Another Labor Day

It’s slow going here this morning. It’s been slow going all weekend, but a few things got done among the disappointments.  It’s not important to catalogue them; Facebook is the place to find full bucket lists.

On Sunday, I went on a “walking tour” of Cabot Mill.  Presented by the Pejepscot Historical Society, our tour guide was architectural historian Scott Hanson, who provided a twenty-minute slide show and lecture before leading approximately 50 of us through the mill.  It’s always interesting to be a lady alone among 50 men and women who arrive in twos and threes.  I didn’t note any other men or ladies alone; everyone seemed “grouped up.”  Not one person spoke to me, which was absolutely fine because I was able to listen to them and all their silly conversations.  There was a lady from Germany via New York City who had recently made a trip to Fort Fairfield, Maine, and lamented the barren, culture-less wasteland of “the County.”  A man and woman about my age arrived with walking poles and pushed their way through the crowd to get the best views of things once the tour began.


A particularly poignant overheard comment was the one a sixty-something woman made to her companion, a man with a hearing aid.  She was trying to whisper conspiratorially as we ambled along a large, cavernous hallway.

Cabot Mill BeamsPerhaps she sensed that Lady Alone Traveler was listening to her with ears that can hear many frequencies above and below the average human decibel range.  Unfortunately, her companion was deaf as a door post, in spite of his tiny embedded hearing device, and so, alas, Miss Sixty had to shout out “The Triangle Shirtwaist fire was the Cocoanut Grove of manufacturing.”

Aging Baby Boomers say the darndest things.

I’ve written better Labor Day posts and I’m sure I will again.  Today, though, is not my best work.  It’s disappointing, I know.  I’ve got other “work” on my mind, like emptying out my summer pocketbook and taking down the bunting at the Gazebo.

Free coffee at the Xtra Mart today, though.  Drink it up.

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