
Along the Machias River, Whitneyville, Maine.

You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

Along the Machias River, Whitneyville, Maine.

A season in Kyoto, Barcelona, or back in the Pacific Northwest.
Extended genealogical research in England, Ireland, and Alsace.
The Peruvian Andes.
Alaska or Iceland.
Ascending Mount Rainier or Adams.
Weekends of concerts, museums, and theater in Boston.
A week at the Metropolitan Opera.
Visiting friends in Baltimore, New York, and the Pacific Northwest.
Canoeing or kayaking in northern Maine.
On the other hand, I’d still love to experience the Orthodox icons in the churches of Macedonia.
And even some time on Grand Manan Island, New Brunswick,

The delivery of cut, split firewood means I’ll be spending much of my upcoming time stacking it neatly. With luck, this will then season for a year before warming our house.
Alas, stacking it also means feeling my age. And how!
As an editor and a writer, I’ve long been inspired by a stream of classy, glossy magazines with outstanding illustrations and design supporting sharply edited, masterful writing.
In this category, I’m skipping over purely literary periodicals, even the ones with deep pockets, as well as newsweeklies and many other kinds of magazines.
The ones I’ve admired, as I’m seeing now, all reflected a single editor’s voice and vision, not that I remember all of their names now. Maybe that’s for another Tendril.
For now, here’s what I mean.
Looking ahead to the November national presidential elections, I had been in deep despair. Joe Biden, a decent man who has managed a respectable administration in the face of Republican obstruction and corruption, was obviously falling short in his campaign to gain a second term. No matter what the data presented in contrast to what he inherited, cosmic forces seemed to be aligned against everything holy.
Right-wing so-called Christians couldn’t realize which side they were really on, Satan’s or the Holy One’s.Yes, it was that dark. Who can stop the tide? From what I saw, the coming Kristallnacht repeatedly broke my sleep. Jews weren’t the only ones who the Orange Man’s zombie legions would be coming after. Just as many non-Jews were gassed in the Nazi concentration camps, millions of them. Remember that.
And then, against all odds, President Biden yielded to the hard labor of reason by Nancy Pelosi. Both of them, I would say, are true patriots in that struggle. The good of the nation and the world come first.
Suddenly, what an incredible and unexpected turnabout! With her Cinderella outbreak, Kamala Harris has been striking all the right notes and moves. The crowds reflect the sense of rescue. The interviews and policy positions can come later.
The unanticipated choice of Tim Walz, from my perspective, was absolutely brilliant. While I had thought Joshua Shapiro was the obvious pick for vice president, Walz suddenly throws the entire center of the continent into play, not just the two progressive coasts. It’s like Tim Lasso has suddenly entered the race.
Better yet, both Kamala and Tim have freed the Democrats from their deadly tone of lecturing the electorate. They’re willing to humorously and boldly tweak their opponents in ways that deflect the earlier nasty blasts from the other side. They boogey, they smile, they’ve comfortable in their own skins, unlike their GOP rivals. So far, it’s been deadly effective. Maybe because their new comedic shots at their foes reflect fact.
The race is no longer about policy, other than the Project 2025. It’s about character and integrity. Period.
My, how things have changed. No wonder the Democrats and others are suddenly charged. Could the bullies finally be on the run?
As a conservative editorial writer once reminded me, he saw too many dead causes rise up again. I hope that warning holds for the center and left, too.
Complacency can be deadly.
So that’s what I see from where I am as so much boils up.
When I first encountered his writing during the fall of 1968 at the recommendation of a friend who was attending a college elsewhere in Indiana, Vonnegut was a breath of fresh air. I loved the sassiness, hipness, and dark humor of books. They had none of the pretentiousness of serious literature but were seriously satirical.
Besides, he was writing about the heartland of the neglected Midwest, at least at one point in each book. God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater nails the milieu and remains my favorite.
Overall, though, I feel an overarching nihilism negates a redemptive mission for his work. As for the gimmicks? Let’s just say this former favorite has shrunk in my estimation over the years.
their anger should really be turned at themselves
Using what I had previously thought of as life boats was a common practice during the cruise.

Babson Island a wet landing
wearing Converse high tops sans socks
a mistake
lucky I don’t have blisters

a fine-shell beach
unlike any we have to the east
I know of

so here we are going ashore again
this time for lobster
Babson Island, Maine Coastal Heritage Trust

Just walkin’ along and there they were.

Do we need say how excited we’re feeling?
Let’s look at the continuing progress from the inside.






Next steps will be the roofing, foam insulation, windows, siding, trim, and flooring.
Can this really be happening?