a little red hen

Ronni, this blue's for you!

                                           

Portland, Maine was our special morning stop the day we were due at the Knitting Retreat.  We were the guests of Ronni Bennett, creator of the multi-faceted elderblog, Time Goes By, in her beautiful new apartment--as lovely as the photos on her blog.  Since the past winter, my spouse has listened to my ups and downs with becoming a blogger.  He knew how important Ronni has been to my own--and others'--launch into this world.  What synchronicity that she relocated from New York City to a place with special meaning for us.

Forty years ago, August 1966, Ron and I went on a two-week vacation to Maine.  We were not, gasp, married.  Younger elders may think that's funny but in our world, at that time, it was high adventure, a bit risque.  I probably told my young secretary about going to Maine--by myself.  Ron did not introduce me to a former boss, we bumped into at a restaurant.   Even though I came down with a bad cold, we had a great time.  We'd met in March, were married in October.

In 1976, we returned to Maine with our children on our way to Canada--the trip described here.  This summer's visit was the first time since then.  Now Elderblogging had entered my life and become an important focus in my retirement.  When I explain what it's about to non-bloggers, I emphasize its value for my writing: the  discipline of the commitment.  In the past--and still--other writing has been put off, done in surges of energy usually with an external deadline.

And to whom, to what am I committed?  To this community of elders with whom I share the urge to use ourselves in this creative enterprise.  Different from one another, we share something very special--a deep understanding of how we can shape a different kind of latelife through writing about our memories, ranting about the world around us, figuring out how to use this technology to enrich our lives.

Picture Ronni and me as we sit with this large rock, fallen tree before us.  Ron is off collecting small shells. Casco Bay stretches ahead.  Instead of a photo of her, you have the landscape we watched.  The blue in the title of this post?  Ronni has eyes that color, the bay is that color.  We talk about many things--especially making a big geographic move after 60.  It's a privilege to be able to thank, in person, the woman who gave me the gift  of valuable start-up advice, who has built this community, and opened it to all of us. 

Yes, Ollie, the cat, who appeared toward the end of our visit, is magnificent.  Ron and I are pleased to add them both to our memories of Maine.   

Last Stops on Fiber Trail

Kingfield, Maine  That's Amy Grant on the left.  She and Ron are talking about their respective spinning wheels in her store, adjunct of her Good Karma Farm.  Amy, her spouse and young daughter work together raising alpaca that she spins into roving and yarn.  Amy makes natural ingredient soap in another part of the store.  Rosemary Grapefruit (!)besides a surprising name, smells lovely; also chose Rosamellun and Bay.  Perfumed the car nicely.    Visit Soap Me, for others you can order.

Rachel, our daughter, turned me onto handmade soap.  The idea seemed odd at first and but then...learning something new, once again, from another generation.  Did I mention that Amy was a futures trader in NYC before she met her Maine-native spouse, went on to the rural life?  She liked that adventure as well as this one.                                                                                        Gorham, Maine  Our last stop on the Fiber Trail led to Healther Alden-Flander's small yarn store in its final day in business.  Found some aqua cotton/wool I believe will be acceptable for the coming grandchild.  Ron was intrigued by the cabinet-maker's building on the same property. He introduced himself.  "I'm John Alden," the gentleman replied. "The John Alden?" Ron asked.  Yes, the eleventh generation descendant of the Pilgrim we'd all heard about in grade school.  The one Priscilla advised, "Speak for yourself, John."

The current John Alden, 87 years, was a marine engineer who built this shop 20 years ago when he retired.  The earlier John had been a cooper, maker of barrels, which is what earned him his place on the boat from England.  My first generation American spouse was tickled to meet a man with such a long connection to the beginnings of the country.  He also makes beautiful Shaker-style tables, continues his family's handcraft tradition.

We interrupt this travelogue for late-breaking news...

HAPPY  BIRTHDAY, TO MILLIE, the thoroughly modern one, famous for My Mom's Blog, who represents Elderbloggers at their most inventive.  Known far and wide for her "I Can't Open It" adventures, impromptu speechifying at BlogHer, readiness at 80-plus for the next challenge.

The cat, the dog, and the pig admire your spunk; it inspires them to action--not an easy task.  Along with me, they believe it would be most fitting for you to be the first member of the newly-invented Society of Little Red Hens.

From one Leo to another, many good wishes for a great day and many more in the years ahead.  Yours, naomi

Maine and the Athens Country Fair

Shaping our journey was a special map from Maine Fiberarts--144 studios and farms to visit.  Our copy was included with our registration for the Knitting Retreat at Medomak Camp.  It was a great tool as we planned this weekend as we drove to camp.  I think it was the first time Maine Fiberarts put this together.  According to their website it's already been a big hit with visitors.  I hope they do it again next summer.

"A Good Ole Country Fair," in Athens, Maine, was our first stop.  Though we'd missed the Spinner's Showcase" on Saturday, we definitely got our money's worth ($2.00 each and last copy of the program) the next day when we met two local exhibitors.  Leah O'Donnell talked spinning with Ron, gave him spin-tips, and a gift of white merino roving from one of her Falklands sheep.  Because her husband was a native, they'd retired to Maine from Rhode Island. Somewhat similar to our return to New York City.

Mary Ann Anton, showing me her handknit, prize-winning sweater spun from wool from her flock, filled me in on local environmental politics.  Now down to 6 sheep from the 40 she once had, she explained how arthritis had taken its toll along with the demands of dairy farming.  Athens, founded in 1804, has a major struggle in trying to prevent debris from other states being burned here by an out-of-town company.  Turns into hazardous waste and trucked into Massachusetts.  A moratorium has stopped this for the moment but the fight continues.   

Leah and Mary Ann were the first Mainers to tell us about Common Ground Country Fair, put on by the Maine Organic Farmers & Gardeners Association. It came up because they'd like the Athens fair to focus in a similar way on local agriculture and products.

Two teens came by, looked at the spinning wheels, "What's that for?"  I walked around the fiber displays with them, explained the connection to knitting and crochet.  It would have been good to have knitters there as sheep and wool fairs always do; my own knitting was in the car.  After we watched the Tractor Pull, we felt a little sad for the local people. The tractor event was orignially a competition around the strength of oxen, not tractors. Children's Arm Wrestling?  Maybe we're just too urban to understand.

The Bakery at Notre Dame was not on the Fiberarts map. We saw a sign for it, noticed it was on "Shaker Hill Road." It was a beautiful campus-- must have been a Shaker village at one time, judging from the dormitory-style buildings that looked like ones we've seen at Shaker sites.  Operated by York County Shelter Programs, in addition to making  breads, pastries, pies also provides meals for two free-meals kitchens (Mon-Fri), and three meals a day for the Family and Adult Shelter residents, while running a vocational training program for Shelter clients. Bought a tasty berry pie...another time we'll go back, take photos, find out its history. 

Driving to Maine, We Begin

We were not in a hurry.  As we left the City on August 4, the N.Y. Times ran this story and I remembered how Grandma Moses once said she would have raised chickens if she had not started painting in her seventies.  Not an early fan of her work, I moved toward it as I aged, began art-making myself.  Chicken-raising would not have been my alternative to art-making.  What would I have done?

August 5, my 73rd birthday, Ron saw Swiss Army knives in a Cambridge, Mass. shop window and remembered how I'd lost my much-loved red one a few years ago.  Loaning the scissors to someone in the Starbucks knitting circle.  This beautiful blue one shines a small red beam when the logo is pressed.  I'd bought my first pocket knife when our daughter Rachel was a baby.  The town of Oberlin had one of those iconic hardware stores.  We had no sense 38 years ago that these would soon be rare.

The idea of having my own pocket knife was very liberating for me in 1968.  And so practical:  knife for cutting up apples for baby on car trips, scissors for yarn work.  Lately I've met other mothers who followed patterns in Woman's Day for "knit bathing suit for your little girl."  The result:  an embarrassing family moment at the lakeside as water dragged suit to Rachel's knees.  I think she's forgiven me this and other funky ("...that's your kind of thing, Mom") notions; she surprised me with a comment on the previous post.

Street Objects, Greenwich Village

Late winter, 2006.  Walking along West 11th Street, I encountered this old-fashioned pressing device someone had decided to discard.  Did it once have a life in an elegant home here?  The brownstones form a remarkably preserved parade here.

If I had a cellphone that takes pictures, I could have let others know at a website known as Garbage Scout.  It's a map of Manhattan marked to indicate where reuseable stuff can be found on the street--and how long it's been there.