M_se_ms: all that's missing is u!

Years ago, a highlight of our family's trip to Chattanooga, Tennessee was a visit to the International Towing Museum. (I remember taking Eli to visit Boston from Durham when he was about five years old, and his climbing on a parking meter and asking what it was, so I felt the need to refresh the boys on the twin concepts of parking meters and towing). I don't remember much about the museum other that it was in a couple of stuffy, dim rooms, and that they sold little signs that said, "Any child left unattended will be towed away at the expense of their parents." But I was proud of having gone to the place.

Here in Maine (or at least on MDI), in addition to pine trees, lobsters, and fog, there are enormous quantities of museums. It's clear to me that many people get to the end of their lives on MDI and don't know what to do with all that junk in their attic, so they simply form a museum around it. This leads to a large number of tiny museums staffed by volunteers, focused on tiny, obscure niches.

At one corner of our street there is a museum dedicated just to the carving of wooden birds. At first I thought we could go there to pick up some tips on how best to prepare the Thanksgiving turkey, but it soon became clear that they only worked with chisels and small carving tools, and their birds are even tougher and more tasteless than some I've made.

At the other end of our street there used to be an Oceanarium--the signs still point that way--but it is closed. Alas, if one wants to visit the Oceanarium, one must go all the way to "the head of the island," where it is now all located in Bar Harbor: the oceanarium, the lobster hatchery, and the marshwalk. That makes sense, to put it all in one place.

But not the Abbe Museum of Native Americans. In 1928 they started with a small site outside of Bar Harbor. In addition, they also have a site right in the center of Bar Harbor. I couldn't decide which to go to, so I asked the man at the information center. He looked aghast, and slowly explained to me (although it should be obvious), "It's because they started it at the original site, but then they outgrew it." Duh.

Or, perhaps I want to go see the "beautiful and romantic" exhibits of old cars at the Seal Cove Auto Museum. Beautiful, maybe to some. But romantic? Do they rent out the back seats or something?

If you don't see enough of the whales on one of the whale watches that run daily, you can get the inside story by examining their bones at the Bar Harbor Whale Museum. Or for more (ship models and old photographs), head for the Great Harbor Maritime Museum.

Each time we whip through the tiny town of Somesville at 25 mph, we can't help but see (even through the hordes of tourists photographing the flowers, the rocks, and of course the museum) the euponimous Somesville Museum. It's a tiny building by the side of the road, with a lovely arched bridge over a little pond next to it. It is apparently the most photographed spot on the island, although no one has a clue what--if anything--is inside of the museum. (When I lived in Rockport, MA, there was "Motif #1" (regularly referred to as "Motive #1), a weathered red lobster house that apparently was the most-frequently-painted scene on Cape Ann). Who tracks the statistics for these claims? And does it matter if the photos or paintings of these icons are terrible, or even unrecognizeable?

There's a museum in Northeast Harbor whose brochure is entirely in French, called "Petite Plaisance." It appears to be the entirety of a woman's house--she not only didn't know what to do with the junk in her attic, but everything throughout her house. Although the brochure describes in great detail the hours that it is open, how to get there from every conceivable place on earth, and even the location of this woman's grave in a Somesville cemetery (and it all sounds great in French!), no where is there any explanation of who this woman (Marguerite Yourcenar) was, or what is in the house she occupied for 37 years that might interest anyone other than her immediate relatives and heirs.

On top of these specialty museums, there are the usual natural history and historical society museums and historical sites scattered around the island. I've been to the beautiful red brick Bar Harbor Historical Society building several times, but it's always been shut. Apparently once a woman who docked in Bar Harbor on a cruise ship once ran over to the Historical Society to bring them the important papers of some important family from Bar Harbor. Her relatives had worked for the family, who had no children, so they had never dispersed the belongings. The woman must have had to put this material through the mail slot, since it apparently is never open. It relies entirely on volunteers. I've also been to the Carroll Homestead a few times, and it is closed and boarded up. (However, there are some spectacular spider webs on the path to it). Yesterday, a few hours after the most recent time I went, there was a hand-written sign on the road saying that the house was open from 11-3. I read it at 3:10, as I was on my way to pick up Avi.

I've made a few forays to the Sound School Museum, built in 1892 (could this be an old school for the deaf? or maybe for the non-deaf?), with no one ever home, even during the times they claim there is a special exhibit. Well, I'm sure the special exhibit is there. I had the ridiculous expectation that the building would be open so people could see that special exhibit.

Because there are so few museums on the island, they also provide boats to take you to other smaller islands to see museums there. The promo for the Islesford Historical Museum on Little Cranberry Island (although it goes under the alias of Islesford Island) actually shows a ranger giving a talk in the museum, with the majority of his audience standing there yawning, with many asleep on their feet. I can't wait to go on that tour.

To perk things up a bit, they also offer boat tours (can this be considered a floating museum?) of various aspects of nature (birds, whales, puffins, seals, lighthouses, and houses of the rich and famous). They do include Martha Stewart's house (I hear she calls it "The Big House"), but sadly, not Casper Weinberger's.

Well, tomorrow is another day, and I look forward to exploring a few more closed museums, right after stocking up on local produce at the Farmer's Market I forgot to go to last week.

And after that, I'll be spending Friday through Sunday trying to stalk the visiting Obamas......

A presidential visit and steel drums in the street

I just read in the Bar Harbor Times that the Obamas are coming here to Mt. Desert Island this weekend, from Friday through Sunday. The two small articles (at least in the online version) ran right under a story about a coast guard officer taking a new post (and now, by evening, they are totally buried under a hot story about a food market asking the community what it wants them to sell, a former principal getting an award, a local museum getting a grant, and a fire at a restaurant (and the picture to go with the Obama story was one from his inauguration, feature Justice Robert's bald head in the foreground). The local congresswoman was quoted saying something to the effect that we're flattered that the President and his family will get to enjoy our beautiful water and mountains and forests, because we know that they could vacation anywhere in the country. This sounded either like the statement that the pilot makes right before you get off the plane ("Thank you for choosing our airline; we know you have many choices out there") or like a teeth-gritted, less-than-thrilled canned comment.

But there certainly are a lot of Obama stickers on cars around here (maybe all tourists?). And I'm excited about it. I'm worried that they can never get a real private vacation, with all the people ogling (as I certainly intend to do, if given the chance!), and the Secret Service surrounding them. I suspect they'll stay in Northeast Harbor, but I'd really like to show them (or at least the girls!) our two favorite ice cream places on the island--one in Bar Harbor and one in Southwest Harbor. And take them for a walk to our local lobster pound!

Tonight Avi got a hankering for some ice cream (we'd been at least a good 48 hours without any!), so we stepped out into the cool night air to walk downtown for some. We'd been hearing faint music all evening through our open windows. Avi thought it was classical; I'd thought it was swing. As we approached downtown, we realized that it was a steel drum band, Flash in the Pans, that was playing at a dance as part of Southwest Harbor's week-long Flamingo Festival (don't ask me!). We got our ice cream and walked over there, with Avi threatening me with all sorts of awful things if I even thought of dancing. Of course, it's impossible NOT to dance to steel drum music! They call them "pans" here. Apparently this is a community pan band that has been playing for almost 20 years. I couldn't even get close enough to see how many of them there were, or what they were playing. But I did manage to get close enough to buy a CD. I asked which would be the recommended CD to keep me alert on a long drive, and without hesitation he pointed to their 10th anniversary CD, with lots of swing tunes on it. Looks like there are about 20-30 people in the band. Amazing. They play every week in the area, doing benefits for various good causes.

Here we are, in remote Maine, getting away from it all. I can't even remember the last time the president and a steel drum band visited Durham!

Pink elephants? No, they're flamingos!

Saturday morning, David and I got up early to get David to his plane in Bangor (an hour away). Once Avi learned that the Appalachian Trail was too far away from Bangor for him to "finish hiking it at Mt. Kathadin," he lost interest in the trip to Bangor, and opted to sleep in that morning instead. A wise choice....he needed it. I dawdled on my way back from Bangor, making frequent stops, figuring that Avi wouldn't even notice I was gone, since he'd been up reading so late the night before. I eventually texted him to see if he were up. Turns out that he had been awakened at the obscenely early hour of 10:00 am by the sound of a lot of people outside. From his bed, he pulled the curtain aside, only to see a parade of people predominantly dressed in pink! The Southwest Harbor Flamingo Parade had reached its terminus, which for some reason, was directly in front of our house--right in the middle of the block! What a way to wake up!

Acclimating to a New Climate

Avi and I came up to Maine the day before Avi was to start work at Acadia (6/24/2010), as a member of its Youth Conservation Corps. The day before, he had flown up to Boston on his own (first time for that!), and with me navigated a series of Boston subways, buses, and my car to get to Kim's house in Watertown. Early the next morning we headed north to Maine. I remember Maine (mostly from 1987, when I spent part of my summer here at Haystack School of Crafts doing basket weaving) as a place with a "just-perfect" temperature (cool in the shade, warm in the sun), bright blue skies, and huge rocky shorelines. It seems to still hold for now. I immediately wondered why I'd brought all those sleeveless shirts and other Durham-summer clothes. We made our way to the mobile home that we'd rented in Southwest Harbor on Mt. Desert Island (MDI), and met our landlady, who showed us around. I kept watching to see how Avi was taking all these rapid changes and "firsts." He seemed to take it all in stride, showing no real signs of nervousness. I wanted to do a food shop, and he had the presence of mind to suggest a test drive to where he had to go in the morning. Those both accomplished, we headed out for an inexpensive dinner and what would become the first of many many ice creams from the Quiet Side Cafe.....we'd discovered their Black Bear ice cream. We were going to be very happy here in our new home!