Notes from Maine - 2021/07/18
I watched Terminator 2 yesterday for no reason. There are some genuinely tense moments in that movie. It was nerve-racking to watch Sarah try to escape the institution only to discover herself in the middle of a Terminator sandwich. And I’ve seen the movie a dozen times. Somehow, even though I knew how things would turn out, the movie made me tense.
The ending though really got me. *Spoilers! (It’s a 30-year-old movie)
After Robert Patrick was dispatched, we have the scene where Arnold has to be destroyed to prevent the Dark Fate. Another spoiler—it doesn’t work, since they released Terminator: Dark Fate in 2019. Anyway, Sarah holds the button that will lower Arnold into the molten metal below. That scene was hard to watch. It’s a real Old Yeller moment. For a second, I thought that Sarah should hand the control to John, so he can feel like it’s his decision. That would be absurd though. The one kindness that she can do in that moment is to take one hard task onto herself.
My best friend, Finn, is having a hard day today. I’m hoping that some rest and the anti-inflammatory I gave him this morning will help him feel better, but he’s eight years old (which is getting up there for a Mastiff). He’s still in great shape, but he won’t be forever. This is a horrible trick we play on ourselves, allowing ourselves to become so dependent on another creature for our stability and happiness. How many times do we have to say goodbye?
The only sane thing we can do, I suppose, is try to enjoy every moment and push the inevitable to back of our minds. Good things come to those who wait? Well, guess what also comes… It’s amazing how much time is squandered and suffered through before we get to a moment when it feels like we would trade everything for just another day.
Boy, this is not a cheerful note.
Here’s a different story—stop me if I’ve told you this one already.
It was maybe 1993 when my sister and I went to Mexico. We went when there were few tourists because of the unpredictable rain. We traveled around the Yucatán Peninsula, landing in Cancún, taking a bus to Playa del Carmen, and then a ferry over to Cozumel. At one point, we decided to spend a few days on Isla Mujeres, which is a small island in the Caribbean Sea. Fluent in Spanish, my sister was masterful at finding us terrible rooms for a couple of dollars a night. The room on Isla Mujeres had a bunch of beds, like a hospital ward, and about a million fleas. I think it cost $4. At noon, the rain came and flooded the streets. People waded through knee-deep water with their shoes slung over their shoulder.
We had no business being at the fancy beach with the lounge chairs set out for the fancy hotel people. Nobody cared—it was the off season, and we were clearly tourists. We went early, grabbed a couple of chairs, and sat in the sun while kids played soccer near the water.
My sister said she had to grab a couple of things from the store and go back to the room for a minute. I was left there in the sun, with the passports, money, towels, and my paperback. I read for a while and enjoyed the sun. That’s when the kids buried their soccer ball and ran for the ocean. I lowered my book, watching them. It was the first time I had seen the kids swimming. But they weren’t swimming. They waded out until they could submerge themselves with only their eyes and noses above the surface of the calm water.
Puzzled, I tried to go back to my book, but I was too confused about why the kids were hiding in the water. That’s when the rain started. It fell like cold spikes and I quickly wrapped up my book and our valuables in one of the towels. There was nowhere to run to. Our hotel was blocks away, and I had to keep everything dry. I followed the example of the kids and dug a hole. I buried everything in the sand and sat over it, like a shivering bird incubating an egg. The rain punished me for several minutes until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I sprinted for the ocean and learned a second lesson from the kids. In comparison to the freezing rain, the ocean was a warm embrace. Submerged up to my nose, I could stay warm while the beach was ravaged by the cold raindrops.
I don’t know how long I hid there. It felt like forever. I stared through the mist to make sure that our passports and cash weren’t dug up and stolen. Then, as quickly as it came, the rain disappeared. The clouds just vanished and the kids went back to their game.
I dragged myself back to the chair, dug up all our possessions, and tried to spread everything out so it could dry. Meanwhile, I kept looking back up at the sky now that I knew I couldn’t trust it.
Some time later, my sister wandered back. She looked well-rested and dry after a pleasant nap. She was surprised when I told her about the rain. I was still wet, beat down, and cold.
What a fun trip.
