MeInMaine Blog

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  • Smells Like Snow… Not Just Looks Like It Could Snow In Maine.

    Maine Is Four Seasons, Class Always Is In.
    Life Drifts, Snow Storms, Don’t Get Bogged Down, Miss The Take Away.

    The calendar on the wall says put away the swim trunks, pack away the sandals and get that lawn furniture, flower boxes under cover.

    Take down the hammock, but don’t put away the gas grill. Use those year round to sizzle the steak, ribs, chicken, salmon right?

    Maine’s winter landscape is being squeak squeaked into the background slow but sure.

    I plow snow at a Maine farm I grew up at and bought from my three older brothers. And last night bought a new battery for the 1999 Dodge plow truck that only has 11,000 miles on it. Getting it ready to roar, angle the yellow Fisher plow. When the snow fall means jeep into where it is parked. Fire it up and plow, place, tidy it up. So the oil truck can beep beep in to hook the heating hose. And the home can guzzle guzzle.

    The smells like snow part of real winter weather is foreign to someone that did not grow up around fluffy white stuff. Hard to explain but combined with dark clouds, a glance at the calendar as Thanksgiving approaches and history living in Maine all combine. Like the person with rheumatoid arthritis joint pain that could be in front of the green screen.

    Predicting weather accurately because those tinges in the knee, feet, shoulder, neck or elbow joint means chance of Maine snow fall is approaching.

    Like built in barometers. The aching joint could land you a job on the Weather channel. Folks tune you in because you know how to predict that weather better than a meteorologist. You just know, instinctively, in your gut. Sense the difference in air pressure happening around you. The volume on the pain from 40%, 100% chance of snow. Increasing like the shade of red intensity in ET’s chest cavity. When thoughts of home, or a signal is coming his way to lock on to and prepare for exiting Earth.

    The smell of snow, ooh ooh that smell means be boy scout prepared.

    And the Maine home owner, driver, road crews on the local and state level are. We know how to do snow. Don’t go into a tail spin when it happens. Get good at removing it, working around it and making it fun, tourism dollar generating rich and profitable for local businesses. That count on snow sledding revenues.

    And for individuals that like to be outside ice fishing, snow skiing, enjoying walking in it around a small Maine town community. Let it snow. I’m ready. It’s one of my favorite seasons and have to remind, Maine has no polar bears. We get snow, just not all the time. More than 20 minutes of daylight all winter long because we are not in the Arctic Circle.

    So turn the top levers on the insulated windows, pull the blinds closed at night, weather strip and caulk, add a little more attic insulation to places where it has settled, but get ready. Winter coat, mittens and gloves. Check. Antifreeze levels in the vehicles up. Check. Ice scraper and snow brush in the back seat and within arm’s reach. Check. Bring it on.

    We are ready and prepared for Maine winter snow. Or if not, can always do the snow bird routine. In the sunny south and southwest until the smell of snow in the air is gone. Replaced with the stronger, longer sun. The spring singing birds, fragrance of the crocus, daffodils, tulips, lilac bushes return.

    I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
    207.532.6573
    info@mooersrealty.com

  • The Gas Heater Did A Poor Job Warming The Winter Tent In Italy.

    625px-B-24_Flak

    You’ve watched the M A S H television series and spent time in “The Swamp”, the tent in Korean.

    That was home away from home for those veterans patching up blown away soldiers. Helicoptered in from heavy action on the front fighting lines of the war. A different kind of medicine being administered than the garden variety ailments, aches, pains the doctors would see in their milk toast in comparison practices stateside.

    The show’s humor helped cope with the despair of gunshot, mine, artillery shell de-limbing destruction.

    The sacrifice. The Bing Crosby “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”. Being away from family, home, familiar surroundings. Looking forward to a letter from someone, anyone from your home town. Missing holidays, birthdays, funerals while you helped fight the war for Uncle Sam.

    In World War Two’s European Theatre, my Dad had a role in the back seat of a B-24 bomber four engine aircraft. He, the other nine crewmen in the 882nd Bombardment wing of the 15th Army stationed, based near Naples, Italy. Sitting in the back, by himself. Trained in hotter than Hell Brownsville Texas to be a B-24 tail gunner.

    Eventually, escorted, settled in Italy where winter weather, living in a canvas tent was all that separated, protected you from the elements. With a temperamental gas heater that was hot and cold so to speak. And at night you worried as you tried to sleep. A lot on your mind. Like the other young men in the flapping in the wind, rain, snow exposed fabric tent.

    The morning briefings before the plane full of bomb run, decided if cloud cover weather overhead canceled the flight or not.

    Except no free tickets to anywhere you want to go being awarded, handed out if the mission was scrubbed. Because it just meant rescheduled for blue skies in the forecast. And doubling up on the effort to drop bombs over primary and sometimes secondary enemy targets.

    Dad was relieved of his third year at the University of Maine at Orono college education when tapped on the shoulder for war service.

    He made it home, we won the war and he did go back to finish to get handed a sheepskin for agriculture economics. To put to use back up north in Aroostook County. Burton Tingley, another Houlton Maine boy air dropped into the same Italian airbase turned wrenches.

    Burton fixed, plugged shrapnel and bullet holes. Repaired, lubed, refueled, kept them in the air. But when it was a day to go off base, head into town where you could buy anything for a pack of American cigarettes, the pair took the scooter. One of a kind. Made with an engine from an airfield gasoline plane pump, some angled tubular aluminum from a battery storage rack, two tires from a shop tool cart and voila. Cheap transportation to zip the GI’s into happy hour off base.

    For a few hours to forget why they were in Italy, what was happening to the world.

    And to realize we were all in this together. To win the war, whatever it took. But secretly wondering if each on foreign soil would ever really get back to their home towns safe, sound, in hopefully one piece alive. Not in an American flag draped casket. Sliding around in the back of a cold, dark cargo plane. With rows of containers packed and stacked in red, white and blue just like it.

    Dad said daylight bombing was so much more effective than moon lit or pitch black missions. As you studied maps. To figure out the bull’s eye in hitting enemy targets. But scored for high casualty losses of men and planes. A third sent up did not come back.

    A sitting duck target at times. For the highly accurate German 88 mm that tried to blow them out of the sky big guns. Usually Western movies splashed on the outdoor drive in theatre we went to as a family with four kids years later in life. But when it was a Twelve O’clock High type film, Dad would say “Oh that is so Hollywood”. Not the way it was for accuracy, but the crowds in the cars ate it up. Did not know the difference.

    As the youngest of four, all boys, I remember opening up the safe in the front hall.

    In the important papers tucked away protected from fire, an 8″ long, 5″ high, 3″ thick light orange tan case with a top flap hid. Everything from European currencies, 50 caliber brass shell bullets, air medals all tucked inside. In a photo album in the front room, black and whites, pages and pages of Dad’s time spent in Italy.

    Dad’s valor job of riding in the back of a four engine plane with bomb bay doors to work each day. Protected by six sets of double 50 mm machine guns with tracer bullets. To light up phosphorus fiery trails to let the shooter know where adjustments are needed. To hit, stop, destroy or at least deter the intended target buzzing all around you.

    To protect the gas and bomb loaded bomber. With firing pins removed, stacked and racked load of ordinance that must get delivered. Eight thousand pounds gravity dropped from all of the 1200 horsepower motor droning bomber formation airplanes around you. That each B-24 Liberator copy cost just shy of $300,000, which translates into 4.72 million in today’s dollars. Chewing up 200 gallons of gas an hour without bomb load.

    Smiling faces of crew of ten young men in the Liberator B-24 just glad to be on firm ground after a forced bomber landing.

    In pencil on the back of album images, in his handwriting “The smiles are real, after ditching the plane at an English coastal base. Waiting four days to be picked up, reassigned another bomber.” Dressed in leather, bomber jackets or full flight suits while doing their part in the war effort. There were not any milk runs, it was baptism by fire during daylight bombing. In an unpressurized plane with 30 below zero weather and the smell of cordite exploding around your flying tin can. Wearing an oxygen mask, flak protection and reciting lots of prayers.

    Proud of you Dad on this Veterans Day.

    The re-reading of love letters between you and Mom written daily shows what it was like inside. What the country was going through and how expensive freedom really is when men and women go off to fight wars. Veterans Day, it’s everyday. Thank a soldier. They are not just men. My Aunt Hettie was a World War I nurse. A real Florence Nightingale. A blog post for another day.

    I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
    207.532.6573
    info@mooersrealty.com

  • Small Maine Towns, What Makes One Great?

    Small Maine Towns, What Makes One Great?

    canadiancustoms

    Small Maine towns. A rural state with just a tad over a million people.

    Actually, to be exact 1.329 million total, revealed the 2012 US Census head count. But what characteristics help make a small Maine town great? For starters a river winding through, a lake in town or nearby or ocean shoreline helps. For recreation, for visual pleasure each of the four seasons. Walking, bike paths and picnic areas with benches along that water front are an attraction to locals and tourists alike. Maine has more land mass than the other New England states combined.

    A college or university in that small Maine town adds an educational, cultural gem facet.

    Being a county seat with historic buildings contributes to the local charm. Help make it an economic attraction destination. Parks for use for free community band concerts. For green space. For sporting events all intensify the shine, sparkle, luster of the small Maine town jewel. Tennis and basket ball courts, little league complexes, ice hockey skating arenas. That all attract out of towners to tournaments. Help fill local coffers. Bring in a new dollar that turns over six times. Fueling the fierce pride, love and respect the towns people have for their Maine village.

    Mountain views, state parks, something to look at with the natural setting adds to the horsepower of the small Maine town too.

    Maine, More Than One Shade Of Green.
    Not Just One Shade Of Green Describes Maine.

    Hiking, skiing, Maine snow sledding, four wheel ATV trails.

    All keep town residents happy, a reason for natives to stay.

    Something extra to cause tourists to visit.

    And hang around. Happy campers.

    Year after year. They let their friends know about the experience.

    If the local Maine town economy is diversified, not monoculture but expansive agriculturally, wood industry wise, then local jobs happen.

    Border Maine towns enjoy Canadian retail traffic. All those trips across the boundary for milk, gas, turkeys, etc. Eh?

    Manufacturing with the cost of fuel for heating, transportation to and fro forces causes challenges. Means being highly creative to maintain jobs, add to that segment of employment. Having the fastest internet connection for telecommuters, local businesses gives the small Maine town higher marks.

    Clear vision by the local Maine town fathers laying out the community. Followed up by a sound comprehensive zoning plan. Updated to reflect sound development needs. For success, growth, maintaining the Maine community. Work ethic instilled growing up, low cost utilities, availability of abundant raw natural resources all help the rise and fall of a small Maine town.

    But the attitude of the people in small Maine towns.

    The tone of their conversations, the way they treat each other. Even when a difference of opinion on the right direction to steer, adjust, guide the small Maine town happens is key. The principles of a winning sports team resonate thru out the successful Maine community. Sensitive to not overspend, waste resources. To keep the tax base high school skinny, highly efficient so the taxpayer feels he, she is getting their money’s worth. And don’t encourage their kids to move anywhere else. Closing the door on the option of sticking around, carrying the passed torch in their small Maine hometown.

    A quality health care facility, elderly housing options, a diversity of churches and quality schools are vital building blocks of the Maine town.

    Good vets, lawyers, accountants, car repair and tire shops. Often the quality of the local Maine library is one of the first areas a relocating, retiring renter or real estate buyer expects to find. Good banking options, an attitude to help new businesses get off the ground is key in small Maine towns.

    houltonmaine040Maine is the 4th lowest crime state, public safety is a given compared to urban areas.

    The ability to walk to the local movie theatre, downtown to a coffee shop, restaurant is a big plus for a city dweller.

    Who worries daily about personal safety.

    Or is on house arrest. Jammed sardine tight in a small, sky high level expensive apartment. Too much. Or microscopic house lot. Not able to move around freely without fear in sketchy neighborhoods depending on the time of the day. That’s no way to live. That’s not Maine.

    Small Maine towns offer freedom, space, clean natural resources.

    The chance to be involved, a part of the community to share talents, to make it greater. The Maine town should be big enough to offer adequate lodging, motel rooms. And bed and breakfasts, inns, camp grounds and cabins for rent on local lakes. Having a local Maine airport, good transportation system for major US highways, Interstate 95 exits help keep people moving. New dollars coming into the local economy.

    The civic and social clubs, local railroad, agricultural, lumbermen historic museums all add another Maine small town dimension. Community theatre, other fine performance outlets with local artisans give another boost. Making the small Maine town attractive to all ages means taking inventory of what qualities we have to promote. What we need to develop around that we don’t possess. But could in time with blood, sweat and tears.

    Farmers markets, food co-ops, flea markets, car cruise ins, state fairs, antique shops and a variety of small retailers, service providers.

    All needed in small Maine towns too. Along with a shop local, close to home attitude from the Maine town residents.


    How does your small Maine town stack up? I’m pretty proud of the one I live, work, play and raised a family in.

    I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
    207.532.6573 | MOOERS REALTY 69 North ST Houlton ME 04730 USA |
    info@mooersrealty.com

  • Rattling The Cage Of A Small Maine Town’s Economy.

    Small Maine Simple Living.
    Fixing, Getting Under The Hood, Under The Engine Of Small Maine Town Economy.

    The forces that help or hurt the sustained economy, smart growth of a small Maine town.

    It may not at first hit you as a titillating topic headline. But it should cause a pitter patter, lub dub increase deep down inside all small Maine town community dwellers. Because it is vital, life and death important to the small Maine town’s survival. For future generations to have the option to settle down there, to live, work and play.

    Change happens in life, in small town Maine living. Small business being strangled with government regulations, reduced profits per unit product or service strain the economic health of the enterprise. Being driven to get bigger, the need for volume sales take their toll in small population centers. When the urban market for the end product or service is many miles away. Involving the extra overhead of shipping, fuel charges, labor expenses to get to the urban market where eight out of ten folks in America live today.

    Not so long ago, the small Maine town’s economy was pretty self contained.

    Now with Internet, Interstates, and evaporating local options for purchasing many goods or services the vise grip on the guglar of the small Maine business owner tightens. Profit to expand, to update equipment, to add to the payroll, or just maintain status quo has become hose kinked. Income reduced to a trickle in many cases.

    So rising costs for providing town services, coupled with reduced revenue means belt tightening. Not raising fees, hiking property taxes recklessly. Which just adds large extra holes to a sinking ship. A band aid to a gunshot wound. Forcing the doors to the small business one by one to close. Jobs in the relocation to head down the road, out of the Maine small town. To places closer to the market. In areas more favorable for doing business.

    Somehow making a profit, running a business and ending up in the black has become wrong to many.

    Like that return is suppose to be in the hands of those feeling somehow entitled to it. As the ticket to a better way of life at the expense of the little red hen, That toiled, sacrificed to create, carve out, earn it. Small business is the economic engine for social programs, community services like road maintenance, police and fire protection, education, etc. Without the business profit there would in a short time be no programs. Everyone can not be in the wagon.

    Someone has to be pulling it, pushing it. Keeping it like the economy healthy, moving. Preserve, protect free enterprise which used to sum up what America, land of opportunity was all about because of the freedom to work hard. Hustle, make the kind of living tied directly to how much labor, effort, long hours you did put in. With a little luck, a lot of creativity, patience. And seeing the market winds to adjust your “sales”.

    Making a healthy environment for small Maine businesses should be a priority to all in a small Maine town. Not just throwing money at the economic dart board and hoping it sticks. Is a move in the right direction either. Not done by maintaining current levels of town services if the community can not afford it without year after year property tax hikes.

    Careful examination of the town’s strengths, weaknesses and developing a game plan. Removing waste, wrinkles, slack. Having a sound current strategy, long term goals that match it. One course of action that all the local community, the small Maine town says buys into, embraces. That sounds prudent. Let’s get behind it. Give it a whirl as Kevin said about TV dinners. While quizzing the bored gum chewing teeny bop store clerk. As his parents, family was away for the holidays. And he had to fend for himself. Protect the home front. We have critical work to do in our small Maine towns. It starts with education.

    The hard reality of small Maine town living is if small business owners ran the town, made the tough choices and critical maneuvers to get back on course, those affected would shun patronizing the shop keeper, service provider.

    Often taking it personally. But like cancer, it can be beat. With tough decisions, facing economic reality. For the greater good, not to feather the cap of a few who like things pretty much the way they roll currently.

    It does depend on who’s ox is getting gored in life.

    The painful pruning, reallocation of funding will be felt, carried by all to guarantee a speedy, healthy recovery of the ailing small Maine town economy. Has to be that way to get the majority of the small Maine town to sign on, help row that boat. Not so gently down the current economically turbulent class five rapids stream.

    Let’s all do our home work for the small Maine towns we are proud to call home. Learn more about the life and death of small town America. Learn how to attract or how to cause small business owners to abandon small towns. The problems are complex, dubbed the “brain drain” but realization that small town rural areas can be the ground zero of sustainable green agricultural based living.

    Embrace small Maine town living. Because that is what Maine is, 108 small communities, a handful of cities. What makes it so special, tightly knit. But also presents the greatest challenges for survival.

    I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
    207.532.6573
    info@mooersrealty.com

  • The Maine Home Listing, The Funeral In Same Week A Family Reunion.

    Muscle Cars, Pontiac 1968 GTO
    The GTO Was A 1968, Red In Color That I Remember Bob Fournier Driving. Slid Behind The Wheel.

    A cousin Shirley Benn called and announced it is time to sell the New Limerick Maine home.

    Two extra hours of family history included. The catch up like a reunion during the property listing process. The cousin a decade older. Shared quite a bit of missing family history pieces because I was too young to remember all the events. Just a little grasshopper. And both parents are gone now to do a shout out for answers. Then two days later, on the other side of the DNA tree, it is another family reunion of sorts. Despite being a funeral to cause it. Make the most of whatever the day presents. Live in the season. Enjoy the surroundings. Listen, watch and learn. Be grateful. See the sermon in whatever unfolds works for me living in a small Maine town.

    The funeral is hard to feel sad for very long when you consider the guy who died was always smiling.

    He had a work ethic sorting, stacking, displaying fruit and produce for years at the local Maine grocery. Everyone knew him, liked him and will miss him. And you can hear Bob saying “Hey hey hey. What’s with all the long faces, corners of the mouth turned down to the floor people? Lighten it up.” Then flashing a trademark grin. And we did lighten up. Thanks Bob. As the room lifted high one frosty Miller Lite for Bobby that was ice cold, ready, waiting to toast. To share stories. Then sit down to an amazing spread of food prepared by the Houlton Lodge of Elks for a departed brother.

    Between the grocery customers in a small Maine town, the fact his wife has worked in a school system for a long time, there was a full funeral home. Her entire school where she and the daughter work let out early. So teachers, students could attend the funeral. The neighborhood around their Maine home is tight and it too showed up in force. The deceased was an active softball player, a bowler and past officer at the local Lodge of Elks.

    Add up all those circles in a small Maine town and you have one powerful connection, network. And it pretty much sums up everyone who lives there because of his great passion, involvement in community affairs. Everyone knew Bob Fournier, not just his name, not just casually. How you knew him depended on where you came into the story. His life. He made a lasting impression no matter which on ramp you met up on to work together. To get to know him better. To enjoy the one of a kind 1000 watt smile.

    He was an identical twin, his wife split from one egg too.

    We left the sunset grave side service. Parked back in town. Were walking into the Lodge of Elks, when his wife’s twin, his look a like sister in law commented how tight this small Maine town is. Everyone turns out when you need support. All pitch in for a volunteer event. Weddings, funerals and the in between.

    The individual PEOPLE are the small Maine town stars for sure.

    Not just the places, addresses, buildings. The kids, cousins, aunts, uncles and other in-laws, outlaws were all there. To hear the stories. To add their own. To begin the process of recovery from a big loss. A community gaping hole. Someone that will be missed dearly. Because of that smile. He was a part of so many lives. And small towns in Maine are incredibly involved. The population lives so intertwined, overlapped. Less people for sure, but way way closer, intimate, woven.

    His son shared that his Dad loved to go to the woods camp. But he was no hunter. Harder on maples, birches, ash and beech stands. Wasting ammo hitting trees. No marksman or deer slayer. There for the comradery, the card games, the stories and big feeds around a wood stove. Hunched over a cribbage board. Talking, laughing about the one that got away. An orphan after his twin brother died much too young. Absorbed, swallowed, taken in by a large surrogate family. Where the signal beamed strongly both ways. Like flesh and blood.

    Camp life a ritual for a sacred week.

    As everyone grows a year older. His daughter admitted what everyone already knew. She is a Daddy’s girl, could do no wrong growing up. Was spoiled and her brother agreed. In the follow up good bye summation. She was indeed the apple of Dad’s eye. Both son and daughter strong, clear voiced. Unwavering on their feet, smiling. As they had to quickly come up to speed for the out of the blue unexpected loss. That sucker punches. That none of us is truly prepared for when it happens right on schedule. With casual speed.

    But with the love and support of the family, the neighbors, the employees of both parents, the teachers, neighbors in the community, they knew their role.

    To assure everyone in the room that they are okay because they had the best Dad. And life would go on, and let’s rally around Mom to help get through the next few difficult months. Small Maine towns, where the village raises your kids. And there is nothing stronger for a community connection through the thick and thin. The good, bad and the ugly.

    I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
    207.532.6573

  • Where In Maine You Hail From Revolves Around The Word “Chowder”.

    Starting A New Day In Maine. Start The Morning Show Intro.
    Starting A New Day In Maine. Beginning The Morning Show Intro Up At ’em.

    How you say the word “chowder” tells a lot about where you hail from in Maine Chummy.

    Where your home town is in Vacationland Mister Man. Because Maine is a big honking state with many facets. Nooks and crannies. Not just ocean front, salty sea air weathered harbor communities dotted with lighthouses. Where dwellers have their own special version of the tasty concoction to sample. And colorful Maine kitchen language, communication.

    While collecting sea glass, Maine souvenirs as you tourist troll up and down steep winding streets you ask about the chowder. The soup of the day as you 90 degree swerve with shopping bags. Into a small, dark, quaint watering hole. Place to put on the feed bag, satisfy the growling down below. To take a load off the two feet. Kick back for some sustenance. Some Maine chowder.

    The server announces proudly the the seafood “chow-dahhh” smells some kind of wicked good out in the kitchen.

    And if you want, she can check to see availability of the other variations on a theme. With options to select of fish, clam, corn chowder… er I mean “CHOW-dahh”. And she would love to ladle out a cup or bowl to begin the culinary digestive games. That end up no matter what you order off the menu drooling. Staring, mesmerized with a slab of over sized, skyscraper tall hot Maine blueberry pie. With two or more huge scoops of chilled to perfection ice cream in your favorite flavor. To top off, cap one memorable meal in Maine.

    So say “chowder”. Let me guess where you are from. (“Chow-der”) I got it, have it… Bucksport….no no, wait, you are from Cutler Maine. I know. Neat how easy it is to tell when you’ve lived, traveled around Maine all your life. And when you pay attention. The way people say Bangor is the same tell tale mystery solved on where they grew up. Not where they live now…but in the formative years.

    In another dining venue in Maine the sever might suggest a slightly different version of the word chowder.

    More nasal, missing the strong ‘r’ or with a twang addition of just the “da” or ahh”. You have to try some of the chowder can sound so different. New way inviting when everywhere in Maine you go it is termed a unique way. And the ingredients inside marinating, adding to the medley of flavorful fireworks in the chowder is special to the area. And the local food, grown close to home ingredients that are lovingly sliced, diced. Slid, stirred, swirled, stewed. Escorted, mixed into the secret, seasoned to perfection Maine chowder. Eat up, there’s more if you want.

    Maine, are you hungry yet?

    I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
    207.532.6573