It is good to travel hopefully, and to arrive too!

 It's time to be leaving the United States behind for now.  My next blog will come from the exotic Far East.  But meantime, to close the chapter on New England.  You'll remember that I was on a jet place, while wife and sister-in-law were left behind on an airbridge at Logan International clutching tickets and a little money.

On I flew headed for Portland, Maine and the warm welcome of Henry (Hank) Carey.   One of the finest men I ever knew.  And the welcome WAS warm.    I checked when I arrived on the 3rd of July evening and was told that I had come off the last flight from Boston that evening.  Consternation.  What were those girls going to do?   Hank was very laid back.  "We'll just head up on the road, they'll catch up somehow."

I wasn't so convinced. 

Meanwhile, back in Boston, they had been told that there was a small airline - twin propellors and zero altitude that would be bunny hopping up the coast a little later.   Bar Harbor Airlines.   Deep in the bowels of the terminal they found a man who was everything with BHA - from luggage shifter, to waving the taxiing plane into position.   

And so hop they did.  Wait we did.   And in due course we set off into the night in Hank's station wagon,  Thomaston- bound.  And three months of living among the "finest kind". 




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