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.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
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!
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, 2010
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.
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
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.
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.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, July 30, 2010
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.
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