Maine and Back

We've been visiting family in Maine. Everybody's good, thanks.

We did what we usually do in the pine tree state.  We walked the beaches. We ate lobster rolls. We picked up a few round stones. And we rode our bicycle up and down the coast, exploring inlets and capes in the sea breeze.

There's a lot to see in Maine, and from a bicycle is a good way to see it. We gawked left and right so much our neck really hurts.

Late May is a fine time in York County: The air is warm, and the tourists and the mosquitoes have yet to swarm.

We're not sure if the Bushes are here yet for the summer, but already a few visitors gather along the road near the commemorative anchor and look across the water to Walker Point, hoping for a glimpse of American royalty, some waving beside their Jaguars at the slightest sign of activity.

We have always felt at home among New Englanders, smart, sensible, casual people. We notice the change in humanity when we switch planes in New York, walking past the urban pleasures to the gate where folks are gathering for the trip north.

Returning, we are struck by our own perspective, welcomed by the totems to our own great regional events.

Is this a great country, or what?

copyright 2010 J. O'Brien