The first vacation to Maine starts the germination, burning sensation.
The one deep inside that like an itch, is not going to go away. When you test positive for Maine. You, Fresh Air, Clean Water, Space. Freedom To Roam. Take Off Your Shoes. Let Down Your Hair.Even with the green square tin of bag balm found on the shelf of every Maine hobby farm is applied for what ails you. Or for protecting cuts, scrapes on the critters with the medicated salve. The Maine farm animals much like kids. That get into the craziest situations around barns, machinery, fencing. Horsing around happens in a Maine rural farm setting.
The visit to a relative or friend who set up a farm spread in Maine is the kindling for the inside passion to take root.
Or renting a place on the Maine coast line. Sauntering through the harbor villages, shops. Sitting outside to dine in open air cafes. Walk the sandy beaches. Smelling salt air, feeling gentle breezes. Building a nightly fire for a brewski, some grape juice, tasty grilled snackage and free form casual get togethers. Maine Moose, See Them Everywhere!Unscripted dialogue, outdoor conversations as the sun sets or rises in a circle of chairs. Lake camps in Maine are low cost vacation options to create the backdrop you need to unwind, unplug, recharge, relax.
Making everything camping out and hiking, biking, kayaking or skiing, fishing, hunting that much crisper, sharper, memorable. To blaze in good shape. The images of Maine fan the flames.
These Maine photos fuel the hunger, thirst, reminder that other places are not like this.
The Maine local community videos help you take the trips. To get inside Maine. To the state fairs, farmer’s markets, parades, other small town happenings in Vacationland. These blog posts about Maine are designed to help.
Painting the pictures. To show the sight and sounds of Maine. Formulate the list in the power of writing is what makes this region of the country no longer a deep, dark, guarded secret. Maine people are pretty unique. Why folks want to stay in Maine. Work, retire, raise families here. To relocate, move, invest and vacation in Maine. Thank you for being a faithful follower of Me In Maine blog posts.
When you raise kids in Maine, you teach them there is a big wide open World out there to explore, discover.
To sample in the journey of life. The many neat people we bump into along the ride. And things rub off that help shape a person from the experiences, conversations your kids have in new locations with folks far far away from the Maine home town they spent the first part of their life.Serving It Up, Dishing It Out In Small Maine Towns.
What about ME ?
Some folks spend their whole life here. Maybe other than a stint in the service, two, four or more years of college. The other side of the big green bridge.
Or when their parents moved during their school years for a brief stint outside Vacationland.
But the kids doubled back. Because the bulk of their family is here. Because they liked the environment of where they were raised in Maine with all that four season outdoor, wide open living, friendly people.
Often the person who has not lived in Maine long, or at all appreciates this Pine Tree State more than a native.
The locals know we are pretty lucky in Maine. But those that have done time in not so much fun busy, crowded, unsafe and expensive city settings outside Maine appreciate the state much more. Because they know it is not like this many or any other places. They have the scars, stripes to prove what can happen when you don’t hang your hat. One Potato, Two Potato… Well You Know The Rest.Are not fortunate enough to live, work and play in a small Maine town.
To at least maintain or better yet grow in population the survival goal. To become a destination to consider living, raising families. Working or retiring in.
Not just reach for off the shelf for hit or miss Maine vacations.
Or all the outdoor recreational pursuits in Maine that happen like clockwork the four seasons.
Dorothy clicked the ruby reds to slipper back to Kansas.
Where do you want to live Toto? Seems the upper right hand corner is one attractive destination. To keep it where you got it for wall to wall natural surroundings if already a local, transplant. Don’t want to leave. Want to stay put. Best View For A Maine Lunch. I Know Several Places. That Make You High, Giddy, Happy.
Maine people happy where they live as a rule. When polled, quizzed, asked for a show of hands on where would you move to if the getting was good? Or in dire straits, it was deemed necessary to take a swan dive. Like the order on the bridge of the Titanic to abandon ship.
If the bright lights came on, music stopped and in the silence told we don’t care where you go.
But you can’t stay here. If it was last call. Mainers would for the most part sit still, dig in. Park it where they got it for GPS coordinates. That according to a recent Gallup poll this week.
Maine. If you’re happy and your know it clap your hands, stomp your feet. That’s what it’s all about. Hey.
What’s the attraction of Maine?
If you could coil up the bed roll. Finish your coffee, douse the camp fire. Home Grown, Small Town Pride. That’s Maine.Tighten the girth a couple saddle notches. Put your lid on. Hit the trail for new parts to roam daily. If you are like so many out of state readers, folks I deal with looking to own Maine real estate, a piece to call home sweet home. Or as an insurance policy, a safety net to bungee cord catch themselves.
To run away to if between the rock and the hard place. Up that creek without the paddle. If ever found free falling unexpectedly off something tall. In the cities where eight out of ten like it or not have to live.
With all those big blue easy to spot dots for the big evacuation. If cities ever did empty during, after something terrible being flashed, splashed on the tube. Over the wire, squeezed through the grape vine, via smoke signal communications. Showing up on radar to force the move, relocation to say oh I don’t know, maybe Maine.
The list of what we don’t have in Maine scores big. Zip for time bleeding out traffic. 4th lowest crime, no gangs, no drive by shootings, no need for dead bolts. Or living in fear.
46th lowest for foreclosure, short sale, repossession due to all those low priced properties. That are easier to pay off, to shift to living mortgage free. Mainers don’t do debt unless they can absolutely help it.
If you rounded up your tribe, were on Family Feud and Richard Dawson, some host shouted survey says (ding ding ding).
Wait for it. The tumbling rectangle slots for the number one, top ten reasons folks say they like Maine. The popularity cake walk for Vacationland would list the down to Earth, family first hard working people.
Spiraling down the list to the wide open spaces colored blue, green, in between. The elbow room. Unspoiled natural surrounding vistas.Kayak Yak Yak Yak In Packs. Group Paddling, Bobbing, Floating Your Boat. The moose, lighthouses, blueberry pie, baked potatoes, lobster boats double parked in harbors off coastal villages.
The crystal clean waterways like the Allagash, Penobscot, Kennebec, Androscoggin, Dead. The Mt Katahdin, Sugarloaf, Sunday River, Cadillac for bumps to get you high. To name a few of the peaks, spirals pointing skyward in our Pine Tree State.
But the real attraction of Maine is not something one word descriptions nail down properly. To adequately cover all the bases sufficiently. Score a ten.
There is a small town connection in Maine because of the 108 little, more self contained local communities.
Just a handful of cities. Embracing home grown, local grass roots creativity, self reliance, living in gentile poverty. Elevating it to an art form.
The way life should truly be. Maine, she’s not high school skinny, but big, beautiful with lots more to wrap your arms, head around to love. Go all the way north. Why don’t you come up and visit ME sometime?
When it was easy to get the truth, when reporting was the who, what, when, where, why and how.
Just the cold hard, black and white facts. And if you read it in newsprint, heard it from Walter, then that’s the way it is. At the movies, good guys were easy to spot. Wearing white lids. The not so honorably, the guys with the beading eyes, shifty forehead reached for black hats after brushing their teeth. Heading out into the day mornings.
Life was pretty much on an 8-5 Monday thru Friday, slower moving roller coaster.
A Classic, 1937 Hudson Terraplane Rolling Iron.Shorter stint at work wearing the apron Saturday. And no no, Sunday is taboo to labor, chase the dollar. Everything closed. Picnics, big dinners, visiting your Uncles and Aunts on a weekly rotations schedule of where. Because family came first.
That Sunday afternoon nap to catch up for the busy week that starts tomorrow. Getting to church was a given. Maybe waxing the old Buick Roadmaster with the port holes in the hood or Hudson Terraplane. Whatever was saved up for slowly. Bought carefully that sits in the yard or undercover in the carriage house.
To stretch their legs. Walk the dog. That happened by and stopped to talk. Shoot the breeze. Share the “did you hear about Effie? Well poor thing, it’s the strangest thing really. You know how she lined up with that good for nothing blah blah blah …”
The choices in life were chocolate and vanilla. Homemade grape nut before that because it was what was available, in the household pantry cabinet. You made the most with what you had. You were content with less. You took what you needed and left the rest for someone else.
Happy endings in all the movies don’t happen now. Shock value and chainsaws pushed wholesome and good right off the stage you cornball. Heck you can pick the alternate finish you feel in the mood for by dialing it in on movies. Have it your way. Lots of options, a slew of entertainment avenues to use the freed up time with automation for recreation. A distraction from reality as we used to know it. All about having fun now no matter what the cost or neglect. Chores, Feeding Yourself, Heating With Wood, Simple Living. It replaced the keeping it real of work, worship, raise a family. Save for a rainy day and the best things in life were free. Because that is all you, your neighbor could afford. Write letters to GI Joe halfway around the world. Pick your favorite mission field to support.
Back to that believing is seeing and turnabout from the other way around.
You could bank on what was reported, politicians had not taken the illustrious job of public servant to power corrupts. Self servant and mastering spin became an art form. Apathy set in and self medication marched in all the doors. Over eating, over drinking. Searching for over the counter solutions to inside missing natural life ingredients. The depletion of what’s good for you home made replaced with store bought, temporary, expensive. Hoarding to amass the most material items seeking the status, fame, fortune. To be remembered.
The shift from “it’s all about others” in your family, community, state and nation replaced, eroded with “what about me?” Shock and awe when Elvis introduced that twitch, hip gyrating dance with the guitar and mic stand. Johnny Cash wearing black and flirting with the crowbar hotel fans that loved his sound, look, timing in life.
The midway extravaganza excitement, razzle dazzle that used to happen only when the vaudeville carny show rolled into town. Set up the rides, exhibits, games. The canvas tents where the snake oil salesman, bearded lady, other circus oddities performed. Hoochie coochie pushed the limits on what was socially, morally typically served up in a small God fearing community. Pass the flask of that dragon breathing high octane firewater would ya please Sport? What a show.
Searching for answers, the truth that sets you free became harder when eight out of ten of us lives in a city, urban population center.
Harder to determine, to see which shell the pea is under in the hocus pocus shuffle. Too busy to notice or really care part of it. Being bone weary, dog tired contributes too. What is important in life and what you can take as real honest to goodness. Is it a case of believing is seeing in the opinions you form on others, how you observe life in general?
Whoever does the best job of spinning, manipulating reality? And do you still do your own thinking, reasoning or is it a throw money at it. Angie’s list, ask a consultant, therapist, total stranger riding the rail to work or waiting for an appointment what should you do? Maine, if you are lost, we’ll cure that. It starts with clean living stripping away all those layers of what you don’t need, hide under. Common sense, self reliance, work ethic still work, apply just fine here in Maine.
Usually counting your blessings means reminding, reciting a long mental list.
Through out the day. Of more than you think you deserved happening to you, your family. Sometimes wishing something took place and later realizing you are better off it did not helps the letting go. Moving on. Hope, Faith, Light, Grateful. Lucky To Be Alive In Maine.
But once in awhile, maybe just a handful of times what you are grateful for is something avoided.
A tragic event that almost took place but did not. Long after it didn’t you can give thanks because the seriousness, gravity of it still shakes, shocks, rocks you inside.
The number one event I am so so glad did not happen involved a Maine hockey ice arena.
One where two of the boys, half of the family, their teams were scheduled in a hour to have a brother – brother hockey game. But luckily the game was canceled just in time. Heavy snow loads on all the local roofs in 1998 the reason for postponement. Keeping up with the snow removal that year was just overwhelming. And more water than just white fluffy snow mixed in to add to the roof loads spelled disaster just waiting to pounce, unleash.
I shudder, get chills when thinking about the what if and so grateful for what did not take place at that Houlton Maine ice hockey arena. Other rinks have had roof collapses like the Kennebec Ice Arena too. Where somehow no teams, no folks working the concessions, arena personnel or fans in the stands hooting, hollering were present. Where the news headline could have just as easily read “200 Killed In Maine Ice Arena Roof Cave In”.
And black and white graphic photos of twisted iron beams, smashed metal sheeting and debris in the background. With several hearses, ambulances, emergency personnel images one by one showing the horror of death. Pulling out lifeless bodies of people you know, are related to as the delicate retrieval work of can opener tactics hurriedly begin. By firemen trained for textbook horrific events as sirens wail, lights flash.Iced Beauty, New Beginning, Season Overlap.
To look for survivors becomes priority one.
As people watch, hope, pray, pace, sob waiting for good news when things look very black. In a small tight knit community in Maine where the unexpected creates total confusion, shock, mourning that even years, decades later just will not heal or fade.
Still seeing the flat as a pan cake of a once tall building that was there just an hour ago.
Now a low to the ground rubble of death, destruction, debris. That could have involved heavy losses of life of all ages. Entire families supporting the skaters, watching the game before the collapse.
Local memorial services to handle the high number of deaths. Outside help to process all those bodies. School canceled for a week, counseling sessions set up to deal with the grief. Rows of many caskets in mass funerals the entire communities around the arena attend.
Practically the only story covered for weeks by local, state, some national news outlets. One that will not go away, be swallowed up or replaced easily. To move over for other happenings to get their coverage. Share of air time or ink and lower grade newsprint to unfold and scan with the morning coffee.
On the local level, not watched in some far away, removed location outside the small Maine community. That adds to the feeling of the loss deeply, personally up close in your hometown. And anger on why wasn’t that building built for greater snow loads? Blaming someone, anyone. Introducing legislation to make it mandatory before use to have beefed up standards for those 100 year storms. Winter conditions that caused the crushing tumble to the ground. So no more loss of life happens at other ice arenas in Maine, nearby Canada too.
I am so grateful that local Maine minor league hockey game was canceled.
I am proud of the new better built, appointed John Millar Ice Arena taking it’s place. Used for everything from way more comfortable, not so stifling hot high school graduations. For trade shows, Maine state soap box derby races, fourth of July state fair exhibits and much more. Beside just hockey games to enjoy on your feet in the stands. Cheering for the hard charging home hockey team on the polished sheet of ice with the blue, red lines and circles, netting.
Do you have events that luckily, narrowly were missed that could have literally killed you, loved ones? That you make sure are the top of your daily count your blessings list?
While shopping at the local store #1974 Wally World for something the big box store did not carry, I heard hollering.
Small, low to the ground excitement. When you have kids, grown and out of the nest, you still react when you hear Dad, Mom using an outdoor recess voice inside a building. Cute New Bikes For New Riders In Maine.
I turned by end cap signed with the promise of “always the low price” for your hard earned Maine salary.
Taking the sharp corner with my wired cart with three good, one crippled wheel that refused to cooperate with the others. A small lad somewhere between four and five was hopping up and down.
Not because of needing to head to the restroom. Nothing to do with his kidneys causing the squirm. Or wired on sugar.
Wearing the tall puddle jumping rain boots every kid in Maine slips on during mud season in Maine.
Some adults too. To stay high and dry. When the thaw, defrost of winter signals here comes springtime boys and girls. The budding of tree tips, flipping the switch on flower garden buried bulbs and return of snowbirds. The winged kind. The ones with gray, some blue, a few pink rinsed hair or not a spear on their heads. Driving north in groves from the sunny south in clean older, filled to the brim Cadillacs, Lincolns, Lexus. Operated by drivers with poor or no side vision. Your First Ride, The Freedom Of A New Bike.
The little fellow needed Dad to come quick. To hold the two wheel bike with 12″ wheels steady. With the training wheels bolted on to keep it from falling sideways but still wanting to roll.
“Help me Daddy” as the little boy with the same excitement shown in the living room way too early on Christmas morning bounds down the stairs.
Wearing the slipper PJ’s and glad to find Santa had not forgotten him, or his brothers, sisters, parents, even the family pets.
Dad applied a steady hand on the back of the seat. Junior hopped on like he was Peter Fonda in Easy Rider experienced.
Both little hands reach forward for the handlebar grips. Twisting them like the bike was motorized with the distinctive trademarked throaty sound of a Harley hog 1200 cc power plant rumble.
The small boy was mentally starring in his own open road video game. Had left the building like Elvis. Momentarily lost in thought about glee. Riding up and down a store aisle. But pretending he is outdoors. Thinking wouldn’t it be keen to own a bike like this and ride around the yard he dreams. Until old enough to be trusted to go to the corner store for candy with friends. Or something for mom retrieved. To put in the after market up front basket or behind the seat pouch.
Like stopping suddenly in traffic when you have a youngster in the shot gun position.
Exploring With Your Neighborhood Friends. On Dirt Bike Adventures. Over Fields, Through Woods Trails.Even when in the approved car seat. Strapped in when old enough to ride up front. Your driver right hand flies out from instinct to keep your valuable passenger from hitting the dash, deploying the airbag, getting hurt. The shout for “Dad” in a store when you are now kidless, without grandchildren too can activate an inner alarm. You slide into the protective mode so quickly out of reflex, earlier habit, conditioning.
The moving on up the bike cycle from the cute small tire, colorful version to eventually a mini bike. So the kids explore, learn the wonderful feeling of freedom out in the country, on the trails with their family and friends. Respecting the terrain, staying on the trails over private property owned land where it is always tread lightly. Carry in and carry out.
