My wife and I spent several days around the Fourth of July this year in and around Boston, visiting her sister and her sister's boyfriend, who live in Point of Pines, in Revere Beach (a short jog north of Boston). Our visit was far too short. It was the closest we have come to a true vacation in quite some time. I'll describe a few of our interesting experiences.
On July 2, the four of us drove north, with the objective of going to a special spot in Maine to a lobster pound for a late lunch/early dinner. We drove first to Salisbury Beach, the northernmost town in Massachusetts. It is a seaside town with a popular seaside amusement area called Joe's Playland, an old-style amusement arcade that offers games, food stands, beachcombing, etc. Lots of specialty shops dot the area.
We decided to wander along the beachfront arcade, so we parked a block or two from the beach and wandered aimlessly, taking in the scenes, very east-coast.
As we walked along the arcade area, we saw a small group of kids at an arcade game, a punching bag attached to something that measured the "punch" the kids were throwing at it. The kids' punching on the bag made lots of racket every time they punched it hard, whistles went off, bells clanged, and noises of other sorts screamed from the punching bag, to the delight of the kids who obviously took the noise as evidence of their superior power and boxing prowess.
There were lots of dogs on the beach and walkway, a pretty common thing in New England. That's not so common in Texas, where taking a dog for a walk in the summertime can condemn the animal to heat stroke and a painful death.
At one place along the beach, a place that was boarded up and closed, the former tenant had once used an unusual approach to advertising: "Warm beer, bad service, etc." read a badly weathered sign hanging from a window. Perhaps the sign was truth in advertising.
We wandered north through Seabrook, New Hampshire and on to Hampton Beach, a pretty place. We did not spend much time there, but it's a place we would like to visit again, when we have more time to stop and putter. If I'm not mistaken, Hampton Beach is where we stopped for a look at some antiques in a large antique store on the main street.
Our next stop was Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where we visited an outdoor museum called Strawberry Banke, a collection of old restored buildings from the 1600s through 1800s. The harbor in Portsmouth held a powerful memory for our hosts; he accompanied the mother of a friend who had died to the harbor, where she dispersed his ashes on the water.
The main objective of the drive into Maine was to visit the lobster pound, which we had heard about and which sounded extremely appealing to us; the idea of fresh lobster, served like the locals like to eat them, was very attractive. We ate at Lobster in the Rough (US Route 1, York ME 03900) . Here, you order your whole lobster at a window open to the outdoor area. Inside the building behind the window is, presumably, where the lobsters are prepared, along with all the accompaniments. A short distance from the window where orders are placed is a covered bar (for liquor). I ordered the lobster bake, which included a one pound lobster, several clams, an ear of corn, a little plastic cup of butter, and a little plastic cup of yellowish, warm water for washing sand, etc. from the clams. When you hear your order number called, you go back to the window where you placed the order and pick it up; you also have to pick up a lobster cracker (looked like a nut cracker to me), along with very flimsy red plastic fork to pull out lobster meat and other miscellaneous plastic utensils such as spoons, and napkins. No bibs here. The lobster cracker required a $1 deposit, which was returned to me on giving the cracker back. It was an interesting experience, plus the food was truly excellent. I envisioned eating at a place right on the water, but Lobster in the Rough proved to be a wonderful experience.
After stuffing ourselves on lobster, we drove into York, Maine, which is a beautiful place and is home to the Nubble Lighthouse, a former lighthouse converted into a restaurant. Under different circumstances (i.e., not having eaten one pound of lobster within the hour) we might have had dinner there, but we opted, in stead, to try some ice cream that was lauded as among the best in New England, according to articles in Boston magazines. We went to Brown's Old Fashion(ed) Ice Cream on Nubble Road in York. My wife got a 3-scoop sampler; I got a Maine Tracks (lots of chocolate, peanut butter, etc.--huge scoop on a waffle cone). The place was absolutely mobbed with people and the parking lot, next to it, was very hard to maneuaver, due to the very high volume of traffic. It was a sight to see so many lines of people waiting to buy ice cream that cost $3.25 for a small scoop (which was enormous). Apparently, ice cream is a huge deal in Maine and, indeed, throughout New England. There seemed to be dozens of types of ice creams and an equal number of ways to have it served. Signs, on plain typing paper, on the windows and walls outside the place proclaimed that rumors that Brown's had been sold were wrong, wrong, wrong! The signs said Brown's has NOT been sold and is looking forward to continuing to serve.
The ice cream orgy was the end of our July 2 road trip...from there, we took the Interstate back to Boston. But our trip was not over...we had yet to participate in the spectacular fireworks extravaganza on July 3 and July 4. More on that in an upcoming post.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Night in New Mexico, 1998
Here's a snippet from some notes I wrote during a trip from Dallas, Texas to Santa Rosa, California in December 1998. I'm only posting a snippet, for now, though later I may expand on this a bit.
We left Dallas around lunchtime. The odometer on the Toyota Previa van read 23,004. We stopped for an early lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Denton, Texas. After lunch, we left Denton, heading west. We took 380 to 287, then 287 northwest through Wichita Falls, Vernon, and the rest of the dozens of small towns on the route west to Interstate 40. Once on Interstate 40, we drove all the way to Tucumcari, New Mexico.
We arrived in Tucumcari at about 5:30 pm and found a room at the Safari Motel, on "Historic Route 66." It was still early, but we decided to have dinner at Dell's, a popular place, judging from the number of cars parked in its small lot and the crowd once we went inside. My wife had fried chicken livers (by far the best I have ever had…I don't even like them, but these were excellent). Dell's is a 50s style roadside café that seems to cater to the older crowd, but the clientele was mixed, ranging from an elderly couple sitting next to us (he asked if we had heard any news about what the House did on the impeachment votes against President Clinton…we hadn't heard what had occurred during the day because we weren't listening to the radio) to a group of three laborers behind them. One of the laborers, who looked very Mexican, asked for fresh jalapeños, which the waitress brought for him, and he ate them in an unusual way, at least in my experience: he first shook quite a lot of salt onto his plate, then rolled the whole peppers on the table with the ball of his hand, then bit off the tip of a pepper and put the moist end with the "wound" into the salt; he then bit off a large chunk of the salty jalapeño and chewed it up and swallowed it. I tried it a few minutes later, and found that the normally searing heat of the jalapeño was now very mild. I wonder, though, whether it was the pepper or the process…I'll have to try it again some day. Back at the motel, the road noise and train whistles (we were very close to the railroad tracks) made for a noisy night, but we got a fair amount of sleep anyway.
The next morning, we left Tucumcari, heading west. After driving about sixty miles, we stopped and had breakfast in Santa Rosa, NM, at a place called the Blue Moon Café. I asked for jalapeños to eat with breakfast, but the waitress , a Mexican woman in her mid-50s I'd guess, said they didn't have any; she said "jalapeños sound good, though, don't they?" and walked away, but came back a few moments later with some salsa that she said was homemade. It was tasty stuff, and she seemed genuinely pleased that I said I liked it. Her smile and her generous attempt to get something special that I would like got my day off to a great start.
We left Dallas around lunchtime. The odometer on the Toyota Previa van read 23,004. We stopped for an early lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Denton, Texas. After lunch, we left Denton, heading west. We took 380 to 287, then 287 northwest through Wichita Falls, Vernon, and the rest of the dozens of small towns on the route west to Interstate 40. Once on Interstate 40, we drove all the way to Tucumcari, New Mexico.
We arrived in Tucumcari at about 5:30 pm and found a room at the Safari Motel, on "Historic Route 66." It was still early, but we decided to have dinner at Dell's, a popular place, judging from the number of cars parked in its small lot and the crowd once we went inside. My wife had fried chicken livers (by far the best I have ever had…I don't even like them, but these were excellent). Dell's is a 50s style roadside café that seems to cater to the older crowd, but the clientele was mixed, ranging from an elderly couple sitting next to us (he asked if we had heard any news about what the House did on the impeachment votes against President Clinton…we hadn't heard what had occurred during the day because we weren't listening to the radio) to a group of three laborers behind them. One of the laborers, who looked very Mexican, asked for fresh jalapeños, which the waitress brought for him, and he ate them in an unusual way, at least in my experience: he first shook quite a lot of salt onto his plate, then rolled the whole peppers on the table with the ball of his hand, then bit off the tip of a pepper and put the moist end with the "wound" into the salt; he then bit off a large chunk of the salty jalapeño and chewed it up and swallowed it. I tried it a few minutes later, and found that the normally searing heat of the jalapeño was now very mild. I wonder, though, whether it was the pepper or the process…I'll have to try it again some day. Back at the motel, the road noise and train whistles (we were very close to the railroad tracks) made for a noisy night, but we got a fair amount of sleep anyway.
The next morning, we left Tucumcari, heading west. After driving about sixty miles, we stopped and had breakfast in Santa Rosa, NM, at a place called the Blue Moon Café. I asked for jalapeños to eat with breakfast, but the waitress , a Mexican woman in her mid-50s I'd guess, said they didn't have any; she said "jalapeños sound good, though, don't they?" and walked away, but came back a few moments later with some salsa that she said was homemade. It was tasty stuff, and she seemed genuinely pleased that I said I liked it. Her smile and her generous attempt to get something special that I would like got my day off to a great start.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
What Matters...Musings After September 11
Like most people in the U.S. and around the world, the events of September 11, 2001 were shocking, horrifying, debilitating. Whether we understood the political positions of the perpetrators of the attacks or not, it was incomprehensible that anyone would do what had been done. Here were some thoughts I wrote just a week after that horrible day.
As individuals, do we matter? Are our lives important? Are we special?
The tragic events that took place on September 11, 2001 have taught us in a terribly painful way that each of us matters...our lives truly are important. As we watched television and read news reports about people who are searching for their loved ones, we learned that those who died and who remain missing did, indeed, matter. The people who are mourned by their friends and families probably did not give much thought to whether they were important. They probably didn’t think of themselves as special. But they mattered to the grieving family and friends they left behind. To those who mourn them and to those still searching, they were everything. Their lives did have a purpose. They made a difference. There was someone they touched and someone whose life they changed.
Do we matter? We all matter to someone, something. Our lives are important to those we love and to who love us.
As individuals, do we matter? Are our lives important? Are we special?
The tragic events that took place on September 11, 2001 have taught us in a terribly painful way that each of us matters...our lives truly are important. As we watched television and read news reports about people who are searching for their loved ones, we learned that those who died and who remain missing did, indeed, matter. The people who are mourned by their friends and families probably did not give much thought to whether they were important. They probably didn’t think of themselves as special. But they mattered to the grieving family and friends they left behind. To those who mourn them and to those still searching, they were everything. Their lives did have a purpose. They made a difference. There was someone they touched and someone whose life they changed.
Do we matter? We all matter to someone, something. Our lives are important to those we love and to who love us.
Media Musings
Nancy Grace, a CNN anchor on legal affairs issues, comes across to me as a shrieking, screeching, loud-mouthed ambulance-chaser. Her style is unlike that of an investigative reporter; instead, she seems to be proud to be an opinionated bitch who will brook no babble about anyone's point of view but her own. When compared to people on CNN who are actually journalists, she seems to be a parody of journalism. How odd that CNN, which prides itself on being an unbiased source of news, would hire her. Maybe fair and balanced isn't any more important to CNN than it is to FOX News.
On the other hand, Jim Lehrer of PBS is one of the most even-handed anchors on any news program. I sometimes find myself wishing he would play hard-ball with some of the right-wing fruitcakes he interviews, but then realize I want him to be fair and unbiased with even the nut-cases of the outter-reaches of Republicanism.
It's interesting that PBS and NPR, which are so often accused of liberal bias, seem to be so conscious of their journalistic responsibilities...to tell both sides of virtually every story...but most other networks appear to be paid media outlets for partisan politics.
I'm just as repulsed by media that serves as apologists for politicians whose views are closer to mine than today's Republican party. Media should no more rally 'round the Democratic party than it should the Republicans.
But, perhaps, I'm stuck in a time when "the media" was easy to identify. Today, it's hard to say "the media" is failing to ask the hard questions because we don't always know who the media is. Is it ABC, CBS, NPR, FOX, NBC, New York Times, Washington Post, etc.? Or is it anyone with access to television broadcast rights, access to a printing press, or access to the Internet? When the definition broadens, it's easy to see that competition may be forcing what I refer to as "main stream media" to start taking shortcuts or to lower its standards, simply to compete for audience.
And this takes me to the question of who is the media and what responsibilities does the media have to the public at large? I do not have all the answers. I have plenty of opinions, though, and I'll share those, by and by.
On the other hand, Jim Lehrer of PBS is one of the most even-handed anchors on any news program. I sometimes find myself wishing he would play hard-ball with some of the right-wing fruitcakes he interviews, but then realize I want him to be fair and unbiased with even the nut-cases of the outter-reaches of Republicanism.
It's interesting that PBS and NPR, which are so often accused of liberal bias, seem to be so conscious of their journalistic responsibilities...to tell both sides of virtually every story...but most other networks appear to be paid media outlets for partisan politics.
I'm just as repulsed by media that serves as apologists for politicians whose views are closer to mine than today's Republican party. Media should no more rally 'round the Democratic party than it should the Republicans.
But, perhaps, I'm stuck in a time when "the media" was easy to identify. Today, it's hard to say "the media" is failing to ask the hard questions because we don't always know who the media is. Is it ABC, CBS, NPR, FOX, NBC, New York Times, Washington Post, etc.? Or is it anyone with access to television broadcast rights, access to a printing press, or access to the Internet? When the definition broadens, it's easy to see that competition may be forcing what I refer to as "main stream media" to start taking shortcuts or to lower its standards, simply to compete for audience.
And this takes me to the question of who is the media and what responsibilities does the media have to the public at large? I do not have all the answers. I have plenty of opinions, though, and I'll share those, by and by.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Geezers and Geezerhood
I am a geezer. I've earned the right to use the title, through time and trials and tribulations and I'm proud of it. Some people, as they get older, get sensitive about their age...and they don't want people to know how old they are. That strikes me as more than a little irrational. I, on the other hand, relish my age and getting more of it. The health issues that tend to come with age, of course, are negative aspects of getting older, but on the whole, getting older is a good thing. I intend to keep doing it.
As one ages, one tends to accumulate wisdom. I like to think I have accumulated some wisdom over the years and I hope to accumulate quite alot more. You can read that any way you like it; I read it that I want to live for a long time to come.
Here are some of my definitions that relate to geezer and geezerhood. I plan to write more about geezerhood and I hope to sell geezer-friendly products from a website soon. If you have geezer-friendly products to sell, let's talk...I am willing to share the wealth we generate by selling your products. OK, back to the issue at hand:
Geezerhood: The state of being a geezer
Geezer: One who has attained adequate age, experience, and eccentricity
Characteristics of Geezers:
1) Sharp witted
2) Opinionated (very, very opionated) but tolerant (within limits)
3) Adventurous, but not stupid about it
4) Adamantly opposed to religious intolerance and religious zealotry
5) Tending toward liberalism, but possessing hidden conservative agendas
As one ages, one tends to accumulate wisdom. I like to think I have accumulated some wisdom over the years and I hope to accumulate quite alot more. You can read that any way you like it; I read it that I want to live for a long time to come.
Here are some of my definitions that relate to geezer and geezerhood. I plan to write more about geezerhood and I hope to sell geezer-friendly products from a website soon. If you have geezer-friendly products to sell, let's talk...I am willing to share the wealth we generate by selling your products. OK, back to the issue at hand:
Geezerhood: The state of being a geezer
Geezer: One who has attained adequate age, experience, and eccentricity
Characteristics of Geezers:
1) Sharp witted
2) Opinionated (very, very opionated) but tolerant (within limits)
3) Adventurous, but not stupid about it
4) Adamantly opposed to religious intolerance and religious zealotry
5) Tending toward liberalism, but possessing hidden conservative agendas