Desire Moves

I think life is as simple as this. We all move to what we desire most. Sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously. The stronger we desire something or someone we focus more of our thoughts and actions toward that and our body and minds move in the direction of that desire. Sometimes or perhaps many times our actions may not seem to make rational sense that they will in fact lead us to the desired goal but in a magical and spiritual way they do.

Lauren and I are celebrating the achievement of a common (thank goodness) goal we’ve had for a few years. We just bought a house which we will soon call home in the area where we’ve been taking summer vacations beginning about five years ago. Bethel, Maine is a small and beautiful mountain village located in the western mountains of the State. We originally came upon it by accident as we searched for Kezar Lake and stayed for a few nights at the Sudbury Inn. It was love at first sight and since then we’ve been trying to figure out how we could buy a place and spend more time there. Originally we thought we would buy a place to spend summers and then rent the home in winter which is the busy season because of the great skiing they have at Sunday River and Mt. Abram. We looked at many homes in the area and made offers on a couple of places over the past two years but we either lost out or never came to an agreement. But desire moves in mysterious ways. Lauren noticed a new listing come up on the MLS in November which we both had never seen before. The location looked good, close to town like we wanted and the price looked really good.

We made an offer on the place even before we saw it. We flew out from San Diego within the week and after seeing the place adjusted our offer and finally came to an agreement with the sellers. The closing took place on December 11th, 2009 and now Lauren and I are preparing to pack up our apartment and move back east in the next few weeks.

Looking back on my first blog posting less than one year ago http://androscogginbloggin.blogspot.com/2009/01/page-one_18.html is yet more proof that desire moves.

We have a lot of work ahead of us. The place needs broken pipes fixed and then a new heating system put in and then the water turned on and then the list goes on….but all this will give me material to blog about. So stay tune for more stories about “This Old Old House” or “The Money Pit North”. These will be adventures and challenges and at times we’ll ask ourselves, did we desire this? And the answer is YES we did, this is how Desire Moves.

A TRIBUTE TO DAUGHTERS

I have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend but one of the things that I’m most thankful for is my daughters.

Amber and Eva, they are beautiful in so many ways. What I’m thankful for is that at ages 26 and 22 they are both taking control of living their lives as they want to live them. Amber and Eva are very different even though they have the same parents and grew up in the same neighborhood. During those first few years of life Amber was the loud one and Eva was the quiet one but then it flip-flopped and Amber became the quiet one while Eva roared to life.

Amber was academic, organized, and diligently doing her homework saw mostly A’s on her report card. Her bedroom was a showpiece of neatness and order. Eva was social and it seemed to me that maybe she thought the purpose of school was to meet and talk with your friends. Her homework usually got lost under some mound of clothes on her bed or the floor.

As time went on the differences became clearer and I realized they were being true to themselves. Nowadays Amber will drive an hour to hear a poetry reading while Eva will travel to a local pub to belt out a song on Karaoke. Amber reads Edith Wharton while Eva listens to Lady GaGa.

Impossible as it is for me to be unbiased, let me say that Amber is a wonderful writer and poet. I hope she continues to write more. Amber who is very careful in her decision making process decided she wanted to move back to New England last May. So both her and her boyfriend Tommie quit their jobs in San Diego with no prospect of a job in their pockets and put themselves where they wanted to be. Amber has already said no to jobs that don’t match her desires. She’s picking, choosing and trying out things that interest her. Right now she’s working at a place where she meets with different artists every day. I know if these jobs don’t remain interesting and fun she’ll move on. I love that she’s making those scary and unknown choices and testing the world to see what’s best. I know she will find a very comfortable balance in her life.

Eva is a wonderful teacher and karaoke singer. For years she’s been known in the family as a kid magnet…they gravitate to her. Now she has her own preschool class of 3 to 5 year olds that she handles 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year. She does projects with the kids, she nurtures them, she loves them and they love her. Eva says she’s never going to leave San Diego. She loves the glitter, the glam, and the pop culture. She loves her gay neighborhood of Hillcrest with all it has to offer. She has good friends and good times. I’m thankful that she’s independent and in a good place in her life.

So there sisters….this blog’s for you. Keep following your dreams and desires.

Love,
Dad

The Big Butt Van: Bringing Neighbors Together One Last Time

Well there it is…the Big Butt Van mortally wounded, ready to exit our lives. She’s been a good van, a classic soccer mom van, a workhorse performing all sorts of hauling expeditions. Hauling Kayaks all over New England, kids to soccer games and cross country meets, work mates to Fenway Park, Amber’s stuff to and from Wheaton College each year and multiple furniture moves in San Diego. But at 5:15 am on October 10th her number came up. A driver who one may “presume” was DUI smashed the rear corner pushing it up over the curb of the sidewalk and plowing it into our neighbor’s bushes. As quickly as they hit it they managed to regain their bearings and take off before anyone had a chance to see their car.
Although the bang woke me up I didn’t recognize it as a crash like our neighbors above us did and who knocked on our door two minutes later and said “Pete…Lauren’s car was just hit and it’s bad.” After a quick survey we called 911 and our insurance company to get the ball rolling. The police officer who came out to inspect it was very nice. His name was Officer Troy Gess and my wife would best describe him as a “cutie-pa-tootie”. So naturally at the end of his investigation when he asked if we had any other questions, Lauren asked if he had any friends like him for her 22 year old daughter? She had already found out Troy was married.
As the sun began to brighten up the day and we waited for the tow truck to arrive neighbors began to appear. Many of these neighbors we have never met or said more than a passing hello during the 14 months we have lived here. Lauren was beginning to enjoy it. Meeting the neighbors. Friendly conversation. We first officially met Robert (and later his girlfriend Maya) who as a postman was leaving early for work but stopped to tell us he may have some video surveillance from his house to the street. That might be handy. We then met Erica and Alex and some of their kids. She’s from Barnstable, MA so she and Lauren could exchange some Mass stories. We met David who I think is retired and may be the longest living resident on the street. He was here before the street was paved and before it extended down the hill or what was a canyon. We spoke to Cathy and John who we had spoken to before. Occasionally we see John come out in a kilt with a set of bagpipes to play at some event. I met Rob and Becca and their two young kids. They’re Birders and were curious what the Mass Audubon sticker on the van was all about with its Kingfisher or Tern logo. We talked again to Danny, Ryan and Christine, a young group renting the house next door and sort of like a Three’s Company in reverse. Danny and Ryan both sell shoes at Niemen-Marcus; I’m not sure what Christine does. We met Gloria a talkative neighbor a few doors up who now works full time as a pet-sitter. She used to work for AT&T until that world changed. She also happens to be house watching for Jose and Nancy who own the house next door which was the ending spot for the front end of the van as it sat not-so-gracefully lodged in their front bushes. They happen to be in Spain for a while. I think the final neighbor we met was Christy who I would say slept late and was calling the police around 11:00 AM to report a car in the neighbor’s bushes. Her dad use to play for the Baltimore Orioles.
The moral of the story should be obvious…if you want to meet your neighbors plan something dramatic to happen in your neighborhood. It’s a guarantee they’ll come out and say hello.

So Tomorrow October Begins

Let’s see…the first day of autumn was eight days ago and it’s October 1st tomorrow. There’s not much here that’s tipping me off to this change of season. Sure the days are shorter now than they were in mid-summer and the shadows cast during the day are longer but it’s a comfortable 73 degrees right now at 11:30 AM and nothing around here is changing color. I know in my mind that the maple trees of New England should be beginning to turn all shades of red, yellow and orange, crimson and vibrant, a regular palette of beautiful shades that even the most color blind of us has to notice. Next weekend bus loads of Leaf-peepers will be all over the country side in Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont and Western Massachusetts for the Columbus Day weekend. This is usually considered the peak week for this area and the annual tradition of color lovers driving around taking pictures of yet another beautiful scene is unstoppable. And why not, it is breathtakingly beautiful.
Many years ago when Lauren and I first met we decided to just hop in the car and drive through New Hampshire to Vermont to leaf peep and find a place to stay for the night. The colors were wonderful, we were still a new couple, and everything was going perfect until we tried to find a place to stay for the night. There wasn’t a single hotel room available in the whole State of Vermont. We called up the State Chamber of Commerce or something like that and they said the only thing available was rooms’ people were renting out in their house. Not wanting to leave we decided to call on one of these people nearby. They had a bedroom available and would even feed us breakfast in the morning. We arrived to a perfectly nice, clean, and well kept ranch style home. The Mrs. showed us our bedroom which was cleaner than most of the rooms I slept in during my life. The problem was it was just too personal. We were across the three foot wide hallway from their bedroom door and the house was really quiet and well…we kind of wanted to make some noise. Did I mention we were a new couple, before kids? We made it through the night okay and had a wonderful pancake and bacon breakfast the next morning. We bid our host farewell hoping we could somehow find a more private place to lodge this next evening. We spent the day driving, eating, and photo-shooting and as dusk began to near we turned our search for a new bed to sleep in. Many places we did try and many places said goodbye. Sometime around 7 to 8 pm we stopped at an Inn somewhere to try one last place. It was a Victorian style home and the host who had been playing an old upright piano gave us a hearty greeting. I remember him laughing when we asked the question. We sensed he wished he did have the room. He offered us a glass of wine which we accepted and we sat on the couch in his lobby while he played the piano and I could tell Lauren was really enjoying it. We were probably sitting there for 15 minutes listening to the music when another older gentleman stepped inside the front door to ask to be laughed at. The host, whose back was turned away from us, didn’t immediately stop playing the piano although I’m sure he knew this person had entered because we had greeted each other. Instead he kept playing…and at a point where it sounded like he may stop…he didn’t…he moved right into another verse or stanza or whatever you call it. The gentleman at the door was a very patient person…standing…listening…waiting. The wine and atmosphere had Lauren in good spirits and when the host lit into another song instead of turning around to acknowledge the gentleman at the door this struck her as funny and she let out a loud chuckle. The scene was funny and sort of reminded me of the old Bob Newhart show for those of you old enough to remember that.
The host finally stopped and informed the patient gentleman that he too was out of luck and offered him a drink but the gentleman needed to move on and find his resting place. The host said to us…Don’t you know anybody who lives in Vermont? It got me thinking that in fact I did know someone. About two years earlier I had been fishing on a scallop boat based out of New London, CT and the oldest guy on the boat was our chief engineer who we affectionately referred to as “Chiefy”. He was a family guy working on a boat with a bunch of mostly young and single guys like me. He would often talk about his house in Bethel, Vermont and what he was working on and how much he loved it. So I relayed my story to the host who said well call him…what do you have to lose? After getting his number from information I called and was greeted by his wife who I had never met or spoken with before. I explained our predicament and was hoping Chiefy might be able to help a fishing buddy. She told me that he was not there and in fact was out fishing but to drive on over because she had a place we could stay for the night in their house. We had successfully found a place to stay for the night and bid the host of the Inn a fond farewell. We met Chiefy’s wife and family, had a comfortable place to sleep, got to see the house he so fondly spoke of and had a nice breakfast the next morning. I sent Chiefy a thank you letter the next week but never had any more contact with him. Life works like this I’ve realized. For now I’ll look out over the cactus plants off my deck and dream of the colors I’m missing right now back east. I’ll probably dig up some old photos, browse through some Down East and Yankee magazines and imagine I am there.

YOUR WIFE CAN CHANGE

Sometimes or most times I think people won’t really change much. I mean when you describe a character you’re describing what that person looks like, says and does most every day of their life. Most democrats will remain democrats (with the exception of Joe Lieberman) and republicans will remain republicans. Those who regularly watch Glenn Beck on Fox will likely agree with him and think he is so right and those who watch Countdown with Keith Olbermann on MSNBC will likely agree with him and think he is so left. You can TRY to change the opinion or habit of someone else but it’s not likely an easy or possible thing to achieve.
I tend to accept others (those who don’t view the world like me) “as is”. If they think Obama is ruining the nation I know I am not going to get them to think otherwise. If I point out that the report card on George W. Bush for the past 8 years looks like the typewriter got stuck of the letter F and that the first big government bailouts a.k.a. the TARP monies were conceived by and given out by the Bush administration because the system in place had failed so badly, well I would likely get an answer like the one I received a month ago… “George W. Bush was never really a Republican, he was just a Democrat on the Republican ticket.” Once you realize the person who said this actually means it you know that there is a screw loose and you need to a) change the topic, b) avoid that person, or c) laugh and have a beer. I believe I chose all three options that night.Back to my main point…although it’s not usual to see someone change their beliefs or habits, every now and then it does happen. Case in point; my wife. Lauren has many, many wonderful traits like patience (mostly with me), she’s a good cook, caring mother and although I know she would appreciate a complete listing here, I’m stopping just to mention that she has never really ever been “into” sports. You know football, baseball, who’s who, how many games are the Red Sox behind the Yankees in the American League East (7.5) or why is a field goal sometimes worth 3 points and at other times only 1 point? Now to be fair…I’m not a big who’s who guy in sports like many of my male counterparts, but I do enjoy watching a ballgame every now and then. So “knowing” she would rather watch the latest episode on HGTV I was surprised when I walked into our bedroom last Thursday to find her watching the Pittsburgh/Tennessee game and further amazed when she was cheering the Steelers as they were marching down the field in the last two minutes of the game and then moaning as they fumbled a turnover with only 63 seconds left? What is going on here? This is so unlike her? Fast forward to today, Sunday September 13th, 2009 and we just came back home from shopping at the Farmer’s Market in Hillcrest and Lauren flips on the TV to… the football games? She was actually bummed that the Redskins were behind the Giants 0-17 in the 2nd Quarter? I’m at the computer and turn around to look…..who is this woman? 28 years of marriage and she’s never been so interested in football. Does she have a new boyfriend who loves football? Nope…Well, I don’t think so anyway. The answer is she joined a football pool at her office for $2.00 to pick the winners of all the games for this week (She thought this list was for the whole season originally). She likes to win and she would get a big thrill in beating most of the “the guys” in her office because they know football and she doesn’t and I get that. It just seems so weird to see Lauren on the couch with her list, pen and yellow highlighter in hand watching the games. The Packers are playing the Bears right now and if Green Bay beats Chicago she’ll be 7 wins and 7 losses, so 50%. What’s next…will she be drinking Bud Light? Your wife can change.

The Last Days of Summer 2009

Here it is the last Friday in August and the summer of 2009 is nearing a close. We’re having record breaking heat here in San Diego where it’s 97 degrees at the coast and if you go inland you can find your way to 120 degrees, that is if you can make it that far before shriveling up to something resembling a Fig Newton. According to the weather map my sister Anna is enjoying a nice sunny 66 degree day back in Cape Elizabeth (Portland) Maine. Speaking of Maine I feel the need to recap our wonderful 3 week vacation back in New England. It was glorious. The weather was perfect, even the small amount of rain we had which Lauren and I had been missing. We got to hang out with Amber, Tommie, Maya and the Bo and the Dee (Lauren’s parents) for a while in Magnolia. One of the first orders of business was to EAT LOBSTER! We succeeded by hooking up with local Gloucester Lobsterman Chuck Parisi at his boat just as he came in after hauling his traps. We bought ten alive and kick’ in beauties, rushed them home and popped them in the pot. Mmmm….two lobsters each with melted butter, corn of the cob and some Ipswich Ale IPA….I was in heaven. We took a few sunset walks around Shore Road. I walked up to Dunkin Donuts every morning for a cup of coffee and kept running into people I haven’t seen for years and we just picked up where we left off. We saw our dear friends Doug and Ellen Guidry, had a cookout and sang songs around a wood fire accompanied by guitar, mandolin, a newly Doug-built washtub string base and a “boom-box” instrument that Jonathan Phalen’s dad bought about 20 years ago at FAO Schwartz. We went swimming at Black Beach at low tide, caught crabs and dug clams out of the sand for fun and then let them go and we went swimming at Half Moon Beach. Lauren went out with her friends sometimes while I just went out with Amber and Tommie or just met the locals. We walked in Ravenswood Park. We danced at the Cruise port Terminal on a Tuesday night with a cast of many friends and even an old flame of Lauren’s to the music of Bob Cooney and Mike McNair…..Aimee…what you going to do?.....I think…I could stay with you….for a while maybe longer…if I dooo…..
The next phase of the trip was to head Down East to the easternmost point in the United States…Lubec, Maine where my youngest brother, Basil III was getting married to Kelly. This was a good time to see and hang out with a large chunk of my family all at once. In addition to seeing my mother, brother, sisters and all my beautiful nieces and nephews I was able to spend time with my Aunt Helen and Cousin Susan. It was the first time I had seen Helen since my Uncle Don had passed away last December. The day before the wedding Helen, Susan, Tommie, Maya, Lauren and myself went over to Campobello Island, Canada and took a tour of Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s summer home, inspected the beauty of the island and yes, ate more seafood. At the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding there was yet another campfire where many of us older adults sang impromptu campfire songs and show tunes while the kids ran around the field chasing and scaring each other in the dark. The wedding went off with the appropriate “hitch”. Have a blast Basil and Kelly and thanks for everything.
Now we were heading to the mountains of Maine near the New Hampshire border and there are no quick and easy roads that go east and west in Maine, but that’s okay because I’m on vacation and I do not want quick or even easy. I love the curvy, windy, wooded two lane road and if it’s dirt, all the better. Our first stop though was to stop in and visit my sister Lily and the army of Deans. They live in Orono near Bangor which is on the way westward. My sister Lily and her husband Artie are a prolific couple and have 9 children. When we arrived they were all there and so we were lucky enough to see everyone and spend a couple of hours together. It was short but so sweet. Lily’s kids are so well mannered it scares me. I would joke with Amber and Eva occasionally that we should have shipped them up to spend a summer with Lily. The kids offered and brought us out coffee, tea and water. I was able to order a special espresso with mine. Then they just hung out while we sat in the garden they built for Lily while she was recovering from her breast cancer. They participated in our conversation right down to the youngest. Some are talented musicians, others like art, all of them are loving.
Later that night we made it to our destination of Bethel, Maine. Not that long ago my Aunt Helen informed me that this was where Uncle Don’s mother grew up as a child. We rented a nice house in the village after spending the first night in a B&B. Lauren went swimming in Howard Pond, we had chicken fried steak at the Funky Red Barn and because Lauren was worn out I went by myself to “Hoot-Nite” at Suds Pub where every Thursday the local talent plays live music and yes the locals are talented. On another fine evening we had some Korean Food at Cho-Sun with our friends Cynthia and Paul Handlen. We took in the pace of Bethel which is mellow and slow. How slow? Well one morning I went to talk a walk down by the Androscoggin River and as I was headed down Main Street Paul Handlen noticed me and stopped his jeep in the middle of the street while we chatted for a minute or so. No worries, no traffic, no rush....when I compare that scene with what happens when I head out around here in San Diego I realize I am at the very opposite end of the spectrum.
After five nights in Bethel we stopped in to visit my brother Erik and Amy, Logan and Rachel. They bought a house last year in Saco, Maine and it’s a really nice home in a really nice neighborhood. I’m happy for them. This too was too short a visit. We then made it back to Gloucester that night so that early the next morning Amber, Tommie and me could help out long time friend and coach J.D. MacEachern in the first ever Gloucester Triathlon. Our job was to help direct runners at a critical intersection where on the first lap they had to take a left and on the second lap they had to go straight to the finish line. Because faster athletes tend to pass the slower ones some runners at this point would need to go different directions and despite our bullhorn instructions, signs, flags and others yelling out the same instruction we realized many of these participants were in pain. They had already swum 1/3 mile in the harbor, biked 15 miles and were now finishing up a 2.9 mile run. I’m sure their bodies were trying to pump as much oxygen to their leg muscles and all their ears could hear was…wha,wha,wha,wha,left,,,wha,wha,wha,straight. So a few went straight when they should have gone left but overall it went well. I can’t recall how many times we met up with friends and acquaintances or how much seafood we ate on this vacation but I can tell you it was all good and on the one to ten scale of enjoyment this summer vacation of 2009 was voted a big 10 by both judges.

A BARN IN NEW ENGLAND by Joseph Monninger and other Barn Thoughts

Every now and then I read a book that draws me in deep. A Barn in New England has done just that. It put me right at the location and the experiences that author Joseph Monninger writes about. From the very first moment he and Wendy view the barn in the dead of a snowy winter day, where I could smell the cold, to the longer summer days and nights of installing a fence, planting gardens and renovating the barn with insulation, new beams, and a new kitchen I felt as if I was right there, helping with all of these tasks. To be honest the reason it was so easy for me to relate to this story is because Lauren and I have been talking and dreaming about doing something quite similar in nearby Maine. We’ve looked at a number of houses over the past two years with barns and haven’t quite figured out how to make it all work but we are still trying. Lauren gave this book to me as a Father’s Day gift and it has proved to be one of my all time favorites.

Being in an old Post and Beam Barn to me is perhaps what many feel when they step into a church. It’s a spiritual experience, Nirvana. One of my first experiences as a 7 to 10 year old was visiting the horse barn of the Ames Estate in North Easton, MA where I would bring my bike to the caretaker Paul Simmons who would fix my broken chain or flat tire. I can still conjure up the smell of the hay, the wood and the leather from the tack shop. It was so quiet and peaceful. With the nearby tall mature shade trees it was also nice and cool on a hot summer day.

A few years later my family moved to Lakeville, MA and I was lucky enough to get a job during the summer as a 12 to 13 year old working on Wilkes Dairy Farm earning $1.30 an hour. My job was to weed the vegetable garden and sometimes feed the cows in the barn when they came in for milking but my favorite job was haying. Picking up bales of hay in the field which weighed probably between 40 and 80 pounds depending on moisture content and where they were cut and throwing them up to another person on a flatbed truck as it rolled slowly up and down the field. The higher the stack of hay got on the truck the higher I would have to throw that bale. Boy did I build some muscle back then. The afternoons were usually sunny, hot and humid so we would sweat hard and the chafe from the hay would stick to our sweaty arms, face, and neck. Then we had to take the truck to the barn and unload the bales in the hayloft. Like an attic the hayloft was often hot as you stagger stacked the bales so they would tie in together much like cinder blocks. At the end of an exhausting day it was down to the coolest part of the barn in the shade where we would chomp on big juicy pieces of pink watermelon where the juice would run down your chin, chest, and on to your arms. I was one sweaty, dirty, juicy and tired farmhand but it felt so…oh good.

In my late teens I rented a house near Freedom, Maine where a local neighbor raised chickens and ducks on a commercial scale. Big three story barns with a thousand chickens and lots of chicken shit and wood shavings to clean out once the chickens were hauled off to market. As you can imagine it could be considered a nasty job but with a dust mask and appropriately timed breaks to drink Old Milwaukee beer we seemed to happily get the job done in amazingly quick fashion.
So perhaps because of my fond memories of the smells and good feelings found in a good old barn I long to have one now of my very own. One I can bang a big nail in the beam and not feel like I am doing damage to anything. One where I can hang my poster of Farrah Fawcett (may you rest in peace, Farrah) that Amber and Tommie gave to me as a birthday gift a few years ago because they knew I wanted one for my barn dream. One where I can have my own workshop and build things out of wood; guitars, furniture, anything I want. One where I can invite friends and family over and drink Old Milwaukee beer. One where I can find Nirvana.

Front Doors and Porches of North and South Park

Current construction fashion in California and many other parts of the nation favor “gated communities” and “restrictive covenants” which tell you as the homeowner just what color and tone of that color you may paint your front door. Now I understand why some rules may be desirable, after all not everyone wants a double wide mobile home with cars jacked up on the front lawn in various states of repair placed next to their architectural crafted home. However, if we all agree to live in Vanilla homes with Vanilla doors it begins to look very boring and I would submit we begin to turn to Vanilla-mush, the perfect Stepford neighbors. The Craftsman Bungalows of North and South Park in San Diego were built during a time where the quality of construction was more important than the efficiency and cost of that construction and where getting to know your neighbor was an important function of the community. These homes were built on a human scale, where although small were big enough to raise a family, were close enough where to could yell over to your neighbor to borrow that cup of sugar and had porches to sit on the rocking chair in the early evening and chat with your neighbors as they took their walk past your doorway. Consider the new designs of today where the drive in garage is the predominant attribute and once in the owner closes the door behind them as they enter the house from inside never to see their neighbor perhaps for months and years. I love the inviting feel of the doors and front porches on these Craftsman homes in North and South Park and before I move away someday I want to be sure I have some photos to remind me of their pleasing architecture. The following homes were some of my favorites located on 28th Street and Pershing Avenue between Upas Street and University Avenue.

THE COMPASS by Tammy Kling and John Spencer Ellis

How many summers or falls do you have left?
This is just one of the many profound questions and statements found in this easy to read story. Jonathan found himself in an unfathomable tragedy and he could not comprehend what to do about it, how to live within it. So he started walking away from it. On this journey he begins to meet people who have or have had hardships of their own and all of them have wisdom and a lifestyle they share with Jonathan. Each person who teaches Jonathan a lesson also teaches you a lesson as you read this book. This book is very inspirational.
So how many summers or falls do you have left? At age 51 I could say twenty or thirty reasonably but it is possible that this is the last one. I know… what a morbid thought. But it’s also a true realization. There are no guarantees in life. So what do I do? Live it like it’s the last one seems like a good idea.

The Coping Saw

The first time I used a coping saw was in 7th or 8th grade woodshop class for making a Colonial style candle holder. Before that moment I had only cut wood in a straight line, well mostly straight. I thought it was so cool that I could give wood a shape and with a little sandpaper make it look good. So today I went to North Park Hardware on University Ave and bought myself a Coping Saw for $9.98. I took it home and made the simple yet practical item you see in the photos. It is a support board for the wooden rod in my daughter’s closet which spans eight feet and tries to hold the 500 pounds of clothes that hang on it. Placed in the middle this should help the cause.

Stupid Ass Award May 2009; Guaranty Bank of Austin

When does common sense prevail? Not when Guaranty Bank of Austin ponders what to do about some homes in Victorville, CA they can’t sell. They recently decided to demolish brand new homes instead of finding a common sense way to dispose of these holdings. The logic was it would have cost them approximately $1,000,000 to complete the project versus $100,000 to tear down those homes which were recently completed. Okay….did they offer them to anyone for $1.00, or $10,000, or the cost of finishing those which were partially completed? It doesn’t appear that way. From what I can tell 4 of the 16 homes in this subdivision were completed. One reader commentary suggested that basic infrastructure like sewer; water and electric weren’t brought into the site yet. I don’t buy it. These are usually the first things to be brought into a site before the building begins. You mean to tell me the model home didn’t have electricity?

Guaranty Bank of Austin had the chance to do something good. Give a well deserving family in the Victorville area a brand new home at an incredible deal. Instead they did a bottom line analyses with no human heart thought of greater possibilities. For this they earn my first Stupid Ass Award. I know there are many others who were dumbfounded by Guaranty’s action in Victorville so let me make a suggestion on how to send a message to the bank they might understand. If you are currently a bank customer of Guaranty Bank of Austin and equally disgusted by their decision to demolish these homes consider taking your money out of their bank and put it with one that has common sense. Be sure to let them know why you are closing and transferring your account. Perhaps if they realize customers are willing to withdraw millions of dollars in deposits because of their bonehead decision they’ll realize it did cost them more than just $100,000. This is probably a moot suggestion however because The Office of Thrift Supervision (OTS) recently ordered Guaranty Bank to meet a core capital ratio of at least 8 percent and a risk-based capital ratio of at least 11 percent and Guaranty said in a regulatory filing that "management believes, based upon presently available unaudited financial information, that the bank does not meet the required capital ratios set forth above." So… if the bank does not meet the required capital levels by May 21, Guaranty said, it would adopt plans to merge with or be acquired by another financial institution, or face liquidation. Rocks of Ruck.

If you haven’t seen the video on this act of stupidity then click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Ilayp2ykts

The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch with Jeffrey Zaslow

What do you do when you know you’re going to die? Before your time. You have three young children, a loving wife, a good job, and you’re in the prime of your life, but without a doubt you have less than a year to live and there is no cure. In the case of Randy Pausch, who many people know his story, you make the most of each and every remaining day and you leave a message with a lesson, or many lessons. Randy Pausch who was dying of terminal pancreatic cancer left us a video and a book titled “The Last Lecture.” In his book you’ll find that he is an optimist and a goal achiever. One way or another he managed to achieve many of his childhood dreams. The best take away line from the book in talking about setbacks or roadblocks to ones goal was “The brick walls are there for a reason. They’re not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something.” This book should make you think, cry, and appreciate what you have and what is possible while you are alive.

I'M NOT GAY I JUST REALLY LOVE RAINBOWS

For years I have railed about the gay and lesbian community stealing the rainbow as “their” symbol. Who told them it was ok? They didn’t ask me or the State of Hawaii. I didn’t see a House Bill (H.R. Bill 6969) passed on this measure? As far as I can tell they just did a shout out on the gay grapevine and said “Hey, we're going to make the Rainbow our official symbol.” Excuse me Les Gays, I like rainbows too. Did you ever consider my relationship to the rainbow? The first time I took a prism in 7th grade science class and saw the rainbow display itself from a beam of white light I’ll admit I got excited but I didn’t feel the need to ask Randy over to dinner that night. Years went by and I was digging rainbows after a nice rainstorm in the late afternoon and then one day I noticed a rainbow flag. I thought to myself that’s cool. As time went on I began to notice more rainbow flags and even bumper stickers. At some point Light dawned on Marblehead and I came to realize that the rainbow had been absconded by the gay community. Well GLBT you can’t just come in and take the rainbow. That’s like Exxon/Mobil saying they own sunlight and now they’re going to charge us for it. It needs to be voted on. This is America and I want my voice heard. I also know I’m not alone. I just found this Rainbow Air Freshener and it makes a statement; “I’m not gay I just really love rainbows.” Now the only reason that this product even exists is because we all know you stole the rainbow. Don’t you remember your mother told you shouldn’t steal? Sorry GLBT folks but we just can’t continue to let this slip into common practice. Let America vote on it. Add another stripe or anything but please don’t take my rainbow. If you would like to order one of these Air Fresheners go to http://www.stupid.com/fun/IMNG.html As of today they are $4.99 each.

Thanks you Thief

Thanks Mr. or Ms. Robber Man. I went out to my car last Thursday morning and realized someone else had been in it. My CD’s, papers and crap I keep in the center console was thrown around the passenger seat and the glove compartment was open. My next door neighbor had just told me a week before his truck was broken into and they took his I-Pod. I opened the door and looked around, no damage…and as I started organizing my stuff I couldn’t see anything that I recall missing. He left all my CD’s so obviously didn’t like my music and I had some keys on a keychain he left. Then I thought he may have taken my Speedpass key that you can use at the Mobil/Exxon gas station and buy gas and whatever else they sell there without entering a PIN number. That would not be good. So I came back into the apartment and found that I still had my Speedpass. He didn’t take the jacket, jumper cables or even the $5.00 in quarters I had in the ashtray type coin holder. So should I thank him for this? Maybe, but what I really want to say thank you for is for fixing the Radio/CD player which hasn’t worked for about two months now. I don’t know how you did it and I should be upset because you violated my space however you’re the best auto/radio mechanic I’ve had…so thanks and I’m glad you don’t like James Taylor.

Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout

I purchased this book for two reasons. First I heard a review on the radio where the critic was begging for the listener to read it and secondly, I use to live in Maine where most of my family still lives and I know there are plenty of characters around the state that would make for a good story. Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout is a collection of short stories which takes place mostly in the fictional town of Crosby, Maine which one will find out is near the coast. Olive herself is a retired schoolteacher who has definite opinions about people and life and offers them in a straightforward manner. I really enjoyed many of the characters within the stories. Elizabeth Strout does a great job of detailing a description on each person so that it’s easy to picture them as real. Anyone who has spent some time or lives in the State of Maine probably will be able to connect to this cast of characters thinking; yeah… that sort of reminds me of so and so. I give it a 5 lobster pot rating. Yum!

A New Journey for Amber,Tommie and Maya

Changes. Here's the photo taken at 9:22 AM this morning of Amber, Tommie and Maya as they leave San Diego with all their belongings packed in the back of this Penske Truck and head east towards Gloucester, Mass. Maya likes this truck which is a big bonus. We hugged and cried and wished them safe travels until we get to see them again this summer. The family picture is of us last night having our final meal together on our deck. It was a beautiful night. It has been so nice to have both our daughters Eva, Amber and proxy son Tommie all so close to us these past 3 years. I guess we can't be hogs though so now it's time for Tommie's parents and Amber's grandparents in Mass to have this pleasure.

Looking back since the time they moved out here it's wild to think of all the adventures they had and changes they went through. They both made their mark at the jobs they had. If Tommie had decided to stay there's no doubt in my mind that he would have been on the San Diego City Council or some other power position. Amber excelled as the assistant editor for Mortgage Originator Magazine. Whatever they do next they'll shine. Amber is a poet so I wrote a poem for them.

A New Journey

A new Journey begins from West to East
the view of the future is known the least
It begins with a Penske and Toyota in tow
but the route they will take they don’t really know

Amber and Tommie with Maya between
stretching her neck for whatever can be seen

On this Journey they will go and on this Journey they’ll succeed
to reach the point that they have planned
The Village of Magnolia in the City of Gloucester
Home of the Fisherman
Birthplace of the Two

We know that this is just the start
with fits of fear if things look dark
yet forward is the way time moves so they’ll sync with it
test what they like, adapt and then change to have more likings
when they watch the clock
and Maya will jump and lick their faces
as they take her to these unknown places

On the journey they have some control and
sometimes no control
But they’ll do what they need to and do what they want to
So that joy comes more often than sorrow
And they’ll look forward to tomorrow.

The View from my Office Cubicle

The photo to the left is the view I see from my office cubicle. Not bad, eh? Many people who see me at work have said “You have a great job”. It has made me stop to think, yeah…not bad. The fact is I don’t have an office cubicle. I currently work on two different boats most of my week on Mission Bay in San Diego, California. Families will spend their summer vacation here. I met one man who has spent every summer vacation here since 1962. Corporations will hold business retreats here. The point is people spend good money to be here, the same place where someone pays me to do my job. I purposely put myself here last July and it worked. I’m in search for something even better but like most directions in my life I can’t “see” too far ahead, yet I’m confident that if I travel long “enough” even if the direction is not clear, exciting and rewarding things will happen. In the meantime I’m consciously taking in all the moments I can each day working on the boats, talking to the people, enjoying my cubicle view.

The Signs of San Diego

Let’s face it there are way too many signs in the world. Some are useful because they tell you which direction you should go, others are just pollution trying to sell you something like legal services or warning you of some obvious or not so obvious danger. There are some signs however that are cool works of art, beautiful indicators that you have arrived at a particular destination. San Diego has a number of neighborhood signs that fit this description, mostly in the older neighborhoods closest to the downtown area. Signs such as NORTH PARK, HILLCREST, UNIVERSITY HEIGHTS, LITTLE ITALY, NORMAL HEIGHTS and of course THE GASLAMP DISTRICT. When you see one of these signs in person you have no doubt where you are and have a chance to admire a beautiful piece of art. Each of these signs have their own character and design and to appreciate them in full you should see them during the day and during the night when the neon gas is brightly lit within the tubing spelling out the neighborhood in their appropriate colors. It’s hard to explain the feeling you get by being near one of these signs but if you can imagine how it would look and feel without the sign; starker, empty, less warm then I think you can appreciate that the sign is there, for you. Thanks to the artists, sign makers, and visionaries who knew to do better than much of what we see today for signs.

A Day in San Juan Capistrano

If reality TV show producers were filming a series called The Original Housewives of Orange County they would have to consider making it in San Juan Capistrano because Mission San Juan Capistrano is considered the Birthplace of Orange County and San Juan Capistrano has the distinction of being home to the oldest building in California still in use, a chapel built in 1782. But the Padres being who they are have no wives and so the producers would have to look for the next location.
Frank and Joan are my in-laws and are here for the month of March. The plan was to take the train to San Juan Capistrano and sight see last Thursday. This is a perfect day trip from San Diego. We had a late start catching the 12:34 pm Amtrak Surfliner train from Solano Beach and took the Business Class car north. My in-laws haven’t been on a train for quite some time so this was a treat for them and on most of this route you see the Pacific Ocean just yards away. In business class you get a package of snacks including cheese and crackers as well as a “free” small glass size bottle of wine.
The trip only took 45 minutes by train and as you begin to walk around you realize that this is a small town in Orange County. Our main objective was to see Mission San Juan Capistrano and it was an easy two block walk from the train station. The Mission is probably best known to me and many others for the annual "Return of the Swallows" which is traditionally observed every March 19th. It’s funny because the following day as I was working on the dock in Mission Bay and I noticed a few groupings of perhaps a hundred swallows flying and swooping in formation northward. I felt the connection to nature because here it was March 13th and the swallows are doing their thing just like they’re supposed to. I’d venture to say most people in the area didn’t notice them at all, but I did and I knew where they were going. There were two different groups at about one hour apart and I noticed they both made the exact up and down move in the exact up and down space over the bay. It was as if they were following a very detailed and specific flight path that only they could see and that is probably true. The Mission was founded on November 1, 1776 and if you love history and want to get a true sense of early California this is a must see. It’s a peaceful location where you get a real sense of what it was like to be there during its early days.
Near the end of our Mission tour, Lauren and Joan decided to head out early and walk to the newer Basilica just down the street. As I was taking a few more pictures about 25 yards away they said something about staying with Frank and I thought I heard him say he would be right outside the gate waiting for me. Because they often all talk at the same time I heard something like; wha, wha, wait, wah, Frank, gate, wha, wha, church, okay? I said okay. After taking a few more photos I returned my audio tour guide gizmo and proceeded to the exit. I didn’t see Frank standing there like I assumed but it was sunny so I looked across the street to where the shops had covered sidewalks. Still no Frankie. Hmmm…did he walk around the corner a bit which happened to be curved, so slightly blind? Walking, walking, still no Frankie. Frank has had knee replacements and doesn’t move as fast or far as my mother in law, so I’m judging in my mind that he shouldn’t be this far down the street. At this point I’m at the Basilica so I run in to check. Awesome alter, peaceful music, and a few souls engaged in prayer. Nobody I knew though, so I took a photo and went out the back door to loop back towards the center of town. Across the street I spotted Lauren and Joan window shopping. Walking up behind them I contemplated….do I tell them I’ve lost Frank or walk behind the buildings and continue my search? Take it like man Pete.
Me: Boo!
Lauren: Where’s Frank?
Me: I lost him.
Lauren: You what?
Joan: Oh, he’ll be fine.
After the appropriate butt-chewing I walked a little faster down the sidewalk. It wasn’t crowded so he should be easy to spot. My mind said he may have popped in to one of the local drinking establishments for a beer, so I’m scanning for this type of business as I walk. About four minutes later Lauren called to say “she” had found her father back inside the walls of the Mission dutifully sitting and waiting for me to pick him up. Sorry Frankie, I’m just adding to the chapters of stories that can be told mostly by Lauren who never forgets any of them.
Before catching the train back we had a bite to eat at Sarducci’s restaurant which is right next to the train station and apparently was the train station at one time. The food, the atmosphere, the service, and the price were all good. The bathroom was located in a converted boxcar and I thought the architecture was interesting however the urinals in the men’s room were too close to each other and to the wall of the toilet.
After visiting the Rios Historic District across the street and with everyone accounted for we caught the train ride back in time to catch the sunset in Del Mar.

I Want to Build a House

I want to build a house. I want to build it cheap and I want to build it in Bethel, Maine. That's a simple affirmation, right? What, How and Where, but Why?

I've worked on and built many things since my teens; concrete septic tanks, ocean seawalls, a chessboard, spice rack, metal bench press, acoustic guitar, and various home renovation projects. Lauren and I have seriously considered buying an old house, like 100 plus years old and fixing it up but something in my mind has me thinking about building a house from scratch. The advantages are we would get to design it first to our liking, most old homes have floor layouts we wish were different. Old homes are usually drafty and energy inefficient and we could build one that's very "snug" so when it's zero outside we would feel comfortable inside and not go broke paying for heating oil. We've gotten a bit wimpy the past 5 years living in San Diego. Old homes often have old musty basements with dirt floors and lots of spider webs, all of which I love but I can use a new full concrete basement to greater potential. The other thing is older homes tend to need more maintenance than newer homes. I'm almost 51 now and I'm thinking instead of having things to fix for the rest of my life if I build new and build well then I'll have more time to hike those beautiful mountains and drink good beer.

So why cheap? Well, duh! Why not? When I say cheap I don't mean using the cheapest materials. I'm mean using quality materials in ways that allow it to be a bargain for me. The fact that I want to do as much as I can on my own will make it cheaper for me. We can build it small because most of the time it's just me and Lauren in the house. We can build it one story because that is cheaper, easier and quicker to build.

Finally, why Bethel? The reasons are endless. It's beautiful. It's green in the summer and white in the winter. It's nature, it's small town, it's real. It doesn't have a million and one things to do like San Diego but I seem to enjoy what I do there a million times more. It has mountains, clouds, rain, the green, green trees of summer, open green fields with wild flowers, cows, bald eagles, kayakers, hikers, musicians, locals, color, spectacular foliage in the fall, Suds Pub, the Funky Red Barn, Carter's Farm Stand with the best meat in the world and where you pay by the honor system by leaving your money in the can. Hello America, where have you gone? White churches with white steeples and lots of white snow, Snow White snow, Sunday River Ski Resort, a road named Paradise and of course the river, the Androscoggin River. If the river wasn't here, Bethel wouldn't be here, but it is and it's perfect. Bethel has a town Common, an oval green park with a gazebo where music is played and children play, a bell, a fountain, and a flagpole with the flag. They have an art show here each year and the annual Mollyhockett 5 mile road race ends here. Behind the Bethel Inn across the street they shoot off fireworks each year. It's as close to a Norman Rockwell scene as I can imagine living in and so I want to go.

Three Cups of Tea

This book will inspire you. If it doesn't, seek help immediately because there is something wrong. Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin is a true story of a mountain climbers despair and near loss of life after failing to reach his objective, the peak of K2, the queen of mountain tops.

During his high altitude exhaustion and confusion Mortenson strays off course to be found and nutured back to health by the kindness of strangers in a remote mountain village he had never heard of, Korphe. He was the first foreigner to ever end up here. Having found "something special" in Korphe he promised them that he would return to build a school for their children after seeing that all their classes were held outside in the open and frosty mountain air with a part-time teacher and no books, pencils or paper. This promise took him along an almost unbelievable journey that at times uncertain finally met and far exceeded his goal.

The story confirms that a small amount of money (and huge amount of effort) put in the right hands under the right objective will do more for peace in the world than most of our "well laid" and expensive plans. The best part is the story hasn't ended yet and if we want we can become part of the story going forward. Please, read this book.

By the way, thanks for this Christmas gift Mom.

Sunset in South Park

I looked at the date of my last blog entry and realized that I should be adding more "stuff" if I expect anyone to be interested. 19 days seems like a long time however this is relative, isn't it? If you only had 19 days left to live then it would seem like a very short time.

This is one of the prettiest sunsets I've seen lately. It was taken from the deck of my apartment here in the South Park neighborhood of San Diego. It's pretty of course because there are clouds in the sky giving the sunlight something to deflect and refract those beams of light. It's a wonderful and beautiful contrast in what otherwise may have been an clear blue yet boring sunset. I think this is mother nature telling us we need clouds in our life to see the beauty.

Color

I decided my blog was looking a little boring, a little colorless so I'm adding color. I'm not a photographer but I can take pictures of things that look nice to me. My camera is just a small Canon PowerShot SD550 Digital ELPH that fits nicely in my pocket. I love the size of it and I think it takes pretty nice pictures. This picture of tomatoes and basil was taken at the farmers market in Hillcrest. The tomatoes tasted good and the farmers here are more then happy if you sample their goods.

They're trying to save me ....again

At various times in my life people have tried to help me save my soul for my own good. Well it happened again last week as I was working a three day event on one of the boats where I'm currently a crew member. The truth is I knew it was going to happen. The AGIF or Assemblies of God International Fellowship was here for their annual get together. The AGIF is "an all-inclusive Fellowship with an open door to all ministers and churches who submit to the Lordship of Jesus and agree in principle with 7 pillars upon which AGIF was established." If you want to see the 7 pillars of truth go to their website at http://www.agifellowship.org/



From my viewpoint I was on a boat full of people who are experts on selling Jesus. They don't call it selling of course, it's "sharing the Good News", "Reaching the world", or "making disciples". I knew I was going to be sold the way to Jesus the same way I know someone would try to sell me life insurance if the boat was loaded with life insurance salesman. Salespeople sell. Every one's a prospect so ABS or Always Be Selling.



By 3:00 pm of day two the time had come. James couldn't help himself. "Pete, come over here and have a seat." At this point I'm thinking two thoughts. 1) This is probably the sell job, and 2) How does he know I'm not a believer? Is it the way I posture myself or speak? Maybe it's the way most of us can tell if someone is gay right away. The way they hold their hands, the way they dress. Well it was the sell job. James said "Pete, I just couldn't go through this whole conference without sharing the way of Jesus with you." I said, I know. He offered to pray with me if and when I was ready to accept Jesus into my life. I told him I had a sister who's married to a minister whose been trying to save me for years. He asked what type of church and when I said "Baptist" he nodded with approval saying he refers to himself as a "bapticostal".



James reminded me of his offer later that afternoon and finally once again on the last day at his departure. The last reminder had that not so subtle sense of urgency that all good sales people use because he was leaving and this was our last chance.



James and others never did close the deal with me although I'll admit I found myself tapping my toes when singer Lillie Knauls was belting out a few of her gospel tunes.



One group of four as they were leaving asked if they could pray with me. Agreeing I instantly found myself in a circle of five with a hand on each of my shoulders receiving blessings for me and my whole family. Later, Dr. Paul Olson who runs missions in Mexico and Haiti gave me a 90 page booklet entitled "He Who Laughs Lasts" by Dr. Roy Hicks before he left. Finally Reverend Dan Mariano and his wife Patti gave me a copy of her music CD "Songs of Joy & Hope".



Well what I can say to them all except "thanks for the experience and may peace and tolerance be with you all."

Opposites

We live in a world of opposites. We all experience this take on life now and then. Maybe even daily especially if you're use to watching or listening to politics. You've got the Right and the Left, the Conservatives and the Liberals, the Republicans and the Democrats all saying pretty much the opposite of each other with each group feeling, knowing, that they are right and aggravated with the opposite viewpoint because they are soooo wrong.

How does this happen? Brainwashing by ones parents? Brainwashing by the dominant environment you live in? A gene that makes us believe one thing or the other? I don't know. What I do know is that for me it's easier just to accept this difference and then focus on what we have in common. Every Democrat and Republican loves their sons and daughters and they want the best for them.

Having moved to San Diego 4 and 1/2 years ago has been a living reminder of the physical and social differences between here and New England. For example I'll be putting on SPF 45 sunscreen later today before I go to work outside in the my short sleeve shirt while all my family and friends back east dress in multiple layers of thermal and down clothing protecting themselves from frostbite. It's 66 degrees and sunny in San Diego while back in Bethel, Maine it's 15 degrees and snowing hard. Just to rub it in tomorrow will be 75 degrees. This time of year these differences are really pronounced. I remember recently listening to the local San Diego news anchor complain because she was freezing at 50 degrees. That was the same day I spoke to my mom who lives in Lubec, Maine and was appreciating the day because it had warmed up to 38 degrees. They were both serious.

Here in San Diego people make a big deal about drizzle and rain. I can see why. It's because it never ever seems to rain here. Well it does rain, sort of, sometimes. San Diego only gets a total annual average of 10 inches of rain. Some years they don't receive that much. Here they measure rain in hundredths of an inch. The other night the weather person said it rained .09 hundredths of an inch. That means it would have to rain more then 10 times that amount just to reach an inch of rain. We call that drizzle back in New England and it's pretty much a non event.

But odd things happen in San Diego when it rains. You can bet on multiple car accidents and fender benders. I've heard reports of up to an accident every 2 minutes during some of these times. San Diegans definitively don't know how to drive in rain. Coming down a ramp towards a stop light at 60 miles per hour in the rain will be different. "Hey dude, whys my car not stopping? Oh crap...I hit the car in front of me. Stupid rain." Then other things can happen, like houses collapse into the ground or go sliding down a hill in a mudslide.

So what's the point of my story? Well I think in order to really appreciate a sunny day you need more rainy days. On the other hand when I have so many sunny days here I really appreciate a rainy day as long as I don't have any one driving too closely behind me.

Page One

Hi! My name is Peter Gailitis. I credit this new blog endeavor of mine to the spirit and enthusiam I get when I read the blogs of my daughter Amber and her boyfriend Tommie. They're great because they're thoughtful, insightful, hopeful, creative and funny. Let's see how this blog evolves.



I have to say I have/had some trepidation about putting thoughts and events about me on the web available for public view. I'm social by nature but I really like my privacy. So why would I want to put my thoughts and private experiences "out there?" I'm not 100 percent sure. I think it will be cathartic. I think it will be fun. My large family can check in on me now and then to see if I've gone crazy.



So Androscoggin Bloggin....how did you come up with that name Pete? Well first of all let's face it...it's poetic. The Androscoggin River is a long and windy river that begins it's life at the outlet of Lake Umbagog in Errol, New Hampshire in the Umbagog National Wildlife Refuge and then travelling through the western mountains of Maine meanders generally south and east before joining the Kennebec River at Merrymeeting Bay and finally finding its terminus into the Atlantic Ocean on the coast of Maine near Bath. Don't worry, I don't usually use big words like terminus. For those who like facts, the river is 178 miles long.



My wife Lauren and I love rivers and we especially love the Androscoggin which we've kayaked along a few times around Bethel, Maine. By the way Bethel is our all time favorite New England village. It's our favorite because it's beautiful. Nature smacks you square in the face with her elements. Lush green mountains and open fields in the summertime. Big puffy white clouds hanging in a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at it. Bald eagles and big moose. Good people and good pubs, and of course, the river.



The river is like life and it is life. It has many twists and turns. You can't always see what's up ahead of you...around the next bend...but you keep flowing along. Sometimes you meet a challenge, maybe white water rapids making the journey a little choppy or a dam where all you can do is try to find a way around it. The river goes up and the river goes down. Most of the time the river is just plain beautiful. Welcome to Androscoggin Bloggin.