Mother’s Day came a week late for me this year. My older son, Walker, flew up from Washington DC on May 14 to spend the weekend. Walker is married, working and attending grad school — he is also 32 years of age which gives me the heebie jeebies. When he reached the 30 year milestone, I said, “You are now my younger brother.”
The next day, bright and early around 10 am, we headed to Acadia National Park. We hiked the Great Head Trail, taking in glorious views of the Atlantic Ocean, and ascended Cadillac Mountain via the wimpy route (by car). No matter what the age of one’s children, the “Why?” question never dies. Why is the name Acadia, number one son asked. I responded that I knew but I needed to tell him later. The answer: an Italian explorer on a 1524 voyage to the New World named present-day Nova Scotia and much of New England Archadia which is Latin, of course, and means something to do with beautiful trees. Later in the 16th century, the “r” began to disappear, likely due to map copyist errors; and the change stuck. The area became a US National Park in 1916; the name Acadia National Park was bestowed in 1929. Now, that is another story.
The much too-short visit ended at Young’s Lobster Pound overlooking Belfast Bay. As Walker who insists on no egg yokes and little red meat tore that crustacean apart, I asked him if he knew lobster compared to other seafood contains prodigious amounts of cholesterol. Moms still know a thing or two!