Borrowed from a recent New Yorker
For An Old Girlfriend, Long Dead

Lying on that blanket, nights on the seventh green–
in the dry air the faint scent of gasoline,

nothing above us but the ragged moon,
nothing between but a whispered soon …

Well, such was romance in the seventies.
Watergate and Cambodia, the public lies,

made our love seem, somehow, more true.
Of the few things I wanted then , I needed you.

I remember our last arguments, my angry calls,
then the long silence, those northern falls

we drifted toward our newly manufactured lives.
Does anything else of us survive?

That day in Paris, perhaps, when you swore
our crummy hotel was all you were looking for–

each cobbled Paris street, each dry baguette,
even the worthless sous nothing you’d forget.

Outside, a block away, the endless Seine
flowed roughly, then brightly, then…

Then nothing, Nothing later went quite that far.
I remember that spring. Those breasts. That car.

William Logan

This Wednesday, my godson, Charlie , will meet his friend Laura in Caratunk, Maine, and will walk with her for eight days on the Appalachian Trail. His destination is Jo-Mary campground, which is not too far from one of our fly-in trips – Lower Jo-Mary Lake. Laura, who began in West Virginia, will continue on, eventually meeting up with her dad to summit Mt. Katadhin.

I’ve been enthralled by Laura’s journey (entries added whenever The Trail intersected with an internet-capable computer) and I’m excited about Charlie’s participation. However, it looks like there will be no real time participation as he’ll pass through only one town ( Monson) and to the best of my searching ability, it lacks a cyber cafe or even a library with a working phone number. Oh well. It looks like I’ll see photos of his Scotland trip and the formerly friendly family of big black bears before he skips off to college.


Legible size map.

Speaking of Charlie, last night I watched “Goodbye, Mr Chips,” the 1969 version with Peter O’Toole and Petula Clark. Coulda been filmed at Deerfield.

Photos from our last day.

Click on the download link, go have dinner and come back and review Matt’s Prom ( 44mb Quicktime movie).

View larger image

Diane, Matt and Charlie

Charlie Hopkins
Photo Gallery

Dutcher Dock around midnight.
The Big Picture

I know, it seems all we do is vacation.

Both photographs taken by Diane.

“What’s that?” Diane asked. We awoke to two pulsing, piercing sounds. At first I thought, construction equipment. Then it dawned.

“It’s the fire alarm.” Naked, I stumbled to our bedroom door, not yet conscious enough to dread what might be on the other side. I opened it to see the hallway filled with smoke. Matt’s bedroom, normally sealed like a bank vault behind a closed door, was nothing but smoke. I felt like a threatened reptile. “Fire, Get Out,” I screamed.

From downstairs, Matt’s voice, “Dad, I’ve got it covered.” Immediately, my lizard brain switched from call 911, grab the G5 and run, to, it’s all gonna be okay. Matt is safe and alive, and he’s in control, as he had been when he dodged the panel truck in his BMW. That single answer, in spite of what appeared to be our house burning down, soothed me.

Diane followed me out of the bedroom, ran downstairs and outside to see Drew, transfixed by the mattress bonfire. I felt my way into Matt’s bedroom and climbed up his ladder to the loft. The carpet glowed like pine needles caught just outside a campfire ring, and his down comforter, in flames, beckoned for marshmallows. I grabbed the burning blanket and as Matt entered the room, I threw it down at him and screamed, “I thought you had it covered!”

Matt flew down the stairs with the feathers on fire, and out the front door. Later that morning, I’ll follow those feathers thinking a coyote must have caught a goose and dragged it to our backyard. Later that night, we’ll have dinner with Matt and Joe and I’ll ask Matt, “What did you mean by ëI have it covered?’ To me, that meant everything’s okay, don’t call the fire department, I’ve got it under control. “

“No, dad. I think I meant that we’re down here with the mattress, and the house is on fire.”

Addendum:

I’ve fantasized about saving lives all of my life. I never have. In fact, I may have helped some along to the other side. Matthew, who appears all too grounded in reality, may have saved Drew’s, his, and ours in that order.

I made this little movie using Rakkity’s x-rays. If you need a slower, closer look, have a gander at this.

After the fire burned through the mattress.

Name that bird.