Finding Monhegan: The Perfect Giving Tree

A view of Monhegan and Manana Islands from the lighthouse

On a peaceful Sunday morning, Joe and I, along with our trusty dog, Penny Lane, set out for Monhegan Island because Susan Rayfield Wood told us we should. Susan, a Maine Ten artist, sent me an email shortly after I purchased one of her pastels at a winter art exhibit in Bath. In her note, she thanked me for appreciating her work and suggested that Joe and I visit Monhegan, an island ten miles off the Midcoast of Maine that has been inspiring artists for over one hundred years. Even though I have never met Susan, I would recognize her artwork anywhere. Her images are soulful, and her pastel, "Blue Haiku," captured Joe and I instantly! Following the creative trail of an artist is like following a trail of breadcrumbs to a secret garden, and we wanted to follow Susan's creative trail.

The garden gate of a Monhegan home

According to the 2000 census, the year-round population of Monhegan Island is 75, but every summer there are countless visitors that board a boat and take the hour long trip to the island to hike the trails and witness the beauty of nature up close and personal. In 1614, Captain John Smith  - who gave New England its name - visited Monhegan Island, and four hundred years later, on July 6, 2014, my captain and I landed on the island ready to explore as well.

Penny Lane and I in search of the perfect tree.

 To begin our quest, Joe and I drove to New Harbor, down east from Damariscotta, to board the Hardy III, and we arrived early enough to find seats on the upper deck. What an amazing view! Even our nervous sea dog, Penny, was quieted by the water's majesty. Two seasoned travelers were seated in front of us, and they turned to comment on our well behaved dog. It's funny how our pets help us to meet good people. Within a few minutes, one of the ladies introduced herself as Ellen Hutcheson, an artist who was planning to spend a week on the island. As luck and Bath would have it, Ellen gave us a brief art history lesson and pointed out Manana Island, one of her favorite subjects to paint. (As a Spanish teacher, I wanted to add the tilde and say "Mañana," but several locals assured me that Manana rhymes with banana and is not pronounced the Spanish way.) After we arrived on the island, we did not see Ellen again, but we did find many of the inspirational views that she described during our boat ride, including a "Charlie Brown" Christmas tree that begged to be photographed!  It was pure serendipity because I later discovered  that it looked just like the little evergreen tree that inspired one of Ellen's favorite watercolors. 

Our Penny Lane (a.k.a. "Charlie Brown") Christmas tree!

Like the trails of Monhegan, there's a twist to this story. When I returned home from our day's outing and went online to learn more about Ellen Hutcheson, I misspelled her sir name and discovered another Maine artist, Marieluise Hutchinson, who also visits Monhegan Island for outdoor studies. Those breadcrumbs can lead us to surprising places! But before I delve into the homemade goodness of Marieluise, I must say I enjoyed viewing the whimsical and representational art of Ellen Hutcheson on her web page. In fact, I found her painting of the little evergreen tree. Clearly, it is one of her most popular works because she has reproduced it in both poster and greeting card form; however, it's not truly a "Charlie Brown" tree because it is shorter and chubbier. Since Joe and I both photographed this adorable tree, we may use one of our Monhegan photographs to make a unique Christmas card this year. I think we will call it a "Penny Lane" Christmas tree because it's short and chubby and oh so cute! As Auntie Mame used to sing, "We need a little Christmas, right this very minute!" I suspect Monhegan Island has inspired songwriters as well as artists! Nevertheless, I know for certain that Monhegan inspired Marieluise Hutchinson and Edward Hopper (Nighthawks, 1942). Hopper actually spent four consecutive summers on Monhegan, 1916-1919, painting mostly the distinctive rock formations, like Blackhead and Gull Rock. In 2011, the Bowdoin College Art Museum offered an exhibition of Hopper's Maine paintings that included over 30 of his Monhegan pochades ("pockets"), small plein-air oil panels.

Joe's photo of the distinctive rock formations that inspired Hopper

Surprisingly, modern day photos show little change in the landscape of Monhegan Island, and living artists, like Marieluise, whose style has been called "Hopperesque," continue to paint there. It seems rather ironic that Hopper, the creator of "Nighthawks," one of my favorite paintings to view at Chicago's Art Institute, influenced Marieluise. While most people can identify with the loneliness of the urban "Nighthawks," they yearn for the "Perfect Tree," which was inspired by a row of homes near Owl Head, south of Rockland. Marieluise resides in Cushing, Maine and Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and she prefers to paint real places. To find out more about this authentic New England artist, I recently visited Bayview Gallery in Brunswick, which has several of her oil paintings on display. The Monhegan houses, in winter and summer, as well as the classic lighthouse, seem to jump off the wall and embrace you with a big hug, and that is the obvious difference between Hopper and Hutchinson. Marieluise offers us the same crispness without the darkness. Her solitude calms us like the quiet after a snowstorm. Viewing Marieluise's "The Perfect Tree" is like watching "White Christmas" and listening to the low and high notes of Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney. In a December, 2013 article published in the Portland Press Herald, Susan Starr, the co-owner of Bayview Gallery, said "Marieluise's images make it very easy to compose a story." One could make a similar observation of Hopper's "Nighthawks," and his urban paintings that followed his Monhegan summers. Both artists have used their brush and paints to create visual narratives that capture a feeling in a familiar setting. Typically, Marieluise conveys a sentiment without a single person in her painting. The light in the window, the wreath on the door, or the smoke from the chimney stir up our memories and take us to that safe place. Robert Colburn, the director of  Bayview Gallery, told me that "Perfect Tree" sold recently, and I am not surprised, but in my dreams I find that perfect tree first! 

The Pine Tree Society's Christmas card by Marieluise Hutchinson

In his December 25, 2013 article for the Portland Press Herald, North Cairn reported that 825,000 people around the world spied a picture of rural New England last December because Marieluise Hutchinson donated her painting, "The Way of Wintertime," to the Red Cross, and the Red Cross used the image for their holiday card. Each year Marieluise paints a winter scene in October to be offered to a charitable organization. In 2003, 2008, and 2012, The Pine Tree Society of Bath, featured one of Marieluise's winter scenes on their annual Christmas card. The cards are sold in packages of 25 to raise funds for Pine Tree's herculean efforts to help Maine people with disabilities maximize their abilities. The Society was established in 1947 as the Pine Tree Society for Crippled Children. In that same year, the granddaughters of Mr. John Sedgwick Hyde, a past president of Bath Iron Works, donated their Elmhurst Mansion to be used as a rehabilitation hospital for victims of the polio epidemic. Today, the  Hyde School, a private preparatory school, occupies the mansion and grounds, but in 1947 this Bath home provided hope to young children afflicted with a terrifying disease. As a child of the late 1950's, I often tell my high school students that I was among the first generation of school children to be vaccinated against polio, and I feel enormously blessed! The Pine Tree Society's mission is beyond noble, and in many ways it represents the perfect giving tree. Needless to say, I purchased a few packages of their  Christmas cards, which were designed exclusively for Pine Tree by Marieluise Hutchinson, and through giving I discovered that dreams can come true. I will mail the cards to friends and family, but I will keep one to remember the glow of a perfect tree as well as the beautiful joy of giving. Yes, sometimes we need a little Christmas in July!

On the "Penny Lane" trail!

           

Northern Exposure Lights up the Fourth

I grew up watching the Wonderful World of Disney with my brother, Mike, every Sunday night on NBC, and I think that is partly why I am always looking for magic. This past weekend I witnessed some true magic in Bath. I discovered music and laughter and fireworks at Waterfront Park! Most of us in the USA go to Disneyland or Disney World at least once in our lifetime. If we are blessed, we go multiple times, and each time we are enchanted in a different way. At that happy place, every day ends with a parade down Main Street, and every night begins with fireworks. In Bath, every Fourth of July weekend feels like Disney because of a nationally recognized organization called Main Street Bath. This creative group of volunteers produces a little magic for Heritage Days every year, and the entertainment comes in a wild and crazy assortment of flavors to please the most discerning participants!

Mark and Lauren at the Cosmopolitan Club's Strawberry Shortcake Festival

In Maine, the weathermen were predicting rain for the Fourth of July, but because of the luck of Bath, they were only partly right. Nevertheless, for me, the pure magic began in the rain. I was helping the women of the Cosmopolitan Club scoop strawberries on to homemade biscuits, and I was topping them off with fresh whipped cream for their Strawberry Shortcake Festival ( a hugely popular bit of magic), when I noticed the kitchen clock said three o'clock, and that was my time to go because I had convinced my family that the "must see" performance of the weekend was Rob Morrow at Waterfront Park, and his act started at three o'clock sharp. With hoods up and umbrellas in hand, my family and I jogged over to the Main Stage to see Morrow and his fellow guitarist, Carlos, singing and playing in the rain. I was surprised to see only a small crowd; however, considering the weather, the faces seemed  remarkably cheerful and very enthusiastic. I suspect we were all loyal TV fans of Northern Exposure and Numbers. It was easy to find a place to stand close to the stage. I don't think I have ever enjoyed such an excellent vantage point for viewing a concert. I could actually see that bright, Hollywood smile and those famous brown eyes that crinkle boyishly.

Rob Morrow live!

Rob Morrow today looks almost as youthful as Dr. Joel Fleischman, the newly graduated physician who arrived in Cicely, Alaska fresh out of Columbia University's medical residency program in 1990 to confront the trials and tribulations of Main Street, USA. Northern Exposure showed millions of viewers how people from very diverse backgrounds could pull together and form a strong, albeit eccentric, community. At first glance, the townspeople of Cicely seem to have little in common: the former astronaut turned radio station owner, the ex-convict disc-jockey, who served as the resident philosopher and non-denominational pastor for local weddings, and the beautiful bush pilot. Cicely was definitely populated by an entertaining crew of colorful characters! Is there a Bath connection? Truth be told, in TV land the town of Roslyn, Washington provided the backdrop for Northern Exposure, and I believe those of us who have spent time in both the Pacific Northwest and the Mid-coast of Maine can see some similarities: evergreen trees, blue water, wildlife, cold winters, and moose. In the opening titles of the show, there was a moose walking down Main Street. (For trivia buffs: the moose was named Mort and was borrowed from a herd owned by Washington State University.) All of this begs the question: Why would Rob Morrow, who also played an F.B.I. agent and protective brother in Numbers (2005 to 2010), headline an outdoor concert in Bath, Maine on the Fourth of July? Well, his wife is from Gloucester, Massachusetts, and his family probably prefers to summer in Maine as so many smart people do! Of course, this is just a wild guess.

Can you find the Northern Exposure t-shirt in this picture?

On the Fourth of July, surrounded by a rainbow of pink, blue and yellow rain jackets, there was a man and woman standing together under an umbrella, and the man was wearing a Northern Exposure t-shirt with Cicely, Alaska printed below a border of moose. Morrow noticed it between sets and used it to begin his banter about his now iconic television show. A consummate performer, he moved from music to stand up comedy without missing a beat. With a few quick jabs and a lot of wit, he proved to be the perfect choice for Bath's Main Stage. Morrow is a great story-teller, and I am a fanatical fan with good reason! According to Morrow, the infamous scene where Dr. Fleischman and a group of men run nude down Main Street in Cicely was authentic. He offered  all the extras a mere $10 to run without their protective cover ups, and as they approached the town's City Hall, they were greeted by the mayor who proceeded to press charges against Morrow. Fortunately, the studio's attorneys were very skilled and negotiated a settlement without grave consequences for the rising, young star! Morrow laughed long and hard at his own folly, and that made him all the more endearing. He also spoke lovingly of his wife and daughter, and he shared another anecdotal story. When he first met his wife, he thought her name, Debbon Ayer, was "cool" because it sounded just like the word "debonair," so when his daughter was born he kept the cool flowing and named her Tu Morrow. We all laughed together with that sweet confession; however, by far the sweetest moment of  Morrow's concert came later when a young man with Down Syndrome approached the stage and asked if they could do an Elvis song. Morrow flashed his biggest Hollywood smile and said he knew the words to Jailhouse Rock if Carlos could play it on the guitar. Carlos said yes, and the Hollywood star and the brave young man from the audience began to move like Elvis. Earlier in the show, Morrow shouted with a grin, "We've got the fireworks right here!" Well, as soon as he started singing and dancing to "Jailhouse Rock," the fireworks metaphorically exploded! It was a heart-tugging, unrehearsed moment that won Morrow our love and applause!

Rob Morrow (a.k.a. Dr. Joel Fleischman) and I

Naturally, Rob Morrow, the actor, had to promote his upcoming film, Begin Again, but he did it with great style and teased us with insider information. This soulful comedy, which pairs Keira Knightley as a young song writer and Mark Ruffalo as a disgraced record-label executive, was originally titled Can a Song Save Your Life?. Morrow plays a CEO in the film, but as an actor and a singer/guitarist, he believes most musicians would prefer the original title because it implies every songwriter's greatest hope. Ironically, Rob Morrow resembles my older son, Matthew, who is a new doctor like the main character in Northern Exposure; however, there is an obvious difference. Dr. Matthew is an easy going Midwesterner who is now practicing medicine in New York City; Dr. Fleischman was an edgy New Yorker practicing medicine in a very relaxed Alaska! My daughter, Katie, on the other hand, is a singer, and she would whole heartily agree with Rob Morrow and prefer the title Can a Song Save Your Life? for his new film. To sum up all the good parts of the concert in the park, there was something for everyone in Rob Morrow's performance. Main Street Bath played all the right notes this Fourth of July!

Dr. Matthew (a.k.a. my son) and I

P.S. Joe and I said good morning to the Fourth by 

We ran the race in Maine's Cool Little City!

running the 5 Mile Road Race at 8:15 a.m. for the second year in a row. It's our new tradition. Joe, of course, ran much faster than I, but I did manage to finish with a P.R.! Five miles in 50 minutes and 13 seconds isn't terrible for a 50 something lady, especially if you factor in the hills. God bless America, God bless Bath, and God bless the countless volunteers who make our national celebrations so memorable!

 

Morning Runs and Summer Races

Short and sweet, a morning run usually lasts 30 minutes to an hour depending on the day and weather conditions. My dog, Penny, wakes me up at o'dark early, so our day begins with a sunrise walk along the Kennebec, and then I put on my running shoes. I step out the side door, stretch a bit, and run less than a block before turning toward the river. The running views are so different from the walking views! When I'm walking with Penny, I like to take pictures of the boats, the buoys and, of course, the wildflowers, but when I'm running the images soften and blur like a Monet. It's really difficult to snap a photo when your feet are in motion, so I try to breathe in the beauty and save it to my hard drive, my collection of happy thoughts!

For a runner, the route is all important. In Illinois, I run along flat roads, but in Bath I run up and down hills, serious inclines that slow you down and make you sweat. It isn't always pretty! To quote Jackson Brown (Yes, I did see him in concert in the 1970's!), when I'm "running on empty," I simply look out on the water and fill up with all that morning glory! The endorphins usually kick in as I reach Bath's City Hall at the top of Front Street and round the corner to approach Waterfront Park. The short stretch through the park is one of my favorite places along my five mile route. Perhaps that's because it comes early, and it's so peaceful there that time of day. There's rarely a tourist in sight, but I always have a chance to say hello to the groundskeeper, and we agree that it's a great day to be in Bath! From the park, I loop back to Front Street and pass by the Patten Free Library, which for me is a sweet spot in Bath. Across from the library stands the rather new Hampton Inn, which is super convenient for travelers heading north on Route 1. My warm-up is complete at this point, and the real miles begin. I run north now on Front Street until it intersects with Washington and Drummond at the top of an incline which requires a glance to my right, to the Kennebec, as I continue north on Washington up towards the dead end with no turn around for large trucks. This is the prettiest part of my morning run. The views keep getting better and better! In my mind's eye, I'm gathering the flowers at the side of the road and saving a picture of a red canoe, and a boat house, and a front porch at the bend in the road. It all seems like a warm slice of cinnamon coffee cake! Yesterday, I decided in a short breath that I would have to return to this stretch of road to take pictures. Later that day, around 4 o'clock, I returned with Penny and my camera to capture the river's smile. At 50 something, I've learned you cannot trust your brain to remember all the details clearly. Photographs really do help!

 Like most runners, I feel a day or two younger at the end of a long run. That feeling never ceases to amaze me. I don't feel "newer" like the Hampton Inn on Commercial Street; rather, I feel refreshed like the old houses on Washington Street that have been purchased by new owners! I have to give credit to Sam Armentrout, the seller's agent for our Maine house, for sharing her intuitive wisdom with us. When Sam greeted Joe and I at the Bath Farmers Market for the first time last summer, she said "Old houses love new owners!" As fate and Bath would have it, she was right. There are quite a few new home owners along Washington Street. I see them as I run by their gardens and driveways, and they are certainly busy planting, painting, repairing and refurbishing. You can feel the endorphins of active people in motion! In some ways, Bath reminds me of a busy beehive, and we can always use more sweet honey!

Joe and I are a couple of early birds. Over a month ago we registered for Bath's annual 5 Mile Road Race on the Fourth of July because the first 50 runners to sign up receive a free t-shirt. Last summer five family members proudly wore the numbers 37 through 41, and we triumphantly put those free t-shirts on after the race! This year my son, Mark, and his girlfriend, Lauren, will be joining us. Competitive by nature, we've all been training hard. Knowing that, I am fairly certain that I will be the last of our daring group to finish, but I hope to PR (set a personal record). After all, it's the hopefulness that counts. Truth be told, Bath keeps me hopeful!

P.S. Next Bath Time, I will let you know how the 5 Mile Road Race turns out for our merry band of runners. May our feet take flight!

     

House and Garden Tour: 3 Anniversaries, 2 Weddings and 1 Room with a Loom

Flag Day, June 14th, is usually a beautiful day for flying Old Glory, celebrating anniversaries, walking down an aisle with someone you love, or creating art with your own two hands. On June 14, 2014, Joe and I launched our second summer in the Maine house by going on the Sagadahoc Preservation, Inc.'s 12th Annual House and Garden Tour. For the first time, SPI's tour left the City of Bath and chose to spotlight the "Architectural Gems & Hidden Gardens of Phippsburg." It was a good and timely decision because Phippsburg is celebrating their bicentennial this year. Such a significant historic event deserves an anniversary party, and thanks to a committee of 14 history loving SPI members, headed by the talented Judy Barrington, and a score of well informed docents, SPI put on quite a show for a continuous stream of people on a picture perfect day. The entire event felt like a progressive brunch among good friends, but instead of serving blueberry pancakes, gracious hosts opened their doors to share quaint rooms, picturesque views, and insightful facts about the architectural details and family histories of their homes. The Kennebec River seemed to be overflowing with extraordinary, almost scandalous, stories! Who knew that the history of an 18th century house would sound a lot like a J. Courtney Sullivan novel (Maine, The Engagements).

Jackie Hogg and John Atkinson, the charming English couple who own and operate The 1774 Inn at 44 Parker Head Road, had some lively tales to tell about Pre-Revolutionary War America. History tells us that sailors and shipbuilders are legendary risk takers. The McCobb-Hill-Minott House, now the 1774 Inn, has a colorful history that illustrates that notion. According to Jackie, the Georgian mansion was originally the property of James McCobb, a successful merchant, who landed on the peninsula in 1731 and bought up much of the land that is now Phippsburg. He had his elegant home along the Kennebec River built for his second wife. Yesterday and today, numbering wives usually foreshadows family drama, and so it was for the McCobbs! For James McCobb there was a third wife, who upon his death altered his will and claimed his mansion as her own so that she and her son, Mark Hill, could remain there.  This selfish act ignited a scandal because Thomas McCobb, James' son from his second wife, was at sea when it transpired. With revenge in mind, Thomas built a new, and even grander mansion, "The Spite House," across the road. Ironically, Mark Hill grew up to marry his stepsister, Mary McCobb, and partnered with his stepbrother, Thomas, in shipbuilding and ship ownership to create an enduring legacy. Charles Minott later purchased the grand house and its nearby shipyard in 1854 and went on to build 34 more vessels, including the last commercial wooden full-rigged ship built in North America. Visiting the 1774 Inn today is like stepping back in time. There is a Linden tree on the front lawn which was planted in 1774. Its graceful branches seem to reflect the long and intriguing history of this daring community. Our docent, Mr. Minott (not a ghost, but possibly related to Charles Minott) described the inn's back door as a "witch door" because it had both Roman and Greek crosses on it to ward off evil spirits. Personally, I found the "Woodshed Room,"tucked in a corner on the ground floor to be the most enchanting part of the house. This hideaway room opens up to a private verandah facing the Kennebec River. Now, that is what I call "magic!" Jackie told me it is by far the most popular room at the inn. On June 14th, it was reserved for a couple celebrating their anniversary (anniversary #2). I uncovered this fact surreptitiously by reading a note from the innkeeper on the nightstand. (Sorry, hand-written notes left on nightstands are simply irresistible!) Finding best wishes for a happy anniversary was a very sweet discovery at The 1774 Inn!

Anniversaries usually follow weddings, but on the SPI tour, the opposite proved true. The Sebasco Harbor Resort, down east on the Main Road, offered us a glimpse of our first wedding of the day. We spied a young woman carrying her coral bridesmaid dress to her cottage. A few minutes later we saw two men setting up 100 white chairs on the lawn overlooking the harbor. Later that afternoon the wedding guests would enjoy the same water view that Eleanor Roosevelt enjoyed when she stayed at the Sebasco Lodge. Nathan Cushman, the baker from White Plains, New York who founded the Cushman Baking Company in Portland as well as the Oakhurst Dairy, added Sebasco's unique Lighthouse accommodations in the 1930's. The Sebasco estate, however, dates way back to 1767 when Henry Totman bought 500 acres from James McCobb. (That name sounds familiar!)

The present owner, Bob Smith, invested millions of dollars to give the resort a new facelift. The Pilot House Restaurant and the Fairwinds Spa may be wrinkle free, but the stunning harbor view remains unchanged. And God must truly bless June brides because not a single drop of rain fell that afternoon on the peninsula!

Love was definitely in the air because our tour uncovered a second wedding just a few miles up the road. Joe and I definitely enjoy fine details, so we move slowly on tours. Several hours into the SPI tour, we realized we were running out of time, so we advanced quickly to numbers nine and ten. We were especially drawn to 153 Fiddlers Reach Road because it strongly resembled our home on Washington Street, so we decided to make it our last stop. Cold Spring Farm was number 9 on our tour, and we discovered our second wedding of the day in its barn. Constructed of homemade bricks, the farm's main house was built in 1773 by William Lee, a former chimney pot maker from Yorkshire, England. Local historians tell us that Mr. Lee arrived in Boston Harbor with his wife and six children on December 16, 1773, the day of the Boston Tea Party. This is an amazing fact, and we only discovered it because of the in depth research of Jane Morse, an area resident who wrote most of the house tour program. When we met Jane earlier on the tour, I immediately thought of Morse High School in Bath. Names really do replicate around here! Well, in typical Maine fashion, the Lee family owned Cold Spring Farm from 1773 until 1895. Later, it fell into disrepair, but a direct descendant of William Lee, Mrs. Marie Forbes, purchased the farm in 1932 and restored it to its original grandeur. She also built the double barn. She actually found two exceptional barns, disassembled them, and brought them to Cold Spring Farm Road to be reassembled. This is the same barn that served as a wedding chapel for two people in love on  June 14, 2014. There is definitely a romantic thread here because William Lee, Jr. married the daughter of James McCobb, and James gave the newlyweds his island, Lee's Island, as a wedding gift. One can only imagine what spectacular gift today's couple received: Island Magic or a Cuisinart?

Finally, we reached 153 Fiddlers Reach Road, an address and a home that truly reminds me of "Fiddler on the Roof" tradition. And since family weddings are a seasonal topic, William Lee's daughter married Daniel Campbell in 1797. Six generations of the Campbell family resided on this property until selling it in 1957. Tradition! Today, this Federal-style home is owned by Roger and Marcia Clark, and I was delighted to meet them because if homes reflect our personality, we probably have a lot in common. As luck and Bath would have it, we do. (We have children who make music for a living!) After meeting Marcia at the top of the stairs, I turned to discover our last hidden gem of the day, a loom! The Clarks converted a bedroom into a weaving room, and Marcia's loom now owns the space. The Halycon yarn from Bath looks magnificent on that elegant machine! Marcia was quick to tell us that her loom had traveled with her from home to home over the years, but this 18th century colonial was the first to offer her a room solely for weaving. Every artist deserves their own space! Although I am not a weaver, as a Spanish teacher I have met outstanding Zapotec weavers in Oaxaca, Mexico. The Zapotecs told me about cochineal, their hidden treasure, a tiny insect that provides us with carmine, a crimson-colored natural dye. When I mentioned cochineal to Marcia, she knew the historical significance immediately, and that's when I knew I had found good people among the architectural gems and hidden gardens of Phippsburg! Priceless!

P.S. If you pay attention to numbers, you probably noticed we are one anniversary short. Anniversary number three is my heart's gem. If my mother and father were still on this Earth, June 14, 2014 would have been their 62nd Wedding Anniversary.      

Riding the Historic Highways to Bath

It is impossible for all roads to lead to Bath, but in summer all of my road-trips do indeed lead to Maine's Cool Little City! In just a few days, Joe and I will be packing up the car with shorts, t-shirts, running shoes, bathing suits, beach towels and flip-flops! Of course, we will also throw in to our 13 year old SUV two vintage chairs and an oak library table that we found at the Kane County Fair in Illinois over 20 years ago. It's clear we like to keep and treasure old things that serve us well! As we move to the future, however, we do not keep both feet stuck in the 20th Century; rather, we program the Garmin for our favorite destination, Washington Street, Bath, and joyfully set it on the dashboard of our old, but highly functioning automobile. Except for the GPS, this whole picture is reminiscent of National Lampoon's Vacation with Chevy Chase. Wait, there is another obvious difference: Joe is better looking than Chevy Chase!

To reach our Maine house, we will travel 1,125 miles. Ironically, our journey begins close to the terminus of historic Route 66, the "Mother Road" between Los Angeles and Chicago. Of all the historic highways that crisscross the United States, Route 66 is probably the most famous because of Nat King Cole's 1946 recording of Bobby Troup's song, "Get Your Kicks on Route 66." Here's a fun fact: "Route 66" was also recorded by Chuck Berry in 1961, the Rolling Stones in 1964, Michael Martin Murphy in 1989 and by John Mayer in 2006 ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tg2EbJy-9dc). The universal appeal of Nat King Cole's  rhythm and blues hit inspired the iconic 1960's TV show Route 66,which starred Martin Milner and George Maharis. In auditioning for the pilot, Marty Milner had to out perform Robert Redford to play the part of a young, ivy league graduate who inherits his father's Corvette and sets out to find himself with one of his father's former employees, a defiant Hell's Kitchen orphan, played by Maharis. Although the show ran for only four years, it has become an important part of television history because it was filmed all over America, and it explored the changing mores and social problems of the 60's. A few miles after pulling out of our driveway, Joe and I will cross over Route 66, and I will invariably think of the countless travelers who have driven along open roads, chasing their dreams and looking for adventure in far away places. As air travel becomes increasingly unpleasant, I find it so freeing to press the pedal to the metal and accelerate on the highway! It feels like America the Beautiful all the way!

  Route 20 is the longest road in the United States.

Joe and I will also be riding along Historic Route 20, a.k.a. Main Street, on our road-trip to Bath. Route 20 is considered the longest road in the United States. Coast to coast, from Boston, Massachusetts to Newport, Oregon it runs 3,365 miles with only a brief break in signage at Yellowstone National Park. In Illinois, Route 20 passes through historic Galena, where General Ulysses S. Grant resided after the Civil War, and then continues along the Ulysses S. Grant Highway to the south side of Chicago and on to the Chicago Skyway which takes you to Indiana. Joe and I used to live in La Grange, Illinois, and La Grange Road is in fact Route 20. Now, that is what we call highway trivia! You have probably heard of the game "Trivial Pursuit." If you have ever taken a family vacation in a station wagon, especially if you were in the way back facing backwards, you know that trivia can save your mind! Okay, let's get back on the interstate. U.S. 20 passes through Cleveland, Ohio skirting along the south shore of Lake Erie. At this point of our trip, we test our mental acuity by naming the five Great Lakes. In order to do this successfully, we rely on our grammar school mnemonic "HOMES,"and then we laugh like little kids because we feel so smart! Historic Route 20 can actually trace its origin to animal paths, native American Indian trails and early turnpikes. In fact, it was once called the "First Western Turnpike" and later the "Cherry Valley Turnpike." Today, Route 20 intersects with I-90, and it was probably the construction of state thruways that ended the golden era of the historic routes, 66, 20 and 1 that take us from Chicago to Bath.  In the 1920's, when Henry Ford was producing his Model T, the first affordable automobile, Route 20 blossomed from East to West. In 1954, however, New York started building the New York State Thruway, and motor travel was forever altered. People quickly embraced fast and direct interstate highways over peaceful and winding roads. The scenic routes with gift shops, miniature golf, drive-in movies and wishing well motels seemed to quietly disappear into the old maps of history. But once upon a time, when our children were very little, Joe and I stopped at Avon, New York along Route 20 to visit with our Uncle George. It was there that Uncle George took my favorite picture of our three children in the middle of a wide open field on a sunny August day.

Avon, New York on Historic Route 20 - August, 1990

As Joe and I travel I-90 from Buffalo to Albany, and the Massachusetts Turnpike from Lee to Auburn, we continue to crisscross Historic Route 20. (Adding to our trivial pursuit, we hosted the rehearsal dinner for Lauren and Matthew's wedding in Sturbridge at Rovezzi's Restaurant on Route 20.) Finally, after traveling on 290, 495, 295 and I-95, we meet Route 1, the oldest highway serving the East Coast, in Brunswick, Maine. After our two day trek across eight states, that U.S. Route 1 sign looks like the entrance to our Yellow Brick Road to Oz! But after each trip, we arrive with more joy than fatigue, because from the front seat of our thoroughly modern SUV, we have seen snapshots of enduring beauty, the American landscape at its finest. From tall corn in Indiana to dairy cows and vineyards in upstate New York, from birch and maple trees in the Berkshires of Massachusetts to evergreen trees and beaches in Maine, we have seen a magnificent slice of America, and the view seems to calm my anxiety over the unknown future. Somewhere in the middle of our 1,125 mile journey, I begin to relax, and I feel a sense of well being. Faced with so much change on a daily basis, our ride along the historic highways to Bath, shows us that some sweet ingredients of life remain the same. Quite simply, the view out the car window on a road-trip to Maine makes me happy, especially when I am sitting next to Joe. Let summer begin. Let's take a ride to Bath!    

A Tale of Two Proms

Like the Honey Locust and Magnolia, Redbud and Hawthorn, May is in full bloom, and I live in two cities where the residents know how to celebrate the fairest month of them all! In Bath, the young and the old dance around the Maypole, spin hula hoops in the park, and sail through the streets looking for treasures at the annual city-wide yard sale. If you listen, you can hear people humming a happy tune while they stroll along Washington Street. In Chicago, May Day historically begins with a political rally like Occupy Chicago in 2012, or the Haymarket Affair in 1896, but by Cinco de Mayo the serious mood lightens and the block parties begin, especially in Pilsin, the largest Mexican-American community in Chi-town. Here, like Bath, you will find happy feet dancing, and all around town people will be enjoying "churros y chocolate" for breakfast, and tamales all day long. At the end of winter, May calls us out to play and reminds us to be thankful. This is the month to appreciate mothers, teachers and nurses. This is also the time to recognize the glory days of high school, salute graduating seniors, and celebrate the beauty of being seventeen at the high school prom. A formal dance in May is a lovely tradition, and every year it helps our high school seniors let go of childhood and say goodbye in the most romantic way possible!

Do you remember being seventeen? My mother remembered very clearly because Frank Sinatra reminded her every day on the radio: "When I was seventeen, it was a very good year. It was a very good year for small town girls and soft summer nights. We'd hide from the lights on the village green when I was seventeen. ..." I may not hear Frank Sinatra on the radio as often as my mother, but I too remember being seventeen because I am forever in high school. As a Spanish IV teacher at Fenwick High School, I teach scores of seventeen year old students every day, and I have spent almost thirty years thinking about the impact of high school on American society. Such thoughts can keep you awake at night and inspire you to write blogs in the wee hours of the morning! But in May, high school can literally be the happiest place on earth! If you are reading this, you probably read A Tale of Two Cities in high school. (Everything changes and everything remains the same!) Well, I am about to tell you the tale of two proms. For parents, for teachers, and for chaperons, prom is the essence of nostalgia. Regardless of where you grew up, or what you do for a living, or how you spend your leisure time, high school is the great common denominator in America.  Some psychologists and television pollsters might even suggest that we are obsessed with high school. The plain truth is our high school stories connect us, so let's talk about Bath and Chicago style prom!

In Bath, the City of Ships, the juniors of Morse High School hosted the Senior Reception at the Maine Maritime Museum on May 10, 2014. "Starry Skies, Summer Nights" was certainly a fitting name for this dreamy event. For the 142 students who attended, it wasn't raining on prom night! In fact, a parade of couples passed through Library Park on Washington Street to have pictures taken at the gazebo.  There's a definite Twilight connection here. On prom night, didn't Bella and Edward dance in a gazebo in Forks on the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State? Embracing your first love in a gazebo is clearly a dream come true! And in Bella Swan fashion, Morse's prom certainly had some fire and ice moments: there was a fire call at the reception! It was only a small kitchen fire, but the fire department arrived and by chance created an unforgettable photo opportunity. One young man, dressed in a GQ tuxedo, found himself standing next to his dad, a fire fighter, dressed in full gear. The photo is priceless!

The cast of Chicago Fire, a hit TV show that spotlights the valor of firefighters, did not make an appearance at Fenwick High School's prom on May 9, 2014, but like the Morse students, a good number of Fenwick students have moms and dads who are first responders, and that is a good thing because the music was electrifying! The venues in Chicago can be very expensive, so Fenwick's student council hosted the prom at the Eaglewood Resort and Spa in Itasca, a northwest suburb. It sounds relaxing, but everything is possible on prom night except relaxation! Have you seen the movie 21 Jump Street with Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum playing undercover cops in a California high school? Well, there were more than a few white tuxedos at Fenwick's "Party at Gatsby's," and at least one over zealous football player had to sit in the time out chair for a few minutes! But truly, the 336 high school students who attended Fenwick's prom looked like movie stars, and there were lots of Kodak moments. For some reason, seventeen year old girls look older than seventeen year old boys. It's universally mystifying! I think it has something to do with make-up and push-ups (not the gymnasium kind). But pictures never lie, all high school seniors look royal in formal attire, and it's fun to watch Prince Charming spin his Princess around the dance floor. Okay, as a chaperon I must admit I didn't see a single waltz, but there was a lot of hand waving. Later, my students told me that when the dance floor is packed you just wave your arms to imitate dancing. (With a little help from our students, teachers can keep current!) The band, Santa, featured a female guitarist and vocalist in a short white dress who resembled Katy Perry.  Needless to say, the very talented and attractive rock 'n' roll band kept the dance floor packed all night. 

In Rome, a senior from Bath invited his girlfriend to prom!

In order to connect a Senior Reception along the Kennebec River with a senior prom near Lake Michigan, all the stars have to align, and faculty and staff at two geographically separated high schools have to exchange a wave of emails. Thank heaven for Leslie Trundy and Amber McGowan, two generous guidance counselors at Morse High School who proved to be great communicators! For the past few weeks we have been chatting about high school farewells. Ironically, the seniors emotional goodbye to high school begins with an invitation to one last dance. In recent years, those invitations have become more and more creative. Amber McGowan's son, Aidan, is graduating this year from Morse, and Amber related to me the unforgettable story of how her son invited his girlfriend, Lynn, to their Senior Reception. No, he didn't fly her to the moon, but in April he did fly with her on a class trip to Italy, which is almost as spectacular, and while they were on their starlight tour of Rome, he escorted her to Trevi Fountain, purchased a single rose from a gypsy vendor, threw a coin over his shoulder, and asked her to go to the Senior Reception. This sounds like a scene from a Hollywood movie, or the sweet spot of a fairy tale! Can the story get any better? Oh, Chicago boys can be romantic, too. One of my students described the most romantic Fenwick invitation this spring. David's mother and little sister traveled to Orlando and video taped the Disney princesses urging Andrea to go to prom with him. After they returned home, David took the video over to a friend's house where Andrea was visiting, and while they watched the video, he presented Andrea with a crown and flowers, and then he asked: "Will you be my princess at prom?" I believe the giggles of Andrea and Lynn could be heard around the world when they said "Yes!"

Two handsome seniors and I.

Seventeen was a very good year. Do you remember? How could we forget.  

If Our Furniture Could Talk...

 If you want to know me, listen to my furniture. When Joe and I moved into our Maine house, we immediately felt the absence of a big chair with a soft cushion and a comfortable couch. At first we thought we could get by with the random furniture that we were able to purchase from the seller's estate, but moving-in is exhausting, and recovery calls for serious couch time! We bought a total of nine wooden chairs from the previous owner, but not a single one had a cushion soft enough for napping while watching reruns of "Scandal" and "Nashville," so we went to Country Farms Furniture in downtown Bath, and Joe fell into a Sam Moore Chair, and I fell into a Sam Moore couch. It was love at first sitting: a tangerine couch with two cushions and a light grey chair imprinted with big fuchsia and orange circles. As soon as we placed that new couch and chair in the family room, the house on Washington Street began to feel like home. On that summer day, a new family had moved into Bath, and along with my grandmother's rocker, my mother's lamp, and my Secret Life of Bees dishes from Anthropologie, came our personal history.

Given a voice, I believe our furniture could tell a compelling story about our lives. Even in silence, tables, chairs and dressers manage to reveal a good piece of our souls, and I don't think I'm alone in imagining furniture that talks. From Fantasia to Mary Poppins and on to Beauty and the Beast, Walt Disney breathed life into inanimate objects like buckets and spoons, dresser drawers, teapots and candlesticks. When the teapot in Beauty and the Beast sings "Be Our Guest" with Angela Lansbury's maternal voice in chorus with the castle's enchanted staff, I can feel the Prince's need for love! Without it, the castle is just a building, not a home. In a similar way, I can feel magic when Mary Poppins arrives to straighten up Jane and Michael Banks' room. Listening to Mary's commanding song,"A Spoon Full of Sugar," dresser drawers open and close; a small table is set, the toy box is filled, and the looking glass, just in time, echos one high note after another. The furniture at the Banks' house helps to narrate the joys and sorrows of a family in crisis. Of course, Disney is not the only creative thinker to use household items to reflect our stories. C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe shared a similar vision by using the wardrobe to suggest our dreams and fantasies. British author Lynne Reid Banks (no relation to Jane and Michael) created The Indian in the Cupboard, and by means of an antique cupboard he brought us back to 1761 and the Iroquois nation, which proves that sometimes antiques do serve as time machines! In the fairy tale Goldilocks and the Three Bears, furniture frames the narrative: three beds and three chairs; in Vincent Van Gogh's paintings of two chairs, we glimpse the souls of two tormented artists: Van Gogh and his friend, Paul Gauguin. Both in art and in life, furniture can reveal our personalities long after we leave the room! 

In early April, BBC Radio 3 ran a week-long series by novelist Ian Sansom called "The Essay: Furniture: A Personal History of Movable Objects." I didn't listen to the series on the radio; I read a summary in The BBC News Magazine. Okay, true confession, Joe found the article online, printed it, and left it on the kitchen table where all important papers are placed for morning review! Joe knows me so well! He knows that furniture matters to me because I am convinced it not only shapes our living space, it reveals our heart and soul. In the words of Ian Sansom: "All furniture communicates meaning ... A bed speaks of our inner lives ... Our cupboards and cabinets imply secrets. Wardrobes suggest our dreams of other worlds. And tables invite company." Joe and I obviously agree with Sansom because we purchased three round tables from the seller of our Maine house in order to be ready to entertain our summer guests as soon as possible. Whether it's in the kitchen, dining room or sun-room, we simply love to gather around the table with family and friends to discuss the world as we know it and to imagine all the ways we would like to change it! Of course, before you can engage in a round table discussion, you have to invite people to sit at your table. In Maine, Joe and I hope to welcome lots of people, and for that specific reason there is an old, half table in the entry with a glass vase, usually filled with flowers, and my Aunt Estelle's candy dish, ideally filled with chocolate. This antique table was there before we arrived; it greeted us so warmly that we decided to stay! And we asked to purchase the table with the house! Some things just go together: a coke and a smile; a table and a hallway!

A few weeks after moving into our house on Washington Street, Joe and I made one more significant purchase. On a rainy day we drove north to Wiscasset and stopped at the Avalon Antique Market. It seemed like the Maine thing to do! Within minutes of entering the store, I spied a walnut dresser with four drawers, and it called my name. On closer inspection, Joe found a metal tag on the back with the etching B. Altman & Company. As a native New Yorker, I recognized the name as a synonym for high society. (B. Altman was a gentile New York City department store that enjoyed a long and stellar run from 1865 to 1989 before it was forced to close because of hard times.) On that same rainy day on Bath Road, we also found an antique mirror, circa 1815, with two small drawers and a delicate shell inlay, and since the mirror complimented the dresser beautifully, we decided to buy both pieces for the master bedroom. With the dresser and mirror in place, the bedroom began to look more like us. If dressing mirrors could speak, I suspect they would have Disney tales to tell, and more than a few Olivia Pope scandals to whisper! Just imagine!

 Wherever our life's journey takes us, we are all looking for a good place to sit; a place to drink sweet tea in the summer and hot chocolate in the winter; a place with a soft cushion.  If only our furniture could talk, it would tell you how happy Joe and I are to be at home on Washington Street!