Dear Mike Volume 01

Dear Mike,

I am thinking about getting an Instant Pot. Other colors were a lot more expensive, so I'm good with the cheaper color. Does it really matter? 

Unless that color adds a certain special spice to everything you cook that makes it taste like it came from your favorite restaurant or food truck.

Maybe I need to research how color affects your instapot, crockpot, and kitchen-aid mixer and what comes out of them.

Thanks,

Amber from Sunapee.

Dear Amber,

For years, in the military.  When PT time came around, I always tied the 5 foot long dark green army wool scarf around my head as a headband, ninja style and talked with exaggerated mouth movements like in the old Bruce Lee movies (like Jones on Police Academy). It was just my thing.  Everyone in my unit expected it.  It was my normal.   Many years later, we are stupidly running in the dark, as a unit, before the sun rose, like a bunch of idiots on a Sunday morning.  We have a brand new 1^st Sargent.  As I run up alone side of him, he asks me in a very harsh tone, “What’s that thing on your head soldier?” To which I very forcefully replied, “It makes me run faster, 1^st Sargent!”

What is the significance?  I think if that scarf can make one run faster and put run of the mill Army dorks in their place, then perhaps the color of your Instant Pot COULD affect the flavor of your meals…

Mount Ascutney Vermont Futures Trail

Vermont's Best Kept Secret

Winhall Brook Campground. In September 2010, we were innocently driving back from an appointment to possibly sell soap to Inn in at the base of Stratton Mountain. The end result of that meeting was that the end keeper wanted us to sell large amounts of our product to them at cost with the idea that the people that used it at the end with them pay retail for it on the way home. Obviously a very stupid idea. But the trip wasn't without benefit.

As we were coming up route 100 North we noticed a very plain brown sign, a very government style sign with white letters that said "camping area" in the area of South Londonderry Vermont.. We follow the signs. What we found out there was Winhall Brook National Park. It went on to become what I would call, Vermont's best kept secret. it was a little piece of paradise in a valley. The sites were roomy and inexpensive. Everything was perfect. There were a couple of playgrounds and even one of those wooden train sets to play on. Our kids, who  who were not crazy about the ride were now very happy and jumped out of the car and ran and played on everything.

Our choices in campgrounds would be different than the majority. Some people think a campground with arcade games, a pool, rec hall and a stupid firetruck is where it is at. But, those hideous insults to camping WE generally refer to as "cramp-grounds". This because you would have more room parking in a Walmart parking lot. And amenities?  I have always noticed that the more amenities a campground has, the more it generally sucks. Those are the places that some old drunken idiot is the first one to get after you for driving 7 miles an hour in a 5 mph zone. That same idiot will be recklessly drivng his golf cart at 27 miles an hour, hooting and hollering, three sheets to oblivion at 10:30 that same night. In fact, one time at Windy Acres Campground at West Hampton Massachusetts, there was a kid dance at the rec hall across from the field from where we stayed and they  played " Who Let the Dogs Out" so many times and so loudly that it was burned into the fabric of my existence so deep that I still have nightmares. Fortunately, "Baby Shark" was not invented yet.

 Winhall however was charming. With only a hand full of electric and water sites, everything else is dry camping. It was priced exactly the same as Vermont State Parks and sites were nice and spacious like Vermont State Parks. Unlike Vermont State Parks you do not have to pay for the showers. Here  you got so much more scenery and then you did have most State parks. The West River and another river join each other in this Park and it has 2 rail trails that go different directions out of the park.

It would be almost 11 months before we actually made it back to the campground. Our first stay was the third week of August 2011. We had an awesome time. That Sunday on the way home there was a freak thunderstorm that came through that dumped tons of rain.  As I drove through the center of Springfield Vermont there was a foot of water running down Main Street. And when I got home my neighbor's swimming pool had a tree fall into it and wrecked the in-ground pool and flattened his pump house. This was nothing compared to what was about to happen next. 6 days later Hurricane Irene hit and the water in the National Park rose to 30 feet higher than the actual level of the average campsite level which was 10 to 20 ft above where the water sits.

Three weeks after the hurricane, we visited on a Sunday afternoon and this beautiful paradise was transformed to something that resembled the surface of the Moon. Everything was just covered in river sand and rock. It was the most unbelievable thing I have ever seen.

We were pretty sure that they campground could not possibly open on time the following year, but nature has ways of healing things in ways we don't fully understand. While I know that I'm sure there was a lot of excavation and chainsaw work happening, what surprised me is how the plush grass found it's way up through the hard sandy soil and thrive the once again. We came here the following July and stayed for 5 days and unless we knew about the hurricane we may not have figured out that some of the things that we could see where actually caused by something like that in only one day.

Again in again, we came back to this beautiful campsite with our 2008 Jayco pop up. Our final camp in the popup was Memorial Day 2015, when we realized we outgrew that camper.  We traded up to an old Innsbruck 25 foot travel trailer. We spent vacations here as well as long weekends. People we met here told us that back in the 70s and 80s, this campground was free to stay at!

Free or not, my kids have been raised here.  I wonder if decades later, they will bring their families here and tell all the stories of their growing up and the many stays here in this sweet severe valley.

The Sunday Morning Gentleman's Club - Chapter One

Chapter One

Not Sure How We Got Here

We know the story of why it started.  We just cannot remember how it became a ritual.  The Sunday Morning Gentlemen’s club may seem to me, all of these years later as some nebulous dream-like memory that part of my daily consciousness seems to view silently.  The Club was so much more than this though.  There are people at possibly every corner of the world that just may be telling a story or two about a Sunday morning at 111 Avenue J in Port Aransas Texas.  When they think back upon it, it probably amounts to a pleasurable blink in life.  I also wonder though if when they think back, they are reminded of a girlfriend or boyfriend that was a permanent part of their life at the time, suddenly remembering some exact way that it felt to be next to them.

By definition, the Sunday Morning Gentleman’s Club was 4 guys that met at 10 AM every Sunday at the home of my father and I, so that we could drink beer and play darts. The permanent members, Steve, Glenn, Joe (my father) and I made up the core club.  The event took place in our much too old mobile home on Avenue J in Port Aransas.  A small kitchen just to the right of the door coming into the living room.  The ceiling was low with a bamboo curtain covering the entire surface to probably block watermarks and possibly holes.  The floor in the living room was a series of checker board like (but many color) squares put together from remnants of Odette’s former construction jobs.

Drinking in public was prohibited before noon on Sunday mornings.  For reasons that we understood back then, in context, this was not tolerable whatsoever.  But, it was a major inconvenience to have to hide your beer on the beach on Sunday morning.  It never was an option to just NOT drink till after noon.  This was potentially expensive since the TABC (Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission) patrolled the beach handing out $120.00 tickets to offenders.  You could save $2.00 by buying Milwaukee’s Best instead of Lone Star, then get nailed by the TABC for drinking 120 minutes too early.  That has got to be it’s own form of irony.  The Sunday Morning Gentleman’s Club prevented this danger by keeping us safely under cover.

We were all from somewhere else.  Islanders all seemed to be from other places because at this point in time, I was hard pressed to find someone that was born and raised in Port A. I am aware that this logic probably only applied to MY group of friends. Natives were there, I was not finding them, except perhaps those out there were my sister's age of 15 or so.   I subliminally decided that Port Aransas was a place were people even at younger ages landed in and then never actually left again.  I think this is why after 3 years I was so afraid to get stuck there forever myself.  I think I could have.  I learned later, that Port Aransas to those I thought may have been "lifers" may have actually been a small dot of an island to land in an ocean a million miles wide, that we crash landed on and stayed for a few years while we nursed our wounds in a Jimmy Buffett - Margaritaville sort of way.  Of course some never made it off the island, and that is OK.  That is it's own unique honor.

Being an island in the very salty Gulf of Mexico in South Texas, things rusted A LOT.  When you live on a small island where your vehicle runs in short bursts of 15-30 mph, you need to get it up to 55 miles per hour every now and then.  For this, there was Park Road 53, the road, also known as "18 Mile Road" that headed south down Mustang Island to Fish Pass that would cross onto South Padre Island.  Right about where our road, Avenue J was, Park Road 53 changed from 30 to 55 mph. When it was time to "exercise" your rusted out vehicle, you would stomp on the accelerator to "clean the cobwebs out" and many times inadvertently, "blowing the muffler off the exhaust system".  Let's just say, there were many loud vehicles in Port A.  That section of Park Road 53 an un-designated graveyard where old mufflers went to die.

Steve would usually arrive first.  Steve originated from the Fort Worth area. This punctuality despite a very unambitious life.  He was a stay at home Dad, but not in the widely understood definition of the title.  I always got the impression that somewhere in time, he kicked some serious corporate/business butt. But now, at the 38-40-ish that he was, he appeared to have found a permanent landing zone here in Port A.  Steve was very intelligent and funny.  His raspy Texas drawl was often laced with laughter and over all was an entertaining person to be around. He was a gingery medium built guy, with a red-ish beard with sort of a softer edge Treat Williams.

Steve would stay home in his chair and drink beer all day and smoke a little pot. (Actually, it would be easier to name the people who DID NOT smoke pot.)  He’d nap whenever he felt like it and his 2 year old son Johnathan would do things like, attempt cooking or dump 5 lb bags of flower all over the dark blue carpet in the living room or decide to go for a walk several blocks away from the house.  Steve’s wife Cathy was a school teacher and obviously the only bread winner in the house.  She never really seemed happy (go figure) and there seemed to be something brewing just below the surface with her but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I always got the impression that she was screaming inside.

Next comes Glenn.  Glenn was from somewhere in New Mexico.  Glenn was truly unique.  He worked in the public works department with my Dad. He was tall and very slim.  Tanned from his lawn care side business that he maintained. Brown hair that just about reached halfway down his back and a scrappy beard that did not grown in fully.  Glenn was and still is one of the most well-read people I have ever met.  Glen was like my brother although he was closer to my Dad's age than mine.

By 10:05 AM, all members present, beer, cigarettes,darts and Joan Jett, Little Feat, and Jim Morrison all at the ready, we all sort of recapped the highlights of our week.

 

Who's Behind the Door?

In late 1996, I kept thinking about what my father would have been thinking about the last 7 days of his life.  It was all I could think about, so I finally had to put it to paper and let it free.  I know what he had basically done during those days and what he might have been feeling seemed to be floating in the atmosphere all around me.  You may wonder how I could really know the subliminal feelings that my father may have been experiencing during this time.  All I can say about that is that, when I read these words, I keep hitting spots that resonate like a guitar string struck that is connected between my core and running out millions of miles away to the other end of the universe.  This is my attempt to put it into those feelings into thoughts and ultimately, words.

Who's Behind the Door?

Monday

By Mike Jackson

      The day is humid.  The salt is in the air.  It has been there for sixteen years now.  I do not wonder for how long more it will be there.  Should I?

      The morning sun warns of it's forthcoming anger as I open to door to my old truck.  I turn the key.  The engine answers, just like always.

      Is there a shadow?  Somewhere in the great depths of my existence? Do I comprehend that this is the last Monday there will ever be?  My heart is so full of memories.  My dreams are nothing more than foolish recollections.  It might surprise anyone to learn of the simple things that I have dreamed of in recent days.  So long ago I lost the sunshine that could live alone inside of me.  Only those that I love more than anything else could carry me now.  No!  Love or no love, no one carries me!

      Am I insecure?  I have not allowed the time to consider this in this lifetime.  What is a lifetime? 

      Do I somehow see beyond the curtain and down the road?  There is a man waiting just down around the bend that I have always known.  I have laughed at him a thousand times, no, a million times.  Do I know that he is now waiting for me laughing, knowing I am coming down the path?  In a momentary flash I see him from the corner of my eye and I turn to see him gone!  Echoes of my soul play on like a symphony.  From somewhere without noticing, I collect all that I am and I place it next to the window that overlooks the edge of forever.

      I do not know why I feel this way except that it is Sandy's birthday.  It always leaves me unsettled.  Like an eclipse, there is a shadow I cannot deny.  The icy fingers of time burn my skin, my soul as each second passes on the clock that strangely, but all so familiarly makes that subtle growling noise on the wall.

      I just don't know...

                        I just don't know...   

                                          I just don't know...

Tuesday

By Mike Jackson

      Tuesday.  It is my Saturday.  I journey into the city, today.  Just like every time, I will drive there again.  The city so full of life.  Many stories can be told within it.  Many of these stories about me about Brooke, Mike, Amy, Ma, Dave, Sandy, Brian, Phyllis, Jeri, Charlie.  Today, I am alone.  I was alone last month and the month before that and for many more times than I care to think of.  Engine purrs.  Transmission growls.  Radio whistles.  Shadow lurks.

      Running down the long road the memories flood in.  I used to have ideas, now I have only yesterday.  I have waited so long. 

      STOP!  Why can I not shake this feeling of dread!?  I shake my head and loose myself in the social world that I am so engulfed in these days.  The radio is on, but behind the voices, I hear music.  It is a music that I have never heard.  I know what it is, but I just do not know what it is right now.

      I can hear the footsteps so so far away.  They are so soft yet have a power never seen by anyone.  The terror this power can bring cannot be comprehended.  I stand.  Firm.  Wind, tidal surges and all else are no match for my lack of fear.  I do not fear. 

      As the wind blows off the Gulf on this hot South Texas afternoon there was a whisper that chilled me.  I must have imagined it, I had to have imagined it.  The lack of sleep has brought me to a point of recession from the dimension of reality.  I am who I always was, but exhaustion has brought a stranger into my life.  If I could be, I'd be amazed at the bottom line our existence, but I am just too tired. 

      The things that make me who I am are packed in three packages that sit by the door.  I just don't know it yet. 

      Despite this twilight consciousness, I carry on like always.  I may be tired, but I'm still laughing.

Wednesday

By Mike Jackson

      No rest.  I do not sleep anymore.  Days off from work are days to be reminded of where I am.  Over the years I have been an artist in the "All-nighter".  Now, I have no choice.

      Defiantly, I look to my future.  My existence as I have molded it goes on.  There is tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.  I feel like I will always be.

      Dammit Tom, I just don't feel well.  I feel like I'm coming down with something.  I've felt like crap all day.

      The music slows, the lights go out on Wednesday.  I am at home.  It is dark.  Do I know that this is my last night home? 

      The piano, barely audible plays it's low key tune.  I begin to recognize it even though I've never heard it's melody before.

Thursday

By Mike Jackson

      The sun is out.  The sky is blue.  All is as it should be on a warm Port Aransas day.  My faithful old truck carries me to work.  But something is wrong.  I feel like I am drowning.

      I would never be a bother to anyone.  People see me but the reality is, I feel like I'm drowning and when they look into my eyes they know that something is amiss.  I really don't want to burden anyone, but MY GOD!  I'm DROWNING!!

      I reach out for sympathy in a most uncharacteristic effort.  My friend knows there is some sort of danger, but he cannot believe that I can be vulnerable.  Moments later the hammer drops like we all know it will someday.  I make eye contact with the old man down the road.

      I fall.  Let me just go away.  I can heal my wounds in seclusion.  But all of the time I wonder if when alone should I just fix it for good.  But no.  A very dear friend tells me the way to go.  I am vulnerable as people labor over and around me.  This is it.  I have kept all this pain hidden for so long and now, foreclosure. 

      In a hospital bed I contemplate the future.  I still believe there is a future, but as I stare at the ceiling, that old familiar music plays and somewhere deep inside I know I can never go home.

Friday

By Mike Jackson

      Hours seem like days.  The reality of the setting sinks in.  I am here.  I have now heard all they have to say.  I learned to fight when I was so young and I've known nothing but since those days.  Today however, the fight is over.  Knowing what I now know, I must draw all to a close, I know what must happen now.

      The crystal ship.....Oh!  How it used to just wash over me.  I know deep inside that although this is the end of the fight, there is one great battle yet to fight.  In my heart, I know my children will always be on my side.  This I am certain of just as they are allies among each other.  This is the result of the love I have given to them.

      My daughter looks to me with all of the conviction that I have ever had and tells me that I must continue to exist.  I explain to her, this pain can no longer go on.  This is the end.  I give all that I am, all that I was to my children.

      I keep my promise to Mike that I made years ago to tell him that I am dying.  I tell him in one sentence that all those things he never told me, I already know.

      I tell my other daughter that although our paths will part today, we will again join each other.  I tell her this because I know this is true as I know my own name.

      I receive their blessing and their support.  And if I awake somewhere else in the great after life, I can tell them that I truly know what love is, because just as I have shown it to my kids, they have certainly shown it to me.

Saturday

By Mike Jackson

      Days now seem like years.  I honestly don't know how long I've been here.  I receive word through the gasps for breath that Mike and Amy are coming.  I can see them once more.  I can wait a lifetime if I must.  Against the odds, against the wind, against the pain.  No matter what you do to me, I can wait for them.

      Dear Brooke.  You are my angel.  You stand by me, watching all around me as angry nothing growls at me from the edge of the fields.  You watch over the sky for the storms and protect and shelter my life.  Just like me, you cannot be taken down today.  We are an extraordinary people.  Your determination is remarkable.

      I wait.  Eternity passes.  I wait.  My entire life plays by.  I see my hometown.  I see the green hills behind the park.  The power lines cut through the trees of the mountain.  I see my Father go to work to never return.  I see my lust for automobiles all over again.  My friends.  Some of them dead for 25 years now are here.  I marry Sandy and a child is born.  I am yet wild.  I am unsettled.  I see it all and anger comes about.  WHY!?  But I know that I can do nothing to change this.  Another child is born and then another.  But trouble lurks and I am cast out alone.  Alone.  Just like I always feel.  Alone.  Alone yesterday.  Alone today.  Alone tomorrow.  Life in the north I live an easy life.  But my heart leads into dangerous territory and I cautiously step away.

      The system is rigid and I embark on a journey to take me far away.  In the gulf stream I take refuge, finding the finest place I have ever known.  Yet I am unsettled.  I am wild.  No one I love is here until one day Mike appears.  My world changes.  I am really no longer alone.  Together we build the best relationship that two friends could ever have.  Brooke joins us too.  We are a family.  I feel more alive now than ever before!  For some time we are a solid family, very certain, very sure.  Amy come to visit and still yet more family members.  I haven't felt so good in years.  But slowly things changed.  Mike answered the call to his wanderlust and Brooke got married.  Alone again, just like I always knew I would be.

      Time passed, days seemed like years.  The pain crept up during these years.  No one has known how bad it has been.  Aging sucks.  And voices call at me over and over again.  Someone stands holding the door for me, but Brooke's voice tells me Mike and Amy are coming.  I am not listening to the one holding the door, he's just going to have to wait for Joe Jackson.  He says I have to go, it is time.  But I tell him as I always have told so many, "I don't have to do anything."

Sunday

By Mike Jackson

      How much longer will I be here?  I have no longer a concept of time.  My perception of everything has changed.  Time ticks away but so much slower now.  I drift out of reality because I am tired of laboring to survive.

      "Joe!  Wake up Joe!  Your kids are here to see you."  I know I heard it.  In my mind, all is clear but I cannot outwardly communicate.  It is so frustrating.  I reach deep within and draw strength from where there appeared to be none.  I greet Mike and Amy.  I am so happy that they are here.  I know that there is nothing compared to being with people who love you.  I at this moment have the clearest understanding of priorities in life.  It is a stark realization of how wrong I have been, how wrong the world has been!

      In one last battle my children finish the fight for me and show me that I no longer need to fight, that I can certainly trust them to carry me away.  I say good-bye the best that I can to Michael, Brooke and Amy.  You are the finest people I have ever known.  You have made being a father an absolute honor.  I will always love you.Thank you for understanding. 

                                    Love Dad

First Trip to Phippsburg Maine August 2009

First trip to Meadowbrook. Liam was 6  and Noah was 3. I used to journal all of our trips and now I am so glad that I did.

August 17, 2009,  we rolled out of Ascutney around 3PM finally.  It was a Monday, but we were finally on vacation!  Just as we got onto North St in Claremont, the oil light came on  the van.  Great!  I pulled over and checked the level.  Full.  Seems to be a low RPM/low oil pressure problem,  I decided that this was not going to interrupt our vacation.  Too many things were threatening to prevent this.
We made a usual stop at the Mc Donald’s in Warner at the drive thru.  They were offering Lego cars which for the first time in a long time were actually a useful and not cheap pathetic toy substitute that is guaranteed to break about 2 miles up the road resulting in lengthy periods of crying.  When we crossed into Maine impatience was running high.  We suggested that the kids play “Chopped.”  This is a homemade game that we created that is closely modeled after the TV show Chopped on the Food Network, in which 4 chefs compete by creating a delicious appetizer, main course and desert, by utilizing all of the mystery ingredients in the basket provided.  The game begins with the person whose turn it is.  That person says, “Chef!  Open your baskets!”  Then that person lists 3 or 4 ingredients that will be used in the recipe.  Then we tell everyone what we will make with the mystery ingredients and how it will be presented.  Sometimes we get silly and use items that cannot possibly work together, such as, “Sardines, Chunky Peanut Butter, and Corn on the Cob”.  This pacified them for a while and we tried very hard to keep the flow of travel up so that we could set up in the daylight.  This effort was derailed when Liam decided that he HAD to go pee in Brunswick Maine.
We arrived in Phippsburg, ME right at dark.  It is our trademark to absolutely NEVER to set up when it is still light out.  We got our site at Meadowbrook Campground.  It always seems that whenever it is a site in the woods, we always seem a bit disappointed at first.  I started to situate the camper, Donna and the boys were on the picnic table out of the way while I did this.  I noticed out of the corner of my eye Noah fell off the table in between the bench and table.  It seemed like a nasty fall.  He split his lip open, poor little guy!  Donna took the van with the boys and went down to the office to get some ice for Noah’s lip.
I set up in the dark and found it to be very easy.  By the time Donna and the boys returned, Noah was already doing better and the camper was set up and functional.  Usually when we first arrive Donna takes the boys to see the playground and other amenities.  They set out and I continued working.  I decided to get a fire going and start a charcoal grill for some ribs.  We had not eaten since Warner Mc Donald’s.
We enjoyed the fire and the ribs and turned in for the night.  It was midnight when we finally went to bed.  Pretty typical for the Jacksons first night anywhere.

Tuesday August 18, 2009
Morning coffee in the stainless Coleman pot, thank you Tabby.  A half a dozen trips to the bathrooms too!  I bought the Wi-Fi for a few days only to realize that our bank account was overdrawn!  This makes the 2nd year in a row in which we spent the majority of our vacation with a negative balance.  Grrrrrrr!
The neighbor woman walked over and introduced herself as Willow and her 7 year old son as Kazden.  She said how nice it was to have children next door that were the same age and that unfortunately they were leaving the next day.  She and Kaz were extremely nice.  They came from Washington, CT.  Her Husband Rob and their 2 girls Sagelee and Emily were soon back at the site.  The whole family was warm and friendly.  It was a joy to have such nice neighbors.  Rob and I displayed similar ideas and ambitions which was comforting and amusing.  When the wives and kids returned from the pool and the playground Rob and I had talked intensely for over an hour.  He was telling me about how they used to have a Sienna Van.  The camper was pushing it to the limit.  So they went out and bought a full size SUV, which I believe that in this economy they are giving away at the grocery store when you purchase more than $100.00 worth of groceries.   Now they pull the camper and all the bikes easily and actually get better gas mileage because the vehicle is not straining.  While I was talking with Rob, a couple of people from the campground drove up on a golf cart and asked which one was Mr. Jackson.  I told them that I was and they mentioned that for the 8 dollar internet fee that I purchased my debit card was still declining.  Nice.  They were nice enough about it, but, I thought that with Rob standing only a few feet away they could have really put the icing on the cake by handing me a tube of preparation H, Bottle of Geritol and a package of Depends.
When both families were together my conversation with Rob continued.  He mentioned that he and Willow actually sleep on opposite bunks in the pop-up with their kids since it is just a tent that they are sleeping in and someone could undo the bottom and slip a sleeping child away.  We were amazed and impressed.  We do this too.  We proudly admitted this to our friends.  These parents really watched their kids, it was refreshing.
We found that we were lacking some things, so when Donna took the boys to the pool, I went to find a Hannaford that I could get a few things and write a check for OVER.  I found one down in Brunswick.
When I returned, we visited with the Brenner’s some more when I realized that Rob also makes his own fire starters too!  It gets stranger all the time.  Much to Donna’s dismay and prediction, my one moment trip to Rob’s site next door, turned into about 35 minutes.  I had to ask him about the fire starters.  He made his with dryer lint and old candle wax.  Since dryer lint is the most flammable substance on earth they could burst into flames by merely looking at them too hard.  I made mine with wood shavings and paraffin wax.  I like the lint idea, this puts to use something that up till now serves no useful purpose.
Then we went to Popham Beach and the kids had a great time.  Asa did very well and kept fetching a stick in the water.  He was very well behaved except for all the terrible pooping!  I grabbed a doggie bag at the beginning of the trail so that in case Asa pooped, I could pick it up.  We are in favor of this.  It is responsible.  What we did not realize was that we actually needed a roll of these things and a gold sifting pan too and a set of elbow length rubber gloves and possibly some incendiary devices for a diversion.  He went like three times on the ground and 3 times in the ocean.  I was carrying a Maxwell house coffee container that I had no choice to use to collect this festival of poop!
We got back and Noah was out, Liam hung in there in anticipation of seeing his friends.  We ate streak tips and scallions, and then Liam and I visited with the neighbors.  We sat around the campfire talking about Indian gardening techniques, wine tasting, Beatle records and many other things.  It was a good night.  In bed shortly after 11:00

Wednesday August 19, 2009
Another very beautiful summer day here in Maine.  We knew that this was the day that we had to watch the Brenner’s leave.  It would seem empty at our site after that.  We decided to not go anywhere until they were gone so that Liam and Noah could enjoy playing with Kazden, Emily and Sagelee as much as possible before they left.
Rob and I exchanged more research on state parks that we had qualified info on.  Our families said good-bye and I watched as Liam stood in the middle of their site and took it in that they were gone.  The Brenner’s went by on the lower road on their way out of the campground and Liam and Noah stood on their former site and waved as they disappeared from sight.  I watched Liam as he walked around their empty site, his sadness was so expressive that I had a lump in my throat just watching him.
We all went to the pool for a few hours and the boys played like crazy.  We got out of the pool with Liam screaming and crying half way to the site. We made dinner, grilled chicken and corn on the cob.  This was very good.  Donna called it the best meal of the vacation so far.  She was right.  This was some chicken that we boiled in a stock pot the week before.  We added homemade bib sauce and apple cider vinegar and brown sugar and salt in the water.  Then when we cooked it, I added apple juice and ginger ale to hickory bbq sauce.  I took a shower then we headed into Bath.  The boys were very impressed with the cranes and the cut away view inside of the ships that were being built or un-built.  You never know in this economy.  I cannot imagine anything being built at this time in history.
I went to Shaws, since this was nearby to get a couple of things such as the much needed tongs.  Up to this point I had made a small pair of tongs out of 2 lost tent stakes and I also carved a set of chopsticks out of pine sticks to work as tongs.  Unfortunately I also wanted some cash back for ice cream.  But since My Shaws was in Vermont, I was only able to write an exact amount check.  So with tears in our eyes we went to the Mc Donald’s drive thru for dollar menu treats.  Noah missed out on this because when I got out of the store he was sound asleep.
When we got back, we decided to watch Race to Witch Mountain.  It was a nice calm night.  Liam and I walked to the Bathrooms around 11 and came back and went to sleep.  I lay awake for a little bit of time.  When I was young there were 2 Witch Mountain movies that has just as much action as algea growing in slow motion. Today you would actually need prozac IV drip and 3 certified mental health specialists present so as not to harm yourself during watching  those movies.  But the names were nicer, like "Escape to Witch Mountain"  "Return from from Witch Mountain. The most boring movies ever but when your a kid in the 70 s and you love Kim Richards and don't know that someday she'll be on " Real Housewives of Some Town I Don't Care About".   But now in the new millenium, it is RACE!!!!  Like racing into the sun or a firey volcano.  "There is BAD stuff out there and we are RACING HEADFIRST into it!!!"  "We have a guy named the ROCK and we will use him if we have to!"  I wonder if in 30 years the title will be even more edgy like; "Vaporize Witch Mountain with Stolen Former Soviet Nuclear Missiles and Laugh while Eating HAPPY MEALS".

Thursday August 20, 2009
We awoke to still yet another beautiful sunny day!  They just keep on coming.  This is really a first.  The boys found the 2 boys that they met at the end of day yesterday.  I did not mention these boys, because in comparison to the Brenner's, there was nothing to tell.  These 2 boys were camping in a popup down below us and were never around, obviously site seeing etc by day.  One was 9 and acted 6 or 7 and the other was 6 and acted 3 or 4.  The contrast to Liam and Noah was amazing.  One of the greatest irritants was the younger one was making this disgusting noise that one does just before one spits.  He would not stop that ridiculous noise!  I was happy to see them finally leave.
Liam, Noah and I took Asa for a walk and then we went to the playground.  I noticed that the seasonal camper right next to the playground had an F250 parked on the site, with Florida Plates on it.  There was also a generous slide in camper on the site on the lift stilts.  Reading between the lines, these people must have a camper seasonal in Florida too and use the F250 with the slide in for the migration.  I kind of envied them because in the back of my mind, winter was silently stalking.
We then headed down to Popham Beach.  It took a while to get a parking space, but once we did we were all set.  I took the boys into the fort, they were very excited.  This simple fort to them had all the excitement as a tour of the Kennedy Space Center to them.  I love stuff like that with them.  They had the same reaction to seeing the cranes over Bath.  Liam conveys his excitement with things with very animated descriptions of what he sees.  Noah has this absolutely adorable voice that he shouts in utter excitement.  There is something in that little voice that has this irresistible tone that is not unlike one that Donna uses when she tells you about something that someone else said.  I don’t know how to describe it, but I suspect she used it to tell Brooke and Amy about how I said I missed them the day they left our house during Brooke’s last visit here.  I know this because a few days later, we were at a picnic at my Aunt Diane and Uncle Tom’s house and suddenly both Brooke and Amy walked up to me on the porch, took Noah from my arms and kissed me on the cheek and said they loved me.  There is only one force in the universe that has that power.  It is that special voice that Donna has when she repeats what someone says and makes it sound even better and more endearing that it was. Yes, I digress, but that is how Liam and Noah regarded the Fort.
We found Donna just barely on the beach.  We settled there while the boys played in the sand.  Donna walked up on the rocks and Liam followed.  So began the great Crab Hunt.  Liam and Noah began to catch crabs and put them in Liam’s sand pail.
After much coaxing we got the boys to forget about the crabs for now and walk up the beach.  The tide was going out and it got better and better by the moment.  Up at the point there was a nice sand bar and people were walking out to the island where there was a house up on a hill.  At first we were worried about walking out there because the water was thigh deep going out.  But as time passed definite sand bridge showed itself and it was clear that the tide was still very much headed out.  The boys had such a great time.  They picked up a couple million shells and they also wrapped long strands of seaweed and wearing them all over them.
We went back to the rocks and set the crabs free.  One died in the bucket unfortunately.  We got back in the van and headed back.  Asa was in the camper at Meadowbrook and we realized that this was the longest we had ever left him in the camper.   He was fine of course.  Shaded area, windows open and fans on.
We headed up some left over’s and made ribs and pork tenderloin.  The tenderloin did not cook well enough so I put it on again.  It was still not done, so I put it on again.  Liam, Noah and I walked around at dusk to find marshmallow sticks.  We came back with some.  Donna asked me whatever happened to the tenderloin.  There it sat, low and slow on the smoker.  I took it off and put it in the fridge.
We sat by the fire making smores.  The boys loved it.  Liam made one for Mommy too.  Then we all took a walk down to the bathrooms.  When we got back we put Mr. Troop Mom in on the laptop and watched.  Noah fell right to sleep.  Liam will always stay up late, fighting sleep every moment, like me when I was his age.
At 11 Liam and I walked to the bathrooms again.  I love the one on one conversation that come at times like these.  To sleep we went till 4 AM when Noah, who never wets the bed, wet the bed.

Friday August 21, 2009
It sort of began at 4 AM, when Noah wet the bed.  I could not get back to sleep right away.  I had checked the weather on the net to make sure that it was ok to keep the window open.  I drifted off here and there with strange dreams of moving into broke down houses, walking on the edge of steep bridges crept in.  In all, they seemed to be a magnification of the uncertainty of my precarious employment situation that has shadowed this vacation.
We got up and had coffee.  Noah and I walked down to where Donna and Liam said that there was a dock and a pond.  We ate breakfast and then headed down to the General Store down on Route 209.  I could write pages about this place.  I believe that even nuclear destruction would leave this place unchanged, except that there may be a small section dedicated to radiation suits and ultra sunshades.
With a fresh bag of ice for drinks we went down to Popham Beach.  Unlike yesterday, there were at least 6 places to park because of the fog.  You could not see 10 feet in front of you and the tide was high.  All of these factors make the beach not as attractive to the general population.  It was still very cool.  The boys loved it and as Donna had pointed out, we have never seen Noah run so much as he has on the beach.  We were very careful to keep the boys up from the water because at high tide there were many spots where it drops off fast.
We walked all the way down to the point and the waves were coming in from 2 directions at once.  This was interesting but scary with the boys so we moved on further north.  We found a spot on the beach for them to play.  First they found a disassembled Lobster that they reconstructed like a crashed airliner.  I thought it was pretty inventive.  They played in the sand for a while longer and then we began to walk back.  The sun appeared to be peaking through the thick mist.
We headed back up 209 and went to a small seafood shack to buy the makings for dinner.  Mussels and Clams is what we were thinking.  They did not take ATM cards so we went up to the General Store to access the ATM.  While I was there I wanted to get Liam and Noah some hot dogs.  The steamer was not on so I walked further down into the lower additions of the store.  It was a strange set up.  First you came into the store and walked around the register island.  Then you walk down some stairs and you are in the bait and tackle section.  Then you walk further and you are in the coffee and pizza on a warmer section.  Then you walk further and you are in the deli-Kitchen area.  Then further and you are in the wine and whole sale beverage section.  And finally you open the glass door that warns you that there are cameras always on and you are in the state liquor store section.
Across from the very dirty deli kitchen, there was a wood screen door with hardware cloth over it and a very large metal stand up fan from the 1950’s blowing air at the kitchen at approximately the same velocity that it takes to get a small commuter plane off the ground.  Funny thing is that as I walked in front of the fan and felt the air on the edge of the kitchen, I imagined that it was still not enough.
The girl between a counter of clutter and a pizza over made to order 4 hot dogs for us.  It took her forever and watching her with the knife, I began to wonder if she had ever seen a knife before this moment in her life.  She was very nice and even toasted the buns in the pizza oven.  As hot dogs go, these were exceptional.
As I stood there for what seemed like 40 minutes.  About 40 different people came and went.  Most of the men in shirts so dirty you would think they entered through the chimney.  This did not seem to faze the employees of the store and they were definitely on first name basis with all of them.  It was actually easy to see who was local and who was not by the level of cleanness of the people.  Obviously, those men, in the middle of their work day, were in the fishing trade.  I sort of imagined that those locals would look at the tourists with some sort of notice that I could discern.  But I saw nothing.  Obviously, these days they know that these passers through are NEEDED to make the businesses work.  They were cordial, maybe just one click above one driving around a 2 by 4 piece of lumber that falls out onto the roadway.
When I returned to the van, my wife had remarried thinking that she would never see me again and Liam and Noah had children of their own.  Just kidding.  It certainly was the longest I had ever waited for 4 hot dogs.
We went to the campground that was by now buzzing with Friday afternoon business.  We had new neighbors on our right and new just below us.  The Brenner’s site remained empty.  Good I thought. No one could live up to that.
Our neighbors on the right were 3 people from Quebec 2 young girls and 1 man and a mid size dog named Paco.  They seemed very nice.  Down below our neighbors had a couple of young boys that were evidently allowed to climb that HUGE pine tree out back without any supervision.  As a bonus they were also permitted to climb on top of their high conversion van and stomp around on top of the fiberglass roof. Great!
We put the boys into the van as a possible storm threatened.  We went to Shaws in Bath.  Noah and I went to get our seafood and Donna and Liam went to the Good Will.  When we returned we put our laundry in the washers and went back k to the site to cook dinner.  Thunder rumbled everywhere, but it never rained.  Our dinner was exquisite!  The mussels were sweet in the garlic onion and wine sauce.  Dipping them in butter was just too good for words.  The clams were great, but the best was mussels.  Corn on the cob to top it off.  All good. All awesome.
I cleaned up while Donna went down for a shower with Liam.  She was very mad at him when they returned because he had taken off and was scaring some older boys.
We settled in with the Pink Panther 2 movie.  Both boys fell asleep quickly thoroughly tired from the day’s activity.

Saturday August 22, 2009
Out of bed and coffee started, no one else was up.  I took Asa for a quick walk and so far, the sun is shining and the day is beautiful.  It has not rained at all this vacation.  This must be a record for us!  We decided that we would get the boys up and Donna would take them to the pool so that I could break the camper down.  When everything was complete, I walked down to the pool.  There was a rec hall with a small restaurant in which Liam and Noah were having personal size pizzas.  I stayed with the boys while Donna went to the showers.  It sure was hot inside that rec hall!
Just after check out time we left Phippsburg Maine headed for Kittery to the outlet stores and then home.  While this was shorter a mid summer vacation than what we wanted or are used to, it was certainly a sweet one.  Last year, at Grand Isle State Park in Northern Vermont we were rained on many times and had to move the camper 4 times!  I liked not having to move so many times.  I love that our boys get to experience so many new places and yet they almost have a routine that they know about what we do and how we do things when we camp.
While Noah and I sat in the van in Kittery while Donna and Liam were in the store I asked Noah what he liked most about his vacation, he told me that he liked the swimming the best.

Staring Down the Barrel of Another Winter

September happened.  I am another year older, a spring and summer have passed, the brilliant bright green leaves that were so new on the trees only seemingly seconds ago have hardened to a callous veteran status and with one free fall of the mercury, will yeild to color too spectacular to imitate. What do I have to show? Not as much as I would like. Back in May on a rainy Saturday, Donna, the boys and I crossed the Pemigawasett River in the White Mountains. The feeling was amazing. It felt like we were really doing this. This was only the beginning and here we were now, off to a good start.

Mt. Flume and Liberty was just too much for us and we could have had a better hike had we done better research. I. We  turned around when we realized that we would be walking for hours after dark, on steep slippery ridges in wind driven rain. We told the boys it was “Cheeseburger time” a famous saying of our YouTube friend Shawn a.k.a. Sintax77 when he finishes a hike. We told them that the first good (by which we mean not Mc Donald’s) burger place we find we are eating at. It was fun, but sad too. We so wanted to sleep in those hammocks that we almost hiked all the way up Flume with.   When we were back down on the trail alongside the river, we noticed a couple of hikers walking around gathering firewood. What this means is, out of sight the required amount away from the trail, there were people camping in the woods just like we wanted to. But, when you raced down a mountain in anticipation of a big hearty cheeseburger that no longer seems like an option. So we went and had our burgers. 

 It was memorial day weekend. Anyone who is been in the White Mountains knows that on holiday weekends nothing is cheap, nothing is available. We called a couple of hotels but they had jacked up their rates four hundred percent of course which made no sense. So late, late at night, we drove all the way back home. On the way home, extremely hard rains pressure washed us.  When we arrived home we put on the television, YouTube, and watched other people successfully do the hike that we just trying to do. It was clear to us, had we continued, we would’ve been in a world of trouble. 

The Long Trail

We still pressed on.  So we decided to try the Long Trail.  If you don’t know what the long trail is, it is a trail that was established around the beginning of the 20th century. It is the trail that inspired the Appalachian Trail. It runs 272 miles from the Massachusetts state line and ends at the Canadian border. 

 The hike we planned seem pretty simple. We would start from the trail head on route 103 in Wallingford. We would hike out past the Minerva Hinchey shelter, summit Bear Mountain, cross route 140 and end for the day at the Greenwall Shelter. This was about 9 miles of hiking with two significant climbs (for us anyway).

One of our biggest failures as a family is not being prepared for these hikes.  As a result of this we ended up leaving the house way too late that day. We knew for sure we would not get as far as we originally intended. However, it was a beautiful 74° day. We made it to Minerva Hinchey As the sun was setting. We got to talk with some through hikers, some flip-flop hikers, long trail hikers. Just as we arrived 15 other people were arriving at the same time. We decided that it was pretty urgent now that we find places to hang our hammocks.

Liam Ended up using a privy that was in the woods all by itself. And at 2:15 in the morning an animal was scraping and clawing up that privy trying to get whatever smelled in there.  It sounded huge to us, but likely was porcupines trying to get it. We will not know because we did not wish to shine a light down there just in case it was actually a bear because we did hear some noises of beers too. In fact, the nighttime noises were so intense it was like Mutual of Omaha‘s Wild Kingdom out there.

Here Comes Green River

My wonderful niece Melissa goes through a great deal of work and problem solving each year to give our family a truly unique outing. There are not many families that will ever experience something like this. So we got ready.  Opportunity always seems to knock in the form of investment, by which I mean 50% money and 725% ingenuity and hard work. This year it was in the form of a rowboat that was for sale for $100 on Maple Avenue in Claremont. The rowboat fit easily in the back of the truck could carry lots of cargo and people and would be a great thing to have at Green River. Besides how hard could it be to fix a rowboat?

We got to work. Patching and sealing and taking apart and scraping and painting. I also decided at the same time it was time to resurrect the old truck cap  that we had, so we started scraping and painting and sealing that as well. Then I realized that the oars that came with the boat we’re not what I would consider to be worthy and started to try to find those too. What I did not realize it was as I was working hard on this boat my YouTube friends the Crawford family were hiking up through Vermont in the hottest summer in a while and on Fourth of July a Wednesday that I had off, they were over in Clarendon gorge dipping into the cool freshwater. They crossed Route 103 and hiked up the next mountain and spent the night with Peewee another friend of ours and had nothing to eat except Ramen noodles that night. 

 Since these hikers had started last winter down in Georgia it was always my intention to meet with them when they got into the Clarendon area to feed them and to congratulate them on such a wonderful job well done. And I missed it. 

Green River started out rough. There was three hours of actual rowboat paddling which left my hands full of blisters, a trip to the emergency room in Morrisville with Noah who got a fish hook stuck in his hand and he wasn’t even fishing. Missing out on a great first meal and of course having to set up our hammocks  in the dark.  Thankfully, the rest of the weekend was wonderful. 

We're on the Road to Nowhere....Haa!

My friends, family and co-workers alike have asked me for years when I would or if I would open a restaurant.  I have had very good advice from people close to me who owned restaurants.  The bottom line is, you become a restaurant owner because you love to cook.  You love the ideas, creativity, the execution and finally the reward of diners pleased with what they paid for.  I got that.  I can do that.  Much better than many. I mean no arrogance here, I just know.  But the issue is, a restaurant is a business, it has employees and it needs them to make it work.  Human Resource attention is needed, an accountant is needed.  No fledgling restaurant owner can just hire people to do those things, they must do it themselves.  So while you are handling those administrative "departments" someone else is doing the cooking that YOU thought you would be doing.  Do they share your dream and vision for what should be on each plate.  I really know in my case, absolutely not.  So you get it, restaurants are not in the plan.

Food trucks are a much better way to go, but do require an up front investment.  So after going back and forth with some folks at the City of Claremont NH, I became a vendor one Saturday in July, cooking and selling Southwest Egg Rolls.

The reception from customers was excellent, and if I had a Saturday morning to give each week, I could see the real opportunity of real momentum that could lead to a food truck.  Claremont is tough, their farmers market is still in the stone age.  Nothing wrong with that, they all had to start somewhere.  But in September I went to Londonderry Vermont, THATS a farmers market!!!

Goodbye, Farewell, Amen

In July the time had come to say goodbye to my cousin Tom. The previous March, Tom died at his home in Nebraska from the flu. He was only 56. A service had been held in Nebraska back in March, but for those of us on the east coast, a celebration of life was held in Danbury CT.  There was no way that I could not speak in honor of Tom.

Tom was 4 years older than me, yet he always gave me a chance before anyone else ever would. He was like my brother. We became friends in the late 70s and by the early 80s we had become best of friends. So many deep conversations were had and they always came so easy. Tom taught me how to play guitar. Tom’s life had dealt him some tough circumstances as the years progressed, certainly none that he deserved. You always think you have more time, but then in just one moment....time’s up. He was in Connecticut in 2016.  At that time of course, there was much happening in my life to find a moment to get down there.  I am sad that it meant that not finding the time, meant that I would not have one more visit with him.  He was really a great guy, good person and a true friend.

Back to the White Mountains...well for the day

"Was there a family of 8 here that are hiking the Appalation Trail, kids ages 2-17?"  I could not help but ask one of the attendants at the White Mountain Information Center.  "Yeah, there was, a couple weeks ago I think.  They took a picture over by that moose." (Stuffed moose).  Yup, missed them again, but I knew that.  Ben Crawford, the dad in that family had messaged me and told me they were in Maine and we probably had missed an opportunity to meet, but he thanked me for sharing my "story of change" and for the support.

We wanted a hike.  We asked a woman at the counter what would be a good hike that would take just an afternoon but allow us a nice summit with nice views of the Whites.  She suggested Hedgehog Mountain, which is just up beyond Hancock campsite, on the Kancamangus Highway.

It was a wonderful hike but it did take more time than the woman said, we came out right at dark. There is a youtube video of this hike posted in this blog.

First Vacation in Two Years

Moose Hillock?  It is a campground in the White Mountains.  It is resort like, has all the amenities, yet sites that are not on top of each other. This is still not the type of camping that we do, but I was plotting in my mind that, we would get the kids to go to a campground that has all the attractions, and we can hike the Whites.  This campground would be more than I have ever paid for a campsite, but hey, if you are the best.  No regrets, right?  Well, then there are these pesky little things called "reviews".  The more I read, the worse it got.  It seems that Moose Hillock was in a tailspin, and we were not going to be spending $72 a night for such a regrettable experience.  So Saturday of vacation, I am directionless. The next thing I know we forgot the camper and we booked an AirBnb in Sevierville, Tennessee.  Oh boy!  The AT in the Great Smokey Mountains.  Yes it would be rural, and the kids might be disappointed that there is nothing to do there but hike.  

Pidgeon Forge and Gatlinburg Tennessee turned out to be as Ben Crawford says, a cross between 1980s Las Vegas and something else. So the kids were not interested in hiking.  A YouTube friend was very helpful in suggesting things to do. We did get to cruise Cade's Cove and go to Clingmans Dome. An expensive vacation complete with 2 stays in the same Ramada Inn at Strasburg, VA, that could be a great set for a post apocalyptic movie.

Inevitably....Autumn Arrives

September arrives, three seconds after the end of May.  Another summer season over. We had a weekend booked at winhall Brook in South Londonderry Vermont. I love this place and I also love the farmers market in Londonderry Vermont that has such wonderful Vermont charm oh, there is no other place like it. Well there we met some mushroom growers. From them we bought some maitake mushrooms and some lion's mane mushrooms. These were amazing and we made crab cakes out of the lion's mane.

On Friday I had the opportunity to hike the Appalachian Trail from Route 11 to the Bromley Summit it was a beautiful day for a hike.