DAY TEN--BAR HARBOR, MAINE

I would be the first to admit that I grew up with delusions of grandeur accompanied by plans to rise above my station (pinned on my intention of marrying Teddy Kennedy...yes, Jack and Bobby's younger brother).  However, one dark and stormy Saturday afternoon toward the end of my senior year in high school I happened upon a "Town and Country" magazine which I eagerly opened.  There, in the section on weddings was my Teddy, accompanied by a gorgeous blonde wearing a wedding dress at their wedding reception.  I hadn't even known he was dating Joan, much less marrying her.  And, doing it all before I'd  had a chance to get to Massachusetts and introduce myself.  I was devastated.  My life--as I had envisioned it--was over, before I'd even reached legal drinking age.

Fifty years later, as we were choosing a cruise, I noted that this particular offering from Holland America included a day in Bar Harbor--favorite of the filthy rich and semi-famous.  This port played an immense role in my final decision on choice of cruises.  Since I hadn't been able to live the life that I, obviously, had not so carefully planned, I would stop in Bar Harbor, observe, take notes, and attempt a small-scale re-creation in SCG.

Our morning dawned (barely) under heavy fog, sporadic rain and gusty, cold winds.  However, the captain assured us that skies would clear by afternoon and all would be well.

We boarded our tender and bounced across the harbor, catching sight of this beauty along the way.  This is, perhaps, a bit too grand even for Sun City Grand, and would break every rule in our rather detailed CC&R book.  But, I'm strongly attracted to this home on the shore.

Wait!  This one is much closer to town and should also be large enough for all of the children, in-laws, and grandchildren that BC and I have accumulated together.  It also includes a "widow's walk" on the roof from which we could wave as said children, etc... sail in and out of the harbor in our newly acquired four-masted lovely...

Oops...I'm regressing.  This would never work in SCG and would be the devil to haul to Lake Powell, Lake Mead, or Lake Havasu.

The same could be said for this powerful and expensive yacht, but isn't she a beauty.  Whereas, I would be happy with a comfortable deck chair and a small pitcher of mimosas on the top deck, BC would be hanging off the back, fishing pole in hand.

Bar Harbor is the gateway to the Acadia National Park, and a drive through this park was really the main focus of our day.  The weather slowly cleared through the early afternoon, but (lovely as this was) it would have been spectacular with bright sun.

Years ago, I drove up the coast of Maine (I hate to sound a theme, but it also was in and out of heavy fog), and I remember being so impressed by the rocks juxtaposed with the waves and deciding the rocky shore of Maine was my kind of coastline.  I'm still there today.

More of the same is never really more of the same along this drive as a step to the right or left brings a whole new perspective.  We saw quite a few people hiking this trail.  Despite the sprinkles and cooler temps, they were the lucky ones.

 

     One last glimpse before we return to Bar Harbor.

Bar Harbor itself is fun--definitely a touristy summer village with  souvenir and t-shirt stores vying for street frontage with restaurants and ice-cream shops.  We contributed to them all.

 This ivy-covered restaurant didn't open until dinner, but I would have waited had we not been on a schedule.

BC has a weakness for ice-cream, especially any that contain bits of peanut butter, so this is a perfect compromise for us.  I know, the two spoon thing is not hygenic at all, but it's kind of romantic!  And, note the very cool giant blue and white umbrella next to the dish.  We finally had to break down after a couple of days of rain and it seemed a perfect Bar Harbor type of 'brella.

Time is flying, and it's back to the tender which will hold 120 souls as a tender and 150 as a life-boat.  When seen from a distance, a tender really resembles a little red tin can wallowing through the waves, but it delivered us safely to the shore and back, so I have no complaints.

Perfect!  The sun has come out, the deck chairs are dry, we have exciting books to read, and will hope against hope that a steward will soon come by balancing a tray of carefully chosen drinks.  Cheers!

DAY NINE--HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA

"I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by."
John Masefield

 

Enticed by a shore excursion entitled "Halifax Harbor by Premier Tall Ship", I immediately signed up the two of us for a "...true Nova Scotia sailing experience...on the historic tall ship Silva."  She's a 130 foot, three masted schooner built in 1939.  I don't know anything about schooners, but the closer I got, the more she looked like a fishing boat from "Deadliest Catch".  As the morning progressed, the slightly foggy, gray and windy day also seemed reminiscent of the nasty weather the "Deadliest Catch" is based upon.  I'm holding down my expectations.

Guests are invited to haul the lines on this journey, but I think I'll just take a few photos.

   The rigging is really quite cool and more than a little complicated to this landlubbers eye...but so graceful.

This extremely agile and good-looking fellow sets things up to both raise and lower the sails, as well as untuck and then tuck them back all nice and neat.  We had wind this morning so the sails cracked and popped as they were raised.  Expectation met.

Halifax Harbor is a large and fascinating body of water.  This is a small view of Georges Island which contains the ruins of Fort Charlotte, originally built for the Father Le Loutres War in 1749 and still in use during World War II when a German U-Boat (U1232) actually sank three ships near the entrance of the harbor in 13 minutes flat.  The fort is being restored now and should be available for tours in another year or so.  The largest man-made accidental explosion also took place in this harbor, wiping out a portion of Halifax itself.

The rains that threatened all morning finally let loose with a deluge, so we headed for the wheelhouse and a bit of traditional maritime music accompanied by lovely treats and hot coffee.

Halifax has an interesting skyline along the harbor.  They are absolutely fearless when it comes to mixing modern skyscrapers with traditional or historic low-rise buildings.  Somehow, just like Michelle Obama's J.Crew belts, it always works.

We're taking a look at Georges Island from the opposite side.  According to Wikipedia (who attribute it to the local fishermen), besides its two hundred plus year old history, Georges is known for a plethora of blueberries and black garter snakes.

We cruised on the Silva for two plus hours and had a wonderful time.  Our guide was never at a loss for words or information, we visited with cruise-mates we hadn't met yet, enjoyed our views, and simply absorbed the atmosphere.  The excursion was a good one...although sunny weather would have added a star or two to the experience.

That afternoon we visited the Canadian Museum of Immigration located very near our ship's dock.  I don't know why I thought the United States had the corner on immigration, but Canada received a million souls through Pier 21 in  the forty-plus years between 1928 and 1971.  The museum is nicely done with great imagination, high tech touches, and heart-rending stories balanced by those so touching they bring a tear of joy.

Halifax does deserve more than a day, but ours was a day well spent.  Next trip we'll visit the Citadel, Lunenburg, drive the Lighthouse Route and in Peggy's Cove visit  the graves of Titanic's victims.  In the meantime, we'll be thankful for the opportunities we had.

DAY EIGHT--SYDNEY, NOVA SCOTIA

It was Sydney's bad luck to be a scheduled port stop the day following Charlottetown.  Whereas, I thought everything about Charlottetown was wonderful, Sydney was the sad remainder of a town down on its luck.  At one time it had been a thriving manufacturing community producing high grade steel fired by coal from the surrounding mines.  But years passed and times changed.  The industries are long gone, and with them the spirit that drove this community for decades.  Now, it's hanging on, hoping the cruise ships will postpone its last gasp.

I have to say this...I have struggled for days (turning into weeks) on the appropriate thing to say about our day in Sydney.  I don't want to sound ungrateful--we're extremely fortunate to be on a cruise, for heaven's sake.  But, there was very little to redeem Sydney, and I actually felt a bit guilty walking through town.

             

That's not to say we didn't find interesting sites in Sydney.  Here, BC is standing in the loft of the oldest Roman Catholic Church in Cape Breton, the first stop of our "walkaround".  St. Patrick's, now a museum, was built in 1828 although the area was settled much earlier.  The first priest to come to Sydney, Father Henry MacKeagney, was determined to save the souls of the local Micmac people and, to that end, helped create a written language for them.

As much as I've tried to translate, using the few versions I know, I'm lost.

 

Why denture clinics?  Bad water?  Bad hygiene?  I took these photos with the idea of finding something clever to say about them, but there really isn't anything.  They're simply symptomatic of the pervasive low-grade depression that hangs over this community, along with the heavy gray clouds.

 

Yes, Sacred Heart is a lovely little church, but look at the congregants.  Older women.  I don't see a man at all, except for the glimpse of a priest in the corner.  Now, I'm more than aware that can happen in the normal scheme of things (I do live in a retirement community), but this seems too much.  Simple old age...or decades of man-killing hours in the mines and foundries?   

 

Even sugar didn't brighten the afternoon. This extremely nice young man is valiantly hanging on to his little shop and mixing very good fudge in the process.  He sells unique gift items, many flavors of ice cream, and hosts live music on the weekends.  I hope he makes it, but we were his only customers.

 

We watched a particularly poignant documentary in the Cape Breton Centre for Science and Heritage on George Street.  It must have lasted an hour and was extremely well done.  As the years unspooled  before us--discovery, exploration, settlement, growth, industry, growth, middle-class, growth, smiles and laughter, WWII ended, gradual decline, shocked faces, closed factories, lowered heads, tearful eyes, shaken voices...silence.

 

There is a sad place in my heart for the people of Sydney.  They are holding on tightly. 

 





RESOLUTIONS

 Well, here it is--December 31st and, whereas, I had planned to have all of my 2013 Resolutions quite neatly tied up by this time, I don't.  In fact I'm not even close.  In greater fact, I haven't even started.  It's a mess.

First, I had hoped that 2013 would be a year of createfulness as hinted at by my wonderful new planner, and a not quite as wonderful new journal for my createful thoughts.  However, createfulness takes time, and I've had very little of that lately, so all bets are off.

Second, since at 68 I may not have many cognitive years left, I had hoped that 2013 might be the year in which I stepped out in my centrist political way and supported various causes that I feel are critically important to the future of this country.  However, I've become so discouraged by our federal and state legislative branches and their lack of interest in the welfare of the people who sent them there, I've lost all interest.  I guess I'll just continue ranting to BC each morning as we read the newspaper.

Third, because the economy has been on the skids since the day after I retired, I decided that 2013 would have to be the year I designed a carefully crafted budget, based on detailed records of 2012 income vs. expenditures with allowances for inflation, and then follow it to the letter each day.  Unfortunately, I've spent 2012 as Treasurer of the SCG Photo Club managing their bookeeping to the highest possible standard and will present a bang-up 2013 budget at their next board meeting.  I'll just continue praying for the best regarding my own finances.

Fourth, having learned that I just don't function well if my world isn't organized, 2013 was to have been the year this entire house (yes, even under that guest room bed)  would be organized to the nth degree.  I would begin in the den on January 1st, march into a new room the first of each month, and by December 31, 2013, close the door on a home filled with color-coded totes, decorative (and artistically labelled) baskets, bins and crates. So what happens if my so-called budget (see #3 above) doesn't allow for gas to get to the Container Store on the other side of the valley?  Resolutions are so complicated.  

Fifth, it's time to look at personal improvement.  I need to be a stronger person.  I need to continue my efforts to become a critical thinker.  I need to come up with something really intellectual to say at book club.  I need to speak up in measured tones when a crazy person says something that I really, really disagree with.  I need to be a wimp no longer.  I need to go to downtown Phoenix, stand in front of Governor Jan Brewer's office and shout, "I am a centrist Democrat and, NO, you may not run for a third term."  I need to write a thought-provoking letter to the Arizona Republic.  I need to admit my fashion style is preppy and buy that plaid skirt at Banana Republic Outlet.

Sixth, exercise.  Doesn't it always come down to exercise?  Do it more often.  Do it longer.  Do it harder.  Do it better.  You just need to be glad I do it at all.  So there.  Now I'm ready for 2013...and for the champagne BC's bringing home from the store.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!             

AN ARIZONA CHRISTMAS

I met a young mother yesterday morning at the doctor's office.  This is her first year to live in the Phoenix area and she's not prepared for Christmas. She seemed a bit frazzled as she repeated that Christmas is only a week and a half away.  She's trying, but she just can't shop for Christmas unless she's wearing her heavy coat, snuggly scarf, warm gloves, and it's brrr cold outside.  That hasn't happened yet.  She's beginning to worry.

She's right.  It is hard to get in the Christmas mood when the air is balmy, the grass is green, the flowers are blooming and palm trees line the streets.  But it can be done.  It's just not the same.  But then again, it's not the same when the kids are grown.  It's not the same when Grandma's not there for dinner.  It's not the same when--dare I say--Santa doesn't slide down the chimney anymore.  But it's still Christmas and we must soldier on.

This year, we'll be staying home for Christmas.  We won't be joining the kids in Kansas or Missouri, or Minnesota, or Oklahoma, or New Jersey.  It won't be the same.  But, we've invited our neighbors to join us for the afternoon and it will be a good day.  We'll sip a little bubbly, eat a (we hope) great dinner, laugh, talk, and realize how lucky we are to have ended up in the same cul-de-sac.

Company and Christmas mean decorating, and so a few days ago BC took our tree from storage and placed it on our patio, as I pulled ornament boxes from the garage and began the long journey down memory lane.

When Michael was about two or three, Grandma bought an ornament for each of the four kids complete with their name engraved on each.  Apparently, we rubbed Mickie's little behind for good luck as it certainly outshines the rest of her "angelic" being.  Kristi did indeed love to rock and wore out more than one little rocking chair.  Michael's image is dead on as he loved his cowboy boots and quite often wore ONLY boots for days on end.  Thank God we lived on an isolated farm.  But...where is Denise?

Denise's little ornament has disappeared.  Gone?  Lost?  Certainly not in the ornament box.  Fortunately, we do have this little lovely that one of her elementary teachers made.  What a creative teacher!  This ornament definitely has staying power.

Now, this may not have BC's name engraved or painted on it, but it might as well have.  Trust me, this shouts BC.  This purple Kansas State Santa (note the PowerCat wreath) is BC to a T.  Did you know Kansas State will play Oregon at this year's Fiesta Bowl?  Did you know the Fiesta Bowl is only a hop, skip, and a K-State jump from our development?  Well it is, they will, and we hope it goes well!!

A few years ago my sister and her husband retired to Louisville, Kentucky, his home town.  They love it. My sister has found wonderful friends and her grandchildren are close by.  My brother in law has left his attorney life behind and now leads fantastic tours of Churchill Downs and "Old Friends", a thoroughbred rescue farm.  Their Christmas gifts are appropriately themed. 

In the course of my tree-trimming afternoon, I found ornaments sold by the Dodge City Junior and Senior High School Orchestra and Band in the early 1980s.  I found rough, flat wooden ornaments painted by pudgy five year old fingers.  Each year, those ornaments stick together as if the paint isn't dry yet.  I repeat scotch tape repairs of construction paper stars, clothespin reindeer and play dough trees.  And, I tear up every year.  Where are my babies?  All grown up and gone.  Snoopy here is a 1977 relic.   

A few years ago when we were in California, BC and Collin built a bird-house at a Lowe's workshop.  Collin's Mommy took a picture and sent it to us that Christmas.  It's hung on our tree ever since.

A few years ago at a Kappa Kappa Gamma reunion at Kansas State, we each received this Kappa key.  I've put it on the tree ever since, and each time I think of my Kappa sisters from the 1960s.  They're a remarkable group of women.  I know, because since 1967 we've shared an annual letter from each sister telling of our joys and sorrows.  We're growing old together, just as we raised our children together.  We watched our marriages flourish and sometimes fail. We celebrated our dream jobs, gave birth to our children and welcomed our grandchildren.  It's been a great ride and all the better for our connection through the journey.     

I'd like to think that this little bird has some symbolic value, but really, he doesn't at all.  I just liked him.  Early in BC's and my relationship, I bought this fellow, snuggled in his nest, because BC was a veterinarian and had a very soft spot in his heart for all creatures (OK, I'll say it) great and small, and I thought it appropriate.  Now, however, I find it kind of spooky that every year when I open that giant plastic ornament tub, he comes out looking like a million bucks and our traditional white bird and red bird look like death warmed over.  Some things we don't want to know.

A few years after she was married, Denise began doing counted cross-stitch...or maybe it was regular cross-stitch.  In any event, she was a whiz at it and among many other things, cross-stitched an ornament for everyone in the family.  Nearly all of them have survived.

This favorite dates from 1980.  The ornament pictures a Piper Tomahawk, a two-seat plane used most often as a trainer.  The little upper body you see in the window would be me.  It dates from the years when I was a flight instructor.  (Did I mention I've had a checkered career?)  A student painted this for me and I loved it.  Good, reliable November 9937 Tango.  It was a fun plane and a reliable plane that alternately reassured me and scared me to death.  It flew at incredibly low speeds, but wanted to spin in a stall.  I walked away from it in 1986, but that's another story for another time.         

I think it's time to move on.  Our tree is decorated, and at this moment its lights are, if not exactly blazing, at least on, providing a bit of brightness on a drizzly evening.  Our high today was in the 50s.  That's long undies weather for me.  I'm wearing my K-State/KKG sweatshirt and remembering all the years I've attached the same ornaments to different trees.  Live trees, cut trees, fat artificial trees, tall artificial trees, and now a sweet skinny artifical tree.  Christmas is Sacred.  Christmas is Happy.  Christmas is Comfort.  Christmas is Bittersweet. 

DAY SEVEN--CHARLOTTETOWN, PEI

Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, is perhaps best known as the setting for the Anne of Green Gables book series from long ago.  I remember reading, or trying to read, Anne of Green Gables, but just not getting into it.  In retrospect, I think it was because Anne was a little orphan who (by mistake) was sent to live with an elderly couple on a remote farm in Canada.  Now, how unnerving was that.  I was much more taken with Nancy Drew who, with her trusty friends and slick roadster, not to mention a great deal of unsupervised time, solved some pretty scary mysteries.  In all honesty, I don't even remember finishing Anne's story.  I was shallow even then. 

As BC and I studied the twelve excursions offered in Charlottetown by Holland America, we quickly passed up any that involved Anne of Green Gables shopping, the Anne of Green Gables homestead,the Anne of Green Gables Museum, or any Anne of Green Gables impersonators, and decided to explore Charlottetown on our own.  It's quite easy to do.

The ship docks right about here, Confederation Landing Park, and it's a beautiful jumping off point for the town itself.  We stopped at the Visitor Information Center, which was a bustling place, picked up our walking map, chose our route (The Heritage Walk) and headed up Great George Street... 

...where we very quickly came upon St. Dunstan's Basilica.  The church has been here, in one form or another, since 1721, but this impressive basilica was built in 1919, and praised as the "largest and most fire-resistant cathedral in the Maritimes."  I don't know about that, but it is a gorgeous building.  We need to tip-toe out now as we're disrupting Mass. 

I have surprised myself (and would have bowled over my mother) by this interest I have with visiting churches on our journeys.  I am indeed turning into my mother's daughter.  She lost more than one travel companion by insisting on visiting every church they might walk or drive by.   This dark, intimate space, attached to the larger St. Peter's Church is known as All Souls' Chapel.  Mass has been celebrated here daily since 1890.  It's nearly as faded as it looks in this poor photo, and covered in art work, stained glass and elaborately carved dark wood.  It feels very real and sincere.   

I think I mentioned early in this series that BC has a strong penchant for frugality.  I can admire that trait...to a point, but, whereas I'm wandering and planning a wonderful lunch in one of the many quaint restaurants high-lighted on our walking map, BC is suddenly drawn to the scent of charcoal at the local fire department.  Yes, they're holding a fund raiser to finance a remodel of an older section of their building.  Yes, sausage and/or hot dogs are being served.  Yes, the donation is three Canadian dollars per sausage or hot dog.  "YES," said BC, looking quite smug as he purchased our lunch.

 It's not his most flattering photo, but it does show what can bring happiness to a frugal person and, as so often happens when I'm with him, this unexpected stop turned into pure serendipity when a couple of a certain age asked if they could join us at our table.  She was a native of Charlottetown while he had moved here a few years ago when the two were married.  He loves Charlottetown and can't stop talking about it.  She smiles patiently, encourages his stories and occasionally corrects him with gentle kindness.  We enjoyed them tremendously and learned such interesting things about this historic port.  I will always think of them when I remember Charlottetown.

 

I did enjoy Charlottetown and wanted to linger at each point on our map, but we were barely halfway through the Historic Walk, and our afternoon was ticking away.

This lovely home is Beaconsfield, and is not dissimilar from many of the homes we've walked past.  Sadly, it's not for sale, but we did find a beauty a block or so away on the market for a mere one million Canadian dollars.  It had eight bedrooms.  We could open a bed and breakfast.  We could offer gourmet dinners (prepared and served by students from the Culinary Institute located conveniently across the street).  We would live happily ever after.  We were briefly insane.

 The tide is out but, even so, living on the water would be lovely.   

It's just about time to return to the Eurodam.  We're enjoying a little snack of Canadian Fries in a pub recently visited by Wills and Kate on their Canadian tour.  Perhaps we sat at the same table they did during their few minutes here.  I hope they had time to enjoy this view as much as we did.  Considering how slim and trim Kate is, I do know she wasn't filling her face with the Canadian version of French fries like we were.  

 I'm actually hating to leave.  We need to come back here, BC, rent a car and drive over all the island.  You know you're just the guy I'd like to do that with.

  I would love to know how to do this.  I suppose there are directions somewhere on the internet, but my plate is rather full at the moment.  I think I'll just enjoy the little animals our sweet Cabin Steward creates and not worry about it.