Delights: October 4 to October 10

October 4: One of the joys of blogging, and there are many, is meeting people from all over the world. Of course, we know each other only virtually, but we feel we know each other well —-through the stories we tell, the photos we post, the adventures (and misadventures) we recount, and the sadnesses and the joys we confess. We talk to each other through our comments on each other’s blogs; we console; we celebrate; and we’re there for each other.

I met my blogging friend Laurie Graves nearly five years ago, via her love-infused blog Notes from the Hinterland, where readers explore the beautiful Maine woods, lakes and gardens through the eyes and soul of a movie-passionate, outdoor-loving, book enthusiast and author. Today Kevin and I met Laurie and her husband Clif “in real life.” In Brunswick, Maine, over sandwiches and cookies, we talked and laughed for three hours and could have kept going. Side by side at the table, we anchored our on-line friendship with something a bit more vulnerable, thanks to the gifts flowing from our embodied selves — and the kiss we left on each other’s cheek.

Bonus: Coincidentally (or not), I had already decided to bring home from the bakery a loaf of something golden and yummy. Its name: “Merrymeeting Bread.”

Double Bonus: Read Laurie’s wonderful account of our lunch in Birds of a Feather. There’s lots of Electric Vehicle talk too!

October 5: Tonight, Kevin and I join dear friends in the celebration of a family wedding. (Dancing might be involved.) This afternoon, we walked through the sun-bright campus of Bowdoin College to its Peary-MacMillan Arctic Museum. Crafted in part around the early 20^th century Arctic expeditions of Robert E. Peary and Donald MacMillan (both Bowdoin alumni), the museum presents life in the Arctic through art, artifact and film. (Oh, and cool taxidermy of arctic animals.) 

I enjoyed studying the century-old outer garments sewn from caribou, polar bear and seal, accompanied by the tools Inuit women employed to make them. I learned that, for thread, the Inuit used sinew, which swells when wet to make a tight seal, and that a caribou anorak was so toasty that it was worn only at night. I also appreciated the reverence infusing the Inuits’ subsistence hunting.

Best of all, though, were the movies made by MacMillan of Inuit life. In flickering black-and-white images, we watched Peary’s fellow explorer Matthew Henson lash sinew through the planks of a sledge and saw a charming photo of a naked child taking a sun bath in the grasses. We watched a woman harnessing her frolicking dogs to a sled, a “snow train” of smiling adults and children waving from sledges drawn by a ski-fitted Model T Ford, and — best of all — two little girls trying to take photographs of each other using a large camera resting on an “automotive fuel” box. 

And throughout, the museum presented paintings and sculpture by contemporary Inuit artists that told stories, depicted history and celebrated myth. I can’t remember the last time I’ve learned so much in such a compact space.

October 6: Yesterday, the sun shone continuously for the first time all week, shouldering aside threats of rain: A beautiful day for a wedding. With smiles matching the sun, the bride glided through a lovely Maine garden on the arm of my dear friend Kathy. The bride and groom exchanged vows doubling as love letters, along with several vow-sealing kisses. Under the dinner canopy, long tables held candles in hurricane glass, tall and sleek like the bride, and small vases erupting in flowers. 

Kathy delivered a buoyant, loving welcome toast; we dined on delicious scallops and lobster rolls (of course); and then we danced. Delighted young people flooded the dance floor to celebrate their friends’ union. Delighted older folks joined them. No swing dancing for Kevin and me, yet this seemed apt. According to author Steve Fry, “In the Hebrew, [joy] literally means ‘to become excited to the point of dancing in a whirlwind.’” Or, as paraphrased by Dr. Barbara Holmes in her daily meditation, joy is “dancing with such abandon that only a whirlwind can describe it.”

So Kevin and I gladly stepped into the whirlwind of joy. Congratulations, Cammie and Matt!

October 7: I did the math: the Smithsonian American Art Museum docent training starts in nine days, and I had heard nothing for nearly two weeks. To me, that means SAAM has extended its offers to the lucky applicants and needs only to send polite “regrets” to the rest of us.

I had nervously (and, eventually, frantically) checked my email at two hour intervals since about September 25. This morning, I surrendered to the bright side: a rejection would actually be a good thing! Shouldn’t I really be working on my other fantastic retirement projects? Yes, yes, yes.

This afternoon I got the email: would I like to join the 2025 SAAM Docent Corps? Yes, yes, OH YES!

October 8: “SAAM docent-in-training.” I love the way that sounds. 

Yesterday, I was numb. (I certainly read the invitation multiple times to be sure I wasn’t deluding myself.) Today, I am euphoric — a euphoria amplified over lunch today with my dear friend Aileen. In the glow of Aileen’s generous listening, I talked about the application process, the interview questions, the training process, the stunning scarcity of docent positions in Washington, D.C., and even my preliminary thoughts about docent technique and museum expectations. (Ahem.) 

In short, I proved author Brené Brown’s point. In my September 25 entry, I said how, inspired by Brown’s book “The Gifts of Imperfection,” I had decided broadcast my docent dream instead of keeping it (characteristically) locked inside. As Brown would say, I had unleashed my “goofy, passionate enthusiasm” for this docent possibility, and in so doing I had unleashed my true self.

I also see that my conversation with Aileen has transformed a moment’s euphoria into something more sustainable: joy. I have become excited to the point of dancing in a whirlwind. With my friends (and you), I now have an outlet for that joy. That means I will be able to approach my training with seriousness of purpose, curiosity, intelligence, humility, and commitment to service. And, because I will bring my authentic self to my tours, I’ll be able to allow a little joy to seep in too.

Bonus: When I double-checked the title of Brown’s book, I noticed the subtitle: “Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are: A Guide to a Wholehearted Life.”Amen.

October 9: Kevin and I are home at last from our epic Maine adventure. On our final day at Acadia National Park, before the wedding, Kevin and I rose early and enjoyed a light breakfast on the sunny covered porch of the Seawall Motel. All was still on the “Quiet Side” of Acadia National Park as we watched the Gulf of Maine lightly splash the stony beach. Luckily for us, the waters remained temperate (in disposition if not temperature) throughout the morning: Kevin and I were about to embark on a three-hour National Park Service boat tour of Acadia’s coastal waterways.

From the boat, we saw harbor seals sunning themselves and a charming, if squat, 19^th century lighthouse boosted high by its rocky perch. We saw loons, a cormorant (if not a “gulp” of them) and — maybe — a harbor porpoise. We saw the bells of navigation buoys, which have clappers on four sides to amplify their gonging in choppy water. (We were grateful for their silence.) For forty-five minutes, we explored the three streets and the excellent three-room museum of Little Cranberry Island, from which 20 youngsters commute by boat to school, even in wintry tumult. We also passed Flying Mountain, where Kevin had hiked (and I had lounged) the previous day, and we admired the many colorful buoys — like sprinkles on a cupcake — that marked thousands of lobster traps.  

We also did our part for the local economy by eating anything lobster: a warm lobster roll with melted butter, lobster macaroni and cheese, and lobster melts. Next time we are in Maine, we can even try lobster ramen.

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If you’d like to browse my past delights, please consult the “word cloud” featured at the very bottom of this post. Find a theme or two that interests you and sift through the sands. Or learn a bit more about my Blog by visiting my Welcome page. You’ll also see links to four essays that were published in print magazines. I’m glad you’re here!