Category Archives: People

People

Clif’s Birthday

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The birthday boy
The birthday boy

Last Saturday was Clif’s sixty-third birthday. This year, we decided rather than exchange presents for our birthdays—mine is in September, too—we would do special, fun things on each birthday.

The day of Clif’s birthday just happened to be such a beautiful, warm,  sunny day that we could hardly believe it. By midmorning, the temperature was over sixty degrees, and by afternoon it was so warm that records were broken. As soon as we got up, we knew what we would do in the morning—go for a bike ride.

We went on our favorite ride by Lake Maranacook, where the sky was a deep, deep blue, and below it the lake shimmered in response. Across the lake, the trees were in their first blush of fall, and purple asters bloomed by the side of the road. There is not much traffic on Memorial Drive, the road that goes by the lake, and this, along with the beauty of the lake, is one of the reasons we like the ride so much.

Across the lake
Across the lake

We pedalled, pedalled, pedalled with the sun warm on our face. The miles just seemed to slide by without any great effort on our part. It was one of those “zen” rides where you are completely in the moment and in the landscape, with all thoughts of chores and what to do next pushed firmly aside.

In the afternoon, we met our friends Joel and Alice at the local cineplex to see The Boxtrolls, a stop-motion animated movie about, well, boxtrolls, little scavenging creatures that live below ground and come out at night to raid the trash that humans leave behind. They wear boxes—recycled, of course—and are despised and feared by the humans, who falsely consider the boxtrolls to be a dangerous threat. This fear and loathing leads to an eradication program—now that’s never happened in real life, has it?—and a boy whom the boxtrolls adopted must find a way to save them.

In The Boxtrolls, the animation is terrific, the characters are well done, and the storyline resonates with both children and adults. Two side characters—Mr. Pickles and Mr. Trout—nearly steal the movie. They come from a long tradition of sad-sack comedic tramps who question the meaning of life and the universe. Readers, if you go to this movie, do stay until the credits are over to see and hear one of the funniest exchanges in movie history. In fact, the four of us were laughing so hard that we missed some of the dialogue between Mr. Pickles and Mr. Trout, and we all agreed that we would need to see the movie when it came out on DVD so that we could watch the scene again.

We were probably the only adults in the cinema without children, but it didn’t bother us one bit. There were plenty of children in the audience to laugh loudly in all the right places, to make pointed comments about what was going on in the movie, and to even console one another when the action grew a little too scary.

After the movie, we all went to the pub The Liberal Cup, one of Hallowell’s hotspots, for some tasty, hearty food. Because it was Clif’s birthday, we even ordered dessert.

When we were done eating, Clif and I returned to our home, and it was still warm enough to have drinks on patio. As we sipped our rum and Cokes, we listened to the crickets sing, and on the nearby Narrows, loons called to each other.

“We won’t have many more nights on the patio this year,” I said, a little sadly.

“No, we won’t,” Clif agreed.

But we had that night, and we both enjoyed it very much. In fact, Clif pronounced that the whole day had been a very good birthday filled with simple pleasures.

People

A Seaside Birthday

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Kettle Cove
On the Edge of Kettle Cove

My actual birthday was last week, and at the beginning of the month, Shannon hosted a party for Clif and me. (His birthday is this Saturday.) However for the past five or six years, the tradition has been to have lunch in Portland with Shannon for a little extra birthday celebration, and we were joined by our friend Kate.  (Naturally, we did the same for Shannon’s and Kate’s birthdays.)

Alas, our friend Kate moved to Pennsylvania and can no longer join us. (Thanks, Kate, for the delicious raspberry tea, which I am drinking as I write.) However, Shannon and I decided we would still like to meet for our birthdays, even though we will miss Kate very much.

Yesterday was the day that worked best for both Shannon and me, and our original plan was to have lunch at The Green Elephant, a Portland restaurant that specializes in tasty vegetarian food. But the forecast was so fine, so warm and sunny, that Shannon suggested, “How about if you come up a little early, and we’ll go for a walk on the beach?”

Now, there’s nothing this inland girl loves more than a walk on the beach, and I readily agreed. As it turned out, the day was as perfect as the forecast predicted, and as I was driving to Portland I thought, “Why not grab sandwiches somewhere and spend the whole time at the beach? There will be plenty of time for lunch indoors.”

“Sounds good,” Shannon said, when I suggested this to her at her apartment.

Unfortunately, we had to leave the dogs behind because Crescent Beach doesn’t allow dogs on the beach until October 1. But, we went to Scratch Baking Company, not far from where Shannon lives, and bought everything good that we needed for a picnic—sandwiches made with a spicy black bean spread, roasted peppers, a sunflower seed pesto, and mixed greens; drinks; chips; and a brownie and short bread. (That sandwich was especially good! I can still taste it.)

That black bean sandwich!
That black bean sandwich!

When we got to Kettle Cove, which has benches and is adjacent to Crescent Beach, there was a bit of wind. Actually, there was a lot of wind, and I parked the car so that it overlooked the ocean, just in case we had to eat inside.

“Shall we eat in the car?” I asked, watching the wind whip over the grass.

“No, let’s eat outside,” Shannon said. “We’re in all winter.”

True enough. We set up on one of the benches, and the wind lifted our hair. It also tipped over Shannon’s drink and spilled some of it on the ground. No sooner had she righted the drink, then our chips flew off the bench, and our pastries followed not long afterwards.

The line-up, before the wind created havoc
The line-up, before the wind created havoc

“Do you want to eat in the car?” I asked again.

“That might be a good idea,” Shannon said, and we both laughed as we thought about the flying chips and pastries and the spilled drink.

In the warm, wind-free car, we ate our lunch, watched the waves curl and break on the rocky shore, and talked about many things, including the excellent Ken Burns documentary about the Roosevelts.

After lunch, we went for a walk on the beach, where the wind was only a gentle breeze, and the sun was so warm we had to take off our jackets and tie them around our waists. We walked to the state park, where we sat on a log on the beach, watched more curling waves, and, of course, talked about matters large and small.

The view from the log
The view from the log

As is our tradition on birthday outings, we took a selfie.

The two beach lovers
The two beach lovers

Such a lovely day of simple pleasures—I found a round rock speckled with mica to add to my collection on the kitchen window sill. In fact, it was a finest kind of day, and I want to do exactly the same thing next year, if the weather allows.

Rocks on the beach
Rocks on the beach

 

 

Books, Community, People

A Farewell Party for Lisa Jepson Wahlstrom of Ovation Fundraising Counsel

Pearl Ames, Lisa Jepson Wahlstrom, George Ames, and Billy Wing
Pearl Ames, Lisa Jepson Wahlstrom, George Ames, and Billy Wing

Last night, the library expansion team gave a farewell party for Lisa Jepson Wahlstrom. She is the founder and principal of Ovation Fundraising Counsel, an organization  that works “with nonprofit organizations throughout Maine helping them to increase their fundraising capacity, engage their constituencies, and strengthen their volunteer base.”

For the past few years, Lisa has worked with us on the library’s expansion campaign, and it’s no exaggeration to state that we couldn’t have run a successful expansion campaign without Lisa’s expertise, organization, firm guidance, and good cheer. We have had our ups and downs, but Lisa was always upbeat and encouraging, patiently leading us toward our goal—the addition.

However, the time has come for the expansion team to strike out on its own. As Lisa put it last night, we have about $150,000 left to raise, and we know what to do—more grant writing, more fundraising events, more appeals for donations. We also have a wonderful campaign team, and as we said our sad goodbyes to Lisa, I got a strong sense from the other team members that they would continue to help with the campaign, and a good thing, too. We certainly need them.

Where there is a party, there is food, of course, and the campaign team not only loves libraries but tasty food as well. We put on a pretty good spread, if I do say so myself, and there were lots of yummy tidbits—deviled eggs, artichoke squares, spinach balls, a hot cheese dip, and other good things to eat. I brought my homemade crackers and a rosemary-olive cream cheese spread.

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Joan and Bill Wing generously agreed to host the party at their home overlooking the lake. They have a large living room with a lovely view of the water, and while we ate and talked, the water rippled and sparkled as the sun set.

Naturally, the conversation revolved around libraries—their importance in today’s society despite the dominance of computers, big and small. As I mentioned in a previous post, people are still reading books. The love of story runs deep in our species, and while I hope paper books endure—nothing can replace their feel and smell—I have no doubt that as long as there are people, there will be stories.

And there will be libraries—the repositories of information, ideas, and stories—available to all who live in a town, area, or city. You don’t have to be rich to have a library card. You don’t have to come from a prominent family.  Libraries are for everyone, and as such they couldn’t be more vital to our society.

 

People

Supporting Farmer Kev and Maine Farmers

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All from Farmer Kev’s garden

Yesterday, Farmer Kev delivered the last of the summer CSA vegetables, which were actually fall vegetables—potatoes and a variety of squashes, all things Clif and I really love. However, my heart was not too heavy over this last delivery as Farmer Kev, for the first time, is expanding his CSA into the fall and winter.

Kevin and his trusty band of workers—some paid, some just helping out because they want to see Farmer Kev make a go of it—have been busy blanching and freezing vegetables for the winter CSA. In addition, there will be root vegetables—carrots, potatoes, beets, and squash—delivered until February.

Clif and I are signing up for the winter CSA, and we are doing it for a number of reasons. First, and foremost, Farmer Kev is one of our favorite farmers. We’ve known his family since he was very young, and what a pleasure it has been to see Kevin become a dedicated and hard-working farmer. This reason alone would be enough.

However, close behind comes the value of Farmer Kev’s CSA. His vegetables are fresh and organic and delivered. There is no way I could buy the equivalent for the same price at a farm stand. Again, this reason alone would be enough.

Finally, there is the larger picture—where our vegetables come from and the miles they travel. In grocery stores, many of the fruits and vegetables come “from away,” really far away, as in California, which over the years has become the country’s agricultural hub. Now, I am grateful for all the bounty that comes from California, and I am especially grateful for the labor of the underpaid workers who harvest the fresh vegetables and fruit.

But there is the little problem of climate change—actually, a big problem, one of the biggest yet. It takes a great deal of energy to transport those vegetables across the country, and there is a lot of carbon spewed into the air as a result.

However, there is something equally alarming to consider, and that is the drought in California. According to that state government’s website, “With California facing one of the most severe droughts on record, Governor Brown declared a drought State of Emergency in January and directed state officials to take all necessary actions to prepare for water shortages.” (For some horrifying pictures of before and during the drought, click here.)

No one can see the future, of course, but what if the drought continues? What if California stops producing so much bounty? How will we eat? What will happen to prices, which have already risen 40  percent over the last fourteen years? These questions should worry all of us.

Maine and indeed New England is blessed with abundant rainfall. Sometimes too abundant, as those of us who want to be outside in the summer like to grumble, but really we have no cause to complain. Most of the time we get the right amounts of rain to produce bountiful  crops, and this year, in particular, is bursting with tomatoes, one of my favorites.

With careful, mindful, and prudent land management, Maine could grow a lot more of its food. (Once upon a time, in the mid-1800s, Maine was even considered the breadbasket of New England.) Sometime soon, if the drought in California continues, we might very well have to grow more of what we eat. But—and it’s a big but—the infrastructure to do this can’t happen overnight. Fields must be cleared, soil must be fertilized, and people need to learn the art of farming. One isn’t born a farmer. It requires years of study—formal or informal—and lots of hard work.

Supporting Farmer Kev, and other farmers as well, feels like, well, an investment in the future of food in Maine and New England. This might sound like overstatement, but I don’t think it is. In the years to come, we might be extremely grateful that so many young farmers have decided to settle in Maine, and right now, we should support them in whatever way we can.

And, that readers, is reason enough to join Farmer Kev’s CSA or any other CSA, or that matter.

 

People

My Birthday

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The Kennebec River on a fine September day
The Kennebec River on a fine September day

Today is my birthday, and  with the sun shining and a bright blue sky, what a lovely day it is. I’ve had plenty of treats, but I’m going to slide in a few more as well as visit with my friend Esther. I hope to squeeze in a bike ride, too.

It doesn’t bother me at all to share my age—fifty-seven. After having had breast cancer four years ago, every birthday seems special and worth celebrating.

So off I go, to enjoy this bright day.

Later: A day of visiting. In the morning, it was with Debbie and Dennis, where we discussed library matters and, ahem, politics. Then it was home for lunch on the sunny patio. As I was eating, I saw a hummingbird by the edge of the woods. So they are not gone yet! (Seeing that little darting bird felt like a real gift.) Then it was with my friend Esther for several hours. She suggested that next time I visit we might go out to lunch at a place called the Green Bean Coffee Shop in South China, where on Fridays they make donuts. Yes, indeed.

All in all, a relaxing day that was different from normal routine. There was even a bit of cake.

The view from Esther's house
The view from Esther’s house

 

People

Library Stories: Ballinrobe Library, Ireland

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The church-library. Photo by Bill Burke.
The church-library. Photo by Bill Burke.

Over the past three years, as I have worked on the committee to build an addition to our town’s library, two things have occurred to me. The first and most obvious one is the importance of libraries, big and small. Maine is very lucky in that most towns, no matter how tiny, have a library. We are doubly lucky that Maine has a terrific interlibrary loan system so that the broader world of books, stories, and ideas is open to the entire library system, regardless of how small a particular library might be. Need I add that libraries are open to all, regardless of status and income? Not really, I know, but I always like to make that plug.

The second thing I have realized is that so many people have library stories, which usually revolve around the importance of libraries in their lives. Often times, the stories also feature some unusual aspect of a library, thus illustrating the ingenuity of towns and librarians and the people who support them.

For sometime now, I’ve been wanting to write a series of posts that feature library stories, and yesterday, on Facebook, I read a library story that made me think now was the time to begin this project.

Shari and Bill Burke, a couple I know, recently moved from Brunswick, Maine, to Ballinrobe, Ireland. Ballinrobe is in County Mayo in the west of Ireland, and it is a small town with a population circa 3,682.

Both Shari and Bill are avid readers, and it didn’t take them long to get a library card from their local library, which is in a converted church complete with a stained-glass window. This is Shari’s library story, which she generously agreed to share on my blog. Her husband Bill took the pictures, which he, in turn, generously agreed to share. In fact, you might say this whole story is one of generosity, which, along with decency, is too often underrated.

Shari wrote, “After lunch this afternoon we headed out with a backpack of books to return to the library and Bill’s jump drive with a document to print. We walked in the bright sunshine to the library, where Bill took a seat at a computer and I went to the desk to return the books. Mary, the librarian, commented on how beautiful the weather has been…. Somehow we ended up talking about a bunch of other stuff and she told me she’s lived in Ballinrobe for 35 years and working at the library for over 20. She said that it used to be located in a tiny thatched building on Cornmarket—I cannot imagine having a library in the building she means—it really is small. They moved into their current location about 17 years ago, all because of a library patron named Dorothy, who had a dog friend named Coco.

“Dorothy was ‘Church of Ireland’ and she was increasingly disturbed by the sorry state of the unused church. She was also a book lover and frequent visitor to the library. One day she approached Mary and asked if the county council might be able to use the old church building as a library. Mary said to talk to them about it. Dorothy did and in the end, Church of Ireland leased it to the Mayo County Council for 1 cent. It needed some restoration work, not least on the stained glass window, which was sent to Dublin piece by piece and cleaned at a cost of 70,000 pounds (this was just before the Euro, I guess).

The stained-glass window and Shari at the table. Photo by Bill Burke.
Shari working, and behind her is the beautiful stained-glass window. Photo by Bill Burke.

“Dorothy, the woman that set the move in motion, continued to use the library a lot. She always came in with Coco and Coco was the only dog allowed in the library. Once, when Mary was away on holiday, her sub told Dorothy that the dog was not allowed in the library and Coco had to be tied up outside. Dorothy was not happy and I’m guessing that Coco wasn’t, either! When Mary returned, she said, ‘Don’t ever do that again! Do you know whose dog that is?’ Coco was never banished again!

“When it became difficult for Dorothy to get into town, Mary would pick her up on her lunch hour and bring Dorothy to town to do her shopping and pick up her library books. When Dorothy was unable to get to the library, Mary brought her books to her. Dorothy was found passed away in her bed with an open library book in her hand and Coco at the end of her bed. Coco died two days later.”

There’s really nothing I can add to this lovely story, so I won’t. Again, many thanks, Shari, for agreeing to share your piece, and Bill, for the pictures.

Inside Ballinrobe Library. Photo by Bill Burke.
Inside Ballinrobe Library. Photo by Bill Burke.

 

 

 

People

Happy Birthday to Us!

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IMG_6534As I wrote in the previous post, Clif and I were on vacation last week. Our daughter Dee, who is from New York, spent the week with us, and we had a lovely time of movies, art museums, galleries, staying on the patio until late at night, and fires in the fire pit.

On Saturday night, we ended our vacation with a grand finale. Both Clif and I have birthdays in September, and Shannon had a birthday celebration for us at her house. The food, of course, was utterly delicious. (I can’t help being a braggy old mom.) We had a spinach-artichoke dip with tortilla chips, kabobs with chicken and lots of different vegetables, rice, and various dipping sauces. And cake, of course.

Vacation is over, Dee has left, and I can’t help feeling a little blue. The days are significantly shorter than they were at their mid-summer peak, and while having dusk arrive at 7:15 p.m. is not too bad, I know what’s coming—the long dark of winter.  No more biking and no more nights on the patio. The hummingbirds will soon be leaving, as will the loons.

Still the weather has been glorious, as it often is in Maine in September. The nights might be a little nippy, but the days are warm and sunny with a sky so blue it brings joy to my heart. Clif and I have vowed to go on bike rides after he gets home from work as long as we have some daylight left.

This upcoming weekend, we will also be going on our annual bike ride from Hallowell to Richmond—about a twenty-three-mile round trip. Afterwards, we’ll stop at the Liberal Cup for a hearty meal.

Another thing I love about fall is that the apples are in season, which means tart, crunchy apples and homemade apple pie. Then there are the winter squashes and pumpkins, perfect for bread, soups, and muffins.

So we have things to look forward to, even if winter isn’t one of them. In my younger days, when my knees were better, I liked to ski and skate and walk. Winter didn’t seems as confining then. But now, there’s nothing I really like doing outside in the winter.

Never mind! We’ll have friends and family over for brunches and teas. We’ll continue with our decluttering. We’ll watch movies. We’ll get a lot of reading done. (Then again, I read a lot, regardless of the season.)

In the meantime, to borrow from my friend Burni, we’ll squeeze as much as we can out of fall, one of Maine’s best seasons.

News, People

Ah, Vacation!

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IMG_6525
Pretty darn good

This week, our daughter Dee, who lives in New York, has been visiting us, and we at the little house in the big woods are officially on vacation. What a glorious week for it—warm, clear days and cool nights. Really, the weather couldn’t be better.

We had a Labor Day gathering of family and friends, and the weather was so good we were able to spend the entire time on the patio. While the birds fluttered and the crickets sang, we talked about all the things we love to talk about—movies, books, politics. Clif made his famous grilled bread, and everybody dug in as though they hadn’t eaten in weeks. For our friend Diane, the grilled bread was the main attraction, and she was particularly grateful that the weather cooperated so that we could gather on the patio.

The rest of the week has been spent going to movies, art exhibits, and staying on the patio until late at night as we eat, talk, and listen to music. Last night, we made grilled pizza. (Thank you, Kathy Gunst, for the recipe for the homemade dough.) I made a roasted tomato sauce with herbs and tomatoes from my very own garden. To borrow from Clif, the pizza was pretty darned good, if I do say so myself.

For me, the highlight of the week—so far—has been the Bernard Langlais exhibit at Colby College’s Museum of Art. Langlais is a Maine artist best known, perhaps, for his primitive wooden sculptures of animals. Because of this, and—I’ll be honest—because he was from Maine, my perception of Langlais was that he was an untrained, local yokel. “A chainsaw artist,” Sam, at Railroad Square, said when I told her this. Exactly.

Except nothing could be further from the truth. While Langlais might have been local, he was not a yokel, and he certainly wasn’t untrained. His style was diverse, ranging from cubism to abstract, and the exhibit at Colby does a terrific job of showing the dynamic breadth of this very talented artist. The show runs until January 4, and I plan to go back for another look.

Today, we are going to see the movie The Giver. Tomorrow, we’ll be heading to Brunswick to see the exhibits at the Bowdoin College Art Museum. There just might be a trip to Gelato Fiasco before heading to openings at galleries in Gardiner and Hallowell. And, of course, more suppers on the patio.

Ah, vacation!

 

 

Community, People

Library Addition Update: August 27, 2014

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IMG_6513For the past three years, I have been working on the library expansion campaign whose goal is to build a much-needed addition for our cramped, little library. The ground breaking commenced a couple of weeks ago, and the project is expected to be done by April. Or so.

It is both wonderful and exciting to see this project become real, with dirt being dug and walls being built. For the next six months I’ll periodically be posting pictures of the progress.

Yesterday, as I was taking pictures, I met Phil Locashio, the very talented architect who is overseeing the expansion. We spoke about how moving it is to be involved with a project that will benefit Winthrop residents long after we are gone. As a rule, only wealthy people are involved with such projects. Everyday people, not so much.

Later, I biked to Joan Wing’s house, and I told her about our conversation. “It gives me goosebumps to think about it,” she said.

Me, too.

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Nature, People

Lobster Rolls and Sunset on Bailey Island: A Get Together with Special Friends

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IMG_6488
Sherry

Yesterday, I went to Bailey Island, where my friend Sherry Hanson hosted a gathering of old friends. At one time, we all belonged to a group called Maine Media Women, and I’ve know many of the women for twenty years. Sherry, who used to live in Maine, moved to the West Coast last year to be closer to her family. How we all miss her!

Sherry and her husband decided to rent a cottage this August on Bailey Island so that they could stay connected with their Maine friends. They generously bought lobster rolls for us—there were nine—and everyone added something to the feast—wine, crackers, cheese, salads, and homemade strawberry ice cream pie with a strawberry sauce and roasted almonds. (Guess who brought dessert?)

Outside on the deck, we talked, ate lobster rolls—made just right with lots of claw and tail meat and with only a hint of mayonnaise—and admired the sparkling water. The weather couldn’t have been finer—warm with a deep blue sky. Sherry’s sister, Julia, joined us as did, Debbie, a friend from Sherry’s old neighborhood. Then there was Laney, Perian’s daughter. We’ve known Laney since birth, and we all feel like honorary aunties. Laney— lovely, slender, and on the edge of womanhood—is an island girl who keeps hens, sells eggs, and loves to ride horses. Plus, she was willing to run and up and down the long deck stairs to fetch things for her—ahem—mature aunties. A special, special girl.

When the sun set, from all over the island conch shells were blown, horns were tooted, and fire works went off. Apparently this is a summer tradition. What a way to greet dusk and end the day.

Sunset on Bailey Island
Sunset on Bailey Island