Swiss Family Grass

Andy and I arrived back onto American soil to a rather bittersweet homecoming. For the two of us, closing the door on the Canadian portion of our trip came too soon. I had fallen in love with Newfoundland and Andy was drawn to the shores of Cape Breton. We took the high speed catamaran from Nova Scotia to Bar Harbor, Maine and the short travel time afforded us some prime whale watching. I saw a total of three whales off the starboard side of the vessel and couldn’t help but be drawn to the sea looking for more of the majestic whales that swim along the cape.

When we reached land…well, that’s a different story. For those that have been keeping up with my logs, it will come as no surprise that we were stopped at customs. However, this particular border crossing led to our being detained for longer than past crossings. We were first questioned by a portly old man who seemed to ooze Maine friendliness. After he told us they needed to question us further, the Department of Homeland Security brought out the ‘big guns’. The younger, slicker, and much more intimidating agent that handled us from that point on informed us that our vehicle had been ‘flagged’. We were asked many questions pertaining to our travels and were required to submit multiple forms of identification and vehicle registration paperwork. The agent questioned us three separate times and during his final round of questions said that he did not know why we were in the system. He made copies of all of our paperwork and after forty-five minutes, sent us on our way.

A quick drive through Bar Harbor was all we needed to see that the tourist destination was not for us, and we rapidly made our way to the interstate bound for Portland. By nightfall we arrived in Portland and checked into a large camping resort in Scarborough. Nicole picked us up at the campground and we went to a Portland eatery for a late dinner.

The following day Nicole took us around town to run the many errands we had to complete before we leave for Europe. One of the less glamorous parts of ‘on the go’ travel is the constant replenishing of supplies and restocking of the RV. Pit stops in larger towns makes the chores easier, but spending a whole day running around driving errands can become quite tedious.

After we circled Portland and South Portland at least twice purchasing goods for the trip (dog food, a pet carrier, and various other sundries), it seemed that the day had disappeared into night. All of the running around wore us out, and we elected to get take-out Thai for dinner. We took the food back to Nicole’s charming apartment and Andy and Nicole watched the Notre Dame game while I checked online for a pair of shoes that I had no luck finding during the days shopping. Next time I looked at the clock it was approaching midnight, Andy was dozing in a chair in front of the television, and Nicole’s eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. We left for the campground and agreed to pick Nicole up the following day for a tour of Cape Elizabeth.

The next two days brought sightseeing stops that made Maine appear the ideal place to live. The small town feel, coupled with the beautiful weather, bustling port, and good food left us feeling right at home. But a comment from Nicole brought me right back to reality. As we looked out at the Atlantic from Cape Elizabeth, Nicole expressed a feeling of impending change. It seems she is relishing these last days of summer leading to fall, for the winters of Maine are harsh. For a moment I had forgotten about the deep snow and temperatures hovering near zero. Right here, right now, Maine seems an idyllic place. A first time visitor would never expect that ‘old man winter’ is right around the corner.

Visits to the Portland Head Light (a fancy way of saying lighthouse) and the famous Lobster Shack completed the New England ‘feel’, and I felt happy for my sister that she has chosen this little piece of east coast land for her home. She seems happy and content here, and the walks around town and fresh air seem to have brought with them a contentness in Nicole I hadn’t seen in years.

For the Labor Day weekend holiday we visited Nicole’s friend Michael for a barbecue at his 18th century home on thirty two unspoiled acres of Maine farmland. He has been working tirelessly for the past ten years to restore two homes built on the property, and his dedication to the restoration process and his attention to detail is evident. He knows the history of the house, and every turn of a corner brings with it a story. We were appreciative of his hospitality and our short time with him passed as it would with a life long friend.

Two of Michael’s friends joined us for dinner. Don and his partner Mike live on a farm in Standish about ten miles from Michael and have been of great support to Michael with the learning curve associated with restoring an old house and taking care of a large piece of land. They run a true ‘small family’ farm, complete with animals, groves of fruit bearing trees, and rows of fresh vegetables. I picked their brains all night with questions about farm life. I left there more knowledgeable about living on a farm than I had been before we met, but still know nothing of the trade. On the ride home I found myself thinking of more questions to ask should our paths cross again. I can say without hesitation that meeting these three men was by far one of the most interesting experiences of the trip.

After Labor Day, Nicole returned to her job with the court, and Andy and I took a day trip to two of the places I had been looking forward to visiting for years. First we visited Old Orchard Beach, the summer playground of Bubbie’s family. When we crossed the Old Orchard Beach town limit I called Bubbie for the address of the house her father built in the popular beach resort town. When she answered the telephone and I told her where we were, she said, “Oh for heaven’ sake!” She gave us the name of the street and then said, “I’m so excited.” And I was excited too. We found Seabreeze and walked down the center of the street as Bubbie’s voice guided me toward and then away from house after house. Bubbie stated that her father had built two homes, identical in façade and both having screened in porches. Even with her perfect descriptions, I still couldn’t find the houses. Finally, an older couple appeared on a balcony above the street and I asked them if they knew where the houses might be. When they asked if the family homes I was looking for had belonged to a family from Auburn I said yes, and moments later I was pointed in the direction of two homes at the corner of SeaBreeze and Puffin Streets. You see, when Bubbie was a young girl Puffin Street didn’t exist and the homes didn’t have numbers. So, by today’s mapping, the summer homes of the Meltzer’s exist facing Puffin Street.

The houses are a stones throw from the beach, and I can understand why Bubbie loved this place. Andy and I walked across the street and within 10 yards we were at the beach. The path from the alleyway to the beach looked like it had always been there, beckoning adults and children alike to the sun and surf of Old Orchard. I wondered if this was the path that Bubbie took, and somehow I just knew it was.

It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and the beach extended for what seemed like miles. Few people were on the beach, as the summer crowd was now gone, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of Bubbie’s visits to Stinson Beach. All my life I have been drawn to the ocean, and I have shared many memories with my family at the beach. For the past few years Bubbie has joined my father and the rest of our family at Stinson Beach for a week or so each summer. Recalling those few days during the year when I can stroll with my father and grandmother along the white sandy shores of Stinson always bring a smile to my face. We are a beach loving family, and many special memories have been made along the coast, whether east or west.

To continue my stroll down the memory lane of my family, Andy and I drove to Auburn to see Bubbie’s favorite house. When we reached Dawes Avneue, no house number was needed. I spotted the house instantly. A gardner across the street mowing the lawn of the neighbors house noticed that I was looking at the house and asked if I needed any help. I responded that I was here to see the house where my father grew up, my grandmother’s house. He smiled and in true Maine fashion said, “That’s a lovely house.” He was right, it is a lovely house.

Another call to Bubbie to inform her of our progress brought stories of life in the house and city of Auburn from many years ago. She spoke of neighbors she remembered and where she worked. After Bubbie told me how close the high school where she worked was, I decided to stop by for a visit.

Edward Little High School is a short drive from Bubbie’s old house. Students were racing all around, and the school was alive with learning. I stopped at the office to see if the school had kept any archives from past years. The school secretary went to the school vault and emerged with arms full of yearbooks. Instantly I found a Smalley, though not the Smalley I was looking for. I found my father’s senior picture with a caption that caused an instant smile to come across my face.

After leafing through another six or seven yearbooks I found what I had come for, a picture of Bubbie.

As usual, her radiant smile filled the photo. A sense of family pride brewed within me, and I was glad we had taken this drive along memory lane.

With the afternoon nearly gone, we headed back to meet Nicole at her office. We went for an early dinner down by the wharf. J’s Oyster filled our ‘catch of the day’ needs, and we headed back to the campground to rest up for the long drive to New Jersey the next day. We will drop off our van at the shipping company on Thursday, and head to Cape Cod for a few days of rest and relaxation.