Monthly Archives: May 2015

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The Town Library Changed My Life: A Guest Post by Randy Randall

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In previous posts I’ve written about how libraries are priceless and give so much to their communities. My friend Randy Randall, a writer, feels the same way, and he loves libraries as much as I do. He wrote the following post about the Old Orchard Beach Public Library, the library he went to as a child.

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Old Orchard Beach Public Library

Your note about celebrating the value of the library… [b]rought back some great memories. I think I told you how when we lived on the farm, my mother ordered a ‘summer bookshelf’ from the Maine
State Library. The books arrived in a wooden box like rifles would be shipped in. Come to think of it, those books by the world’s great authors were more powerful and dangerous then firearms.

But I digress…what I was really  thinking about was the Old Orchard Beach Library. A typical small town library, but for me it was Google,
Wikipedia and Youtube all wrapped up in one place. I practically lived there. I took out so many books and was such a frequent patron the librarian knew my card number by heart!  So I guess I owe my love of reading to my mother but I think there was some natural curiosity there as well. It keeps me going to this day.

I love learning stuff. For no other reason then just being
aware and intrigued by how the world works…. I remember the card catalogue and how the long  narrow drawers with the index cards slid open. I loved to roam the aisles fingering the spines of the books and bending my head sideways so I could read the titles. And when I
found one book I enjoyed I knew there were others of the same type all grouped together there on the shelf.

It was like hitting a rich vein in a gold mine! It also helped that the
the elderly librarian was a nice person. She was friendly and caring and took the trouble to know me personally. Not that that was all that difficult to do in a small Maine town. Still she looked out for me and set books aside she knew I’d enjoy.

“One of my favorite places to read was up in a tree. We had huge pasture pines with mighty limbs that were like arms and a small boy could easily straddle the limb or lean comfortably back against the trunk while he read Treasure Island. Oh don’t get me started. The town library changed my life. I’ll never forget it.

Food, Home, Nature

That Exuberant Burst of Green

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Despite the scourge of blackflies, this is the time of year when I can hardly stand to stay inside to do household chores. I want to be outside, where even hanging the laundry is a pleasure. I force myself to dust, vacuum, and clean the bathrooms, all the while looking outside at the deep blue sky and the tender yet exuberant  burst of green that surrounds the little house in the big woods.

My gardens come into their own in June and July, and right now there is not much in bloom. But never mind! There’s more than enough going on with the trees and the yard to keep this amateur photographer happy.

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And because we live on the edge of the big woods, there are spring wild flowers to admire.

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Even the dandelions.  I like their sunny heads, and when it comes to the lawn,  my philosophy is that if it’s green, then it’s good. No herbicides allowed in our yard! However, should dandelions stray into the flower beds, I must admit that I dig them out.

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Then there are the ferns. I admire their green grace, and I have encouraged them to take root all around our house. Ferns do well in deep shade, which this yard has in abundance.

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With so much time spent outside, taking pictures and working in the yard. there hasn’t been much time for cooking, and our meals have been very, very simple—baked, breaded chicken, wraps, scrambled eggs and toast. Last night I soaked some black beans, and I cooked them this morning. Tonight we’ll have black bean burgers—from a Mark Bittman recipe—with oven fries.

I’ll make the burgers this afternoon and put them in the refrigerator to chill. Then, after a satisfying day of taking pictures and yard work and household chores, I’ll have those burgers ready to pan fry.

Ah, spring.

Home, Nature

Jack is Back

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Every spring for the past few years, Jack has come for a visit. He stays quite a while—into early summer—but he is such a thoughtful guest that he never wears out his welcome. Conscientious about how much space he takes up, Jack neither intrudes nor dominates. Flashier friends might attract more attention, but Jack’s modest qualities make him especially dear to me, and I always wish he would stay longer than he does.

This year, I was afraid Jack was not going to come back for his annual visit. I looked and waited, but no Jack. My heart felt a little heavy. Spring just wouldn’t be the same without Jack. It had been such a hard winter. Was this the reason for Jack’s absence?

But then, a couple of days ago, he arrived, and I was so happy to see him. Jack was a little late, but then so is everything else this spring after the long, cold winter.

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I am also happy to report that Jack’s offspring have come with him, and when they emerge, I will be sure to post pictures of them.

Jack and his kin have settled on the edge of our yard, which is lined with trees and dips into the forest. I feel very fortunate to have a patch of Jack-in-the-pulpets in my own backyard. I love the little pulpit flower, and when the flower passes, as all flowers do, its bright red fruit is interesting, too.

In a couple of weeks, we will be babysitting the granddogs for quite a few days. Jack and his brethren are in the large fenced-in area in the backyard where the dogs can safely roam. I think I will put a little barricade around Jack and his family so that he is not accidentally trampled by enthusiastic dogs.

After all, I want to be sure that Jack comes back not only next year but for many more years as well.

Food for Thought

The Era of Me, Me, Me

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IMG_6692Recently in the The Guardian, David Simon, creator of the television show The Wire, wrote an eloquent piece outlining how selfish we as a society have become. “People are saying I don’t need anything but my own ability to earn a profit. I’m not connected to society. I don’t care how the road got built, I don’t care where the firefighter comes from, I don’t care who educates the kids other than my kids. I am me. It’s the triumph of the self. I am me, hear me roar.”

I fear he is right, and we baby boomers are, for the most part, responsible for this. After all, we’re the ones in charge now. Are we funding health care and education so that it is available for everyone? Are we making affordable housing, public transportation, and child care a priority so that low-wage earners don’t have to struggle so much? No, no, and no.

I don’t even know what to call this fever of selfishness that has swept through our country. (And we thought Ebola was dangerous!) Conservatism doesn’t begin to describe what is happening. Libertarianism? That, too, seems inadequate. Perhaps we should just call it rampant selfishness and leave it at that. There’s a whole class of people whose philosophy is “I’ve got mine, now to heck with you.” And their vision seems to be prevailing.

I see it in Maine as our governor proposes cutting taxes on the rich while reducing revenue sharing to Maine towns and cities. A few of the more affluent communities can weather the cuts, but most towns scramble frantically to cope with reduced revenues. Either services must be cut or property taxes must be raised. Usually it’s a combination of the the two.

In the little town of Winthrop—population 6,000—the town council  is struggling with a budget shortfall that is a direct result of the governor’s policies. I am sympathetic. I understand what a difficult job it is to provide services when there is not much of a tax base. There are few big businesses in town, and much of our revenue comes from property taxes on homes.

When it comes to cutting the budget, our library is a tempting target, and this year it is in the crosshairs of the town council. The library’s budget might be small—less than $300,00 out of a total town budget of 17 million—but to some the library can seem like a totally discretionary expense. After all, the feeling goes, nothing very bad will happen if the library’s budget is cut. Oh, sure. Hours might have to be reduced. So what? As long as the library is opened a few days a week, what does it matter? Author talks might be eliminated. Who needs them anyway? Fewer books will be purchased. Didn’t the library buy new books last year?

To me, a library, however small, is priceless. It brings so much good into a community that it seems almost impossible to place a dollar value on it.  Everyone in town is welcome to check out books and DVDs, and it doesn’t matter who your family is or how much money you make. As long as your hands are clean and you return the books and DVDs, you are welcome. Thanks to the library, the world of stories and ideas is at your fingertips. You can go anywhere, even if you don’t have much money.

But, as it turns out, a dollar value can indeed be placed on our library’s services. According to Richard Fortin, our library’s director, about 52,000 items—books and DVDs—were checked out last year. If Winthrop library patrons had had to collectively buy this many books and DVDs, then they would have spent over a million dollars.

That, dear readers, is a lot of money for a small town. Nevertheless in the me, me, me atmosphere of today, our library is not valued as it should be.  Too many think “If I can buy my own books, then why should I care if you can’t?”

It is beyond the scope of this post, indeed this blog, to prescribe a cure for the fever of selfishness in our society. I can only voice my opposition and hope that a cure comes soon.

Animals - especially dogs, cooking, Food, People

Mother’s Day Brunch

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IMG_8630Over the years, we have realized that our favorite way of celebrating special days and holidays is to cook together as a family. (The family that cooks together stays together?) Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Day, and, of course, Mother’s Day all bring about a flurry of mixing and cooking.

Yesterday, Shannon and the dogs came to the little house in the big woods to celebrate Mother’s Day. With Clif, we were a small but mighty team of three humans—Mike had to work, and Dee lives too far away—and three dogs. (Both Clif’s mother and my mother have died. How we miss them!)

This lucky mother got the best pancakes in Maine, if not the United States; fruit salad; home fries; and delectable flourless, chocolate cupcakes, which I request every year for Mother’s Day. Clif made the pancakes—his truly are the best—and Shannon made the rest.

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For the most part, Clif and Shannon wouldn’t let me help, but I did manage to sneak in a couple of things such as wiping the tables, inside and out.

“You’re not supposed to be helping,” Shannon said. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“Well, whose daughter is she?” Clif asked.

Shannon and I laughed. My mother couldn’t stand not helping, and it was a real effort to get her to relax. Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as the saying goes, and it I will admit it makes me a little fidgety to sit while others bustle to prepare a meal. However, for the most part, I complied with their wishes and stayed out of the kitchen.

After brunch, we headed out to the patio so that the dogs could roam and sniff and we could enjoy being in the backyard. We were able to spend quite a bit of time outside before the black flies drove us in.

Even though it made me a little antsy not to pitch in and help, it was a treat to have someone else do the cooking and clean-up. We seldom eat out, which means I make most of the meals we eat. I am happy to do this, but it is nice to eat food that somebody else has prepared.

Somehow, it always tastes better.

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Home

Looking Up

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Between the little flowers on the trees, the new green leaves, the blue sky, and the birds, I seem to always be looking up. Except of course, when I’m working the gardens.

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The weather in Maine is supposed to be fine this weekend. Shannon and the dogs are coming over on Sunday—Mike, alas, has to work. Shannon and Clif will cook me a Mother’s Day brunch, something I look forward to every year. (If only Dee lived closer!) Pictures will follow next week.

In the meantime, a very happy Mother’s Day to all mothers.

Home, Nature

May Gallops

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In Maine, May is a month when everything gallops. Each day brings some kind of change—the grass is a little greener, the plants in the flower gardens are a little taller, the red buds on the trees are now tinged with green. Every year I think, “Slow down, slow down you lovely month.” And I wonder why oh why March couldn’t speed ahead the way May does. While May rushes headlong, March drags its mucky yet icy heels. It’s funny how two months with the same number of days can feel so different.

In two days, the hyacinths have bloomed. The blossoms are not fully opened, but in another day or two, they will be.

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In two days, new green leaves have begun to emerge on the trees, displacing the delicate flowers that preceded them.

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In two days, I have cleared half the gardens out front, and if all goes well, they will be three-quarters cleared today.

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And in two days time, the black flies have emerged. There is something in my body chemistry that draws them, and they swarm in a black cloud around my head. Any bit of exposed skin is fair game for those little bighters, and at times I resort to wearing a cap sprayed with insect repellent.

The black flies will be gone by June, and good riddance to them. Unlike the flowers on the trees, I don’t wish the black flies to stick around one day longer than they do.

It is good to have some things gallop by.

Food for Thought, Nature

An Old Story that Never Gets Old

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IMG_8531Last night, Clif and I went to Waterville for a Cinema Explorations meeting. (Cinema Explorations is a community-curated film series that runs from January through March at Railroad Square Cinema. Clif and I are on the planning committee.) As we sat at the long table in Buen Apetito and drank margaritas and ate chips with salsa, we talked about the 2015 film series. Overall, it was a success, and there will be a 2016 Cinema Exploration film series.

Once business matters were settled, we moved on to other topics. I sat across from Sam and Alan, who manage Railroad Square, and we talked about the glorious spring we are having. Perhaps it’s no nicer than any other spring, but after the hard, cold winter we had, this spring seems especially sweet.

Sam said, “Alan and I love to go to a swamp not far from where we live and listen to the peepers this time of year. We went the other night, and the peepers’ song was so loud. I am always moved by it.”

I knew what she meant. “It is the oldest story in the world,” I replied, “but somehow it never gets old.”

Each spring, after the quiet of winter, life bursts out in every direction: leaves and blossoms on the trees, flowers in the garden, unfurling ferns, and the green flush that spreads across the lawns and fields. Insects emerge—some welcome, others not so much—and the small frogs sing their loud, ardent songs.

At the little house in the big woods, I wait for the return of certain birds that have come to seem like old friends. The loons, with their wild, lonesome call, have returned to the Narrows, and we live close enough so that we hear them almost every day. Yesterday, when I was hanging laundry, I heard a hermit thrush, a modest brown bird with the most piping, ethereal voice. Soon the humming birds, with whir of wings and flash of color, will return, and I will hang out their feeder filled with sugar and water.

For thirty years, I have been rejoicing when the loons, hermit thrush, and hummingbirds return. This familiar cycle never gets old or stale. It never loses its charm. I suppose you might even call this rejoicing  beginner’s mind, a Zen Buddhist concept “where everything is fresh and new,” even when it isn’t.

My friend Barbara Johnson, who has been dead for ten years, was the perfect example of someone who had beginner’s mind. Barbara was a keen observer of the natural world, and she studied it with the zeal of a true naturalist. One time, when we were driving somewhere—I can’t remember where—Barbara suddenly cried out, “Oh, stop, stop!”

She startled me so that it’s a wonder I didn’t drive into the ditch. Somehow, I managed to safely park the car on the side of the road. On the other side of the road was a snapping turtle laying eggs. The car had barely stopped when Barbara jumped out, racing across the road to observe the turtle.

How many times had Barbara observed a snapping turtle laying eggs? Many, many times, but with Barbara this event was as fresh as the first time she saw it. Truly, Barbara had a beginner’s mind that a Zen master would envy.

When it comes to spring, it seems to me that most people have a beginner’s mind. With sheer delight they greet the return of leaf, flower, and bird, even though they may have seen this return many, many times.

As William Wordsworth wrote, “Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.”