Category: Uncategorized

The ME Debate Over Where To Cut In Small Towns.

The cut back of the trickle down Maine taxpayer generated funding.

Everyone admits the need to rein in the spending. Talks the talk. Just not in my corner. Shaved from out of the small town piece of shrinking funding pie they receive. Depends on whose ox is getting gored.
Low Or No Cost Outdoor Fun. That’s The Magic Of Maine.

Revenue sharing no longer generously showered from up above.

The bone dropped, always depended on from the state, federal government is not in the bowl. It all whispers, shouts and then screams for the need to scale it back on local expenditures.

Pick up the pace to adjust, match the loss of funding. To keep the small Maine town healthy but lean and mean to survive. Living within its means. Right side up.

Whoa Nellie on the overspending already is slow to gain traction unless you are in the East Millinocket region where no choice, things are pretty dire.

Area belt tightening of money a small Maine town just does not have. To take up the slack. From depending on higher up the government levels in the food chain too long. On what dried up, evaporated. Of changes in aging industry missing from the landscape. Shuttered, vacant, abandoned. Moved away to better business environments, or just plain defunct bankrupt. Outdated or gone off shore, overseas.

Revenue that has been missing for awhile now. The life support machinery cool, colored lights off, quiet, dusty. As any precious local reserves are eaten up in the wasteful idling. Not adjusting the dials to adopt a plan that allows for continued scaling back quicker. To do what’s necessary and better sooner than later.

Aggressive, decisive, necessary, painful steps needed but not taken across the board hurts everyone.

To fill the shotgun holes, blasted shrapnel coming in from all directions. Peppering the wallets and purses asked, demanded to open wider. To keep the lights on in the small Maine community.
Finding A Way To Make A Living, Stay In Maine Full Time. It’s Worth It.

Hitting the heart of the budget line items. Nicking the artery of what was there but looking back only distracting, delaying in the hope it returns. The problems on the state and federal levels is deep enough to assure that won’t happen soon.

The luxury of waiting for a miracle is not there for small Maine towns not flush with cash. That like the taxpayers that struggle to stay, populate it, need a plan.

In Northern Maine, Aroostook County the census hemorrhages yearly. As folks die, move away, not being replaced at the same rate or for growth to happen. The numbers to drive home the point are the census for 1980 91,331, 1990 86,936, 2000 73,936, 2010 71,870, 2013 70,055. Aroostook County is the size of CT and RI combined. With only 11 people per square mile.

Shrinking population contributing, along with inflation and the ignored over spending are a dangerous cocktail we won’t wake up from if consumption does not change.

If the spending is “make it a double”. Decreasing players to fund the Maine towns, spread out the cost is causing acceleration in the population drain nose dive. Duplication in government is so wasteful.

Heard out in public. “Can’t afford to live there, mil rate just hiked higher and higher is killing me.” Scaring away young people who needs jobs but also the lower cost to live in these tight knit, friendly communities. That are scared. But don’t freeze at the controls to the spending levers.
Self Sufficient, Reliance In The Maine Simple Living Happier Algorithm.

When far from product, service markets, contending with a long winter, high heating costs and aging population all of Maine is experiencing.

Overspending that causes a small Maine town or city to bleed out faster if ignored.

If more than only token cutbacks steps are taken. With the public relations game of a little money shell game from this account. To band aid, temporarily patch that one. But ignoring the financial realty of the very dark clouds brewing, forming overhead a small Maine town.

From the reduction of revenue levels that need the spending to mirror, match the slide, decline too. To live within your means, what you have to work with and filling the void with the creative Maine spirit. To make it work. With what you have and be grateful, resourceful. To do whatever it takes.
Your Neighbors Four Legged, Furry, Curious, Shy.

Not putting same budgets out for vote and declaring no where to cut. When you have to, whether you want to or not.

Or thinking just scale back other areas but not mine. That is not a plan for the greater good of the small Maine town. But self serving, aloof, out of touch.

But treated as good enough.

Bluffing, arrogant like a card shark with the dark glasses. Emotionless face that you can’t read in the stand off. When the money is just not there to stomach another sucker punch.

A tax mill increase when already too high and scaring away business relocation. Putting the local town taxpayers on the ropes, slipping down to the canvas. Down for the count as the bells rings loudly.
Maine. Working Hard, Sticking With It, Expecting More From Ourselves Than Others.

Do what needs to be done. Not ship shod avoiding the reductions because it is not popular. Not easy but only gets harder as you wait.

For everyone to bicker, grumble when the energy should be in coming up with solutions. Not personal attacks, ancient history lamenting of past mistakes. But kicking into gear. Those hard but the majority on board hammered out best direction decisions implement and let’s get cracking.

Instead of hoping next year the sun will come out tomorrow sang like a hopeful but sorrowful little Broadway Annie solo.

Not the logic, approach that one uses in their own household finances. Or when running a small Maine business feeling the strain of higher taxes, over regulation. And the overall onus that government and school administrations are out of touch with the majority of taxpayers.

That just don’t have reserve to handle the jack up the property taxes, local permit and service fees. To feed the ignored cancer that is bloating, spreading. That put off is going to be bloody in the eleventh hour what do we do now scramble. When options are limited, the small town has painted itself into a tight corner.

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

July 30, 2014
Hikes, Picnics, Outdoor Fresh Air & Wildlife In Maine.

No crowds in Maine, just you, your family, friends, whoever tags along.

To hike, to bike, ski, paddle into neat out of the public eye places. Maine is loaded with them. To collect experiences that never fade when you involve kids of all ages. To be one yourself again. To tutor them on what to continue for traditions in Maine.
Majestic, Constant, Challenging Mt Katahdin Maine

The cost is low, reward high.

Invest a few gallons of gas when you are lucky enough to be planted in Maine full time, all four seasons. A knapsack or tailgate buffet for the hungry hikers, modern day explorers to enjoy after the trek in and out.

Lots of high calorie, trail mix, Glorp or fruit. All natural snacks for the munching, refueling, wandering. Finding your way along hidden paths. The sames ones that get returned to at all the different stages of your life.
Maine Is Water, Woods, Wildlife, S-P-A-C-E!
Often with a few members, some loved ones missing because time goes by. Life is too short to waste.

Nothing is forever. Enjoy the moment, the season. Have you been to Maine?

So get off the couch.

Dig out the map. Put down the channel clicker. Put the snack bowl reached into out of boredom on the kitchen sideboard. And round up, make plans to hike in Maine.

Picking small outings like Hastings Brook Falls, up Haystack Mountain in Aroostook County.

Bike the 50 mile Acadia National Park trail network a portion at a time, bite sized approach. Marvel at the stone work on the bridges. Share the pathway with horse drawn carriages. Strangers you meet don’t stay that way for long either.

Then working yourself up to larger, more challenging, longer hills and dales to step by step arrive at new, off the path, to venues in Maine.
Weaving, Needling Your Car, Bike Through The Highway Thread. Exploring Maine.
The kind the tourist information four color glossy fold out with all the ads left out.

The kind of areas that Maine wildlife are pretty familiar with because you are on their home turf now Sport. Invited in to tread lightly. To carry in and out. Be good stewards, respectful. Mind your P’s and Q’s. And you get invited back, return tickets because you are now a partner with nature’s delicate balance.

All eyes and ears careful. With a swelling, building inside feeling of awe. From the natural habitat, the mixed woods, crystal clean waterways. Can you stand the Maine noise of all that quiet? Hear Suddenly be able to hear yourself think.

The setting is Maine. Are you tapping into the resource that hits you deeply, satisfies to the bone, other places too you did not know you had. Down near your soul.

Open up all your inside doors and windows, let the sunshine, fresh air in. Feel the weight of the World lifted, removed, air brushed out of your way.

These spots you revisit, expand your closeness, the outdoor intimacy to drop dead gorgeous Maine who casts her spell.

Build into your vacation and any time you can sneak away to incredible spots. That are all one of a kind. Not man made and free for just the planning, scheduling or spur of the moment to enjoy. Maine, unfiltered, pure, all natural. Get to the place with the space.

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

July 27, 2014
Texting, The Tofu, Bullion Cube Of Communications.

Do you text?

Not the smartest thing to do while driving on blind corners at sunrise, sunset. The many twisting, dipping and vehicle thrown side to side Maine country roadways. Where wildlife crossings at any minute add to the adventure. But the most basic communication with much missing in the talk to me experience. Strained out, filtered, just the nature of the hunt and peck with both thumbs.
Waving, Communication Without Texting, Video, Anything Electronic.

I have a slide out keyboard on a Droid phone.

Otherwise, it would be using a steel pen to make the point. Or the need to modify both thumbs on a touch screen. Making them pencil sharpened cylinder machined.

Tapered to a something smaller, a whittled point. To fit, work the A to Z, other keys. For instant, no matter where you are if there is a wireless signal to ride. For the hand held, parked in your pocket communication. LOL, TTL, LMAO. Two way, your turn to say it, post it quick. Like telegrams of old of “Send Money. STOP. Need It Quickly. OVER. Send, Wire Lots. Thnx. TRANSMISSION COMPLETE.

Texting. In the same category as Morse code light flashes off the bow of a ship on the horizon.

Or smoke signals on a calm day where the communication does not get word jumbled. Out of order to only cause greater confusion in the conversation on a background of blue writing “paper”.

But texting, unlike sky writing with a long stretch of canvas trailing behind a plane, is two way. Maybe like the early black and white version of ping pong on the Commodore 64 or 128. The Atari console. But what does not get loaded into the text communication is the rest of the communication elements missing.
Maine, Outside, Another Season. Just Dressed Different. Inner Communication Going On With A Higher Power.

Not like when sitting face to face on a Maine open porch on a summer evening with the smell of fresh flowers in the window boxes. Fresh coffee and just hopped out of the oven, on to a small plate sticky cinnamon buns.

Not as full, robust and using all the senses. Not like a restricted pull it tighter, straining to hear. With the other end of the tin can and string conversation.

The pause as the answer to a question is searched for, one raised eyebrow reaction or slight smirk is witnessed.

Or the tone of the response. Are we both whispering, library study setting concerned about interrupting the concentration of others deep in thought?

The copy, dialogue colored with apathy, excitement, worry or distraction? Because something else is going on in the background obvious that with texting is not always known. Where are you while texting can help explain the delay, constraints if only the other side of the walkie talkie back and forth knew the “you are here”. It would help explain the “where did that answer come from’ or those texts that make you go “HHMmmmmmm”.
Lots Of Public Suppers Happen In Small Maine Towns. Across The Baked Beans, Coleslaw, Brown Bread And Potato Salad Table Conversations.

In college one speech course was SC 45, interpersonal communication.

Where the body language of a person all added to the what is being felt, not formed into words but the signal still broadcasting.

On a sub channel carrier frequency if you knew the cues. The arms crossed, keep your distance stance. The ears back, teeth showing and someone is going to get kicked without words formulated, rolling off the tongue.

The color of your tie, car, other accessories making a statement, supporting the look of cool, calm, collected, confidence. But your breathing is labored, sweat is forming on your brow. You look away a lot. Which says something different is happening inside. Without hooking up the polygraph stylus for the sweeps to know for sure if you are walking the talk. Being totally honest. Instead of playing games, working with spin, smoke, mirrors.

The cat tail back and forth annoyance, the look of silent seething.

All missing when it is only the See Dick, See Jane, Puff, Spot simplicity of a text. One same size font, maybe a smiley face with expression salt and peppered here and there.

Texting to say hey, what’s shaking, where you be bro? What’s your 10-20 good buddy. Where quantity is restricted from the big hands, little device and business doing something else. Multi tasking while the ongoing chit chat pings and pongs.

Like tennis, waiting for a serve from your last tap tap send. Maybe with an image attached or video clip that really adds to the conversation. To bring it out of the dark.

The meeting set up in a room where the placement of chairs can help or hinder the communication. Straight line or horseshoe intimate. To draw in the participants. Put them on the same level or keep them at arms length, or greater distance for a reason.
Picking Up The Signal Loud And Clear In Maine.

Making it two way, or just sit there and absorb like a sponge.

And try to stay awake because the guy or gal up front reading to you, not so animated has a cattle prod in the end of the chalk board pointer or red pen lazer dancing on the pull down powerpoint screen.

Texting, ever thought the other end of the signal took the wrong spur, went into a dead end siding like a lost rail car?

Because not enough to go on. With just three words here and there. Or clever abbreviations is all the other side of the conversation has to draw conclusions, get up to speed. Or jump to the all wrong conclusion. Maybe long delays and what were we talking about again? Reading too much into the gap, space but not figuring in the guy or gal lost the four bars, MIA, battery went red dead.

Texting, it makes for the constant ability to let others around you know you are here to reach out and locate easily. To pose a quick question. Remind “I love, miss you”. Or “good luck on the medical test, with the final exam, your long distance travel journey”. But nothing War and Peace long winded going to happen for all the color, nuances, extra seasoning of the face to face. The 3 feet or less, cheek to cheek apart communication. With or without the lights on.

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

July 24, 2014
Bartering And Hey, What If There Was Less Inflation?

Do you have skills, talents beyond just what you do in the primary chase, hunt down?

In the bag and tag of the weekly paycheck? What you may have a background, a degree, training of some type in. That all around you just automatically associated with you. When they think of when it’s time to reach out. Who you gonna call. For someone that does your kind of primary employment.
Surrounded By Island Water, Meet Your Neighbors.

Growing up on a Maine farm, there was lots of exchange of talents, swapping one piece of equipment for another in the arsenal of each farmer’s barn yard.

To avoid buying, tying up precious cash on a farm implement that only was used a couple if that times a year.

My Dad would borrow a belly straper from Don Hagan to smooth up the driveways. The right tool for the job and all set up on one of his 806 IH tractors. Nothing to pick up, hook on our own, unbolt. Remove, return hassle for just a little once in year job.

The feeling in the swap mutual with another Maine farmer.

That returned the equipment, did not let every other Tom, Dick and Harry use it. So when you needed it back, you did not have to do search and rescue. For the MIA red, green or whatever color farm tractor attachment. It can work, the give and take with the right responsible partners.

Had a real estate buyer tell me about her adventures while living in Florida with bartering. She bartered for medical services, everything else she and her family needed. The exchange just was not the cash and carry most of us are used to today. No credit extended. Unless it was I am coming over and shingling your porch roof for the swap of you letting me have that ailing lawnmower, a half cord of cut, split and has to be moved wood.
Pick Your Outdoor Pleasure. Maine Has Them All. Spread Over The Four Seasons.

Do you have something to trade, swap or is it like the card game of Fish.

For the got any skills beyond brain surgery and diamond cutting, whatever ask?

If in this country all heck broke loose, a full compliment of survival skills held in your hand, inside to tout would be necessary. If money was no good, did not do the trick for the other end of the dickering, bartering, exchange.

If can you fix my car, have you got any gas, ammo, food was more important, sought after.

Instead of what if tucked in your purse, folded in your wallet for green, dead Presidents. Or plastic, worthless cards with magnetic strips no longer of any value.

Inflation with money no longer so sought after would be gone from the survival equation.

The folks deep in the hearts of a city that did not live on farms, did not have small business enterprises their parents ran to learn a myriad of skills. From the hands on, the neat feeling of I can do this, that and a lots more too. Empowerrment. DIY before it became a household word like “green”. Where we in Maine lived that way before someone thought of adding a color, marketing as something new, novel. To the day to day approach to life.
Uneven, Rocky Crooked Paths But Still Seeking Alignment. Balance,

Worked at one radio station in Bangor where other than payrolls, so so much of everything else was a trade out, bartered.

For example, we’ll give you a dollar a holler, a radio spot cluster package in exchange from the heating oil company we were bragging up on air.

The cost of the goods, services reduced to strictly wholesale to wholesale. No mark up, waiting and in and out exchange of services. Not so sure taxes, service fees were always tallied up either. It could have been under the table stuff, slight of hand maneuvering. I just spun the records, rip and read the news.

The paved parking lot needs surface crack filling and resealing? Why don’t we tell the world about the great job you provide and reasonable prices doing just that Mr Guy With The Black Tar application devices? While you are out front the little studio with the big stick and guy wires in the back yard beats feet.

Does the job in a jiffy of efficiency. For us to broadcast it all over the listening area.

That that big red and white, lighted tower radiates, connects with on air, shares with all the listeners digging the music, news, other services we provide. Trade outs, bartering that the IRS is not so cranked up about, done below radar with a no paperwork. Just a gentlemen’s agreement. Simple hand shake and fair exchange between two parties. The arrangement that lasts, stands the test of time and just works in small Maine town living.

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

July 20, 2014
Some Maine School Board Members Lay Their Heads On The Desk.

The school board in a small Maine community held some late night meetings.

Actually early morning discussions. In fact one that droned on at 2 AM in the morning. That caused some school board members to close their eyes, put their heads on the table in front of them. From the exhaustion of the topic front and center before them to thrash out, come to a shared solution, conclusion.
Score The Goal, Make The Point. At A Small Maine School Board Meeting.

To move on to other bigger problems of running a small Maine school system. Keeping everything afloat, everyone in the boat.

The issue at hand not about the heated debate over a school budget and spending money the district did not have.

It involved a child wearing a mask daily to school. Not with aspirations to be a bank robber. Or a fantasy of being a super hero.

The surgical like blue mask to protect the small boy from pollutants, contaminants. That threatened his life, immune system.

And one local teacher feeling sorry for the boy who was the target of jokes, sneers and just too much attention.

Seeing The Issue, The Resolution At A Small Town Maine Meeting Can Be Hard.
Due to the mask asked “could you go a day without it?” Innocent question, not a demand but just wondering what would happen, was it really needed all the time.

The parents got wind of the question when the lad got home.

A phone call was made, the beginning of a series. Then letters generated from a law firm and here we go. We have a barn burner of a legal issue staring down the double barrels right at the school board. With a what are you going to do about it, looking for damages from the hub bub.

At the school board hearing with both parents in attendance, smoking was allowed. This was back in the time when it was smoke them if you have them. Reach for your chest pocket or purse and be a real Marlboro Man. Or a Virginia Slim Lady. As the parents explained that the boy was allergic to everything. You could not help noticing being quiet as a church mouse in the room that both parents were professional smokers. Toking, smoking, lighting one up before the other stopped the blue haze, toxic wispy air curls.

The school board chairman, a doctor had tried to make it off limits to smoke at the school board proceedings.

Any meetings but was quickly hushed up by one school board member that did smoke. But does not now and is dead because of it. But at this proceeding with the high power out of town attorneys racking up the billable hours to oversee the what you say, how you say it, it was obvious.
Running A Small Maine School System Smoothly.

The small boy had rights to wear the mask.

But with the amount of two, three packs and more of second hand smoke generated by his dad and mom, it was obvious all the blame was not to be rock piled on the school board for questioning the need to wear the mask.

Because of the impassioned plea from the school board chairman at 2AM in the morning, a call came in from the parents.

The next day they dialed him up on the rotary phone. Thanked him crying. Saying they were sorry for making an issue of the teacher who was simply trying to help the boy with the mask.

Who got a little too much attention over the need to wear it at recess, at home too. To protect from those who loved, cared for him who were part of the problem as heavy, round the clock chain smokers.

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

July 18, 2014
Watching, Learning, Growing Up Bumping Into A Maine Sign Painter.

Small Maine towns are filled with lots of interesting people that make the communities sparkle, special, different.

The career path for one young lad in one small Maine town in Aroostook County started early. Always drawing, sketching. Guiding either a number two graphite lead or colored pencil in his hands. Eventually dabbling in paint colors.

Outdoors, Simple Living In Maine Small Towns. Lots Of Natural, Not Store Bought Colors, Tints, Hues.

Shaping, forming, creating simple works of creative art.

The drawings that would never end up displayed some day in the Lourve. Or hanging on some other famous lighted display wall.

Roped off in purple or maroon velvet hip high arched strands. To contain, keep the crowd back. Wearing cameras hung around their necks. Herded to a safe distance away to protect, preserve his one of a kind work.

His dad worked for Putnam Brothers, a local petroleum products dealer on Pierce before it turned the corner heading east. Becoming Leonard Street. Long before 911 jumbled all the Maine small town street names.

So everyone became confused, not so sure. Not just a few to these new parts transplants that needed to raise their hand. Had the need to go ask for travel directions to get somewhere and back.

Busy Winter Woods Trail Traffic In Maine.

Allison Britton, the main, primary local sign painter was sitting on a wooden stool.

Lettering the driver’s sign door of a new service vehicle for the blue and orange brand color oil company. One practical sign painting application demonstrated.

That the small boy of twelve witnessed when he had ridden his bike over to just say hello to Dad. Enjoying the freedom of street to street summer vacation travel with pedal power. Under his own steam of his two wheel bike that all safe small Maine towns afford youngsters that get off the couch.

The liquid strokes of paint, the fluid motion of lettering his Dad’s name just below the driver’s side window mesmorized the boy.

Inquisitive, engaged and thinking I can do that. But finding out at home that duplication of what he had seen, studied was not so easy. But practice makes perfect. The vocation training, inspiration outside his own doodling at home had started. To flatten the learning curve.

Big Pets, Maine Horses Are Also Workers. More Than Hay Burners. Pretty Against The Green Backdrop.

The advancement of the young lad’s career got a little help from one of Cupid’s sharp arrow.

As fate, destiny would have it, the young boy as a teenage used to walk home with the sign painter’s daughter Barbara. They would say their goodbyes, the up and coming sign painter wannabe would go into apprentice mode.

Entering the shop when Mr Britton, the girl’s Dad was in his paint studio on Spring Street. The one beside Chadwick’s Florist on one side. The young girlfriend, classmate’s matching red colored home on the other.

Twenty questions were asked but mostly learning by watching in silence provided the most information transfer.

Observing the ease that the practiced right hand danced, darted with deliberate strokes. Leaning for support on the left one planted on the surface of whatever lettering project for support. Outdoor advertising, billboards in Maine was not illegal. Not banned, outlawed yet around the countryside. For messages aimed to be read at 55 mph by highway motorists. Kept simple to appear in the corner of their eyeballs.

Lettering trucks, service vehicles, window flyers for store advertising part of the sign painter’s operation.

Hand painted work from scratch done for hanging business shingles for out front an enterprise. To be hoisted when the paint dried. To ride high, wide and handsome on a sign belt above the shop doors.

My Dad has this talented painter create an eight foot ear of corn. “Farm Fresh Corn” announced in a crown over the golden kernels. Just peeking through the green skin ear covering. With cascading brown, white and golden silk topping his vegetable creation.

Coming Together, Working Out Solutions In Maine Small Towns.

The one placed yearly on US Rt 2 to announce the Maine farm stand for just picked produce, vegetables, fruits is open for business.

The farmer’s market in the front yard of the homestead. To beckon to motorists that created a steady stream of customers for me a boy of nine to peddle product to after school, weekends.

My Dad also used Allison Britton every time a new trailer truck was bought and needed the Prem Pak label centered, hand lettered on the doors along with the vehicle numbers. To help Mom keep the shipping freight paperwork straight.

I remember being on my hunches squatting, watching the gold leaf applied. Or whatever lettering Allison had been commissioned to do by my parents.

The young Jedi sign painter that learned by watching did not end up marrying the daughter he walked home, then dated through high school. Did not inherit the camel brushes, the wall murals created during the slower winter months by the seasoned teacher, his inspiration. But the skills made the transfer from old to young just the same in a small Maine town connection on the border in Aroostook County.

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

July 16, 2014