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Monday, July 23, 2018
Thursday, July 12, 2018 8:52 AM
This time of year I wake in the dark, force my feet to the floor in the dark, and start my job in the dark. I keep what you might call lobsterman’s hours, depending upon the lobsterman. I run a little seasonal bakery, and through July and . . .
  • We sit around the woman in the bed, sometimes in turns, sometimes together. We sit sideways in the standard-issue health-care-facility recliner, which is slippery and awkward. We sit in chairs swiped from the activity room next door . . .
  • happy lowercase 75th birthday to nikki giovanni. i will have to fight the word-processing program in this computer, as of course it “thinks” i have made accidental errors as i neglect to capitalize. i do know the difference. . . .
  • Over the past few months I have been studying my circuit diagrams and electronics terminology for a little course of study I have foolishly undertaken here at home because I haven’t got enough to do writing newspaper columns . . .
  • When I was a child, I remember watching my mom glaze windows. The DAP putty she squished and rolled between her hands looked like modeling clay, and I thought it looked like fun to mess with, but I was not allowed to touch . . .
  • I have written a handful of trashy articles and columns recently in my various local papers — or, at least, pieces about trash and recycling and marine debris and all that. It is safe to assume the reading public around here could stand . . .
  • Next week I will be standing up in front of a roomful of nerdy but relentless recycling activists, old-time transfer station operators who have seen everything, garbage chemists, statistics geeks, terrifyingly gung-ho volunteers . . .
  • More dangerous than a rabid raccoon with a bump stock, less reliable than a third-generation dictator with a 10th-grade education, and worse for the health of the general public than pink-slime burgers topped with hydrogenated . . .
  • The teachers asked me to come to school and do a little bit of informal first aid instruction for the kids. The students in our island school this year aren’t all that old, and they aren’t working as babysitters so they don’t need CPR cards . . .
  • That’s an old line. It applies in so many cases. On the beach, as we strolled admiring the scenery, we also filled a couple of bags with trash from around the high-tide line. I was basically digging through the winter’s worth . . .
  • On Saturday mornings a couple of us garbage volunteers trudge down to the recycling facility to help our neighbors sort their rubbish. This time of year there is a cluster of regulars, with their returnable bottles and their truckloads of cardboard . . .
  • A few days ago, if you happen to remember these things, it was cold. Hard to say what the weather might be like as you read these words, as we’ve definitely been seeing the boingy-boingy sort of coastal winter where a forty-degree . . .
  • As I work diligently pecking away on my laptop, writing newspaper columns in which I try to avoid presenting incriminating evidence, and answering questions about the ferry and the airplane and the one-room school for people in . . .
  • I was thinking about resolving to be more efficient and productive this year. There certainly are enough bits of fluffy advice online toward that end. All those highly structured individuals whose feet hit the floor each morning, and they . . .
  • Our new winter neighbors, who have been coming for decades and who now teach in our island school, own a pig. Now, I have island pork in my freezer, but this particular pig is not livestock. She is Penny and, sometime soon . . .
  • The weeks before Christmas around here seem primarily a celebration of crossing things off lists. There are responsibilities, and duties, and things that are great fun but still come with a deadline. Packages of goodies baked, assembled . . .
  • Allow me to begin with a small advertisement for a local event. On Saturday afternoon, December 16, in the Fog Bar on Main Street in Rockland, they will be performing Handel’s “Messiah,” just as we did in Portland at the bar . . .
  • We have a couple of new neighbors this winter. Now, before you read more, remember that a couple of new neighbors might increase the mid-winter population of this city by roughly 5 percent. That probably will not result immediately . . .
  • Our daughter the Registered Maine Guide teaches outdoor fun to little kids, much in defiance of the notion that children should be protected from every scratch and scrape and are better off safely cramming for their exams. In addition to . . .
  • I’ve written before about how we run elections on Matinicus Island, but this year it seems especially meaningful to ruminate on democracy in action in the smallest little-town sense. Perhaps it’s a bad case of rose-colored glasses . . .
  • I am going to make fun and be serious at the same time here, and it will fall to you to sort out which is which. In the past, I have told curious strangers, tourists, and chatty folks on line at the hardware store that they should not believe . . .
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