Gifting. No Wrapping Necessary.

Sandra Neily here with a gift from Maine Crime Writers’ reader Mary Ann and my story of the best gift ever. (My best gift ever.)

Raven gives the birds her gift, keeping squirrels off the feeder. 

 

The Affordable, but Really Good Eats Quest.

Last month, (fed up with not-worth-it but expensive food), I asked readers this question. “How might we eat out one or two times a month and spend less than $40-$45 per meal? Hopefully less than $35. Hopefully, around $75 per month for two evenings out. The food has to be really, really good food.”

 Mary Ann (using the formula I suggested), generously sent this review for us to share. Thanks, Mary Ann!  (I plan to head there for the flatbread pizza and coleslaw and of course, a long browse at Shermans Books.)

Trackside Station, Rockland, Maine    (Reviewed by Mary Ann)

The Good: Trackside combines the best of pub food with touches of fine dining. On the menu are such appetizers as pretzel bites and chicken wings, perfect to go with drinks at the bar. On that same menu you can also find Lobster Scampi, complete with herbs and white wine for date night. The daily specials include favorites such as poutine(house-made poutine gravy with One of my favorite meals to have is the flatbread “pizzas” which rotate through the specials menu. I still remember that steak and cheese with homemade aioli sauce.

Needs Work or Don’t Order: I can honestly say that I have had few disappointments with the food. If you like your fries crisp, the hand cut fries may not be for you. I’d suggest one of the best coleslaws I’ve had instead.

Good to Know: It’s located in an old railroad station and I am all about ambiance when I go out to eat. High ceilings and everywhere you look the décor includes signs that point the way to the baggage claim and the streets. Friday and Saturday nights include live music! A regular rotation of solo and duo acts create a lively atmosphere perfect for the weekend!

 The Approximate Bill: My husband and I dine here almost every weekend. It’s our end of the week treat. Entrees run between $15-$20, with seafood being a little higher at around $25. We order soft drinks and our bill runs about $45 to $50 without the generous tip that I leave. If you stop and take in the entertainment, this is a reasonable price to pay for an evening out.

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The Best Gift

This time of year, rather than buy gifts (granddaughters are an exception) I make cookie gifts and think about gifts I’ve enjoyed receiving as well as giving. This very short story (reprinted from a previous post) is about the Best Gift …ever.

The Backstory: Bread Loaf Writers Conference challenge:

We’re in the middle of a field looking at Vermont’s impossibly green hills, sitting where, since 1926, generations of writers have come to learn the craft. Our instructor tells us she wants a short, short story about something that deeply affected us, told in the point of view of someone else. She says our work merely skirts human emotions and we must go deeper. “Try letting yourself out through another’s eyes.”

Then she quotes Robert Frost who was an early and frequent teacher, presenter, and mentor at the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.”

I called up my daughter’s voice and channeled my last real family Christmas—through her eyes. Months later, I showed her the story and she said, “You nailed it, Mum.” Better praise than any critic could give.

WHEN THE HOLIDAY IS OVER BEFORE IT’S BEGUN by Sandra Neily

When I pull into the driveway, I count five cars parked in the first winter snow next to the stone wall under the pines. The camp’s green walls are holiday card perfect with wispy flakes on sills and roof. I see that Mum has, as always, tucked red bows into pine branches hanging from window boxes. Red, green and white. So it’s going to be a traditional Christmas is it?

Wood smoke blows low across the deck, pushed by a bad-weather-wind toward the lake where ice is rattling in small rafts of cubes. One morning we will wake and find the cove glued into ice- hard silence. It could happen that fast. Lots can happen that fast. Overnight.

No tracks; everyone’s been inside for hours unwrapping presents, eating Mum’s coffee cake, probably made with berries she froze last summer anticipating weekends of blue-flecked muffins and family Scrabble games. Zachary, the youngest nephew, is probably walled inside a castle of toys and gifts and well on his way to an early afternoon breakdown from getting too much of what he wants.

And what do I want? I want this to be over. I want to crawl into the bed I’ve had since I was two, pull Pooh Bear under the covers with me, and when I wake up, find my father on the roof, shoveling great clots of snow into a mound I will make into a snow cave. Before I can get up the stairs to that Christmas wish, I have to open the door—and what?

Will we be pretending today? After fifteen years of camp family holidays, that seems likely.

They hear the front door and spill into the front room to hug me. The chaos is familiar and washes over me like a bright wave of welcome water.

“What took you so long?”

“How were the roads? Icy?”

“We saved all our Elizabeth presents to have Christmas part two with you!”

“Look at all the dragons I got. They’re on the floor breathing fire on each other. Some just got killed.”

I look around for Mum The living room floor is awash in paper, ribbon, half chewed dog toys and plates of cake crumbs. There’s a monument of a tree in the living room, easily over 10 feet tall and it looks like every light and ornament is out of storage and propped on its limbs. My aunt is setting the long dining room table with the traditional red cloth, and my grandmother is attempting to settle Zachary with a story.

The walls of pictures are rearranged. My Dad is missing except for early baby pictures of us together. There are no pictures of my parents together. There’s a lighter space on the wall where my dad’s tarpon used to hang over the bar counter. I wonder how long it will take for the wall’s fish outline to disappear into the smoke darkened panels beside it.

I climb up to drop my bag in my small room at the top of the stairs. Mum has put the Santa music box on my bedside table. I wind it up to hear its familiar holiday song. “You better not cry …” in tinkling tones. As Santa revolves, his serious eyes meet mine for a few seconds in each turn. “You better not cry.” This is the first time I’ve been home since I lost my family. Nothing has changed in my room; pictures of us together sit on my bureau and bookcase. Sitting on the bed I can sort out the smells of roasting turkey and simmering garlic from the spicier ones of pumpkin pie.

Mum must be in the kitchen, but then suddenly she is there at my door. She might look the same to her family. I can see the effort she’s made to be dry-eyed and energetic, but I think she looks too pale, even for winter. She’s made no effort to re-color the grey wisps at her temples, and under the apron she’s just thrown on an old T-shirt that’s inside out.

She hugs me and sits on the bed. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to do this anymore,” she says. “It was too late to change it this year.”

I nod. “This will be our last Christmas like this,” I say firmly.  “It’s over.”

“Let’s make a new tradition when we get this sorted out,” she sighs. “Everyone’s waiting for us to open your presents. Let’s go down.”

“Mum.” I lean on her. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Elizabeth. You are the best present that I ever got.”

And since she has said that to me with tears in her eyes on every birthday and every Christmas, just as she’s saying it today, I feel stronger. We hold hands and climb down the stairs.

Wishing you all a real Maine blizzard instead of a December flood.

 

Sandy’s debut novel, “Deadly Trespass, A Mystery in Maine” won a national Mystery Writers of America award, was a finalist in the Women’s Fiction Writers Association “Rising Star” contest, and was a finalist for a Maine Literary Award. The second Mystery in Maine, “Deadly Turn,” was published in 2021. Her third “Deadly” is due out next year. Find her novels at all Shermans Books (Maine) and on Amazon.