My Worumbo Cousins

Oh boy…6:42 a.m. and I have soundly overslept. Today’s blog post is a crazy-quilt of words lodged in my brain behind half a cup of coffee. It’s Monday in Vacationland. Tired rusticators are either grudgingly home or racing madly south on the Maine Turnpike, their cars and their minds speeding faster and faster the farther they travel from the way life should be.

It’s a thankful wonder they don’t spontaneously combust.

On Sunday afternoon, happy motoring against this tide of travelers, I made my way to Georgetown Island, the home of my beloved Reid State Park, by way of Bath, the city of ships. Many of Bath’s quaint shops close at 4:00 p.m. on Sunday afternoons, so the homeward bound rusticators were in a frenzy of souvenir snatching before departure. The “from away” men and women in Lisa-Marie’s were babbling about the places they had gone, confusedly recalling day hikes and lobster dinners.

“Yes, it’s a little day hike, about forty minutes from here…I can’t recall the name of it, Mount Katahdin, I think.”

“No, no, you’re thinking of Cadillac Mountain.”

“Not Cadillac, Katahdin!”

I put my birthday cards on the counter and winked at the pleasant woman behind the counter.

“I’m not a tourist,” I whispered.

“I know,” she said.

We quietly agreed it was Mount Agementicus and I bid farewell.

Dinner and Georgetown Island called me.

On the IslandMy hostess and I are cousins by a stronger bond than Six Degrees of Ayuh; some day when I’m not late for work I’ll explain Six Degrees of Worumbo and map out some of the descendants. A few drops of Worumbo blood and an ounce of Moxie in your veins and you’ll never be a rusticator. For now, let’s just say that Maine is the place for family reunions of all sorts and “Amen” to that.

We had a delightful time–a simple meal, a walk along the Marrtown Road chaperoned by mosquitoes and horse flies, and talk, talk, talk about our fourth and fifth Worumbo cousins. Then, with Monday’s responsibilities hugging us like a night fog over the island, we said goodbye. It reminded me of the ending of The Homecoming: A Christmas Story.

Yep, we are still a close family and we see each other when we can.

Onward, to Monday.

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2 Responses to My Worumbo Cousins

  1. jbomb62 says:

    Sounds like you had a great visit with your Worumbo cousin.

    I enjoy downtown Bath. I’ve often marveled how Front Street remained vibrant when the shift from local in the 80s sent consumers scurrying to the boxcutters. I’m glad it did and when we were there a few Sundays ago, it was filled with rusticators on their way back from other destinations.

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