A Living Magazine - Grounded in Maine - Prologue 4 - Visiting Yarmouth Saturday

This may be rather brief as I had run out of money--having only twelve cents left to my name when I woke up on Saturday morning. Recall that my tablet battery was also dead. I pretty much wandered around town aimlessly for the whole day. Smelling the food was the hardest part, but something I have been used to for years now (being hungry in the land of lime rickies and clam cakes this time).

I was thirsty though and headed up to the Pat's Pizza area where I found a little cafe I'd never seen before and asked for an ice water, which they happily gave me.

Just by accident I ran into my sister Deb and her kids near the children's section behind the library. That was cool! She had just returned from visiting my mom in Germany, so it was great to see her after two weeks.

There was still another reunion to check into later that day. I thought it was from 6:00 to 9:00 pm, but was actually from 3:00 to 6:00 pm. When 6:00 pm rolled around I put a clean shirt on and made my way to the Royal River Grill House, finding my buddy, Debra there along with several other friends who welcomed me warmly.

The organizer, Donny bought me a beer, and then Debra who had become quite a benefactor to me in the last couple days, bought three delicious dishes which she asked me to share with her. I was blessed to have such great companionship. No one made me feel like I was being pitied. They just shared with me and we all had a really great time. I'd wanted to get pictures of this event, but was unable due to the aforementioned battery issues.

Deb (my sister) had messaged that my old cat Buddy (whom we were both looking after now) was nearing the end of his abilities. He could not eat or drink anymore, because he was disabled my mouth cancer. This meant he couldn't clean himself either. I wanted to get back down to South Portland as soon as I could so that we could make the arrangements to have him put to sleep. That meant leaving on this night and walking the 13.5 miles (4.5 hours) from Yarmouth, through Cumberland, Falmouth, Portland and into South Portland, by a reasonable time.

I bid farewell to the reunion at 9:30 pm and began my night's hike. Walking at night is so much easier and more comfortable than during the day. And, the route (mostly Route 1) was a joy compared to other parts of the country. It has a very wide paved shoulder, plenty of lights, and rather sparse traffic for the time of night I'd be traveling.

It went very smoothly. I did much thinking as you might imagine while I made my way south through each of these towns. It was about midnight when I walked over the Presumpscot River and into the East Deering section of Portland. Strangely, all along the bridge across that river, silent fisherman sat in the shadows, with their tackle and other gear. The veiled moonlight cast odd shadows as they milled about, trying to get their lines into the right spot to catch something. This is a sight I would have never seen or even imagined if I hadn't been walking that night. I had no idea that folks did this. A few of these guys watched me pass by and said hi in a barely audible way.

Downtown Portland was hopping when I stepped off of Congress Street and headed toward the Old Port. It was a scene I hadn't been witness to for a very long time. Mostly college age people jammed Middle Street. They hooted and hollered, stumbling around. Someone had apparently put out the word that it was "little black dress night." Every party of three or more people was flanked by drunk girls in short black dresses. The conformity mixed with the chaos was really quite ironic and I found it humorous.

Music pounded out from several pubs and bars. It was right at closing time and the police had blocked off some of the streets to avoid human-car collisions. I really mean no disrespect and am trying to simply state what was obvious when I say that they really seemed like kids...children. As if children had been given the okay to drink, swear, and have sex. They only looked like adults (barely). And, yes, I am fully cognizant about just how old that statement makes me sound. I want to say that Generation X was much more debonair, mature and worldly, but God knows it probably isn't true.

The walk across the Casco Bay Bridge was silent and gusts of warm wind blasted me, sent from the sea into the sky. Compared to Portland, South Portland was dead quiet, as if in a state of suspended animation. Even the buzzing street lights and rustling tree branches, reflecting their orange-green light in between the shadows of the sidewalk, were as if painted up my route. It was like walking through a 3-D painting.

Deb had left the light on for me, and after I'd gotten into the kitchen, gathering ice and water to quench what was by then a raging thirst, I heard the click, click, click of Buddy's three-legged steps across the kitchen floor to greet me.

His tail was held up and he purred with that loud vibratory enthusiasm I had known for the last fourteen years. His story more properly belongs to the next Prologue, if not a separate supplemental post, as it is a highly fascinating one. Animal lovers will enjoy reading it almost as much as I will enjoy writing it. For now, let me just say that he is the most unique animal I have ever known. And, I don't think that is just a father's exaggeration. You will see.

I did my best to encourage him to eat a bit of food. This had been a huge challenge lately. Even more pathetic was watching him try to drink without the use of his tongue, biting at the water just to get it into his mouth.

He joined me in the guest room and we both fell asleep at about the same time.