July 24, 2026- When I rest my head on the large plush lion, while with Hana in her play pen, my granddaughter sits quietly next to me, as if watching over her Papa. Aram would do the same thing with Penny and me, when he was a baby.
Hana looks at my watch, very intently, when it is about the normal time for her parents to get home from work. It has Roman numerals on it, but somehow, between the position of the numerals and her own internal clock, she knows it is time for their return. If they are late, she starts calling “mama mama mama” or “oma”.
Our walk today took us past the nearest elementary school. I told Hana that, if we are still here when she reaches school age, that will be her school. She gave a big smile at that news. It is just past a pleasant section of Hoblitzelle Park, and a bridge over Russell Creek. She likes going that way, on our walks, as do I.
She has had a good week, despite the intense heat of Monday and Tuesday.
HANA’S NOTE- Papa doesn’t know it, but I have been looking at his watch, when Mommy or Daddy come home, every night for a while now. I don’t know what the letters mean, but I know that’s when our family is all together again.
YEAR In REMEMBRANCE-1976 This was our nation’s Bicentennial. When Independence Day came around, I was again working at Quisisana, for the summer. I went with the Staff Waiter, to Bridgton, his home town, and took in the festivities there. We each had an open can of beer, which a police officer spotted and told us that was illegal; then he just walked away. We finished our beers and found a trash can. The other thing about Quisi was that I did not make any lasting friends this time around. I was less focused, having spent the months after my graduation, substitute teaching in Saugus and up the road, in North Reading. Neither town had opportunities for a new teacher; the waiting list for a Social Studies teacher was quite lengthy and the oldest teachers were in their late fifties, not at all ready for retirement. It was also during my time at Quisisana that a family member suffered a horrible injury and we lost someone very close to our family, in the same accident. That sent me on a tailspin, and I made serious errors in judgement with regard to some budding friendships.
After Quisisana, I went up to the Bangor area, and subsisted between substitute teaching at Bangor Junior High and High School and tutoring a homebound student in a nearby town. I lived in a boarding house for a time, then moved in with a couple of young men who had advertised for a roommate. That lasted until mid-February of the following year. While there, I lived a quiet life and disturbed on one. In November, I was hired as a Title I Paraprofessional, whose responsibility was to run a self-contained program for eight emotionally-handicapped middle school boys. It was in a rural school district. I put together what could best be described as a patchwork program. I had no real administrative support and no background in the field of Special Education. I was a warm body, who showed up most days. It did no one much good.
Other than being close to a large family of a paternal uncle, aunt and cousins, and enjoying many lovely parts of Maine, the decision to re-locate there was not one of my brightest moves.


