May 10, 2007.  After a couple of weeks of neglecting this part of the site, it's time to get back to it.  I had written a bit of "cathartic grumbling" here earlier about something (more precisely, someone) bothersome, but I deleted it.  I had quoted advice I've heard many times – "Don't let other people run around in your head when they aren't paying the rent to be there."  I realized that I was doing the opposite.

Something I know rationally but find hard to apply is that we are responsible for our reactions to people and events and thus, to a large degree, in control of what we call our moods.  We must make exceptions, I suppose, for extreme misfortunes or great losses because these can overwhelm the best of us, but most of what we get angry or "down" about is small stuff.  Then we say, "So=and-so makes me angry" or "Such and such is making me depressed.  Rationally, that isn't true; we can choose how we react.  However, no matter how hard I try, I often fail to put a positive spin on something when my knee-jerk reaction is negative.  Knee-jerk reactions often make us act like jerks.

Unquestionably, there are quite a few malevolent or, at least, conniving and manipulative people who love to push other people's buttons to see how thoroughly annoyed or depressed or insecure they can make people feel.  Some refine this button-pushing to an art because deflating another person makes them feel superior.  The best defense, I suppose is to ignore them – or to put as much distance as possible between us and them.  And I must reluctantly admit that sometimes I'm the button-pusher and that I should at least catch myself up short when I see that I'm doing it.  So there, at last, I can put a positive spin on a negative reaction.  I have gained a smidgen of self-knowledge, which is always a good thing.

May 11, 2007.  In a month, we will be heading out for a two-week stay in Bar Harbor, Maine, and already the prospect of this trip has me in a better mood.  It seems odd now to call this annual expedition "a vacation"; now that we're retired, we're always on vacation in a sense.  However, it is a vacation – a physical shift from our everyday surroundings and ordinary activities and, more significantly, a shift in mindset that invariably brings about a certain sense of "spiritual renewal."

Other people, especially those who escape to different places every year or who fly off to more exotic and remote locations, sometimes wonder why we remain in the "same rut" of going to the same place – something we have done for twenty years now (with a few off years when, for various reasons, we mostly stayed home).  There are many reasons, but the chief one is rather simple:  It's what we do, we love it, and we see no reason to alter the pattern.

We've even stayed at the same place, Edgewater Cottages, ever since we've been going there.  We're not always in the same cottage.  We rented a larger one when our daughter accompanied us and now rent both a cottage and an apartment when she, her husband, and the three grandsons go along.  (This year it will be just the two of us.)  However, it's the same setting – a small but comfortable place off the highway and with a view of Salisbury Cove, about 10 minutes east of the village of Bar Harbor and five miles from the entrance to Acadia National Park.

True, we're running out of new places to go since we've rather thoroughly explored Mount Desert Island (which isn't literally an island because it's attached to the mainland by a short strip of land), where Acadia and Bar Harbor are located.  There are, of course, many trails in the park itself that I haven't covered, but many these are too strenuous or long for my aging body.  Besides, the trails I have covered include many favorites that I can't resist revisiting.  Somehow, each hike is something new or different, which is kind of the way I feel about Acadia in general.

This time around, we may explore further up or down the coast, although this involves an hour's drive round trip just to get to Elsworth, the starting point on the mainland to go north or south from the Bar Harbor/Acadia area.  Most days, though, it's more than enough to watch the seabirds and lobster boats in the cove, walk a short trail, or watch the comings and goings from the harbor pier in town.

Whenever we go down the ling driveway at Edgewater to check in at the office, I have the odd sensation of "coming home," as I might have if I could go back to my place of birth.  It's odd because we've been going there, as I said, for only twenty years.  To Bar Harbor natives, of course, I'm just a tourist.  In fact, in Maine, you're not a true native unless your family has lived there for generations.  But spiritually, I feel as if I belong – at least in the summer.  I'm strictly a fair-weather Maine-iac.

May 14, 2007.  After receiving a number of complaints about a participant on The Grammar Curmudgeon's message boards, I have expelled that participant.  This is not something I like to do and is only the fourth such instance (among more than 600 registrants) since the boards were launched several years ago.  It's a matter of deciding what I feel is best for the community.

Part of the appeal of the boards on this site is, I believe, that people can express their views without having to endure petty, personal attacks.  Disagreements often occur, but civility is the watchword.  In all four cases when I have been compelled to eject someone, that individual's lack of civility has caused a precipitous decline in tone as others tend to respond in kind.  It's a snowball effect, almost impossible to reverse unless one acts in time to prevent it.  I compare it to the party at which one boisterous and obnoxious guest prompts others to act the same way and ultimately causes the rest of the company, who dislike the negative atmosphere, to leave.  I have seen this happen on a number of other forums, which now consist primarily of exchanges of petty barbs and little that could be called discussion.  As the barbs multiply and intensify, the more thoughtful and considerate participants disappear, leaving only the flame-throwers.

Whenever I visit a website, especially one that is maintained by a private individual who obviously projects his or her personality, tastes, and interests into the project, I try to remember that I am a guest in that person's "house."  As such, I don't presume to rearrange the furniture, criticize the color of the drapes, or spit on the carpet.  I do not go about attacking other guests or belittling the host for having them there.  As the host of this website, I expect the same consideration.  When I do not get it, I show the offender the door.

May 15, 2007.  I must say that it has been a relief today not to have to dodge punches or referee squabbles.  I even did a little writing – nothing consequential but at least something positive.

I am beginning to think that my persona as a curmudgeon is wearing down.  I am still a grumbler, still enjoy the facetious comment (especially when it's witty as well), and still am alternately annoyed and amused by the foibles of my fellow human beings.  However, I  have lost, or am losing, my passion for the negative.  Though I still feel that there's much to be negative about (I do, after all, read the newspaper), I guess when one is 70 years old, there doesn't seem to be much point in getting into twit over matters that one can't control.  I might as well take everything more lightly, for I haven't that much time left.  The world and humanity will outlive me – and may, with luck, outlive my children and grandchildren.  If I get another go-round in the form of reincarnation, I hope it's as a cat or some other animal that has little cognizance of human affairs.

Sometimes I think that I've been a little too responsible.  I've sort of felt that, when nations and societies and people in power screw up, I should do something about it – when, if course, there is precious little that I can do.  I've always invested huge amounts of energy into grumbling about situations that I didn't cause and can't correct.  After a lifetime of doing this, one can either become bitter that the world refuses to function the way one wants it to, or one can say, "Aw, to hell with it," and pursue the remaining joys of one's small life.  Each day, I'm inching more toward latter.  It's time to bequeath both cynicism and idealism to those with the energy to indulge in them.