs to get done in a limited time frame, and when the summer people arrive, the time becomes even more limited. I have never seen so many people working at such a frantic pace in my life. Boatyards are hustling to put boats into the water; dirt movers are loading things onto barges to take them out to islands. Dumptrucks included. Landscapers are distributing huge piles of mulch here and there on lawns, and bending over to spread and plant. It is impressive, and fun to watch except when it is on your own front lawn, and the grandaughters are about to arrive!

thank the Chinese

2010-06-24T04:45:00.000-07:00

You've got to be glad the Chinese invented fireworks, I think. At the end of Windjammer Days, the Committee that puts the celebration on, bought a wonderful big fireworks display and ended the party. It was grand.

But there is nothing like sailing your own boat in amongst the big guys, as we did on Tuesday, in the Antique Boat Parade. While there was absolutely no wind except right up against the shore, motoring around is a lot easier in a parade than sailing - though I think we could have done it. Though maybe not. It's tough to back a big boat up under sail.

My person-powered fog horn was a great hit as we motored through the parade route, and since Priscilla was launched in 1965, we were right in the middle of a line of lovely power and sail boats. It was a short, but sweet event, capped once again by some dolphins guiding us back into the Damariscotta on our way home. I think it is mother and baby and perhaps a nannie or two. There were quite actively having supper as we passed on by.

The windjammer parade day was foggy at best until just at the beginning of the parade, and the then the skies lightened and you could see the boats. And, of course, it was clear for the fireworks - a wonderful omen for the summer!

midsummer's eve

2010-06-21T18:01:00.001-07:00

Tonight, the Mary Ann Moran finally came out of the barn, i.e. was launched, and a more perfect evening cannot be imagined. Holly, Jack and I went out and cruised the bay until the moment came and with just a bit of effort by the little red tug here in front, the Mary Ann came slipping down into the water. Horns honked, and glasses clinked all across the River, as we had all felt badly for the tug that wouldn't come out of the barn.
The evening itself was doing its best to encourage the tug. For the first time in my memory, summer has arrived when its supposed to, and everyone here in E Bbay is pleased.
When all the trauma of the launch was over, we picked up two little boys and their grandpa, and di some more cruising around the bay, watching the sun go down and the half moon come up. Dolphins crossed our path for a while.
I can't think that this might not ever happen again, if the Gulf oil spill happened here. It must not, but we all must use less oil, and/ or find alternatives to it, and quickly!

A Week That Was

2010-06-17T17:51:00.000-07:00

It's been a Sisyphean week. The barn moves along at its own pace - now it has footings and a frost wall. Next week, the hole will get filled in with sand, etc., and then covered with a new concrete pad for the floor of the barn.
At the same time, the engine on the boat decided to give me grief through a mis-communication with the guy in the Shipyard who was commissioning her. But after being terrified that I would have to buy and install a new motor in her, at some incredible cost, the Yard fixed it, and she's running smooth as a top now.
Additionally, this was the week to put together all the stuff, 21 items, for the Historical Society Silent Auction on Fisherman's Island. The stuff is all ready except for one pot and a baby basket, but it was my job to put together all the info and the bid sheets, etc.
But now it's all done and tonight cousins came over with their little grandson and his mother for pizza from the General Store, and fresh salad from the garden. Life doesn't get much better than that. Tomorrow promises to be gorgeous and hot - for the first time. Perhaps I'll check on the garden, then go out on the boat!
aaahhh, East Boothbay life!

a barn stew

2010-06-03T16:39:00.000-07:00

Here's where we got today with the barn de-contruction:

Billy Dighton is taking my barn apart just the way I'd hoped he would. I got my building permit about a week ago, having decided to take the barn down and rebuild with the good pieces. It is quite fun to expose the old structure, and to see how it was done 'then' - whenever that was. Barbara Rumsey thinks it was in the 20's or 30's that the barn was built, and it was built out of other older barn pieces. So it had no post and beam integrity, but there are wonderful pieces here and there, which we will reuse.

The shed is a bit of a mystery though. It is a double - walled structure on the far end of the barn, and has been a real problem to break apart. We're not sure what it was used for - a milking shed? a cooler place? a pig pen? Who knows? But it is a definite challenge to bring down. Tomorrow , the frame will come apart, and we'll save the good beams, posts and knees.

The interesting part of the second floor was that all the boards had simply been mortised into each other, and laid down on the beam/joists. No nails were used, so we saved those boards to use as siding or finish somewhere. They are great.

More action tomorrow!

rain, finally!

2010-06-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

(I just learned how to upload photos for the blog, so here is the Camel Crossing - about to be unnecessary, I hope)

Thunder and lightning just when the garden needed it! I think I could see the asparagus growing it's so happy to have real water to drink. I think it has been nearly a month since we had a decent rain though it's been raining in California. The irony!

Drought is uncommon here, and while I was never desperate for water for the garden, I was contemplating siphoning water out of the two old wells the old-fashioned way - by mouth. It felt almost necessary when I could smell the smoke from forest fires in Quebec as I worked in the garden. I didn't quite need to use it though, and I am grateful.

Memorial Day weekend was memorable for the rest of the Boothbay region, though not so much for East Boothbay. Because of the water main construction, the powers that be in the VA cancelled our parade, and people were quite upset. It has not been that good a season for East Beirut here. First there's been the construction which has been going on since December. Then last Thursday, Washburn and Doughty were to launch a new Moran tugboat on the new ways in their new steel building. It wouldn't go. A littler tug pulled and pulled for over an hour, and got the new tug about 1/3 of the way out of the barn. But she just wouldn't move any farther. So she's sticking out of the barn by about a third, and looks a bit forlorn. Best not to have a parade go by.

The good thing about Mem Day was that Whorff Construction finally laid some tar down on the gravel that has been creating all the dust, that caused us to become East Beirut. Now, with this wonderful rain we've just had, maybe I won't have to wash the house and the rhododendrons, which were sagging under the weight of the dust they bore. All in all, a cup half full.

Soon, a political event - the primary for Governor, plus a referendum on the tax reform bill passed last Legislative session.

forget camels, it's the garden, stupid!

2010-05-12T17:19:00.000-07:00

So I've had it with the constuction. A rock came and bombarded me while I was in the garden the other day - they're still blasting on my corner. It hit the trees near me, but not me myself, for which I am grateful. But still. It needs to be over.

So while I've been obsessing about the constuction and the blasting, I've really been working on the garden, or gardens. I am starting an asparagus bed on the upper terrace of my property, and I'm quite excited. I've never thought I really had a chance for one until now, and it is quite thrilling in an odd sort of way, to have it come to fruition at my age. I had a neighbor come and plow up some old dairy land, near the old wells, then another man came and added loam mixed with manure, and now I've been shovelling manure on the 100 asparagus crowns that I planted two days ago. It rained in between, so some of the crowns have sprouted and it is quite gratifying to see the tiny sprouts coming up already!

The pile of manure is smelly and wonderfully steaming, so I'm sure it will produce great asparagus! But since there is so much of it - two full yards of it, I have also been spreading it around the corn patch and the tomato patch and the squash, beans and cucumber patches, so there should be a whole lot of produce this summer! - which is good because there seems to be a whole lot of guests, too. The boat is already in the water but it is not ready yet for sailing, and until the gardens are done, I'm afraid my head will not be into the boat. So it is...

more camels, crossing

2010-05-08T12:53:00.000-07:00

last night, a local photographer, Bob Mitchell, held a powerpoint photo show called "So you think you know Boothbay?" at the local Opera House. He got up and told some wonderful stories and then showed some of his photos of both people and places, and asked the audience to identify the people and places and then we all got to telling stories. It was quite marvelous, especially when he showed the photo of "Camel Crossing" on my yard. (see prior blogs. )But the best moment came when he showed what looked like a wood sculpture of a penny with Benjamin Franklin on it. Some people knew where it was, but when he asked for us to identify who it was, a very deep voice with a very thick Maine drawl, answered, " I think that's my pool boy." - which brought the house down. So much for BF coming from Boston...we really know him! But perhaps you had to be there. It was a good time however you measure it.

more construction updates

2010-05-05T14:05:00.000-07:00

Whorff and company are still blasting (whuffff is the sound!) around the village today. Yet more rock has been discovered to be in the way of the water main. But the weather has been decent, so the dust is not intolerable, and it is not uncomfortable to be only 15 feet from the road, as I am.

The signs to Kandahar, East Beirut, and the Oasis are still up, as is "Camel Crossing" - my own personal sign. But there are signs that the project is beginning to wear on everyone. While most of us have a somewhat passive fatigue over the disruption and we wave, and occasionally feed, the workers who are going as fast as they can, there has been a rumor of "an old lady in a red sports car" who gives the finger to the guys as she drives past every day. Even the guys in the Harbor hardware store had heard the rumor. And then, driving home from the hardware store, whom should I see, but the very same "old lady" in a red MG with the top down, giving the finger to the guys blasting. So she's real and feeling testy as she drives around East Beirut with her top down. I hope she has a garage to put the car in at night.

It has been a beautiful spring except for the construction. The forsythia has been in bloom for at least a month, as have the daffodils, and quince. Driving up river to Damariscotta, yellow clouds of forsythia are like Christmas lights in the gray green gloom of early spring forests. And now finally, it is May and gardens are getting planted, and weeded, and plants are getting swapped for others. Rhubarb is getting stewed, and canned, and there are fiddleheads in Hannaford's. I have been stewing about my barn.

My barn is a "carriage" barn, tall with a big tall door for a dairy wagon, and a hay mow. It was probably built out of scrap from another old barn as there is no post and beam integrity to the structure. But it still smells like hay and old barn. And the whole Northwest corner, really almost half of the barn, has a non-existent or rotten sill. So all the guys are telling me that it should come down and I should build a nice new one, that will do what I want it to do. I have just about decided to do that, but I am writing this down now, to see how it looks in writing, and to see how bad, or good, I feel about it. I have spent a good part of my life helping people save old buildings, or art work, and tearing something down just gives me the willies. But I think that in this community of exquisite ship builders and carpenters, that I can let them do their thing, and give me something that will be truly mine.

Then I will have a place to put my car, when, and ever if, I should be so testy that I need to give construction workers the finger as I drive by. As they say in California, NOT!

camel crossings

2010-04-25T17:29:00.000-07:00

My house has a new sign on the lawn: Camel crossings! In response to the interminable water main construction project by the house, the partner of the Town's Manager has begun offering signs to home owners with a sense of irony? humor? She began with a sign reading: 'Welcome to East Beirut!' This was taken down, so she put another up:'Welcome Back to East Beirut!" This has remained. The General Store now sports : 'Welcome to the Oasis." Another reads: This is not a mirage. She offered me a sign, and I took "Camel Crossings." though I have yet to find a camel to go with it. Another has an arrow pointing toward Kabul.
The reason it is so dusty is that it hasn't rained in a very long time and what was once all mud and ice, is now dust. It gets in my nose, it covers my hair while I work in the garden. It has been endless. All this during the most glorious springtime in Boothbay history.
So yesterday I went off to the Harbor for the Fishermens' Festival...which is actually by, for and of the fishermen of the Harbor and their families. It was a glorious day in the 60's, starting at 8 am with the highschoolers' codfish race, an updated suitcase race involving boots, slickers and pants put on and then running around the block holding two large codfish. It was funny and looked like it was good fun. Then came the bait shovelling race for sternmen off a lobsterboat. This was serious and involved barrels of baitfish dumped on the street and shovelled into baitboxes.
But the best race of all was the trap race with 100 or so lobster traps linked together in a line and tied to a dock at one end and a boat at the other. Kids, generally between 5 and 12, then tried to run the gamut of traps floating in the water without falling in. Amazingly enough, several kids could run the whole long line of traps several times without stopping or falling in. Many others however, flopped on in and had to be hauled out by the rescue boat. Little ones were wearing life jackets, bu the water was cold anyway! It was heroic for those who made it, as well as those who didn't!
It was a truly wonderful festival with more things like a tug o war, fish frys, and donuts etc. Today the fleet was blessed in a parade passing by the Catholic Church, though several denominations were present.
So it's been a busy week here in East Beirut, but we are very glad that the Harbor is just over the hill, where we can go when the dust gets to be too much.

patriots' day in boston

2010-04-17T11:34:00.000-07:00

In Cambridge today, it's cold, damp, and rainy - the usual weather for the Boston Marathon. No one I know is running MOnday, though I have known a few people, men and women, who have run this race. The last person I knew who ran, was Sara Donahue, who actually qualified for the Olympic tryouts last year, but didn't make the final cut. I think it is a remarkable feat for a young woman getting her doctorate in public health at the moment.

My races are not about running. I stopped running 15 years ago, when my body declined to be happy doing it. I walk now, 2-3 miles per day most days, but not today. This is weather to make plants happy, not people with arthritis. So I will forgive myself for not even walking today, write the blog, and tell this story on myself:

Two nights ago, I had dinner with Maine friends on the spur of the moment. We did get to having some wine, and eventually they asked me where I was going now? When I said I was going to Cambridge, my great neighbor and friend, Sam Stevens, said, "By gorry, Sally, you'e the only person I know who has a 10-room pied a terre in East Boothbay!" I guess it must seem to people that I travel alot, and I've been thinking about why that may be. I've not come to a conclusion, but rampant curiosity is part of the answer.

A bientot

a cardinal frustration

2010-04-11T08:49:00.006-07:00

A lady cardinal sat on my car mirror this morning, attempting to get into the car - over and over again. She must have tried for 10-15 minutes. I figured she was just having an attack of vanity? or maybe curiosity? And went about my morning, which on the weekends always includes early morning conference calls between Cambridge, New Hampshire, Baltimore, and me - in various confirgurations.
However, when I went out to climb in my car and go to church (yes, I do that thing), the lady cardinal was no longer there on my mirror. But just inside my driver's window, a small, brown spider sat - looking very smug. I chased him back down inside the window well, but I imagine he will reappear at some point, to tempt the lady again, and perhaps to figure out why he was still safe from her. I hope that she has learned about glass windows, and won't hurt herself trying to get the little brown spider again.
I've tried to find the lesson in this - religious gender relations? vanity? frustrations? But I don't think I will share them here!

silence before Bach

2010-04-07T18:28:00.000-07:00

at the Harbor theatre tonight, I saw an old Spanish movie called 'the silence before Bach.' Aside from the rather affected videography, the music was wonderful. But that's not the story. My story is about Mitch Boucher, a kid about 14 now, from Edgecomb, who plays the organ sometimes at the Edgecomb UCC - a small church with an electric organ. Mitch also writes his own music on this organ. Mitch was in the front row of the movie.
I did not know Bach's music was not published until Mendelsohn's butcher started using music sheets to wrap meat in. Mendelsohn discovered the music 50 years after Bach died, and then it was published. Mitch would like to go to a school where he could play a real organ, but that's not easy to find in mid-coast Maine. Perhaps the Church can sponsor him somehow, somewhere. Let's hope. It would be a pity to let Mitch's music wait a whole century before it is played by someone else!
It is important to acknowledge talent when it appears, and to nurture it wherever we are.

PS the heavy machinery is right outside my windows, but the lilacs are intact!

water mains

2010-04-06T13:23:00.000-07:00

really, we need the new water main in east boothbay - to keep any more boatyards from burning to the water line like Washburn and Doughty did two years ago, and to service the new Bigelow Lab to be built on Farnham Cove. But they are right on my corner now, digging and blasting, and it's a bit consuming.
For those of you who don't know, my house backs up to within about 12 feet of Route 96 as it comes around the corner and down into the village. So I don't have a lot of give here. There is an old lilac hedge and a new canoe birch that keep people from driving right into my living room, and they better damn well stay there. Tomorrow will tell the tale.
The sign that called us East Beirut has come down, and that's really a pity as it probably means that someone has no sense of humor. Perhaps another will pop up. Perhaps I will make one. Probably it would be better for my plants if I made muffins and took them out to the guys working - like Chalmer Lewis has been doing. But I'm not much of a muffin maker. I'll let you know what happens.

2010-04-05T06:32:00.001-07:00

Monday mornings, early, I walk the end of Ocean Point unless it's terribly awful. It was not today, and going along with the oddly gorgeous weather pattern, I saw rafts of Eider ducks, heard the mating calls of loons, saw two cardinals and counted seven lobster boats out. They're putting pots out; I saw orange and pink buoys mostly, whose ever they are. But the signs are good that it will be a long delicious spring.

Along with the wildlife, though, the water main construction guys are back by my house. The new sign in town says, "Welcome to East Beirut" and it feels like it somedays, like today. But if they weren't working now, they might this summer, and that would be disastrous, everyone agrees.
Still...it's a pain.

Easter Sunday

2010-04-04T17:23:00.000-07:00

So this is a new one for me...writing for anonymous friends and known ones, too, as well as relatives! But people liked my stories from Paris until the disaster struck, so I'll pick up the threads - like I've picked up my life - and continue!

This Easter has been magnificent here in East Boothbay - in the 60's and 70's, and except for feeling blue about not being with any of my boys, I've spent a wonderful time with my wonderful neighbors and friends here. At dinner with Sam Stevens' et al., I couldn't resist telling the story of my conversation with Sarah Kate, aged 7, about jelly beans and Uncle Dave when he was 7 at dinner this afternoon. Sarah Kate had just finished telling me that there was going to be a jelly bean hunt this afternoon, when I was reminded of the time when her Uncle Dave found and ate so many jelly beans that he threw them all back up. Sarah Kate's response: " So what color was it?" I had to respond that it was all the colors of jelly beans, but it didn't smell like jelly beans! Yuck. Enough. I think she'll be a handful someday!