Field Notes- Election Day- Tuesday, November 8th.

 A Day We Will Remember.  One way or Another.

I'm awake early.  My eyes still dry and sleepy.  I walked out to get the paper.  It's garbage pick up day. I'm coughing.  Phlegm.  I hope it's just a cold. Or allergy.  The house is closed up. The changeover from fresh air to house air.  I hope it's that.  I am one of the few still wearing a mask. In Maine.

Things that never affected me...do now.  The rash on my hands from touching things contact dermatitis..  This cough in the morning. Nothing much.  Just, I guess, the things that happen as one ages.  My dad.  I watched him everyday when I went to stay with him.  As he navigated his 80's.  So I have guideposts. Markers.  For the Future.

I think it's just a cold.  But these days even that is worrisome.

Here in Maine- the Eastern most of the states.........reaching out on rocky coastlines into the ocean. First to see the Sun each day.  Barren land.  One and a quarter million souls living here.  Never less and never more.... in the 40 or so years we've been here.  The population of a small Town or City elsewhere. But here ...a State.

Tucker Carlson broadcasts from the rocky shores of Eastern Maine.  From his converted bunker garage. 

I need say no more......