We should have known better; trusting Siri had gotten us in trouble just the day before. But she’s seductive, that one, with her take-charge voice telling you exactly where to turn, how many miles to go, when you’ll arrive. Besides, she’s all we had as we – my LAT partner Don French and I – made our way home from Florida this week.

Quick note: LAT – Living Apart Together – is a thing. Look it up.

So here we were in Virginia, some 40 miles from the interstate, leaving Poplar Forest, the lesser-known of Thomas Jefferson’s homes, his retreat. We’d toured the 1809 house, which is in the process of being restored, and wandered the grounds, all the while watching the darkening clouds.

If you pay attention to the weather, it wasn’t the best week to be traveling up the Eastern Seaboard.

We hopped back into his truck, confidently brought up Siri on the phone, (I’m assuming everyone knows about her, though I was only introduced a year ago when I got my cell phone). So she says, “I’m listening” in that teacherly voice she sometimes affects, and we said “Driving directions to I 81 North”, expecting to hear a reverse of the route she’d sent us on two hours earlier when we’d made this historic detour.

But no. Within minutes we knew she was messing with us again. Nothing looked familiar: “take the left onto Sunnyvale, in 2.9 miles turn right onto Perkins... etc., etc.” Raindrops were starting to spatter the windshield and the roads got narrower. We were driving deeper and deeper into the Virginia countryside with no idea how to get out.

And then the worst. “Turn onto Blue Ridge Parkway.” What??! The rain was steady now and looming ahead was the narrow, winding road that twisted through these mountains, sharp curves hanging over steep valleys below. She’d brought us out from the interstate on a lovely, flat and well-marked four-lane highway, and this is the way she sends us back?

About then I’m blaming my partner for bad-mouthing her in the past for all the other times she’s messed us up. Of course she’d heard him, often told him “that’s not nice” when he suggested what she could do. Now she was getting even.

Some 40 minutes later we finally come to civilization again and there it is, the Holy Grail, the blue and red I-81 sign, though we could barely see it through the pelting rain. This time I’d been driving, and he’d been in the scary passenger seat. The day before the roles had been reversed.

“Let’s drive through Smoky Mountain National Park,” we’d decided, after successfully navigating Georgia on state highway 441, foregoing the interstate to really see something of the country. He drove through the Park, and I was the white-knuckled passenger as he took us around impossible curves at what felt like breakneck speed. It wasn’t raining and I saw every potential deadly drop-off clearly.

Then we came to the end of the Park and asked Siri to direct us back to I-81 North. She cheerfully told us to turn onto King’s Branch Road (a branch means a creek, not a good choice we found out.) The road was one and a half lanes wide, and King’s Branch was a deep ditch a mere two inches from the pavement. More curves, more close calls. Next she told us to turn onto Boogertown Road, another one to avoid if you ever find yourself in these hollows.

She had us twisting and turning for what seemed like hours, finally dumping us out in Pigeon Forge on the road to Dollywood. At least this road had a yellow line down the middle. Eventually she relented and show us the way to our now-beloved I-81.

Remember the days of maps? Paper maps, the ones the gas stations gave away free? Remember gas stations? Where someone could tell you where you were and how to get to where you were going? Where someone came out and filled your tank, washed off your windshield, offered to check your oil?

I digress.

Traveling’s pretty easy these days as long as everything goes well. Long about 4 p.m., when you’re feeling road-weary, ask Siri to call the next Holiday Inn—Hampton—Marriott—what have you, and in minutes you’ve booked a room in some town you’ve never heard of 25 miles down the road. Too tired to get back in the car to find dinner? Order in, again via the phone and an online menu, and pizza or Chinese or whatever arrives at your door.

Most of us drive the interstates when we travel, where the view is expansive but fleeting. Brilliant green fields dotted with Black Angus, along with tiny black dots you know are little calves, glimpses of farmsteads, nameless industrial buildings. The exits are marked with towering signs announcing “Love” (it’s a truck stop), “Exxon”, or just a logo – golden arches. The clutter of hotels, fast food/chain restaurants, and gas pumps at these spots exist just because the interstate chooses to let travelers get off at this spot – hungry, tired and needing to pee.

We didn’t need Siri our last day on the road. We’d stayed in Albany and were headed into Don’s home territory – Vermont and then New Hampshire, roads he’d traveled dozens of times, both for work and for fun. Mountains, yes, and lots of curves and climbs and descents, but it wasn’t raining and home was waiting at the end of the day.

Fortuitously, we were in his and his daughter’s hometown at lunchtime, and for the first time in days and days we ate in a real place. Right in the middle of downtown Milford, New Hampshire (a real downtown with stores and businesses, a village green they call the Oval, and people who knew each other), the restaurant was packed with folks on lunch break. The difference between the anonymity of the road and the comfortable feeling of a hometown (even though not mine) was profound.

This morning for the first time in two weeks, Fritz (who my family told me had been a bad dog in my absence, jumping the fence and pouncing on chickens) and I reconnected on our daily walk, Sleepy Hollow up around the corner and down Ducktrap Road to Maplewood. Maplewood where so many people I knew are buried, where so many people I never knew, but have learned something of their stories, lie.

Along the way I’d been planning a stone to put on the little plot I got for us, for Wally and I. He’s not there, nor will I be, for his ashes are well mixed into our garden’s soil, and this cemetery stone is a way to say he, and one day I, lived here.

Lincolnville Roadside Clean-up  

Let’s all help clean up trash along Lincolnville’s roads this Friday, April 19 from 9 a.m. – 5 p.m. and Saturday, April 20 from 9 –noon. All supplies will be provided.  Meet at the Lincolnville Community Library parking lot at the beginning of each day, but you can come anytime during the cleanup to pick up supplies and be assigned a road.  A couple of volunteers with pick ups or trailers are needed who can retrieve the filled bags left on the roadsides and take loads to the transfer station. This event is sponsored by Midcoast Waste Watch and the Lincolnville Community Library. Call 706-3896 or email for more info.

Library

This afternoon, Wednesday April 17, 4-6 p.m. come to the Library for Watercolor Journaling. Bring your own supplies: watercolor paints and brushes, pencil, black fine line permanent pen, small container for water, paper towels or towel scrap, and journal. This is not an instructional class, but participants will share their progress and visit quietly while painting in their journals.  The group meets every first and third Wednesdays.

Also Wednesday, at 7 p.m., Kate Braestrup will present a free screening, followed by a discussion, of the documentary film “Officer Involved”.  This documentary (approximately 90 minutes) features interviews with law enforcement officers who share their psychological and emotional experiences after being involved in a shooting.  Critics have called the film thoughtful and gripping, a realistic portrayal of the humanity of law enforcement officers.  Kate, who is the chaplain for the Maine Warden Service, is also the author of several books. She now lives in Lincolnville with her husband, artist Simon van der Ven. Space for this program is limited and will be filled on a first come, first served basis.  No reservations, but you can come early!

Easter Services

United Christian Church is having a Tenebrae service on Maundy Thursday, April 18 with communion, readings and extinguishing of candles. The church will be open for quiet reflection on Good Friday, noon to 6 p.m.

Easter morning worship begins at 9:30 a.m.

Bayshore Baptist Church holds a Sunrise Service Easter morning at the Beach, 6 a.m., followed by breakfast for all at the church; in case of rain the service will be at Bayshore.

Sunday School at 9:30 a.m. and worship service at 11.

Boy Scouts

Ed Hurlburt writes: “As many of you know, I help run Boy Scout Troop 200.  We're based out of Camden but serve kids in Lincolnville, Northport, Appleton, Searsmont, Rockport, Camden and Union.

“I am ALWAYS trying to find ways to send kids to Summer Camp or just get them camping every month.  This stuff is expensive.  It really shouldn't be...but it is.  It costs $400 to send a kid to summer camp for a week and as residential camps go — that's a huge bargain!  Just to camp at Camden Hills State Park for the weekend costs almost $200 in park fees alone.

“I know there's a lot of organizations competing for your donations - and they're ALL worthy.

“I'm happy to pick up returnables anywhere in the area or to talk with you about other donations or volunteer opportunities.

“Want to sponsor a Scout for a week of camp?  That would be fabulous!

“Questions?  Comments?  Complaints? Contact Ed at 596-1280 or email.