Maine Diner
Midweek at Kennebunk and an idea for lunch at the Maine Diner. Preparing for a counter seat on a busy midweek afternoon I brought with me my unread Wall Street Journal and of course my iPhone. I also planned a stop along the wetlands to the west of Kennebunk that were tiding up as I passed on the way to Wells. I was directed to a single seat by the hostess among a busy afternoon of Maine diners. To my right sat a middle-aged fella into his lobster roll and French fries. To my left a young woman scrolled on her cell phone. I ordered and, leaning away from my seat mates, I unfolded the Journal to begin a read. Not through the lead articles, my seatmate to the left spoke up. Not certain if her words were meant for me, I continued reading. I was not at the diner for conversation or in the mood to make new friends.
“Are you local?” she asked, speaking directly to me.
“Are you talking to me?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, turning her stool to face me.
I was not in the mood for a chat. This was to be a quiet lunch with a read of the Journal and perhaps a sketch or two for an afternoon painting. Mindful that we were only inches apart I acted on my courtesy DNA and responded, hopefully to end the chat.
“Yes I am local this time of year,” I said.
Well, it did not work. My neighbor to the left started with her trip from Virginia up through the coast of Maine to Wells where she was staying in a hotel. She was an attorney and traveled during the summer to different parts of the east coast by auto. I told her I was also an attorney which seemed to make her more comfortable talking to me. I also explained why I was in Maine, which was to paint and visit my camp up north. The conversation continued as I patiently waited for my lunch. I opened up my paper as a signal to wrap up the talk so I could read while I downed my omelet. My strategy worked, but only for half an omelet. She leaned toward my paper and noticed a headline about Trump.
“Won’t it be terrible if Trump wins?” she proffered in a new opening salvo.
I didn’t want to go there. I had watched the first few minutes of the CNN interview with the President last evening and had rushed to turn off the television when he misspoke in response to the reporter’s question. I felt sorry and saddened to watch the President fumble and mistake the name of his Vice President. I am older than the President and man to man felt sorry for him. I know myself when I speak at public hearings as part of my work and especially when responding to questions publicly, I am doubly mindful to choose my words carefully. Of late I have written out in advance of a particular appearance not only an outline of my presentation but exactly what I intend to say. Most times in preparation, I ask my partners how they would respond to questions I pose.
The stranger at the counter had opened up a well of concern in me that many of us have as we approach our 80s and beyond: the decline of our mental capacity. Watching the President struggle to find words and to answer coherently is a reminder of this. I turned in my seat and looking directly at her and said,
“Yes, it would be consequential if Trump wins, but,” I hesitated, “it is a sad day when those of us who care have to watch the President embarrass himself when he speaks.”
My seatmate looked down and then looked me in the face for the first time and her eyes opened a bit as she realized that I was also an elder and was really talking about myself. I bid her goodbye and wished her a pleasant stay as I walked out of the diner careful not to trip down the stairs as I exited.