Blue Hill

I made a trip to Blue Hill on Saturday afternoon. It’s just 40 minutes away but it has a very different feeling than my town. How to describe it – more elitist, more liberal, more artsy, more upscale? It has a big library and a tiny (but great) coffee shop. It has a big food co-op where we shop for bulk foods and organic produce, among other things, about once a month. It has a native plant garden and at least one private school. It has a weekly protest against the genocide. I feel comfortable there.

I made a trip to Blue Hill and I bought a latte and a cookie at the tiny coffee shop. I drove slowly through the protest and honked my horn in support. I made my way to the library nearby. I plugged my plug-in hybrid car into one of their two chargers.

I attended a free Asian Calligraphy workshop given by a local artist, Frederica Marshall. It was part 2 of 2. I really enjoyed it. I wrote a poem using kanji characters:

Tree

Friend

Growth

Eternity*

Then I inked it onto a scroll. Frederica’s husband Herman helped me apply the chop, which means Joy.

The two-hour workshop flew by. Afterwards, I donated a box of books to the library. I’m hoping to bring a lot more to make room on my shelves. One box at a time.

I went to the Blue Hill YMCA for the first time. My new venture for this year is joining the Y to do strength training with the equipment and guidance available there. I’m anxious about it – something new – not sure how it will go. But the quick visit I made felt good. I expect I’ll go to the Ellsworth Y, closer to home, but my membership covers both locations.

Then I went to the co-op for groceries. Just a few things on my list … but I bought more than I expected. I enjoy shopping there even though Sam thinks it’s overly branded and slick, approaching a supermarket. I can see what he means, but it’s one of very few places to buy food in bulk, re-using our own bags and jars.

There was talking and joking amongst several people in the checkout line. One man in the line next to me was asked if so-and-so was his wife and said “Yes, I identify as her husband.” This usage of “identify” struck another person as very funny. I thought it was funny too. My cashier didn’t hear the joke and I tried to explain it but I guess you had to be there. After checking out, I went to sit in the cafe for a few minutes. No food service, they were having a staff event or something. But I drank some hot water I made in the microwave and ate the rest of the delicious cookie I bought earlier. Some one came over and expertly played several pieces on the piano, one of which was from A Charlie Brown Christmas.

Then it was time to drive home.

A thoroughly enjoyable afternoon in so many ways.

This is my way of life, mostly. The American way. An American way, I mean. In a very blue town.

And what changes will tomorrow inaugurate?

And what changes are already in progress?

If I’m around a year from now, four years from now, I hope to reread and remember.

*The poem was inspired by my friend, who is in mourning for the loss of several big trees from her townhouse complex. Her new neighbors had them cut down and have plans to cut down more. She says they’re worried the trees will fall on their house.