God dammit! People keep saying Hi to me and it makes me even less apt to be my usual pleasant self. I am aggravated to wits end with Hi. Two frigging letters stuck together at the beginning of the alphabet that need to removed. The assumption that hiking is a social event is misguided at best. Please! Stop Saying Hi! Especially to The Grumpy Retiree!

I don’t know how it started or why it’s done, but just about every hiker I pass on a trail says “Hi” to me. The vast majority of people would think nothing of it and just respond with a friendly “Hi” back, but it aggravates the crap out of me. Do I know you? You don’t appear familiar. Why in god’s name do you need to ruin what otherwise was a good day spent alone in nature, away from most of civilization, with “Hi”?

I make it as difficult for them as possible, no eye contact and a scowl, also known as the Grumpy Smile, on my face. But some just persist with “Hi”. I usually grunt back, or maybe a mmmm. Occasionally if I am good mood and they say Good Morning, I may respond with Mornin’. Good is subjective, and unless it is at least 11:59:59.99am, there is still time for something to go wrong and ruin the morning. Maybe someone will squeeze in a quick “Hi” in the final millisecond at which time all hell breaks loose.

Seems like the thought is, I’m Hiking, Your Hiking. We are Hikers, we are one the same. Bullshit. Can you imagine walking down the street and every coffee cup carrying fartsniffer must say Hi to each other. “Drinking a coffee I see, me too. Well have a wonderful day, Hi. Thanks, you also. Is that a latte I smell? Why yes you are absolutely correct. Well, have a splendid morning, we seem to have so much in common! Yes thank you and here is your Hi right back.” Arrrgg! Pardon me while I pull out your tongue from the root.

One person hiking is bad enough, but when I encounter a group of 5 or 6 people they all want their individual “Hi”. You expect me to toss back 5 “Hi’s”? Each of you had to just toss out 1 and I have to respond with 6 “Hi’s”! I see no economy in that. It usually goes something like this. “Hi. Hmmm. Hi. Grrrr. Hi. Grrrr. Hi. Grrrrrrr. Hi. ………” As I pick up my pace.

Possibly, since hiking starts with Hi they think it’s obligatory? Hiking has King in it also. Could they actually think I am a King and they are just sayin’ Hi to the King? That would make some sense. From now on, if I acknowledge at all, I am going to respond to everyone that says “Hi” with “King”. Let’s see where that goes.

Do You Live Here?

2024 marks my third summer in Maine since the purchase of our tiny house, and other than people’s pleasantries (as in Hi), all is well and good. This year I am whiling away a few hours once again at the winery and I am frequently asked if I am from Maine. It may have something to do with the way I dress, look or sound, but the question comes up frequently.

The query takes many different forms. “Are you originally from Maine?” “Do you live here year round?” “Where can I see a Moose?” Well the third question has little to do with me being from Maine. At least we get to point to the “Dead Moose”, as my wife calls it, hanging on the wall and explain it’s likely as close to a moose sighting they will get around Acadia National Park.

This year, I have started to tell people I live in Maine because … I live in Maine. I like saying that and I like the sound of it, so I say it. People from away, hearing you live in Maine, automatically think your are more interesting, must own an ax, likely a boat or 2, eat lobster for breakfast and, without stating the obvious, are more handsome. Preferably I want to say, “No, I don’t live in Maine. I commute 3 days a week 6 hours from Boston each way just to pour wine for you, just you.” I like to be a bit of an ass.

My first 2 years here, I did not proclaim I lived in Maine. The long story started with how I have a place in Maine and live here for the summer and ….. I am exhausted just thinking it. I LIVE IN MAINE is easier. However, it really is truthful. Out of the 12 months a year, I live in Maine the longest, almost 6 full months. The rest of the year I am in North Carolina for a few months and then someplace overseas for several weeks. I am a bit like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, I’m all over the place.

“-The Tin Man: Well, what happened to you?
The Scarecrow: They tore my legs off and they threw it over there! Then, they took my chest off and they threw it over there!
The Tin Man: Well, that’s you all over.
The Cowardly Lion: They sure knocked the stuffings out of you, didn’t they?”

The Wizard of Oz

Are you A Tourist or A Traveler?

I find it amusing what peoples’ perceptions are of the State of Maine. There are states everyone seems to know. Even when my wife and I travel outside the US, people know about New York, mostly the city. And Florida, the home of Goofy. However Maine, considering it’s proximity to large population centers such as Boston, Hartford and New York City, is still a land of unknown and mystery for a large number of visitors.

Many tourists from away have little understanding of the State of Maine. They want a damn lobster. They want to see a damn moose. After that, the knowledge of Maine falls off dramatically, like someone falling off Precipice Trail in Acadia. Researching a destination for me is something I do whenever we visit a new place. But many tourists arriving in Maine expect to see Bullwinkle on every street corner of the state munching on a lobster roll.

On the island of Mound Desert, the primary home of Acadia National Park, it is highly unlikely to see a moose. When we tell them they should head inland an hour or 2 and they need to be there either at dawn or dusk to improve moose sighting chances, they decide the lobster roll is sufficient a story to tell back home and give up on the moose. Hell, when we tell them they are physically on an island they sternly disagree until we point to the map hanging prominently on the wall. I find it ironic that many hats and t-shirts sold, even within the national park stores, have a moose emblazoned upon its surface. The deer, turkey and beaver, which are plentiful in Acadia National Park, otta employ a better advertising agency.

The problem manifests itself with the tourist verse the traveler. The tourist wants to be entertained and the traveler seeks adventure. It is the fireworks verses the firefly, the ocean vista overlook verses the hidden harbor inlet and the “must eat” restaurant verse where the locals eat.

Acadia National Park comprises over 47,000 acres. The Park Loop Road is several miles, but there are 158 miles of hiking trails and 45 miles of carriage roads. When I ask people what they have done in the area and I hear “We did the park this morning and tonight we are going to do Bar Harbor” I immediately think tourist, not traveler.

There is nothing wrong with The Park Loop Road in Acadia. There is nothing wrong with a whale watch or puffin watch cruise. But you cannot see Acadia National Park in a morning and do justice to the scenery and greenery. And, if you are slow sipping a Rosé at the winery, as much as it’s a pleasant place when I am not serving you, and Rosé a great summertime wine, you need to get going! There is a whole island to explore, believe it or not.

Fun With Words (and Tourists)

While working at the winery, some days things can get a bit mundane. You like sweet wine or dry? Red or White? Hello, would you like to do a wine tasting? The answer too frequently is “I’m thinking about it.” Well you should have thought about it before your turned into the driveway, parked the car, walked into the winery and up to the bar and bothered me. You are not at a car dealership where you are just browsing!

It is quite amazing how indecisive and incoherent many people are when prompted with simple questions. Ask a couple if they would like to do the tasting inside or outside inevitably the woman turns to her partner and says what do you want? The response is always whatever you want. Good answer … until it is bounced back and forth until one participant in the match, eventually looking to put an end to the volley asks me: “what’s the difference”. Well, if you taste inside you are inside, and if you taste outside you are outside is my typical deadpan response. I failed at being nice several decades ago.

So, it should come as no surprise, that The Grumpy Retiree is always looking for a way to amuse himself. This year it is with words tossed out to … comflogisticate people. With little work during a slow afternoon, I came up with 11 words (so far) that get bantered around while talking to customers. I’ve made a game of it and we keep score with bragging rights the only prize. Currently I am in 2nd place with 2 players.

Comflogisticated to the point of Overmusement

It is all very simple and goes like this:

Currently the game is in the early innings but I have been able to throw out a smellfungus, which I am quite proud of. The amusing thing is no customer utters a single word. Occasionally you get a glance and once, and so far just once, a person asked (which is an extra point in the game): what is a palouser? And of course without missing a beat explained it is an especially beautiful sunset, which they assumed must be correct, and rightfully concluded how smart, or odd, these people from Maine happened to be.

After just 1 day of this amusing game, I realize I could baffle them about anything if I used just the right combination of words. Additionally I don’t think that I need to use actual words. Simply make up something like sventicus and nobody will flinch. As a matter of fact I probably could just make noises or bring in a clown’s horn to make the situation more festive, if not absurd.

Would You Like a Bib with Your Lobster?

While I would like to feel smug about this word salad game, I know it is nothing new. Mainers are known for a “can’t get there from here” or two over the years. And, despite the lack of hard evidence, the lobster bib most certainly was a Mainer having fun with tourists. Someone, many years ago looking for some fun like The Grumpy Retiree, concluded the best way to identify a tourist eating a sea cockroach was to strap a white bib emblazoned with a bright red lobster around their neck. Traditions have to start someplace.

The chosen words:

• Comflogisticate: to utterly confuse someone or to embarrass or somehow show a person up.
• Overmused: If you’re overmused, you’re exhausted from thinking or mulling things over too much.
• Thunder Plump: A sudden thunderstorm or violent thunderstorm.
• Rampike: A rampike is a dead tree that is still somehow standing.
• Gulchcup: A gulchcup is someone who drains a drink down to its very last drop. Used between 1100-1500AD and considered obsolete. (Not any more!)
• Smellfungus: an 18th-century word for a habitual nit-picking faultfinder.
• Comet Wine: is wine made from grapes grown in a year or season when comets were readily visible in the night sky. This supposedly made the wine especially fine and flavorful.
• Denticulation: The tooth-like perforation around a postage stamp is called the denticulation. (Yes, we are a bit liberal with the definition, it is our game after all.)
• Chine: is a word for a string of bubbles on the surface of a river or body of water that indicate where an otter is swimming.
• Palouser: An especially beautiful sunset.
• Stupple: A row of steppingstones