The Dolphin in General

My folks took me out to lunch for my birthday. Well after rescheduling a couple of times we finally went out.

I got off work and went about Tuesday chores before taking a shower to wash off 9 hours of sweat and headed for Kilroy’s to get my hairs cut.

Sporting a clean, close cropped ‘doo I put on a white linen beach shirt, khaki shorts and my old reliable, yet barely wore Teva’s – the last vestiges of my San Diego life.

Right on time, Dad pulled into the driveway and honked the horn. I waved out the front door, closed and locked the front door then went out through the garage. Entered the code to close the garage door to close and jumped in the back seat.

We chatted our way down into Harpswell, which I will always think of as one of my “home towns.” When you are a military kid, you have a lot of home towns.

I’ve never really figured out if that is a good thing or not. I suppose learning that nothing is permanent steels you to the fact that nothing is permanent.

I can’t help wonder if I didn’t miss out on at least the illusion of permanence that some people get when they grow up in the same town their parents, grandparents and great-grandparents spent their days.

I spent a lot of time in Harpswell as a toddler, then as a pre-teen, then again as an older teenager.

My family had a lot of property that is no longer in the family. In Maine, most locals have “camps.” A lot are up country. Ours were in Harpswell, right on Harpswell Sound, right on
Casco bay, right on the Atlantic Ocean.

It remains a point of anger, simmering, how we lost that property.

My mother is especially bitter – she grew up summer after summer on that sixty or so acres right on the ocean. But she jokes about it now. But even in her jokes I can hear a subtext.

When I was midst divorce with X2 I moved home and lived a month or so with my parents.

Me, a special needs daughter and two cats.

NOT RECOMMENDED.

I found a house way down on Harpswell Neck. A reverse saltbox, not that different from my Grandmother’s house in Brunswick.

On OD I referred to it as “The End of the Universe.” Through the summer, fall and brutal winter that started in 2006. That winter was my reintroduction to the northeast. I managed to keep the lights on even when we didn’t have power. And I had an internet connection that always worked even when we were on the generator, so I wasn’t cut off completely.

I wrote a lot back then and to a degree I am embarrassed by how poorly I handled getting dumped, then finding out my wife had been fucking around on me.

In hindsight, I should have grunted and walked away. Instead, I seethed for far too long.

The restaurant we went to for lunch today was “The Dolphin.” It was a favorite of my grandmother’s, back when it was in the much smaller building that is now “Erica’s.” It is maybe two miles from the house I started renting in 2006.

The current Dolphin is a monstrous tourist venue. I have now doubt in good weather they could seat five hundred people.

Today was glorious, and we were seated outside but under a deck. There was a nice 80F breeze blowing in off the ocean. I was struck by the beauty of the area.

After I woke up from a long nap I found myself pondering why I didn’t take pictures. Then thought I should go down and take pictures tomorrow only to find out it will be raining a little mini-nor-easter tomorrow.

Well, Summer isn’t over yet. Who knows, with my good camera I might even get some shots I could sell. Or at least get on some calendars and in some magazines.