Felicitations From Fairhope #13

 Felicitations From Fairhope #13

22 October 2021

 

Google Photo Update

“The State of Maine”

 

… continued from #12

 

The State of Maine - Taking an Amtrak/bus combo from Boston to Portland, we were picked up by my friend Michael (clown, of course), to spend two nights with he and his wife Judy, a theatre set designer and another old chum. But first…

 

[Car Rental Sidebar - “Would you like an upgrade to… well, a Planetoid-class SUV? True, it’s too wide, it’s too high, and you can watch the gas gauge drop while you drive. But it’s wicked commodious and, with a V-8 engine, perfect for stately touring.” I took it. I make no apologies. And, for the record, we own a Subaru, the “official car” of the State of Maine.]

 

We liked Portland and had a great time with Judy & Michael, just hanging out with pizza and the Red Sox on TV, eating insanely expensive lobster rolls, checking out local lighthouses, and generally catching up. Michael and I discussed using some of my recordings for his work and Judy gave A.J. a book about John Singer Sargent that belonged to her late mother, a fine painter. They are welcoming, talented folks and we hope to see them in Fairhope one day.

 

From Portland, we drove up the coast to Boothbay Harbor for lunch and then on to Camden, a very picturesque little town. Our B&B was fancy and convenient, and the food excellent. The room, regrettably, was small, the bed a giant marshmallow, and the church bells across the street rang on the hour… all damned night.

 

But we were up and/or at ‘em the next morning for a beautiful autumn drive, first to Belfast (lunch, natch), then on to SW Harbor, located on the rockbound coast near, and sometimes in, Acadia National Park. Anne booked three nights in a place built in 1755 as a family home that has since metastasized to offer numerous acceptable rooms with fabulous water views.

 

We drove to Bar Harbor (“bah hah-bah”), a hugely popular tourist destination. It was a splendid day and we arrived early enough to get a decent parking space. After lunch, we cruised to Acadia National Park, which, by the time we arrived, resembled an anthill. All the parking lots and scenic spots were completely overrun, but we had a fine time motoring around in the Planetoid, enjoying the scenery. 

 

The following day, we boarded a Sea Princess Nature Cruise in NE Harbor. It was quite chilly, and we gladly wore all the layers of clothing we brought with us. Yay! We saw loons, sea gulls, a bald eagle, and harbor seals. The cruise docked at Little Cranberry Island, a lobster-fishing village (pop. 70), and then concluded with a trip up Somes Sound Fjord, where the ospreys - victims of DDT in the 50s-60s - are once again building their nests on the cliffs. A good day on the Gulf of Maine.

 

[Tree Hugging Sidebar - A knowledgeable Park Ranger narrated the tour, and did not fail to emphasize the historical environmental degradation visited upon Maine by clueless White people; e.g., recklessly overfishing cod stocks, then ignorantly blaming the seals and wantonly decimating their populations (which did not help). Currently, global warming is forcing lobsters to migrate north and the lobster industry, valued at $500 million a year, is in big trouble.]

 

Our final overnight Maine destination was Bath, a town we really liked. Located on the Kennebec River, it remains one of the most important shipbuilding centers in the USA. Our B&B was entirely satisfactory: good room, good bed, and wicked good breakfast. We spent the morning at the outstanding Maine Maritime Museum. Bath’s shipbuilding history encompasses vessels both sail (schooners) and mechanized (destroyers) and thousands of people still work in the yards. 

 

Then it was off to our final stop in Maine: Gardiner, and a visit with Denise. I met Denise and her late (and much lamented) husband Benny at a clown workshop in 1980. Over the course of the next decade, we spent a lot of time together, and it’s fair to say that most of what I know about organizing Vaudeville shows I learned from studying and performing with them. Right place, right time… I was lucky. We arranged to meet at the local diner.

 

[Local Diner Sidebar - Three of Maine’s finest:

- Becky’s Diner, Portland (broiled scallops with garlic and bacon)

- Moody’s Diner, Waldoboro (haddock Ruben with local sauerkraut)

- A1 Diner, Gardiner (haddock fish tacos)]

 

As for Denise, what a treat to see a dear friend doing so well. She and Anne hit it off right away and we had a great lunch. Afterwards, we walked to Johnson Hall, the oldest opera house in Maine. This historic place, which Denise & Benny were involved with for decades, is undergoing a $5.5 million renovation (donations graciously accepted) and it’s going to be magnificent. Finally, we dropped by her charming apartment, yakked away until sunset, and left her with an invitation to come to Fairhope and eat her weight in shrimp.

 

The following day, back to Portland to surrender the Planetoid, take a bus to Logan Airport, and check into a swanky hotel on the eastern shore of Boston Harbor. We spent our last night in New England with a panoramic view stretching from the Boston Navy Yard in Charlestown to the South Boston Naval Annex. A classic, excuse me, wicked classic ending to a most memorable trip.

 

Spend the money, see the sights. And visit your friends.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

 

Felicitations From Fairhope #12

Felicitations From Fairhope #12

21 October 2021

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

Before I begin this account of our recent trip to New England - specifically Boston and the State of Maine - please indulge me in a short, but brief, backstory.

 

I lived in Boston in 1970-71 while in the Navy. My ship (U.S.S. Mississinewa, A0-144) was homeported in Newport, RI and every single day it was actually there, I carpooled 140 miles round trip with three other sailors. Ridiculous? Ayuh, but Boston was a boatload more interesting than Newport. The ship, however, was also constantly undergoing repairs at the South Boston Naval Annex, making for a significantly shorter commute. The point is, it’d been 50 years since I lived in Boston.

 

Anne, who has travelled the world, had never been to Boston. This could not stand.

 

A few years later, having learned to juggle pretty well, I fell in with a motley crowd: Vaudeville performers, many of who lived and worked in Maine. So I ended up spending a lot of time there (often with LaBanana, my juggling partner) studying and learning more about “New Vaudeville” and playing my accordion for anyone who might listen. My last trip was with the Ben & Jerry’s Road Show in 1991. So… it’d been 30 years since I’d been to Maine.

 

Anne, who has travelled to all the continents except Antarctica, had never been to the State of Maine. This. Could. Not. Stand.

 

[Travel Advisory Sidebar - U.S. airports are still overcrowded, security-crazed hellholes and mandatory masking (which I firmly believe in) is nonetheless a massive pain-in-the-face. Business Class (Thank you, A.J.!) is the only way to survive.]

 

Alright, enough background. On to the highlight reel.

 

Boston - We spent four nights in a hotel near Boston Garden, in a slightly dodgy neighborhood convenient to the “T” (subway) and home to roughly a zillion sports bars. Boston is the sports bar capital of the universe and, since there are literally dozens of colleges/universities in the city, bars (and the T) teem with “yout.” Boston is still a wicked cool city for young people.

 

[Tourist Emergency Sidebar - On our FIRST MORNING, I awoke in severe pain. I’d been down this road before: kidney stone. Fortunately, Mass General was nearby, so we taxied to the Emergency Room, checked in, ran some blood work, and while I was collecting a urine sample… behold! The little boulder fell into the cup and I was OK. In and out in two hours, could have been worse, let us speak of it no more.]

 

Anne had a list ready: Boston Common and Public Garden (with busking Italian accordionist), the Museum of Fine Arts (replete with familiar portraits of our slave-holding Founding Fathers), the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (featuring a surreal courtyard worth the price of admission), and the Boston Public Library (housing “Triumph of Religion,” a mural by John Singer Sargent that is simply astounding). We also made a pilgrimage to Harvard Square for Sunday brunch (the best Eggs Benedict ever) and a stop at the Harvard Coop, the country’s oldest collegiate bookstore.

 

[Nostalgic Sidebar - When I lived in Boston, several of we young Navy types would, on occasion, ingest thoroughly illegal substances and take the T to the Coop, the ground floor of which was then a wonderland of vinyl LPs. Bliss ensued.]

 

We also caught up with friends. One night, we took a commuter train to Middleboro, MA, where we met with Fred & Sylvia. (Fred and I were stationed on the Mississinewa, working in the signal gang.) They took us to a fine, local family-owned Italian restaurant, and then to their wonderful, music stuff-filled home. Both of them are classical musicians and quite lovely people.

 

On our last night in Boston, my old pal Kenny (a mensch and actual famous clown) graciously drove in from the ‘burbs, picked us up, and schlepped us around town. I had not seen the city since “The Big Dig” and many of the roads I remembered had simply disappeared underground. (At a cost of over $24 billion, sure; but such an improvement.) We had dinner at a pleasant Afghan restaurant in Cambridge and then meandered around looking for ice cream, which we found. Parking, however, we found not (just like 1971), so it was back to the hotel to exchange big hugs and get ready to head onward to Maine.

 

To be continued…