How Can That Be ???

 

As we drove down the bumpy dirt road into Jacob Buck pond there was a sense of nervousness in both of us.

Would it still be there?  How had it changed?

 Did they build a bigger place?  Did they tear it down ?

The anticipation was growing with every bump we took and every turn we made. What would we find??

It had been well over 30 years since we were last here and 30 years is a LONG time!

Where is “here “you ask?

 

Here is the first “home” Lisa and I ever purchased. The first thing we ever bought together as a married couple. We had been married less than a year when I found this gem! (well at least to me anyway)

It was a one room camp on the shore of Jacob Buck pond in Bucksport. We were living and working in Bangor at the time, so the drive wasn’t too bad.

 Although it had electricity, it had NO running water. That’s right, you read that right, NO running water. 

We had an outhouse in the back. It was an old telephone booth placed over a hole in the ground with a seat built at the perfect height.

There was no door on our little outhouse. Nope didn’t need one.  There was no one around and it faced into the woods, so you had plenty to look at while you……...uuummm  waited !!  Sounds lovely doesn’t it?

After purchasing the camp, me moved right in. Spring of 1985.

  It wasn’t long before we realized we needed a little more space. Now keep in mind at that time we were still newlyweds, so we didn’t mind being close and cozy, BUT one room wasn’t cutting it!

So, I built an addition and we added a bedroom to our mansion.  The addition wasn’t much bigger than our bed, but it did open the rest of our camp for general living.

We added better windows, a refrigerator and put in a sink drain that lead to a leech pit for the sink water. Which by the way had to be carried in.

It was only a summer place, on a summer road, with no insulation, no heat and at that time we had no plans of where we would spend the winter. Winter seemed a long way away.

We would spend the summer together enjoying our new “home” (I know some of you question my choice of words here) and making a lifetime of memories.

We worked all summer making it ours.  Fixing up this, painting that, all with the pride a newly married couple does having bought their first place.

We added a ring of rocks in front of the camp to make a small place to enjoy an evening fire. We had many fires around those rocks as the summer pressed on.

Baths were taken in the pond since there was no running water at the camp.

The lake was clean and clear and being young we didn’t mind at all. Well, until fall set in that is. Then baths became much quicker!

Lisa’s last “bath” in the lake was November 12th. She stepped through a little bit of thin ice along the shore to get to the deeper water so she could wash up before bed. Looking back now, I should have realized then, just how special she was!

It was truly a summer to remember. A summer full of memories, adventures, but mostly, just being together as we started our new life.

We left that fall and never went back. Life pulled us in a different direction as life often does, and we sold the camp without every going back to say goodbye.

Fast forward 30 years and we are bumping down the, all to familiar road, heading in to see what remains of our first “home”.

As we round the corner to where our little camp sat it came into view.

We both went silent as we parked in the small driveway we had built all those years ago.

There was an eerie feeling for both of us, a feeling of being thrust back in time.

How can this be? I said with half shock and half disbelief.

Nothing has changed!  Lisa replied quickly as she opened her door to get out. 

Although a different color paint was on the camp, everything was as we left it over 30 years ago.  The addition was still there and being used as a bedroom. The streetlight I put up still lighting the way into the camp.

  Even the fire pit was as we left it. The same rocks I used to build it over 30 years ago still forming a circle and still being used to light up the night for whomever now sits around it.

We looked in the windows. Still no insulation!  Everything inside looked just as we remembered.

As we walked around looking at the place, astonished at how this could be possible, lisa stopped and said “outhouse”?  We both turned and headed for the back where our phone booth once stood.

Sadly, the phone booth was gone, and the replacement building had a door.  Not sure THAT would be the change I’d have made but hey!

 

I can’t explain the feelings that day. The flood of memories that came back to us and the laughter we shared as we made our way down memory lane, recalling that summer by the lake. Our first summer together!

I have decided that I will never go back. I will never again venture down the dirt road anticipating what awaits.

No, I will carry with me to my end, the memory of my first little “home”. Both the memories we made the first time around and the joy we found revisiting over 30 years later.

No, I don’t want to know if anything changes now.  I’ll just keep these memories of my first little camp where lisa and I spent a long summer together by the lake.  Combined with the memories of our visit 30 years later where “we” seemed to have changed more than our camp and our memories did.

No, it will always remain exactly like I remember.

Al Has a Blog ??

 So I have been working on putting together a Blog. 

A blog as I am using it is just a place to store all of my stories so they are accessible to folks who are new to my ramblings or may have missed some and wish to find them. 

Thanks Dennis Fortier for the encouragement and info about Blogging! Dennis has an Award Winning  Blog called "Too Much Den". if I did this right you can find him here: 

http://www.whatwoulddensay.blogspot.com

I call my Blog "Reflections" Thanks to Elaine Fitzgerald,  whose insight around the nature of my efforts really hit home for me. 

We can call them stories , or pieces or ramblings or anything we want but in reality they are my "Reflections" ...... Reflections of the past , present, and even future. 

I have posted 36 Reflections here that have been previously posted on Facebook. I had no idea I had written that many !   

In the upper right corner of this page you will see a " Follow by Email" button. 

If you would like to get an email every time I post something new just put your email in and hit submit. 

It will create a pop up asking if you are a robot. Just deny being a robot(unless you are) and you are all set. 

You will get an email making sure it was what you wanted to do. Just click the link in the email and you will be sent an email every time I post a Blog..

Each Blog has a Comment/Feedback section as well that can be used. Please do !

I will still be sharing my posts on Facebook as well but this just gives me the "notebook"  to keep them all in that everyone was suggesting.  Its just a digital notebook. 

Any anyone who is just starting to follow my ramblings can find them all in one place should they wish.

Please let me know what you think.

Learn to Write?

 So, when did you learn how to write came the question from a friend I recently reconnected with on Facebook? 

It was a fair question and one that has been asked of me several times lately as I continue to post stories on Facebook. 

There are many folks, including myself, who wonder exactly where they come from and how they get put together.

I am never sure how to answer the question. 

I don’t consider what I do as writing. I have a friend Doug, who in my opinion, has the real ability to write. He creates a story out of thin air!

He can stitch a tale out of nothing and put 100’s of pages together in a way that captivates the reader and pulls you from page to page through a world he created within his own imagination. 

He creates characters, plots, suspense and eventually endings that flow from his imagination with ease.

 To me that is writing! 

The year is 1982, I am sitting in Mrs. Nickless’s class. 

Mrs. Nickless or “Ma Nickless” to her students was my English teacher.  She even signed all of our year books with simply “Ma”.

She was a wonderful and genuine human being who epitomized what a teacher should be. She cared about each and every one of her students and saw the potential in them all. 

She cared and she made sure everyone knew it!

She was not, however, a push over by any means and held each of us accountable for our actions,  be they good or bad!

On this day she was handing out the latest homework assignment after she had graded them the night before. 

She walked slowly around the room laying each student’s graded paper on their desk as she passed by.

 When she got to me, she walked slowly by depositing no paper on my desk. 

My mind raced as I consider the possibility that I had forgotten to turn it in. I knew I had done it and I thought for sure I handed it in, yet no paper was there before me.  

As Ma Nickless gave us our marching orders for the next day the bell rang and as usual, we all stood up to leave.

Mr. Smith could you stay after a minute I need to talk with you? 

Came a request from the front of the room. 

 Now I have heard those words many times and frankly it never ends well!

Yes Mrs. Nickless, I said reluctantly, and I sat back down.

Ma Nickless walked towards my desk with my essay in her hand. 

My essay was about a football game we had recently played. A close game that was won within the last seconds by a failed extra point attempt that bounced off the uprights but landed in our favor. We beat our crosstown rivals the Andies 7-6!

She sat down in the desk in front of me and said Mr. Smith I want to talk about your essay. 

She laid the essay on my desk and the number of red marks on the paper was almost as much as the words I had written.

Of course, in those days we had no computers, no tablets, we had to write every word by hand with a pen on paper. I know right !!

We had no spell check, no grammar check, no auto-correct to make sure what we meant to say is what ended up on the paper. 

No, we had to do it the old fashion way and we had to “KNOW” what we were supposed to do or pay the price of a paper covered with the dreaded red pen marks indicating our failure.

“I’ve given you two grades she said as she started talking.

 First, I have given you an “F”. 

  This was the worst case of sloppy writing I have ever seen. Spelling, grammar, punctuation, you have created a document that lacks almost everything I have been trying to teach you about the fundamentals of proper writing she explained. 

Not in a scolding or condescending way but simply as a matter of fact.

Look at this paragraph, its one giant sentence with no punctuation until you get to the end. 

I had no defense and gave none as everything she said was correct.

 The paper had been written at the last minute. Thrown together to ensure something had been turned in thus avoiding a zero grade but clearly I had put little effort into the exercise.

After a moment of silence as though waiting for me to understand the gravity of the “F” she had given me, she began speaking again.

The second grade I gave you Mr. Smith is an A+. 

I perked up with pride having no idea what I was proud of, but I knew an A was something I seldom saw and for whatever reason she gave it to me, I was taking it. 

I gave you an “A” because you created and wrote a wonderful story. You had me on the edge of my seat as I read the story. The way you put the story together and the details you used created a story well worth reading.

I was somewhat stunned and yet proud of the accolades Ma Nickless had given me. 

After a moment I said SOOOOOO what will my grade be? It was one assignment, but I have two grades.

 Inside I was hoping she would average them out and I would skate along with a middle of the road grade. Something I was skilled at attaining.

I don’t know Mr. Smith, I haven’t figured that out yet, but I will let you know when I do.

You are dismissed, she said. 

As I was walking out of class, she said “keep telling stories Mr. Smith and the rest will work itself out”.

If you could see the screen at the end of each story I write, you would see all the red squiggly lines indicating I have done many things wrong.  

You would also see that not much has changed since 1982. 

I still have no idea how to write or the fundamentals of good grammar, sentence structure or punctuation.

 I don’t know what a past participle is or when a verb is a noun or when to use an adjective or not. And don’t get me started about conjunctive adverbs!! I mean come on!

  I have no idea when to use a comma or just let the sentence roll. And what about :  and  ; ?  Really what are those for? No idea!

So, to answer the question everyone wants to know. 

I never did learn how to write. 

No, all I really know how to do...…………

 Is tell a story.   

Thanks Mrs. Nickless! You found the good in a student who handed you plenty of bad! 

Bad you could have focused on and yet you chose to focus on the good hiding within as well!

Yes, Ma Nickless I’ll keep telling stories, but I am not so sure “it will all work out”! At least not the way you were hoping.

 I still see LOTS of red with every attempt !

BY the way, it ended up being a “B”!

How Could We Not!

How could we not!

As he turns off the ignition the Jeep sputters to a stop. Darkness overtakes us and silence quickly fills the cab.

To reach our destination we have been on the road for almost three hours as we race the rising sun.

After only a moment’s hesitation we exit the jeep and start getting our gear ready to go. 

There is no discussion as we both know what we need to do before we head off into the darkness. 

Rod, check

Fly bag, check

Life jacket, check,

Paddle check 

Flashlight check.

Within only a minute’s time I hear “ready”? 

“Ready” I reply. 

We each shut our door and walk into the darkness. 

We have about a half mile to walk before we reach our journeys end.

 Its an old dirt road so the walking will be easy.

The grass is wet with the morning dew and its not long before my feet are soaked.  I really need to get better hiking boots I think to myself.

“Slippery here watch out” comes a warning from ahead as we make our way along the somewhat muddy path. 

From within the darkness the sounds of the coming day start to pierce the silence. 

Birds are starting to awaken, and they greet the day with a chorus of sounds that are welcoming to this visitor.

Treefrogs are still peeping and as of yet, have not given up the night but their reign will soon be over.

We walk in silence and with heightened anticipation as we near our destination.

 We have been here many times but the excitement of what awaits never wains.

As we near the pond John announces “our timing was perfect “.

Once at the pond we quickly assemble our fly rods under the glow of a flashlight, tie on our first offering of the day and load the canoe.

As we quietly slide the canoe into the water and prepare to climb in, a trout rises just a few feet from shore barely viable in the days new light but the unmistakable splash a trout makes when taking a bug off the surface needs no light to recognize.

“I think we are in for a good day “ predicts John as he squints to see the ring left by the rising trout.

“How could we not” I reply as we slide silently onto the waters surface to begin our pursuit of the wild Maine Brook Trout.    

How could we not!

Howdy, Howdy, Howdy

 Howdy, Howdy, Howdy

If you ever visited the farm you are familiar with this sound “Howdy, Howdy, Howdy” it would always ring out as you came up the walk in the summer or as you entered the mud room in the winter. 

Somehow Gram always knew you were coming long before you got there. With a melodious tone in her voice, she always greeted you the same way as you entered the house “Howdy, Howdy, Howdy” she would say!

This was the standard greeting from a woman who greeted everyone as a friend and was always glad to see a face at the table to chat with.

She could bake like no one I ever knew. There was no need for recipes cards, she would just pour a little of this and a dash of that. A cup of this mixed with a splash of that and amazingly whatever she worked on always tasted great! 

She made the best molasses cookies with chocolate bits on the planet. I would dare say I had eaten a thousand of them by the time she left us.   Oh, I can smell them still today.   

She always wanted to know what was “new”?  or “what have  you been up to”?

Eating when you visited her was a requirement.  “hungry?” came the question. Most of the time she had already begun preparing something so to decline was pointless. You were hungry even if you didn’t know it!

She kept a journal and wrote in it every day. What a treasure those are. Some days it was just the weather and not much else but most days there was something that could be put on paper.

She had a love for Birds and would watch for them year-round. She had a book to help her identify what she was seeing. Tucked within the pages is a handwritten list of all the birds she saw over the years, it remains tucked right where she last left it.

She wasn’t big on gossip but always made sure we were up on any town “news” that might be of interest. 

She had a worry streak that seemed overactive at times to us kids. She would always warn us about being careful……… don’t do that……. Slow down you gonna run that snowmobile right into the barn. 

In hindsight her worry was probably justified, when I think about the antics and trouble my cousins and I got into throughout the decades, I am sure we put a few more worry lines on her face.

Speaking of face. This may sound strange but if you were ever hugged by her you know what I am about to say is true. She had the softest skin! Her cheeks were so soft it was amazing!  The years of farm life and being outside never took their tole on her skin. They where as soft and supple as a newborn.

I have so many stories I could tell that would put a smile on your face, but I will only share one.  

After Gramp had passed away Gram flew down to Alabama to be apart of a celebration for Jakes graduation from high school. She wanted to see what our life in Alabama was like and her first Great Grandchild’s graduation from high school seemed like as good of a reason as any. 

She flew down and spent the time staying with us at the house. After being there just a short time, she came up to me with a low whisper and said “I have a problem “. “I did something foolish” and she started to chuckle with a hint of embarrassment mixed in.

 She handed me a neatly folded item about the size of a deck of cards but only about as thick as a match book. It was tightly and thoroughly wrapped in Duct tape. Really good Duct tape!     Nothing showed on any side except duct tape. 

What is it I asked? It’s my money! I have all my money for the trip wrapped and secured with duct tape and now it won’t come apart. All I am doing is tearing the bills! she exclaimed! 

I couldn’t help myself, I burst out laughing as she explained the method to her duct tape theory. She took a lot of money for the trip and she didn’t want anyone to steal it, so she wrapped it in duct tape and stuck it in her bra for safe keeping! 

With tears in my eyes from the constant laughter I said, “well Gram it sure is safe!” She let out a chuckle knowing what she did was just a little over the top. 

Don’t worry Gram we will free your money I said with all confidence!

When lisa heard the recent dilemma she immediately knew what to do. We will soak the bundle with Goo Gone repeatedly for about 24 hours.  Although skeptical I had no better plan and didn’t want to admit it so soak we did. 

 Sure enough, Lisa was right, the duct tape peeled off without damaging any of the bills it had so valiantly protected. 

Gram was so happy to have her money and she loved the new citrus smell they all carried being soaked in Goo Gone! 

We all agreed she would find a new plan to get her money safely home and it would NOT have anything to do with duct tape.

I share this story for two reasons, one because frankly its funny and she made the comment while there “there’s a story you can tell on me after I’m gone “.  

“Deal” I said. Promise kept.

But secondly, I want to bring her to the attention of all my family, friend, and anyone who knew her. 

You see March 14th is her Birthday. She was born in 1919 and this Sunday she would have been 102 if my math is correct.

She was a one of a kind who loved her family, friends, and the life her and Gramp made together more than anything on earth.

She laid down for a nap on May 29th, 2007 and never woke up. 

She was tired and alone as Gramp had been gone for almost 4 years.

 I think she just gave up.

I never got to say goodbye.  When Gramp passed 4 years earlier I was able to give him one last hug, to look him in the eyes and tell him I loved him. 

With Gram I had no such gift, she was simply there one minute and gone the next.

 She had been a central figure in my life and the life of Lisa and my boys.  

Always there to offer a cookie, always there to ask, “what’s new?” and always there to give out the much-appreciated hugs. Hugs she became famous for within our family. 

That day she laid down for a short afternoon nap, but that day her time with us was over.

I have always struggled with the issues of heaven, hell, God, the devil, and all things eternal. Thing’s man has been struggling with for thousands of years.

 I am not always sure what I believe and what I don’t.

 But what I want to believe is as she slipped away from us that day, as she left her family behind, she was greeted on the other side by Gramp joyously saying. 

Howdy, Howdy, Howdy