May 8, 2019--Welcome Back

After 10 years in Maine we have come to know quite a few people. Some have become close friends.

Whenever we return for the long season in Bristol, we informally keep a list of who, among these wonderful people, we have seen--often casually run into in the diner or supermarket--and how long, how many days it takes to see most everyone we know.

This year we arrived on Sunday afternoon and by Tuesday morning had encountered twelve of our friends.

The first was Deb who owns and runs the diner. Among many things, she filled us in about what one of her daughters had done over the winter in a new restaurant or her own. Things were quiet, as is to be expected, but to push the bottom line and provide a community service, she served dinner Friday and Saturday nights. It was not a surprise, she is very talented, that it was welcomed and she did very well.

John was next. He came to the diner, among other things to see if we were there. He looked very well and has been busy after returning from a month in the Florida Keys at his globally-competitive steel fabrication business. He was happy to report that all in his large immediate and extended families were doing well. Especially his mother-in-law who had not been herself at the beginning of winter.

Al drifted in, also thinking he might find us. It was his birthday and he was happy to let Rona buy him a cup of coffee. She tried to treat him to a full breakfast but he had had something already and was wanting to control his eating and continue to lose weight. He looked slim and fit but wanted to keep it that way. So coffee was all he wanted, though he promised to let Rona pay for his biscuits and gravy (a dietary splurge) when he and Mary join us for breakfast on Sunday. We tend to meet them Sunday mornings for a week of catch-up news. Much of it this time I am sure, will be political as they are both politically engaged. In fact, Mary is a County Commissioner and prior to that had been Lincoln County's first female detective.

Barbara and Barrett were making their way to a booth when they spotted us and came to visit at our table. As with our other friends who we were seeing for the first time in six months they filled us in about how they have been (exceeding well) and how their children and grandchildren were faring. Again, we were happy to hear only good news. They were in for a quick bite as they had a tee time set at the local golf course. Though they have lived in Phoenix for 31 years they are as intrepid as if they were real Mainers.

We saw Phyllis and Danny as we were leaving. Always, generous, Phyllis told me she follows my writing and generally likes what I have to say. She is all graciousness and has the capacity to make me feel appreciated. She also reported that she and Bobby had had a good winter. 

Phil is quiet, perhaps a bit shy, but he did smile and wave when he noticed us as he headed toward the door. He did look exactly as we last saw him back in October, which in itself is good news.

Outside, Danny was all smiles and his dog Coco almost jumped out of the car window when he spotted Rona. She pretty much every day has a treat for him but even without one he is quite smitten by her.

Back in the car, sounding concerned, Rona said, "I wonder where Ken is. Don't you think he would have stopped by by now?"

"You know he doesn't come in every morning. I'm sure he's fine. If he wasn't I'm sure we would have known about it."

We headed to Hanniford's supermarket to begin the process of restocking the house. We needed at least one item from every aisle since when we leave in the fall we empty the house of anything that might freeze or otherwise spoil.

Before we could put anything in the shopping cart, from over by the organic vegetables, waving and smiling, were Deb and Mike. They moved from Virginia to Maine full time three years ago and last season bought a new house. We were happy to see them and eager to know how their first winter in the new place had been. Fine, they reported. They too have quickly become Mainers in spirit and vigor if not genealogy.

By the time we were finished shopping it was nearly 2:00 and we we looking forward to being back at the house and perhaps stealing a nap.

"Isn't it amazing," Rona said, "how whenever we arrive it only takes a day or two for us to see so many of our friends."

"Small town reality," I said. "I do love it."

Early the next morning, when we arrived at the diner John was already there and was holding two seats for us. He always makes us feel welcomed. We slid in across from him, but before we could even say hello, Deb the Waitress (as distinct from Deb, the Owner), who had overwintered in her mobile home in Florida, still full of boundless energy, raced to where the three of us were and in less than five minutes offered a summary of all the many things she had been involved with in Naples since we last saw her, including her work with organ donor organizations. She has boundless energy and enthusiasm for the many things with which she is involved. In earlier years, for example, she had been chief administrator for Portland's special needs children's' educational programs and is about the biggest hearted person anyone is likely to encounter.

And then Tuesday afternoon we ran into Joey, who had been a drawbridge tender and painting contractor for a number of years before meeting and marrying Jen. He was looking fit, having lost some weight over the winter and was feeling good about that. We agreed that having dinner together was long overdue and promised to do better this year than last.

As he was leaving (we were in the Dollar Store) he turned back to us and said, "I forget to mention that I ran into Ken the other and he's doing well. He knew you were back in Maine and said he'd be looking for you later this week."

August 15, 2018--Consumer Price Index

The Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) is responsible for calculating the inflation rate and Consumer Price Index (CPI). This is important because, among other things, these rates are used to determine whether or not to increase retired people's Social Security. Something these years I keep close track of.

The CPI is the measure of the average change over time in the prices paid by urban consumers for a market "basket" of goods and services. In that metaphoric basket, among many other things, one finds the cost of rent, dental services, and chopped meat.

Inflation is the rate at which the general level of prices for goods and services is rising and, consequentially, the rate at which the purchasing power of money is falling.

Recently I haven't seen much of an increase in my monthly checks. Inflation is deemed to be that low. Almost flat. For example, the BLS is projecting that the inflation rate for 2018 will be "only" 1.9%.

Call me skeptical but I sense it is higher than that. Considerably higher. But how can that be? The federal government, especially this administration, doesn't lie to taxpayers, right?

So on my own I did a little simple checking. With emphases on "little" and "simple."

At Hanniford's, the local supermarket I checked to see if there has been an increase in the price of my favorite yogurt--Dannon. (I always get peach.)

It now costs 65 cents a tiny tub whereas last year it was 55 cents. This represents an 18% increase. Not anywhere near the official 1.9% (Also, a tub now contains 5.3 ounces, down from 6.0, a decrease of 12%)

Rona said, "Let's check the price of your favorite homemade pie. It's been $5.99 for at least a year." So we drove to New Harbor and sure enough at Reilly's market it's now $6.99. About a 17% increase.

Wouldn't I be happy to see my Social Security go up by 17 or 18 percent. But I know better. So how does 10% or even 5% sound?

That would be an example of America being great again.

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June 12, 2107--Midcoast: Chinese Food

We ran into good friends Will and Wendy in Hannaford's. First Wendy, then Will as they had split up, each with half the shopping list so they could get the shopping done as quickly as possible. They had house guests who would be arriving soon.

Rona was wanting chocolate sauce for our after-dinner ice cream socials, but we were having no luck finding any.

"You're an ice-cream person," Rona said to Will, "Do you know where we can find toppings?"

"Aisle 9," he said without hesitation, pointing, "There's a special little shelf there just for chocolate sauce and the like." With that he raced off to keep up with Wendy. It appeared that they had set up a little competition to see who would get done first. I assumed they would meet up at a checkout counter.

Sure enough, just as Will said, at the end of aisle 9 there were a couple of racks where they displayed half-a-dozen different chocolate toppings from Hershey's, which the ingredients label indicated included no real chocolate, to Maine-made Death by Chocolate which did, and so we put a jar of that in our shopping basket. "$3.99," Rona said, "I guess real chocolate comes at a price."

I said, "Especially if it's artisanal and has a fancy homemade-sounding name."

On the shelf above I noticed a few jars of wet walnuts.

"As a kid I used to love these," I said. "At the corner candy store along with whipped cream and a maraschino cherry they put them on frappes, which I loved when I had the money to pay for one. I think they were 50 cents. Which back then was a lot of money."

"Do you want some?" Rona asked, "Knock yourself out. It will bring back all sorts of nice memories.

"I see they also have wet pecans. I never knew those kind existed. Maybe . . ."

Rona had already reached for one and put it next to the chocolate sauce in the basket. "But it's crazy," I said, "It's a tiny jar, only five ounces, and the nothing-special Smuckers version costs $2.79 and . . .

"And nothing. You worked hard all your life, we can afford it, enjoy yourself for once."

"I do but . . ."

"But nothing," which ended the discussion. "What else is on our list?"

"We wanted to replace the Chef Boyardee mini raviolis we ate the other night."

"Garbage, it's all garbage," Rona said in spite of her interest in the chocolate sauce.

At the Chef Boyardee display we ran into Wendy. Looking a little frazzled, she asked, "Have you seen Will? I seem to have lost him."

"This happens to us all the time when we separate," Rona said. "What was your plan?"

"When we finished we were supposed to meet at the checkout counter. This one right here, number 12."

"For me," I said, "when we do we always lose each other and I forget where we're supposed to meet. It's sort of like having a senior moment. I feel like I'm wandering around, not knowing where I am or what I'm supposed to do."

"I'm sure this isn't true for you and Will, "Rona added quickly, "I mean a senior moment. I'd just wait here. I'm sure he'll show up. Maybe his half of the shopping list was a little longer or more complicated than yours." Rona is good that way, always looking for ways to make me and others feel better.

"Since this happens to us too," Rona said, "and I'm sure to many other customers, I thought they might have a TV monitor where if couples get separated and can't find each other they'd put that up on the screen and indicate where to meet. Like the Silver Alert system they have in Florida and other places where there are a lot of older people." "Older," not "old" I noticed Rona said.

"Isn't that for people with Alzheimer's," I said, "Who get lost in their cars and forget where they live or how to get home?"

Rona kicked me under the shopping cart. I wasn't helping the situation. Just then Will showed up and they merged what was in their two carts and headed for the checkout line. Before doing that, Will noticed and said, "Chef Boyardee. You eat that?"

"Well, only . . ." I stammered.

"I love Chef Boyardee," he said, "I loved that when I was a kid."

"And look," I said, "They're having a sale. It's only a dollar a can."

"Maybe we should get some," Will gestured over to Wendy who was already on line. She shot him a look and without another word he joined her there.

Alone again, Rona asked, "What else is on our list?"

"I think nothing," I said, "But maybe we should walk up and down the aisle to see what we might find. To be inspired. We're in the International section, maybe we can find some Chinese oyster sauce. We made that scallop strir-fry the other night and I thought a little oyster sauce would have worked with it."

Sure enough there it was, bottles of Dynasty brand oyster sauce. "It's made in China," Rona read. "More garbage. I'll put it back."

"But it's Chinese oyster sauce. Shouldn't it be made in China? You want it to be organicy, made by hand in small batches in Maine? You'd be good with that?"

"I suppose you're right," Rona said, putting the bottle back in our shopping cart.

"And look at that," I said, all excited, "Just the other night when we were eating the Chef Boyardee, reminiscing you remembered liking canned La Choy chop suey."

"Especially the noodles part," Rona said, "That was my first experience with Chinese food."

"And so take a look at this," I said grinning, holding up a package of La Choy chow mein noodles. "I have a brilliant idea?"

"What's that?" I sensed Rona losing patience with me.

"Let's get some shaved steak," I could see her rolling her eyes, "and we'll make a stir fry with veggies like onions, red pepper, snap peas, and mushrooms, all of which we have left over in the house, and to that we'll add the steak and flavor it with oyster sauce." Rona was not yet convinced. "And," I said, "to literally top things off we'll use the La Coy Chinese noodles. Ta da," I gestured, "It will be amazing. Trust me. Like being back on Pierson Street in Brooklyn."

So we got the noodles and three-quarters of a pound of shaved steak. "I wonder how they shave it," Rona whispered.

Later, at the Bristol Library we ran into Wendy and Will again. "Small town Wendy said," smiling.

"So how did your shopping go?" Will asked, "Did you get everything you needed?"

"Well," I said, a little embarrassed to reveal what we bought.

"A lot of garbage," Rona shared. Mike had been a psychotherapist.

"What do you mean?" Wendy asked, looking concerned.

"You know, lot's of ice cream toppings and as you saw Chef Boyardee ravioli."

"And then," I chirped, not feeling as guilty or irresponsible as Rona did. She likes to eat healthy.

Neither Wendy nor Will commented.

"To tell you the truth," Rona now said, "We bought a lot of Chinese food and plan to use it tonight with the shaved streak we also bought. In a stir fry with lots of oyster sauce. Made in China, along with the chow mein noodles. Made in America."

"Sounds amazing," Will said.

"Maybe one night we'll do the same," Wendy added. They both know how to make people feel good.

"I mean it," Will said, "It sounds amazing."

Later that night it was.

Amazing.