Summer 2002

August 14, 2002

For everyone who has ever told me, lo these many years, that it would happen when I least expect it, you were right.

For everyone who listened to years (not necessarily consecutively) of dream dates and bad dates and told me theres a lid for every pot, you were right.

For everyone who ever said I would indeed meet my match, you were right, too.

And for everyone of my dear married friends who lived a single life vicariously through me, lo these many years, I am sorry to say, those days are over.

Gentle reader, I am pleased to announce that I am GETTING MARRIED!!!!

Pinch me, please! I never, ever thought it would happen to me.

Two weeks ago, my beloved proposed and I accepted. We are planning on a small ceremony next October. That would be 2003. Somewhere around 1990, I began joking about having the first June wedding of the millennia ... I will have only missed it by 3 and a half years.

My beloved is Bryan, whom I met just before Christmas. In the ensuing months, with few exceptions, he has faithfully traveled more than three hours north every Friday and risen at 4 am on Mondays to return to Massachusetts. At the end of next month, he will move up here for good.

He is the kindest, gentlest, funniest, generous, cutest, most sincere man I have ever met. The past nine months have been so wonderful. I dont think in my wildest dreams, I could have imagined ever meeting someone like him.

Aside from all that, he cooks, he organizes, he skis, he has power tools and knows how to use them ... someone told my mother I ought to clone him.

Thanks to all who have sent us your good wishes. I dont think there could be two happier people on the planet.

July 10, 2002

We waved our flags last week and baked in a warm summer sun on the Fourth of July. We turned out by the hundreds to watch the annual Lincoln-Woodstock parade, which delighted us with a number of imaginative, humorous and patriotic floats.

Children scurried for candy tossed from floats along the route. Some of us got wet when mischievous kids ... and adults ... trained water pistols on us. For Chief Doug Moorhead, the only ground rule for taking aim at him was hitting him square in the face. He needed to cool off.

Flags flew high and caught a skimpy breeze. Hats came off and hands covered hearts and we cheered for our veterans of too many wars as they led the parade, bearing the colors of all that is so precious with us.

The Woodstock Fire Department offered a somber reenactment of the moment New York City firefighters raised the red, white and blue from the rubble of the World Trade Center. In spite of the heat, they wore full turnout gear and reminded us, so far away from Ground Zero, that much has changed and has been endured since a short year ago.

The fire stations in Lincoln and Woodstock were emptied so that their collections of trucks and all the volunteers who keep us safe could bring up the rear of the parade. In the past, sirens blared, but this year, the cacophony was somewhat muted.

We adjourned after the parade to our barbecues and our circles of friends. At the Woodstock Bandstand, a crowd gathered in the evening to listen to music as the day came to a close.

Just after dusk, the fireworks went off over the mountains and we all went home, warm in the embrace of a small community.

June 21, 2002

The sun is out, the sky is blue, there's not a cloud to spoil the view ... it is summer!!

And did we welcome it here today. It was an absolutely picture perfect day, the same one we waited for through one of the dreariest and wettest springs we can recall. Last week, the day job kept me busy chasing flooding further north and it just seemed like heaven could not stop weeping.

We got a jump on the season on the last day of spring, at the annual Summer Splash put on every year by the Lincoln-Woodstock Chamber of Commerce. This year, 2000 people showed up for a day of fun and games, sun and prizes at the Whale's Tale waterpark over in Lincoln.

Some of us looked awful pasty white, but no matter. It was a joy to see friends and even friends' kids, who splashed merrily in the pools, happy as only kiddos can be with an entire summer looming.

Oh sure, these summer days will grow mundane for them, but who can forget what a great world it was when all you had to do was decide what swimsuit to wear, which friends were going to be where ... all that innocent fun.

In the adult world, we look back with fondness and look out the window of the office, wondering who would notice if we snuck out.

Anyway ... Happy Summer, gentle reader!!

June 5, 2002

My beau, Bryan (My other Bo is my dog) and I have been going out on Saturday nights in search of moose. While entertaining, seeing a moose is not as big a deal to me as it is to Bryan, who has never seen one alive and kicking and neither of us think seeing one mounted on a wall counts.

This is the time of year to see these animals, as mommas have new calves to take out into the world. Last year`s babies, by this time, have been sent out on their own and are struggling, like any teenager, to find their place in the world.

So at dusk one night over the Memorial Day weekend, we set off on a mission that was two-fold. One was going over Mount Moosilauke to Warren to see if there were still Saturday night auctions held at the town hall (there wasn`t on this night, but there was a dance going on). On the way, I figured we would be guaranteed to see a moose or three.

The road to Warren, you must understand, always reminds me of Hansel and Gretel taking off into the forest. It`s a lonesome road, lined thick with trees. There are breaks in the woods, where there are absolutely stunning views of the White Mountains and many a time, I have spotted moose on this road.

Like anytime you go looking for something, you don`t find it. But on the way back, we found that we were not the only souls in search of wildlife. Around a couple of corners, there were cars creeping along and some where even parked on the side of the road near the wallows where the beasts like to frolic.

It was such a nice night, we came off Route 118 and headed west on Route 112, which goes over Kinsman Notch and into moose territory. Heading up the hill by Lost River, the car ahead of us some distance hit its brakes ... and we were able to view the hind end of a juvenile moose.

The car in front of us continued its journey, but we pulled our vehicle over, rolled down the windows and proceeded to listen to the moose crash through the undergrowth. We hoped it would emerge again, but it stayed in the shadows.

We`ve been out since then and have spotted nary a one of these beasts. But we have gotten glimpses of other things ... roaring campfires, where we imagined marshmallows being toasted and ghost stories being told; a full moon coming up over the mountains; the evening stars coming out for a waltz in the night sky and the songs of peepers in the twilight and the wind coming over the top of Kinsman Notch.

We will likely continue these moose missions, but whether we see one or not, there`s lots of other magic along the way.