It began with a meal of takeout pizza, a week when time stood still, as one of our six guests from California marveled on the third day.

The cast of characters in this midsummer play included our nephew Toucalit, his wife Nancy, their son Andy, their nephew Mateo; our niece Maggie and her daughter Noelle; and Tina and me.

Much time was spent on the dock, swimming and sunning and savoring the sight of passing sailboats and motorboats, kayaks and paddle boards. Mateo, age 10, most enjoyed catching scores of crabs and even a horseshoe crab, using lunch meat from the deli for bait. He described crabbing as “funner than fun.” I reverted to youth by doing a cannonball from 15-feet up on the stairs leading to the dock, along with Mateo and Toucalit, age 50. Now there’s one for the old guys.

Nothing beats a night out at the Portland Sea Dogs game. The antics between innings, the rousing rendition of “YMCA,” led by the mascot Slugger and, of course, damn-the-diet delights, such as hot dogs and burritos and French fries and cokes and …

We did our bit to help the Barbie movie smash records during its opening weekend. Interestingly, the movie conveyed the same anti-paternalistic message as Maine State Music Theatre’s fantastic production of “9 to 5 the Musical.”

The Brunswick Farmers Market proved to be a big hit, thanks to empanadas, chocolate-filled crullers, homemade doughnuts and other goodies. Ditto for Gelato Fiasco, a can’t miss stop for any and all visitors. And the seafood at the Dolphin Restaurant justified the long wait for a table.

We engaged in fascinating discussions on topics ranging from the challenges of teaching today (Nancy’s a world history teacher) to global economic trends (Toucalit oversees a fascinating website, entitled “New Low Observer,”) to Noelle’s upcoming five-month trip to Europe to Andy’s successful audition for a show for which he must create 50 6-inch-by-6-inch portraits of his childhood stuffed animals to Maggie’s duties as an administrative assistant at a go-go financial management firm. Andy wisely noted that AI (artificial intelligence) would cease to exist without continued human creativity.

Noelle, already a highly promising writer at age 20, wanted to try her hand at writing a flash fiction story after I gave her a copy of my book, “A Flash Fiction Exchange Between Methuselah and the Maiden: Six Stories to While Away the Hours.” She absolutely blew me away with the creativity and maturity of her writing, and we’ve agreed to jointly work on our own collection of flash fiction stories.

And then there were games, such as Uno and Scrabble and completing a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle of Chinatown. And we quipped and groaned as we overdosed on trashy episodes of “Married at First Sight.”

Readers might wonder why I’m indulging in this recap of our week. “So what?” you might ask. Well, “here’s the rest of the story,” as Paul Harvey used to tell his millions of listeners. Tina and I were the only two white people in this eight-person group or, as the loathsome Sarah Palin might have said, the only “real Americans.” Toucalit, Maggie, Noelle and Andy are bi-racial. Nancy’s parents came to the United States from Taiwan. Mateo’s father is from Slovakia. Andy was Sophia until a few years ago.

We love this group of people not because of their diversity, but because they are an absolute joy to be around. They are, quite simply, smart, creative and fun. I asked Maggie, Nancy and Toucalit if they minded if I brought up the diversity issue. “Sure, why not?” they said with one voice. “The message needs to get out there.” Indeed, it does at a time when the leaders of one of America’s two major political parties has made a fetish of criticizing people who are too “woke” or loosely translated, too embracing of inclusion and diversity, too willing to face America’s less-than-perfect past head on. Maggie laughs and says, “You and Tina are the most woke people I know.” We take that as a badge of honor.

Maybe it was just a sign from God that a huge American Bald Eagle sat perched at the top of a tree in front of our house at some point during the week. Maybe the eagle was saying, “Hey. Look America. We are all one people. United in common cause. This is our future. Get used to it.” Or maybe he was just looking for fish. Either way, he was a magnificent sight.

David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary and suggestions for future “Just a Little Old” columns. dtreadw575@aol.com.