A REUNION, A COMIC NIGHTMARE, A BUMPY RIDE, AND A MEMORY

Right at the end of September I headed to Chicagoland to attend my 50th high school reunion....the first one I've ever attended. Bob Brink and I  ( friends from Cub Scouts through the A Cappella Choir ) had agreed to go and stayed with my sister. I was a bit slow on the draw finding my camera, but if you can imagine a couple of male deer pushing each other around in the sunny spot on the left, you will be seeing the view that accompanied morning coffee one day.  You can see how I might like staying there.

Both my sister and her husband also graduated from Oak Park - River Forest High School and had events to attend pertaining to John's 55th reunion, so, on Friday night, the four of us headed off to the same neighborhood to two different Irish Pubs. The Irish should figure out a way to regulate the use of the word "Irish".  Ours had all the charm of a small town bus station turned into a bar by people who like to drink too much: black walls and floors; fluorescent light over the pool table; the few bar stools occupied by lingering late afternoon regulars casting a suspicious eye on each new arrival; and, worst of all, cheesy plastic glasses for everything but beer ( I had a Guinness--or so).  It was the first time in a long time I had been to an event where interaction between people begins with staring at their chest, but, after 50 years and in a class that graduated 780 or so, name tags are definitely necessary.  I really did enjoy an albeit tenuous re-connection with several of the people who were there that night and look forward to more time with them in the future.

Here's what I looked like in 1964

My senior yearbook autographs provided some fun and a few surprises.  The worst was from a fellow choir member saying how much better this year was than last now that he knew I didn't hate him.  The funniest was from another friend from Cub Scouts. In the full page ad from a local bank reading "Congratulations to The Class of '64" he crossed out the "Cl" and signed it. The most intriguing finished like this, "You were a nice little boy until I corrupted you." Who was this person? He wasn't in our class. How did he corrupt me? Nobody I talked to over the weekend could quite remember him either. The one which evoked the most vivid memories read something like "After this year we could write our own Tropic of Capricorn." and made reference to another boy whose name was Peter Scraper. ( I've said it before, "You can't make this stuff up." )

Saturday we had a great tour of the high school in the morning The guide began by telling everyone that  "No, the boys don't swim naked anymore."  They still send over 90 % of the year's 700 or so graduates to college. There are facilities for every imaginable activity. Of interest to me were the three ( THREE! ) theaters. A black box, a small theater that seats 350, and a big one that seats 1700! There's a TV studio where daily announcements are produced. There's a room with appropriate decor dedicated to teaching Latin . There's a pottery workshop. On and on. So the kids there today are as lucky as we were lo those many years ago.

When I groused to Bob about the dinner at the Oak Park Country Club, he, whose life in politics has included a lot of banquet meals, said, "Well, at least it was warm." On the way home he told me that the woman across the table from us had asked if he thought that the woman seated next to me and I would make a good match. I don't know if he laughed as he assured her in the negative, but I sure did when he told me. 

Back in Maine

Here's few seasonally adjusted pics of a blueberry barren which is on the way to groceries in Maine.

Early Spring, newly torched.

The day I headed south.

A thrice told tale

Paul was able to come up for the beginning of October and we three had agreed to do some entertaining of year-rounders.....which proved most excellent at both houses.  The husband of one of the couples, an historian by profession and inclination, gave us some very interesting information about Blue Hill as it changed with the arrival of "the people from Cleveland" ( early Rockefeller investors, etc. ). He told the story of the wife of a local couple who had been to tea at the home of one such family and had been invited to come, bring her husband and have an evening meal. The husband demurred, saying something like " There's no way I going to hang around with those ......." When she arrived, the hostess greeted her with a distressed look. "My dear, the serving girl didn't show up. Would you mind putting on this apron and serving?"

I tell that story because the very next night we were invited to the very charming cottage of a very new acquaintance for a dinner with several other men, all year-rounders and well known to each other. I hung up my coat and headed into the kitchen....OK, I was looking for the bar. "Well, what are you cooking up?" was greeted with "I want you to help me serve and clear tonight........if you don't mind." I remembered where the bar was. I would allow you to think me being a little too sensitive were it not that when I returned with my 12 oz martini, the next line,delivered with palms together and shoulders slumped a bit forward was,   "I've never been quite clear about your relationship with Art & Paul?" If I hadn't still been reeling from the last encounter I might have offered that Art gets me on Monday and Thursday and Paul on Tuesday and Sunday. He insisted, against my stated reluctance, that I taste his soup and tell him what it needed. When I told him that the chives that he had ready for garnish would probably brighten it up, he replied, "No, it needs lemon juice, cut me a lemon." There are more annoying details, but you get the picture. After refilling my milk shake glass, I repaired to the fire to find that Paul, unaware of all that had transpired in the kitchen, was retelling the story of the local woman at the dinner party.  Luckily, when I have extra cocktails, I'm not one of those people who exhibits anti-social behavior and the evening finished itself in due time. The next day one of the other guests stopped by the cottage while I was in heaven under a blanket on the front porch glider enjoying the warm sun and cool breeze, and offered,  "That was really horrible the way he treated you last night." Me, "Well, yes it was annoying." " I know him. He's like that."  

The next day I ran into the couple who had related the story in the first place. I gave them my update from the previous evening.  Caroline asked in an indignant tone, "Wait, who asked you those questions?!"  I replied, " Well, I'm not going to name names. Let's just say there's nothing more pretentious than a pretentious gay man." We all laughed and then laughed even more when Bill said,"Oh, no! I've got guys that can go up against your guys any time!"

Arizona on my mind

Donald and took advantage of some existing reservations to stay at the North Rim and at El Tovar on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, where it often takes a year to get a reservation. Despite the fact that both of us were having journey-limiting issues with our backs, it's always amazing to be there.   Sitting in one place you can hear a dozen languages in 20 minutes while admiring this view.

We were able to identify the French hikers by their fashion before we heard them speak.  We interviewed the servers and critiqued the dining experience. At the North Rim Lodge, the servers were a bit unkempt, including one open-mouthed gum chewer, and all had plans for the next six months while the North Rim is closed. At El Tovar there was not a button out of place.and our favorite server had worked there year-round for 15 years!

Crossing the Colorado at Marble Canyon

Along the way

8500 ft above sea level

Also on my mind is the party to mark the sale of Garland's Lodge after 40(?) years. It's worthy of a whole post of it's own. I worked there 1986-1993. It's where I was given the title "Captain Vacation". I can't attend but I've been looking through old photos and sent some along for the party. I'll finish this post with me as the "Kachina from Hollywood" at one of our mid-season troops ( employees ) parties...this one called "Come as your

Favorite Deity"

Til the next time.  Turkey Mayhem in the Mid-west. 6-Day Bahamas cruise. Road Trips, etc.

A Season in Brooklin, Maine

While on the road to a few errands I spotted seasonal portents in the landscape: small mounds of apples dropped beside the road from long forgotten trees; blueberry barrens tending toward red; a maple tree tinged with orange; burnt-sienna bushes; tall tasseled grasses; acres of goldenrod; and the now deserted Blue Hill Fair Grounds. What comes next is a kaleidoscope of increasingly brilliant foliage on the land,  haze-free crisp skies, sapphire seas, many fewer cars on the road, sleeping under the electric blanket, and perhaps a shorter wait for coffee at Sandy's.

So, as it slips away, here's a few notes and pictures of the summer. 

Recently aboard Tramp with the Briggs

A tenacious Winter and a reluctant Spring put the plant cycle off by a good three weeks and evoked quite a few grumpy comments, especially from those who thought it was time to be sailing.

If you get here in May, this is what the pier at the Center Harbor Yacht Club looked like.

This is what the neighbors looked like 

And this is what Katie's Garden looked like.

The Porch Party marks a start to the social season, hosted by the Art & Paul and Karl & Katie Schoettle. The invitation says "5 - 7 PM".  The 80 or so guests arrive at seven after five and have consumed 17 pounds of crab dip and departed by five after seven. It's a great way to catch up with a lot people in a very short amount of time. 

This  summer was much like so many seasons spent at this corner of the peninsula. There were many dinners both as inviters and invitees. There were house guests both returning and new. There was gossip both ongoing and of the moment. There was sailing and there were naps on the front porch glider. There were lobsters and blueberries. There were concerts at Kneisel Hall. There was deliciousness at  Arborvine and Aragosta  and, if I do say so myself, at 41 Steamboat Road. 

The view from the porch included the usual array of wild life, wild storms and wild colors at dawn and dusk, with an occasional unusual and often beautiful sailboat dropping a hook in front of the cottage.

When Chad and Matt were visiting the view was the Eggamoggin Reach through rose colored glasses.....

sorry, I just had to.

There were far too many memorials for those who, as Steve Parson would say, "have gone aloft." I only attended one, for Art's friend from childhood, Sue Drew, at the property where she spent summers.  There was a fair amount of churchiness. The Lord's Prayer was spoken by the congregants in a  tone I can only call begrudging. There was a very strange homily about one of the Psalms and Jesus,  etc. Quite a few people stepped up to the podium as we sat under the big white tent. Some spoke well, at least one spoke too long, but the best by a mile was Bill Fuller, who had worked for Sue for decades, at first taking care of her properties, but by the end of her 81 years helping out in lots of ways. His final statement after a very amusing telling of the tale of their relationship was, I think all would agree, succinct and spot on. "She was a great old broad." There were cocktails and passed snacks afterwards. The bartender obviously had no idea of who this crowd was, the evidence being that he ran out of rocks glasses in the first five minutes.

Other sad news for the summer was the decision Joe & Tom made to sell "The Old Vic". We're just hoping that whoever gets it will continue the Blueberry Martini tradition. Please help find some good owners/neighbors.

On a much more pleasant note, a small gathering took place at the end of Steamboat Road this summer to make official and celebrate the fact that after 40 years together,

ART & PAUL GOT MARRIED

Donald and I were late for the ceremonials but in time for the champagne....to no one's surprise. As with all weddings there were some sweet tears. Betsy Ann was in residence and improvised a quite spectacular cake. Emblematic of the level of sentimentality for this event was Paul's response to the question, "Is there any reason you picked today for the wedding?"
"Yes, because I'm leaving town tomorrow!" 
The Honeymoon was about 10 days later when they drove a U-Haul full of furniture from Raleigh to the emerging year-round house on Reach Road. 

Other events this summer included a few that would seemingly only take place in Brooklin....

Exhibit A

Art made arrangements for the car that stays here to be out of the garage so we could pick it up in the afternoon. No one was anywhere around when we got there and not only were the keys in it, as is customary around here, but probably because the battery was a bit reluctant after the winter, the engine was left running.

Exhibit B

As we were leaving a re-launching at the Brooklin Boat Yard the conversation naturally fell to the big project they are currently working on at the yard..... a 72' sailboat with marine architecture by German Frers and the rest by Frank Gehry. To think about the expense of something like that and how often it will actually be used sets normal heads to spinning. The story told that morning was that the owner is reported to be a friend of Mr. Gehry and to have said something to the effect of, " Really, I just write the checks. I wanted Frank to have something fun to do." As with most of Mr. Gehry's projects there is titanium ( "unobtainium" as they call it at the boat yard ) everything everywhere and, so as to allow for gracious space, plans are being drawn up for the support boat that will be the galley. Nothing beats money! A current phrase in the local lexicon is, "We're taking our friends to see the boat."

The most important development in social life here for almost everyone I know is the full-flowering of Sandy's Provisions, transplanted to town center and offering, beyond the goods for sale and the perfect coffee, a convivial social environment for a wide variety of people. The daily trip there for coffee and conversation and perhaps a pastry is now referred to as "Church". The scene there is worthy of a separate posting. ( Perhaps something along the lines of Humans of New York. Please don't click through to this site just now as I fear you may not return for the few photos at the end. )

The ability to share all this and more with people is certainly the icing on a very delicious cake.

I'll close this one up with a few photos

Life and death on a flower

A couple of reflection shots

Cricket keeping us safe from red squirrels 

Some New England shots are best in black and white.

Swan's Island Light

Louie's official portrait

And a shadow wave until the next posting.

Coming up at the end of September......50th High School Reunion....less than two weeks to become famous!

THE CHOWDER RACE

The end of the season at the Center Harbor Yacht Club is marked by the Chowder Race, a club-wide sailing race.  Maggie and Stephen invited me join them on Kestrel and once I was sure that they knew my best function aboard would be decoration, happily accepted. 

  

The Skipper....as you can tell from the body language and attitude, tensions run high!

The First Mate...... worked hard, and not just to make sure I didn't drop either my camera or my wine glass.

Briefly put so as not to annoy those who already know all about it, the race works as follows. Boats are categorized in three sizes and teams are made up of one each of each size, drawn at random. There was considerable faux-outrage when an obviously large boat was labeled medium.  In order to handicap for the various sizes the course is set up with a Bang Mark. When the first boat turns around that mark, all the other boats can turn wherever they are in the course.  I would never accuse a captain of holding back once it was clear that another boat was going to turn at the Bang Mark, but it certainly seems like it might be a good strategy.  Times are marked and points are scored for accomplishing various things. This year a tennis ball featured in two ways to score points. Before the race a bonus two points could be earned for each team if one member of the team bounced the ball off the clubhouse roof and another member of the team caught it.

An additional two points were earned for passing the tennis ball from one team boat to another. Here they are aboard Sassy celebrating our successful transfer while going in opposite directions.

We were also successful at a transfer which was unique to the race and, even though we got no points for it, what happened was certainly the amusing story for the race on our boat. As we were gliding past her small boat, Esther said, in her best cartoon-aristocrat accent, "Do you have a glass of wine?"  By the time I got back on deck with a fresh bottle we were well ahead of them, so Ben attached the bottle to a seat cushion using the straps and set it adrift off the stern, leading to a successful capture and a smooth finish for those aboard Ray of Hope.  This is my kind of racing.

Aside from ( poorly ) coiling a few ropes ( or lines or sheets or whatever they're called ), holding the tiller for a few minutes, pushing the zoom button on the chart plotter, and passing out sail ties at the end, I did nothing except bask in the scene, the breeze, and the company. It was a splendid day on the water.

Here's a few more pictures 

Sometimes the wind needed a little help. Mark Morris dancers on a sailboat.

 I was a bit surprised at how close we came to other boats.

 Alec and Karl showed up.

Lots of pretty boats.

Art and his sister Carolyn aboard Allegro looking quite content.

My Chowder Cup runneth over.

A SEASON OF CHANGE

Winter was banished from memory in Raleigh by a few tornado warnings and a harlequin landscape of flowering trees, shrubs, bushes, bulbs and vines offsetting an ever deepening green backdrop. 

And so it was time to start another season. Time to head North, really Northeast, or actually Down East.  In the words of that Ol' New England Episcopalian spiritual, I knew that I was soon to be "Bound for Haven".  See below.

The Season (should be all caps ) starts for me with a bit of provisioning at Costco to fill up Art;s car, adding to a gross of frozen loaves of Le Petite Francais baguettes packed in dry ice, a case of liquor from the inventory at the closing of the CC, some lovely San Serre, 7 or 8 computers,  a couple containers of what-not, two dogs, a tub of egg salad, six slices of bread, a handful of cigars, and a couple of Diet Cokes. One overnight later and he's there.

I had been up to my usual thrice daily changing to the travel plan when Bob emailed me that he had an extra ticket for Wicked on Saturday night in Richmond and had just purchased an inflatable guest bed. Dinner with friends before at Chez Foushee was great, both for the food and the company.

Bob and Marc have both been very involved for a long time in the political world of Virginia and by default DC  and always have interesting insights into the processes. I met Harry for the first time and hope he didn't mind being interviewed, but the story of a bright, witty, young emigre from China by way of Shanghai with IBM sponsorship was a story that just kept presenting more questions. When I drifted back to Bob and Marc they were discussing an upcoming event which would be close to Terry's house, so he would probably be there. It took me a few ticks to realize "Terry" meant the governor.

Wicked was fun, of course. Any show that can play that many performances to that many people for that number of years in that many countries is not going to be Chekhov or Ionesco. Anything that can ridicule something as benignly charming as The Wizard of Oz is going to find a soft spot in my cynical heart. Here's a couple of single sentence thoughts about these two shows.

The Wizard of Oz - "Transported to a surreal world, a young girl kills this first person she meets and then teams up with three strangers to kill again." - Rick Polito

Wicked - "If I want to watch two crazy women yell at each other, I watch The View." - friend of a friend

The theater is a spectacle in and of itself. It's one of those Shriner Moorish themed architectural confections which blossomed across the US in the early part of the 20th century. In evening silhouette this one looks like a walled city in Morocco. Inside, a 3500 seat auditorium is decorated with  geometric tiles and murals right out of NC Wyeth. Until sometime early in the 21st century it was The Mosque Theater or just "The Mosque". Now it's the Altria (pronounced "Big Tobacco" ) Theater.

The next leg of the journey took me from Richmond to Boston and from late spring back to just past winter. 

A long walk in the Arnold Arboretum had some hints of spring,

including these two, who were busy filling up grocery bags with greens.

And another splendid evening with the always splendid Chad and Matt. In addition to the high-caliber conviviality of  time shared over a meal and a drink....or two, it's always very interesting to hear some of the details of what how and what they do at work.

An easy zip the next day got me to Haven Colony and the End of Steamboat Road

No leaves on the trees, but still mighty pretty.

First night dinner was at The Pub and included a floor show, in that the barmaid pulled one of our pizzas out of the oven and delivered it directly to the floor. Next day was the opening of Sandy's Provisions, or as it's known in vernacular, Coffee with David. Since then we've had a few transplant year-rounders over for dinner, Art has made 312 trips back and forth to Reach Road overseeing the many things going on there, and I've gotten the kitchen up and running (which initiated a call from the credit card company about consumer fraud potential). Last night we headed to Ellsworth for the HD simulcast from the Met and finished the evening with dinner at Arborvine. I think it's safe to say The Season has begun, and now we get to watch Spring happen all over again.

'TIL THE NEXT TIME.