Today, I am taking a break from Politics Friday. I have a bad cold—as do Clif and Dee—and my head is too muzzy to write about anything. I will be back next week.
To Boston, To Boston!
On Saturday, Dee, Clif, and I went to Boston to visit Shannon and Mike. Shannon’s birthday is in a week or so, and we figured last weekend would be less busy for travel than next weekend, which is Easter weekend.
I’d like to write that Saturday morning was bright and sunny, a perfect day for traveling. But that’s not how it was. Instead, we woke up to snow. When we checked the forecast, we discovered that the snow would soon turn to rain and then rain for the entire weekend. We figured if we left early, we wouldn’t have to hurry and would safely get to the train station, which is in Brunswick, about forty-five minutes away when the weather is good. All went as planned. We made it safe and sound to the train station in good time. However, we did see an accident on the highway—fortunately on the north-bound side—and we were glad we had taken it slow.
Eventually, the snow did turn to rain, giving everything a mysterious, ghostly look as we headed south to Boston.
We went by misty trees and water.
Even the overpass looked moody.
But inside the train, all was warm and cozy. Clif got his usual can of Sam Adams to kick off the trip.
Once at Shannon and Mike’s apartment, we were greeted by Holly the dog.
Mike made us martinis.
As we sipped our drinks, we listened to actual albums on the record player Dee, Clif, and I bought Mike for Christmas.
And what did we listen to? Harvest by Neil Young. It still amazes me that Dee, Mike, and Shannon like the music I listened to as a teenager. Let’s just say I don’t feel the same way about my parents’ music and leave it at that.
Then it was off to Carlo’s Cucina Italiana, a cozy restaurant with a fun, friendly vibe. Not only was the food delicious, but I was also impressed with the way the staff treated elders. They were solicitous of me as without my cane, I carefully made my way into the restaurant. Then, after I was seated, two women, also elders, came in. They might have been sisters; they might have been friends. One of the servers, a man, rushed over to them.
“Hello, darlings,” he said. “So good to see you two.”
Then he escorted them to one of his tables. The women were obviously regulars. Perhaps they left especially good tips, but whatever the case, they were welcomed in a way that seniors aren’t always welcomed.
Best of all, the food was so good. And plentiful. Here is a picture of my tortellini. I could only eat half. The other half was boxed and brought to Shannon and Mike’s apartment to be left with them as part of a supper meal some night.
Shannon had a seafood pasta dish, and like me, she couldn’t eat all of her meal. This, too, was boxed and taken home. The other half of Shannon and Mike’s supper meal.
After Carlo’s it was back to the apartment for presents and cupcakes.
What a jolly day of food and fun.
We are so grateful that Shannon and Mike live within an easy train trip of us. And while I’m at it, I am also grateful that Amtrak was recently extended from Portland to Brunswick. It’s much easier for us to take a train in Brunswick than it is to go to Portland, a half hour south of Brunswick.
Vive le train! Such a great way to travel.
Zero, Zero, Farewell?
Even though it was spitting snow as I typed this post, I think the time has truly come to say farewell to Snow-Gauge Clif.
Snow depth in the front yard: Zero.
Snow depth in the backyard: Zero.
I know some of you might be wondering what Snow-Gauge Clif will do with no snow to measure. Worry not.
We have Hedge-Trimmer Clif.
There will also be Rake-the-Yard Clif and Paint-the-House Clif. And as the late, great Kurt Vonnegut might have said, so it goes.
While I love spring and the new growth it brings, I am always sorry to say farewell to winter. I am, after all, a northern woman. Born and raised in Maine, I have winter and short days in my blood.
But speaking of days…patio days are just around the corner, and that is indeed something to look forward to.
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Watching
Movie: Princess Mononoke
Written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki
I am a huge fan of Hayao Miyazaki. His animated films are not only filled with magic but often feature strong, sensitive portrayals of girls and women. (Kiki’s Delivery Service, Spirited Away, Howl’s Moving Castle.)
My favorite Miyazaki film is Princess Mononoke, and I think it’s fair to consider it his masterpiece. The hand-drawn animation—a Miyazaki trade mark—is achingly beautiful, and the movie’s environmental theme of human needs versus the destruction of the natural world is as relevant today as it was in 1997 when the film came out.
Last week, my daughter Dee discovered Princess Mononoke would be playing at Regal, our local cineplex, and on Sunday we went to see it on the big screen, which is how it should be watched. IMAX would be even better, but our Regal doesn’t offer IMAX. Never mind. It was a visual delight to see Princess Mononoke on the large screen at Regal.
Along with exquisite animation, Princess Mononoke also has complex characters, especially the inhabitants of Iron Town, who are more than one-dimensional villains intent on pillaging natural resources. But naturally my sympathies were with Prince Ashitaka and Princess Mononoke as they tried to save the Forest of the Gods from the encroachment of the humans of Iron Town. The ending of the movie is somewhat surprising and offers a note of hope that we in 2025 would do well to heed.
If Princess Mononoke comes to a theater near you, don’t hesitate to see it.
Politics Monday: Hands Off Protest by Beth Clark
This week is going to be a little topsy-turvy. Instead of politics Friday, here’s a politics Monday. The reason for this is that last weekend, all across the country, there were massive protests against the Trump Administration and all the horrible things it has done. It seemed best to feature one of the protests while the memory of the weekend is still fresh.
As far as I know, the protests were completely peaceful. No fights, no looting. Little Maine valiantly did its part. In Augusta, the state capital, an estimated 4,000 people showed up. Not too shabby for a small city with a population of about 18,000. Unfortunately, because of my creaky knees, I didn’t attend. (I am thinking of getting a cane with a seat so that I can join future protests.) However, my friend Beth Clark and her husband John were there. She generously agreed to write a description of the event and gave me permission to use her photos. Many thanks, Beth!
Beth wrote:
“As much as I wanted to go to Saturday’s protest at the state capital, we had been told that an earlier rally had credible threats of possible trouble. I listened to an ACLU Zoom about knowing your rights in a protest and ways to safeguard yourself. I even wrote my daughters’ phone numbers on my arm, in permanent ink, in case my phone or personal effects were taken away.
“I am happy to report that none of my angst was necessary. Everyone present was polite, supportive, and willing to help out. The band played, and people sang “God Bless America” and the “Star Spangled Banner.” Participants chanted, “This is what Democracy looks like” and “Hands off our…”.
“John and I were surrounded by seniors. Some had walkers, wheelchairs, or canes. Others appeared feeble and had loved ones supporting them. As we watched a stream of protesters, we were heartened to see many young adults in the crowd. There were children marching with parents and grandparents, and three generation families were visible.
“Posters illustrated well the diversity and scope of the government actions that were being protested. They were variously humorous, angry, artistic, ironic, or simple.
“The day was cold, but warmth spread through the audience as eloquent speakers, without name calling or blame, identified the issues at hand and the need for change. The fact that an older Palestinian man and a young Jewish woman co-presented illustrates the desire for open communication and cooperation. As the protesters took to the street in an orderly fashion, the passing cars honked, waved, and gave thumbs up. I was glad I participated and that it was truly a peaceful protest. I came away feeling supported, appreciated, and mobilized to do more.”
Finally, here is a video from YouTube that expands on what Beth wrote. You’ve got love a protest that includes horns and drums.
Politics Friday: Now It’s Getting Personal—Cutting Support to Libraries
For many people in the United States, the Federal government seems like an amorphous entity that doesn’t do much good. Years ago, when I was working at our town’s food pantry, I overheard a volunteer say in a vehement voice, “The government doesn’t do anything right.”
Turns out, that woman was wrong, very wrong. (I will be returning to this woman’s assertion in a future post.) With some agencies, such as Social Security, it’s easy to see how folks benefit from the federal government. Checks deposited in bank accounts have a way of attracting attention. Elon Musk and DOGE take note: checks not deposited in accounts also attract notice but of a very different kind. However, in other ways, the Federal government is so entwined in our lives that it’s often hard to see exactly what it does.
For example, consider libraries, institutions that are dear to my heart. In Maine, libraries are mostly supported by their communities through property taxes. (As far as I’m concerned, it’s money well spent.) What, exactly, does the federal government have to do with town libraries?
As it happens, quite a lot. There’s a federal agency called the Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS) that gives grants to states for library and museum projects. In Maine, some of that money goes to help finance our state’s interlibrary loan system, the jewel in our literary crown. This means that an avid reader with eclectic tastes—that would be me—can go online and request books from libraries large and small from around the state. The books are then transported to the reader’s town library, where she picks them up at her convenience. For avid readers in a small town such as Winthrop, this a vital service . The world of stories and ideas opens beyond what one little library in a town of 6,000 can offer.
I’m sure you can guess what’s in the works for the Institute of Museum and Library Services. Last month, President Trump signed an executive order to dismantle the IMLS, and if he is successful, this could be the end of Maine’s interlibrary loan system. Across the state, most libraries run on a tight budget. (For six years, I was on the board of our town’s library, and I speak from personal experience.) It’s hard for to me envision how libraries will be able to make up the money that came from the IMLS grant.
But all is not lost. In a PBS article, I read, “Since the IMLS was created through…congressional legislation, it cannot simply be eliminated by an executive order. Congress would need to pass a law to repeal or defund it.”
Unfortunately, so far anyway, the Republican House and Senate have pretty much agreed with whatever Trump has come up with. I have let my representative and senators know that I oppose this executive order, but I don’t know if it will make any difference.
What will I do if our interlibrary loan system is eliminated? I don’t know. What a terrible thought to consider as we head into spring.
And He’s Back!
Last Monday, when there was no snow for Snow-Gauge Clif to measure, I wondered if he might be back the following Monday. After all, in Maine in March anything can happen. Snow was in the forecast for last Tuesday, and the weekend promised to be horrible with more snow—six inches—and worst of all, freezing rain that could knock out large swaths of power in central and southern Maine.
Being sensible Mainers, we prepared. Clif got more bricks of wood from a local hardware and farm store. When he went to the grocery store, he stocked up on canned soup. Water in buckets down cellar? Check. Propane for the camp stove? Check. Lamp oil? Check yet again. We were ready.
But every once in a while, the weather gods are on our side. While we got about three inches of snow and some rain, none of it was freezing, and we did not lose our power. Happy, happy day!
As soon as we realized the weather wasn’t as bad as predicted, we settled into an enjoyable weekend at home.
We played cooperative board games.
While we played, the snow fell softly, and in the dining room, we were surrounded by a snowy afternoon, which I love, even in March.
On Saturday night, we watched the excellent Michael Clayton, a 2007 movie about a world-weary lawyer (George Clooney) whose firm is mixed up with U-North, a company that makes a carcinogenic weed killer that kills people as well as weeds. (The resemblance to Monsanto is not a coincidence.) Unlike most environmental thrillers, the story focuses on the conversations between the lawyers—mostly men—and their reactions and decisions. In short, the story is told sideways. Without the wonderful cast and script, the movie would have landed with a thud. Instead, it soared. Such a good movie. If you haven’t seen it in a while, Michael Clayton is worth a rewatch. And if you’ve never seen the movie, well, do watch it.
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Sunday Morning
And lo and behold! On Sunday morning there was enough snow for Snow-Gauge Clif to measure.
Three inches in the front yard.
Three inches in the backyard.
Will there be any snow for Snow-Gauge Clif to measure next week? Only the weather gods know.
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A Big Dose of Cute
In these uncute times, I have been looking for things to make me smile, and in doing so, I came upon Rico, a Brazilian porcupine who lives at the Cincinnati Zoo in Ohio. Like many people, I have mixed feeling about zoos. Even at their best, they can seem like jails for animals. But, dang, I enjoy seeing Rico on Youtube, and I expect zoo visitors enjoy seeing him in person. What I really like is to watch Rico eat, especially popcorn. (I am a huge popcorn fan.) In the video below, he is celebrating National Popcorn Day. I love his little claws, his puffy nose, and his black-bead eyes. Somehow, I find it soothing to listen to those little crunching sounds he makes when he eats.
Chew on, Rico. Chew on.
Politics Friday: SignalGate
I’ve got to hand it to the Trump Administration—it provides plenty of fodder for writers. So much, in fact, that it’s hard to settle on one subject. Do I long for the boring days of the Biden presidency when it seemed as though there were long stretches of time when not much happened? Indeed I do. I’ve started writing a new book, Iris Starmoss: Elf Detective, and that novel is pulling at me the way all new stories do.
If I had a choice, I would not be living in these times, but as Gandalf noted in The Lord of the Rings, “So do all who live to see such times; but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”
Therefore, onward to Trump and his not-so-merry Band of Incompetents. Already, many of their actions are harming Maine—cutting funding to libraries, cutting funding to food banks, denying an approved grant to our own Farmer Kev. The effects of this presidency are not abstract, happening to other folks in other states. Instead, they have come home to roost, and I expect this is true across the country.
However, for some reason, I keep coming back to what has become known as SignalGate, when Trump’s team, with a messaging app named Signal, used their phones to discuss an attack on Yemen. While Signal is considered reasonably secure for private use, it is not considered secure enough for governmental/military use. But there was Trump’s team, using Signal to discuss military strikes in Yemen. Who was on that Signal chat? Among them, Pete Hegseth, Secretary of Defense; J.D. Vance, Vice President; Marco Rubio, Secretary of State; Tulsi Gabbard, Director of National Intelligence; and Michael Waltz, National Security Advisor. You know, the big guys. The ones we trust to protect our country. And better yet, while in Moscow, Ukraine and Middle East envoy Steve Witkoff joined the discussion to bomb Yemen.
There was also somebody else included in that chat, none other than Jefferey Goldberg, editor-in-chief of The Atlantic, a magazine I subscribe to and like very much. You might be wondering why Jefferey Goldberg was added to that chat list. I know I was. Goldberg and The Atlantic are no friends of the Trump Administration, and even if they were, it is unlikely that Goldberg would be involved in plans for an imminent military strike in Yemen.
It’s no surprise, then, that on March 13, when Goldberg discovered he had been included in a group chat with Trump officials, he at first thought it was a hoax. A reasonable suspicion. Then, on March 15, when Goldberg read the sensitive military operations being discussed, he stayed on for another two hours to see if what he was reading was correct. Yes, it was. Bombs and drones started attacking Yemen. Thereupon, Goldberg left the chat.
Of all the journalists and editors to pick for an unplanned leak, Trump’s team of Incompetents couldn’t have chosen anyone better—or worse from their point of view—than Goldberg. He, along with David Remnick from The New Yorker, are two of this country’s great editors leading two of the country’s best magazines. Not easily intimidated, they are erudite and confident. Best of all, they both have something that is sorely lacking in this administration—integrity.
Also, within journalistic circles, both are so well known that as soon as the story broke, all the major news outlets wanted to talk to Goldberg about the Signal farrago. And last week, Goldberg certainly made the rounds, explaining in his clear way what had happened.
To borrow from my British friends, that certainly set the cat among the pigeons. Trump and Co. have been spinning furiously—lying, denying, and trying to pin the blame on Goldberg. At one point, they even called him a spy. But as it turned out, on March 11, Goldberg had received a Signal connection request from Michael Waltz, which meant that the spy accusation lost its fizz.
Now they are trying to minimize the event, maintaining that since the results were good—Yemen was successfully bombed—this is all that matters in the end.
But somehow, at least for the moment, Trump and Co. have not been able to slither out of this one. Perhaps they will, but right now they are feeling the sting of their carelessness, and they look like fools.
I’m going to end with a famous quotation from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.
“They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”
That about describes it.
From Zero to Six in Six Hours
Au Revoir, Snow-Gauge Clif?
This post’s title should give a clue as to how much snow is in our yard. The answer? Not much. Just the tiniest clumps here and there in the shady parts of the yard.
Now for the grand totals.
The front yard: 0 inches
The backyard: 0 inches.
Just for fun, here’s a shot of the patio: All clear!
But even though the snow seems to be gone, Clif still has his snow gauge at the ready. Today, most of Maine is under a weather advisory with a forecast of up to five inches of snow in our area. So you never know. Next week, Snow-Gauge Clif just might be back to measure the snow.
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Last Wednesday, March 19, was a special day for Clif and me—we celebrated our forty-eighth wedding anniversary. Really? Forty-eight years? We both agreed on how it seemed like a lot of years and not much time at all. Time is a funny thing, which is no doubt why I like to write about timey-wimey things in my novels. It always fascinates me how time is felt and how it actually passes. And what if we could go back in time? Hoo-boy, could we ever be ready for the future? I doubt it. Still, it’s fun, at least for me, to consider the possibilities.
After our daughter Dee got out of work for the day, we headed to Wei-Li in Auburn to have a tasty meal of Chinese food, a favorite cuisine for all of us.
Here we are, Ma & Pa, waiting for our food. When we met, my hair was almost black and darker than Clif’s, which was brown. Now, we seem to be a matched pair.
Soon our food came, and how good it was. We had rice, vegetable lo mein, and general tofu.
After all that good food, we were too full for dessert.
Now, onward to forty-nine years, and the year after that? Holy cats, fifty!
Hardly seems possible. Yet here we are, and I’m glad of it.
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Listening
NPR Tiny Desk Concert: Waxahatchee
I am a big fan of both alternative music and country/Americana. Waxahatchee, with its lead singer Katie Crutchfield, gives me both. I also like how her voice always seems to be on the edge of going out of control but never does. Finally, the sadness of the songs really speaks to me right now.
Politics Friday: Laying My Cards on the Table
“I think bloggers are an effective way of disseminating independent news (with known limits of individual confirmation bias) across the world unlimited by geography.”
The above quotation came from one of the comments left by the blogger Forestwood. What really caught my attention was “known limits of individual confirmation bias.” According to britannica.com, confirmation bias is “a person’s tendency to process information by looking for, or interpreting, information that is consistent with their existing beliefs.”
Ah, yes. I suspect most of us are guilty of confirmation basis. I know I am drawn to publications and podcasts that have a particular slant. And what is that slant? I suspect long-time readers already know, but before going further with my Politics Friday posts, I thought it would be important to lay my cards on the table, as the saying goes, so that readers know exactly what my perspective is.
To begin…the United States is a two-party system with the Democrats and the Republicans vying for political office. The winner is the winner, and there are no coalitions the way there are in most democracies, which seem far superior to our two-party system. But that is what we have, and wishful thinking won’t change it. (There are Independents, who sometimes have success on a state-wide level. One of our senators, Angus King, is an Independent who caucuses with the Democrats. But Independents are an extreme minority. Currently there are only two in congress out of hundreds of senators and representatives.)
When I was young, way back in the 1960s, Democrats were considered the party of the working class and Republicans were thought to be the party of businesses and the upper class. However, this is an oversimplification as some Democrats were very conservative and some Republicans were liberal. (Richard Nixon, a Republican president, created the Environmental Protection Agency. Impossible to think of Republicans doing so today.)
Often, there were friendships and collaborations between senators and representatives. Two Maine senators, George Mitchell, a Democrat, and William Cohen, a Republican, co-authored a book, Men of Zeal, A Candid Story of the Iran-Contra Hearings. Again, impossible to think of this happening today.
Then a split occurred, sometime in the 1990s with Republican Newt Gingrich’s scorched-earth politics, and the divide has only continued to grow. Now, at least on camera, the two parties can barely contain their contempt for each other, and as far as I know, there are no books planned with Democrats and Republicans as co-authors.
This is a very simplified explanation of politics in the United States and is in no way complete. For those interested in our system, I would advise further reading.
Now, time to reveal my cards. I grew up in a working-class family and come from a long line of Democrats. Not that we didn’t jump parties occasionally when there were moderate Republicans running. My parents and I voted for William Cohen a number of times. But Democrats were who we were, my parents fairly conservative and me quite liberal. After all, I came of age in the 1970s, and they came of age in the 1950s. Still, we bumped along, and I don’t remember any political blow-outs.
As the years have progressed, I have grown ever more liberal. I believe there is a role for a strong central government whose mission should be to help those who are struggling and to provide services. I believe in capitalism, but I also believe it needs a lot of guardrails to prevent it from becoming exploitive. I read The New Yorker and The Atlantic. I listen to Ezra Klein and Pod Save America.
However, I have a strong respect, almost bordering on reverence, for facts, and I promise, despite my liberal bias, to stick to the facts. If I make a mistake, I will issue a correction. I will never lie to prove a point.
Finally, despite my aversion to Trump and Musk and to the rest of this administration, I strive always to come from a place of compassion. They are human beings, and while I wish they would leave this country alone, I do not wish for anything bad to happen to them or to their followers. Or their families.
So there it is. You now know my perspective.
Next week, onward to issues of the day.
Notes From the Hinterland 