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National Maritime Day - May 22, 2020
Just a few weeks ago, I was talking about bloodroot, Dutchman's breeches, and trout lily. Those early ephemeral spring flowers are gone as I write this in mid-May. They come and go as things warm up and as the days become longer.
The sound and force of the torpedo exploding sent everyone flying. My father had succotash all over the front of his shirt. Little things like that tend to stick with you.
New England spring is not extravagant. Miss something today, and it'll be a year before you see it again. Don't waste time; Spring is fast.
During the summer, give me a lobster roll from any of the local places serving them up. There's an incredible Haddock stew at Gilbert's on Commercial Street in Portland. I've probably never met a finnan haddie I hadn't liked, and the sweet Gulf of Maine shrimp are far better than the southern cousins. In short, despite a medically determined avoidance of bivalves, I am a big fan of coastal cuisine.
We so often admire the complex and then seek out and appreciate the simple
I have no trouble differentiating fact from delusion. But one gentleman I worked with did. Working with him, I came to realize that we may not always share a standardized view of reality.
All was well; it was spring in New England. Patience, abetted by some mumbling and stumbling, helped you get through.
Sailor's - being superior sorts- were well in advance of the modern world when it came to reducing, reusing, and recycling. They made new from old.
As an adult, some of my "research" grew bolder. Friends in Boston took me out for seafood and drinks the night before I shipped out for the first time. The ship sailed directly into heavy weather, and I spent the midwatch worshipping the throne. I deny that I was seasick. It had been the clams.
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