Hello from our little inn in Lubec, Maine. We won’t be heading across the river to the Iota: The Conference of Short Prose at Roosevelt Campobello International Park until later this morning, but in the short 24 hours we’ve been here I already have a lot to write about.
A worker at our gate at O’Hare was so taken by my Seeing Eye dog that she gave me and Whitney our own two seats. “That way she can stretch out.”
At the Bangor Airport in Maine a Budget Rental Car worker upgraded us to an SUV. “That’ll be nice for the dog.” It was nice for us, too.
With my window down I could take in the clean air and breathe in the fragrance of pine trees. A world away from far-away Chicago. The familiar songs on the car radio reminded us we were still in America, though — we sang along to Steely Dan’s “Reeling in the Years” and Little Feat’s “Dixie Chicken.”
When Mike caught sight of a roadside trailer selling lobster rolls en route from Bangor to Lubec, we stopped for lunch.It was there we caught the first sound of that Maine accent.”Does yah dahg wahn ice cream? Free fah ahl dahgs” Whitney ate it up
And when Mike read this description of a Trump Sandwich they were offering, we felt among friends.