I walk by the mirror, and the Old Man is watching me. He looks familiar in a quaint way, yet ancient. I think I saw him many years ago on a calendar. It was of Old Man 1957 going through the back door while Baby 1958 crawled through the front door. The Old Man winked at me and grinned a sly grin.

June is almost gone, and with her, a month of summer. At this point in summer, my thoughts of school were never far away. Endless days at Pounds Hollow, swimming and floating and wondering what the rest of the world was doing. The Pounds Hollow Locker Rooms had a distinct smell of damp delight. Once you had purchased your little basket for your clothes depository for 35 cents, it was a quick change and off to the cool confines of a Billy B And His Large Lake. I felt at home in the water. Once I learned to float, I was cut loose from the bonds of earth and the Swim No Further Rope at the end of the safe swimming section of the Lake. A bit of a rebel, I was. I could float for hours, and the quiet of the experience was another world. I especially enjoyed it when the people on the beach looked like ants. I had given them the slip once again. I planned my future without the shackles of the past. I was an explorer going where no man had gone before.

Movies were another summer enjoyment. They were a pleasure year-round, but the air-conditioned comfort of the darkened theatre was a delight in the last days of June. I attended so many showings that I had a kinship with the owners of the Orpheum. The Orpheum was a grand and glorious movie palace. One screen and one theatre as it should be. You could lay your money down and stay all day if you desired. No muss, no fuss, no sweat in the Orpheum. You might be surprised how a movie reveals new plots and subplots the more times it is viewed. When I came outside, I remembered why the theatre was so pleasant.

Flash forward years to recent history for a mental picture of how hot Maine was on several of the 7 visits we made to our home away from home. Our first arrival was on the fourth of July, late in the evening. We had a four-hour drive from the Portland airport to Southwest Harbor. Then it was up three flights of narrow stairs to our bedroom at the lovely bed and breakfast. There was a fireplace in the room, but we did not need it. Maine is another world. The architecture is different, and the mood is peaceful. Having never been to Maine, we assumed that it was cool in the summer and cold the other three seasons. Not that year. Southwest Harbor is the town in the movie Storm Of The Century written by Stephen King. Walking through the town was like being in the movie. I just saw that the forecast for Portland, Maine, for tomorrow is 100 degrees. The innkeepers gave us wine to drink on their massive front porch, and we dreamed of a life by the sea.

Travel is an extension of my many hours in the Orpheum Theatre. There are so many worlds to see. We know less than we think we do. Our understanding could not crawl over a gnat’s whisker if it had a stepstool. Europeans think a bit differently than we do. Much of our shared culture is similar, and much is different. One human feature is universal…kindness. Everyone understands love. Everyone returns a smile. We all appreciate empathy. Tears are a universal language. Someone to dry them is priceless…