The Team

The setting is an ancient New England inn with history oozing from time gilded local oak timbers, interior decorated with rememberances of the past. A jovial bartender bustling preparations toward anticipated busier evening hours accompanied by occasional clinks of bottles and glassware. Tables being effiently set by competant waitsaff quietlybantering with the chef and barkeep. Owner/manager quick-stepping, double checking, firing off questions and instructions. Soft period lighting and the hearth ablaze with atmosphere adding warmth to the late autumn afternoon chill. At a semi-secluded corner table a party of four enjoy libation and muted coversation...a team of three for the other. One an organized philosophical study(the visiting friend), another an efficient working professional and housewife (the daughter), the third a champion for people with special needs (the sister).


A few weeks earlier, the other had disappointingly experienced an unusual lung-rasping shortness of breath during a routine beach walk. Subsequent trial walks produced similar results which he discussed with his cardiologist. A failed stress-test was followed by a cardio-catheterization that precpitated immediate open heart surgery complete with triple-bypass corrections. The team of three was called to action; not an orchestrated rehearsed selection of events but rather a collecton of individual cooperative acts that melded fragmenation into wholeness on behalf of the striken other. Personal plans were cast aside and expenditures of previously planned time were abandoned as the three rallied in mutual support. Now, with successful healing being nurtred, the other was seeking some demonstration of gratitude to the three in commensurate magnitude. Therefore, finding none of worthy stature or possibility he tries to convey his emotions - tackling the enormity of wrapping his need with phrases that can hardly be understood by those who have not personally experienced similar circumstances.

How does one attempt to compensate another for the magnitude of the gift given? What possible expression of gratitude can even begin to convey that which is so intesely personal? Is it even possible? Is it necessary? Does simple acceptance of that given convey enough to satisfy the spirit...the love represented? Or is a commitment to "pay it forward", to accept the torch that is passed in order to lighten the load of another in need, sufficient? Within the surrounding circumstances, the other seems to be left with no option than the latter and has accepted all that has been given with thanksgiving and resolve.

Life Changes

As days grow shorter and the temperature struggles to maintain warmth the beach loses its attraction to many. Therefore, the dive in occupancy has driven the owners of the motel to the decision to once again close until spring. Not wishing to go through another off-season on unemployment I checked Craigslist on-line job postings where I found an opportunity posted by the Beachmere Inn, in Ogunquit, for a year-'round "Front Desk Clerk/Night Auditor" position. With some trepidation I indicated my interest in the position, enclosing my resume. During a subsequent phone call from the Beachmere's Operation Manager an interview was scheduled, my references were checked, I was offered the position, and I accepted.

Training commenced immediately and that resulted in my working the early shift at the Cutty Sark, 8 AM - 2:30 PM, dashing home to change shirts and ingest dinner before my 4-10 PM (or later) shift at the Beachmere. After nearly 14 years at the Cutty Sark, being totally familiar with people, facilities and procedure, the transition to bottom rung of the ladder is indeed interesting and challenging but not unfamiliar. My decision to relocate to Maine from southern California, 15 years ago, required a similar transition from experienced corporate management to entry-level production work. I weathered that and I will make it through this change. Personal change is challenging, it revives interest in life and motivates one to keep moving on.

Gay Teens Suicide

The tragic deaths of gay young people taken at their own hands is terribly disturbing. The most recently publicized six who chose this way of escaping the hate and bullying of the homophobic public, families, and peers are only the most recent incidents of this nature that have been occurring for years, if not decades.


I have begun to wonder if there are local gay teens who are facing the daunting task of living lives true to themselves, and what resources might be available for them in our immediate area. Questioning a local gay advocate I am assured that there are many young people in that situation, but there is little evidence that significant steps are being taken within the school districts to address the issue. Organizations such as PFLAG, or GLSEN, offer help, but they are not located within our immediate area even though there are opportunities for assistance by phone. How much more beneficial it would be for kids to be able to relate face-to-face with concerned supporters and mentors is a question that is not easily answered. Would they, if they could?


The primary basis for alleviating homophobia - the root of this issue - would seem to be education. A successful proactive approach would destroy the misconceptions and fear that give birth to the destructive attitudes and acts of much of the general public. How to do this is a monumental question that unfortunately has no quick answer. But, our kids need immediate avenues to safety and assurance. So, it begins with a grass-roots effort by individuals and organizations to develop the means of help.


Where do we begin? Town/city boards, school districts, churches, fraternal organizations, and other duly organized local groups would seem to be logical starting points. Eventually, coalitions should be assembled that would be a repository for effort, direction, and results...simply to reduce duplication of effort. Perhaps each coalition encompassing an area of responsibility equal to each individual school district statewide.


How do we educate? We can provide information by whatever available means...newspapers, radio/TV, brochures, etc. We can hold forums and assemblies, and become an informing presence at local events. We can live openly, becoming positively involved within our communities and state with pride in who we are and for what we can give, showing others that our sexual orientation does not need to be the focal point of our existance.


Can I make a difference? Yes, I can. By becoming involved, by broadening my horizons beyond my own limited/limiting circle. By communicating with my friends and aquaintences, enlisting their support and involvement.


How soon? NOW!

I would welcome your comments and/or opinions.

Autumn Commences

Following this season's summer farewell when temperatures rose to 80-degrees in a final salute to the previous 12 weeks of sunshine and warm weather the continuation of temperate conditions hardly demarks the change of seasons. However, the first of the maples are starting to sport rosey foliage as we welcome autumn despite the lack of rain and cold nights.



I recently took the opportunity to attend a viewing of the movie, "Just Say Love". It is closely based on the play of the same name written by David Mauriello who lives in Ogunquit. He produced the film and was involved with the screenplay adaptation. The story centers on the relationship of two men, one who is a gay philosophic artist, the other a carpenter who identifies with the "straight" world. Beginning with a chance meeting in a public park the two develop a friendship, of sorts, wherein each feeds the other's needs for companionship and physical gratification. Over time, the completely reticent carpenter comes to realize that love takes precedence over sexual orientation while the artist learns that love is of a broader scope than his philosophical fantasy.



The movie is a well done graphical representaton of love unencumbered by gender. It suggests that the diversity of emotions and actions that define love is of greater expanse and power than many people acknowledge, or bother to identify.

Drama at the Beach

The day after hurricane Earl brushed the coast of Maine leaving little more, along the southern shore, than a spectacular sea. Surfers gloried in the huge well spaced breakers...at York Beach they looked liked ants on a cake frosting. The water, so I was told, was warm (for Maine) being close to 70-degrees enticing swimmers to interact with the surfers.



After work, I walked Wells Beach. The tide was advancing and shrinking the beach forcing bathers to move their blankets, chairs and toys above the high tide marks. It was becoming crowded in some areas and I found myself dodging tossed foot balls, walking around impromptu soccer and volley ball courts and being careful not to damage (or break an ankle avoiding) a miriad of sandcastles with generous protective moats. Rip tides have been a source of concern for the life guards for most of the summer and the storm stirred sea enhanced their ferocity. Portions of the beach, especially close to areas of submerged rock, have be cordoned off by the life guards during critical tide stages. As I turned at the jetty and headed back down the beach a lifeguard carrying one of their larger than surfboard floats charged into the surf on his way to either warn or rescue a surfer who was a little too far from shore. Continuing my walk, I noticed a person who was an alarming distance from shore who seemed to be trying to get back but was thwarted by the huge waves. Others started to notice this person as well and people were standing in groups keeping watch. There being no lifeguards in the area, it wasn't long before a couple of police officers rushed into the surf and tried to swim toward the apparently troubled person but could not get beyond the crashing breakers. Eventually, a lifeguard arrived with one of his "miracle" boards and expertly traversed the surf to where the person was floundering. Loading the person onto his board, the lifeguard started swimming parallel to the shore (I recently read that to escape a rip tide, one should do this until getting beyond the turbulance before heading for shore). At the moment when the lifequard reached the person in trouble applause broke out all along the beach and even though the rescued and rescuer were too far out to hear, it was like one huge sigh of relief and thanksgiving.

An Evening in Portland

Several weeks ago I completed an on-line opinion survey requested by the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ, a sophisticated fan club for Portland's municipal pipe organ located in the Merrill Auditorium at City Hall. In exchange for my time I was promised a ticket to one of the organ concerts. Having been a long time fan of the organ and Portland's municipal organist, Ray Cornils, I was excited at the prospect of hearing him play the magnificent instrument once again.


August 31 - I had arranged my work schedule to allow the evening in Portland. I knew the approximate time it would take for me to drive from home to the auditorium. With some on-line research I selected a restaurant within walking distance (Norm's Bar & Grill, touted as the gayest straight establishment in Portland), and using the distance scale on a Google Map I figured I could walk the distance within 15 minutes. It would probably take me 30-45 minutes to eat dinner, I surmised. Therefore, 5 PM would be the approriate time to leave home (OMG, I'm a clone of my friend Larry). Despite a wrong exit from I-295 I parked in a lot near to the auditorium. The temperature was 91-degrees with humidity a liitle above the median. I commenced a hurried walk to the restaurant that turned out to be more uphill than I'd remembered from past walks in the area and arrived on schedule. A chilled glass of Pinot Grigio was a cooling companion for the delicious chicken salad that I had selected from the menu; strips of grilled chicken breast atop a mound of Romaine lettuce sprinkled with crumbled blue cheese and bacon and graced with a nice balsamic vinaigrette dressing. The cost of the meal and beverage, including tax and gratuity was less than $20. I found that there would be time for a more leisurely walk back to the auditorim and a few doors away spoke to one of the restaurant chefs, who was on a smoke break, and praised the salad. A senior gentleman in Monument Square asked me if I knew any good restaurants in the area and, of course, I gave him a glowing recommendation. A little further down the hill at the public library a younger man who was seeking stability from his inebriety against the entrance steps railing beckoned me with a crooked finger to stop and talk. I waved him off with "I don't have time" and continued on my trek arriving at the Merrill at my planned time. Picking up the waiting ticket at the box office I proceeded to the Grand Tier (first balcony) with a seat three rows from the rail in dead center with plenty of time to peruse the concert program as my body cooled to a normal temperature.

The concert: The organ was placed at front center stage with its five ranks of keys flanked by banks of stops facing the audience. The stations of the accompanying Kotzschmar Festival Brass comprised of brass and percussion instrumentalists encircled the organ. The members of the Brass took their places, the lights dimmed and the organist walked on stage. Ray Cornils was dressed in formal attire with a gold totally sequined tux jacket that shimmerd with a sprinkling of reds and greens...and he wore bright red shoes. Looking pretty gay, but I don't think he is; simply a performer. There is something about air forced through pipes that produces a magnificent unique inimitable sound...for me, emotionally thrilling! Cornils had selected a wonderfully diverse collection of music to play including works by the masters; Bach, Elgar, Brahms, Wagner, Franck, Saint-Saens, and others that are not well known to me. After the intermission he approached the organ bench wearing a red totally sequined jacket and, of course, the red shoes. Needless to say, the accompaniment by the Brass added drama and punctuation to the pieces in which they joined playing. A really wonderful experience...and home on schedule before 10 PM!

Tuesday, August 17

At the front desk, once again. A full house with all reservations checked in leaves me the evening free to take reservations over the phone, respond to requests for available rooms, act as concierge for those guests looking for dining and entertainment options and, of course, to run at their beck-and-call for extra towels or pillows, etc.

Out on the lawn, a while ago, straightening chairs, with the incoming tide bringing the ocean to the base of our retaining wall and with tendrils of a light fog swirling about, I was struck by a wave of nostalgia. Nearly at this time a year ago friend Larry and I were aboard ship cruising the coast of Alaska. Instead of gazing out over the unbroken expanse of the Atlantic, as I do here, it was the Pacific that stretched to the curvature of the earth.

Today friend Larry is introducing a mutual friend to the same parts of Oregon that I was introduced to then. Most impressive is the Willamette National Forest through which courses the waters of the MacKenzie river bent on joining those of the mighty Columbia. Massive Douglas fir and cedar trees line its banks, so tall and straight. I wonder if they'll cover 12 miles of it as we did a year ago.

Here now, looking toward the west, the fog has dissipated and a cloud laced sky is glowing with the pinks and reds painted by final remnants of the setting sun. The sky beyond is the color of robins' eggs. Now, the wispy clouds turn deep gray retaing the brilliant color on their westerly edges as the sky becomes golden.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

At work again, attempting to jostle a few thoughts from my weary brain. After a very busy full house throughout the weekend things have settled to normal busy status. The place is 80-90% booked this week and phone calls are incessant as people plan to take advantage of the waning summertime and look forward to foliage season.



We've lost a desk clerk to her real job, teaching. A young teenaged guy is in training to help fill the gap. He's a real cute kid with a nice personality who seems to ascribe to the work ethic that demands the best he is capable of even though this job most likely does not define an eventual career.

August 1st

As another calendar page is turned we find ourselves at the peak of the coastal Maine tourist season. The weather has favored those who chose these weeks for vacation. Plenty of sunshine with only a few days dripping with humidity. Evenings are cool, the breeze is light and the reflection of the moonlight creates a miriad of dancing diamonds upon the surface of the great Atlantic.

Hospitality venues are operating at capacity, daytime traffic is at a standstill as motorists vie for that recently vacated parking spot and shoppers exercise their protected status at crosswalks. The wave of beach enthusiasts ebb as the advancing tide soaks blankets and belongings. Gorgeous sun bronzed bodies intermingle with those that resemble boiled lobsters. All-in-all, everyone seems to be enjoying their days in the sun.

Beginnings

I'm not sure where this blog will take me, or any of its readers. My intent, with this blog, is to create a convenient place wherein to capture random thoughts and occurances during my progression through time. Whether it turns out to be a diary, a memoir, or merely a pain in the ...neck will be determined.