Category: Uncategorized

Helicopter Parents, Taking It Out On The Coach’s Wife You Don’t Even Know.

You son or daughter are on a Maine sports team.

That goes above and beyond from the beginning of the season’s predictions. And in fact the last game they win is one “where did that come from” out of the blue big deal. Happy team, beaming parents right? Wrong. The coach caught up in the excitement of playing beyond ability. Having lots of lucky breaks.The right calls is some kind of excited in the school’s history making.
Fair Play, Sports, Social Mixed Into One Fun Event.
Jimmy’s Mom and Dad, well, not so much.

Jimmy is just glad to be on the bench of a winning team. Heck, strike that. Just on the team, win or lose. Regardless of the season’s record.

Happy to be part of a squad wearing the same colored jerseys. Doing his best to contribute even if only as a cheer leader. If not in the starting line up. Or getting much playing time. Taking stats.

Mom and Dad see the coach’s wife in a small Maine town at the local grocery.

They have never been introduced, not traveling in all the same circles. But they just know that is the Jimmy’s coach’s wife. They go out of their way to look annoyed, peeved and returning nothing but a sneer when the coach’s wife at the Piggly Wiggly smiles graciously. Snubbed, made to feel she did something wrong and being the target of snarky exchange to let her know their displeasure by what just took place. Guilt by association with her relationship to the coach. Anger, resentment all channeling to make sure she is not left out of the drama.

Pretty Important Position, Your Maine Little League Catcher.
How come? Like the father right after the winning game told the head coach. Nothing about “good job Coach”. Or “way to orchestrate a win and hold it all together to make the home town proud”. Instead of attah boys, high fives and smiles. It’s sour faced and “You should have played my Jimmy more”.

How come Jimmy did not get put in the game asked under the bright swinging lone light bulb. The coach mentally seated, bound. Tied to the chair in an interrogation like, cell inquisition right here and now.

Whipped on the coach after the pretty spectacular game. Parents double teaming the coach. Killing the buzz of the win.

With the parents second guessing his handling of the sporting event even though hello. Our home team won people.

Ran into this treatment with a lady who had a hockey player son who Mom wanted to see skating, puck handling in the game.

But instead of letting the coach handle the who suits up, goes out, who is on the bench, she tries to go over his head. Calling the head of the minor hockey league. Working from above to hopefully trickle down to get a reversal on the coach’s decision.

She asked me to help in the cell calls, politics of hook or by crook to get junior in the game. On skates, stick in hand, hard charging out on the sheet of ice. I watched as kids on the bench cranked their head to see what the commotion in the stands was all about. As I said guys, focus on the game. Eyes on the puck. Heads in the game. Be in gear for your 53 second shift on the fly shift change coming up. Be sharp, be ready.

I under my breath told the mother we have to think of the game, the coach runs the show.

And she said I would help you if it was your kid. I told her you have to think of the whole team. Not rattle them during this game now underway and no one, fans included benefiting from a major distraction. Hub bub in the hockey stands. Which happened to be next door in Canada. She clearly, firmly told me “I don’t care about the rest of the team, I just care about my kid.” Whoa, there is the problem.

We are the front line best advocate for our children as Mama and Papa Bear. Have four, two of each flavor and all different. Needing differently handling, love, attention. But lessons to learn above and beyond the affection for your cubs. Respect for authority has to happen. Helicopter parents, can be all about too much involvement missing the stability a child needs.
Let’s Huddle Together, Here’s What We Have To Tighten Up On Team.
It can be a parent with the best of intentions gone haywire. The term helicopter parents coined in 1969 to describe the parent with the label hyper present, psychologically absent. Dr Haim Ginott wrote about a mother who the complaining son says she “hovers over me like a helicopter”.

Helicopter parents | Too much presence, the wrong kind of presence.

And add to it cell phones everyone holds, carries. Cradles in their neck, up to their ear. Or loud and clear beaming in through ear buds, blue toothes.

That cell phone being described as the longest umbilical cord.

And with rising costs of college educations, the parent justifying the helicoptering as just protecting their investment. Monitoring the process, progress for the young adult. Who should be the one carrying more and more of the weight of their decision making, education, life on their own out of the nest. Let the coach coach, players play, refs ref and enjoy the sport. Without being a helicopter parent.

Good luck Houlton Shiretowners, Hodgdon Hawks basketball teams in the state championship playoffs this weekend in Augusta, Maine! Aroostook County is proud of your season’s performance. The skill, confidence, poise, resiliency you demonstrate. You all are one solid unit. Coaches, managers, team players. Each and everyone a solid team that will continue to show class proudly in Saturday’s game downstate. In the pursuit to bring home the coveted gold ball.

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

February 27, 2014
The Series Of Kid Label Letters Added To Explain Behavior.

Had an older couple in the real estate office in Maine a couple years back.

Who witnessed a melt down and the most foul language you have ever heard come out of a youngster’s mouth. Like he was Black Beard the pirate’s kid. The verbal, physical attack on his mother and out of control behavior twister was a inside category five hurricane.
Two To Four Drugs Taken During Early 1950, 1960’s Pregnancies… Causing Problems Today?

Who after dragging junior kicking, crying and screaming, the parents left.

The looking for a Maine house process was scrapped for the day. The older gent has some observations to share. Figured there are kids with mental, physical complications.

Legitimate reasons to explain the outbursts or poor impulse control some display in their attempt to cope with life’s ups and downs.

But that he was not a fellow quick to side walk diagnose all with ADD, ADHD, ODD. The many other alphabet labels to pass off as normal the behavior you see out and about in society. Maybe it’s a little the DNA. The chemicals, radiation we are exposed to along with overbooked crazy schedules. Lots to blame on the role model conditioning, good or bad.

He said when he was a Maine kid he remembered four letters that pretty much sized up the few that got out of line.

Under his teachers, parents, coaches, folks in authority in his small Maine town. The letters were B-R-A-T. To be used to label most throwing a tantrum. Used to getting their way. Not pretty but it worked and was tried and tested effective by their enablers at home.

Nothing organically, psychologically out of whack. Just poor parenting, missing guidance and instruction conditioning. And routines, continuity and teaching appropriate behavior just not started very early or at all. And running up through the time the children leave the nest.

Local Fresh Maine Fish, Not Shipped In From Who Knows Where.
Usually what was to blame along with alcohol, witnessing physical and verbal abuse. Neglect or other terrible events as a family no one is so proud off but kept in the dark. And kids, parents self medicating, lacking the skills of how to cope in healthy ways to the stress. That overwhelms when they tend to over-react, shut down. And can not throttle it back. When red line, over RPM “watch out she’s gonna blow” happens.

I know a lady who as a new born infant had a hard time eating, keeping food down.

Her mom’s frustration feeding her as a baby making her at wit’s end, exhausted, frustrated to tears. Trying to juggle a demanding husband expecting too much when home from slaying dragons. And other children to raise in the perfect mother’s home that had nothing out of place. Was museum perfect, spit polished.

The child grew to sense the resentment that continued in her life. From the mother who held it against the child growing up. Was not so warm, affectionate, supportive. More stern, demanding, critical, cold.

It made me think maybe the cause was in part from Mom’s medications.

When the child could not help the lack of ability to take, keep down sustenance. Because it was tied to the drug regiment given to Mother to relax from worry and affecting the new born’s mouth muscles to drink, throat ones to avoid gagging and to simply swallow successfully.

Between 1958 and 1965 in one study, half of all new mothers took two to four pharmaceutical products during pregnancy. Had always heard about DES to avoid miscarriages, premature labor. About Thalidomide prescribed as a sedative, hypnotic to cure anxiety, insomnia, gastritis and tension. That lead to the birth defects that caused the wonder drug to end up being pulled off the shelves for limb deficiencies. Lots of other horrible birth defects, many deaths.

So if two out of four mothers were taking pills waiting for the stork to arrive, could those meds help explain behavioral, developmental problems with the kids that did make it to the outside?

Anxiety was not created by the modern meds, has not been cured by them either. All those different colored pills the Rolling Stones sang about in the 1966 hit “Mother’s Little Helper”.

Did you grow up in a household where it was take a pill for everything?

And you continue the practice, dependency? Not just for aches or pains but handfuls for not totally sure why? But just don’t stop, hit me again. Secondary gain of a buzz? Did you eat fresh, grown close to home local produce and vegetables? Picked from the garden out back that you had to weed, tend, plant as a kid?

Greater amounts on the plate of green, other colored plants than animal, poultry or dairy product servings? More than ever with obesity, eating too much of the wrong food groups, you are what, how much you eat.

Join a local Maine food co-op, make farmer’s markets a regular habit. Maine offers a healthy lifestyle setting of outdoor four seasons recreation. The drop dead gorgeous scenery hits your spiritually, deep down inside where your soul lives. Might be a good choice for your relocation, move, in retirement to Maine plans.

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

February 25, 2014
Gatekeepers Of Information, Driving Your Life Or Being A Passenger.

In high school Cliff’s or Monarch Notes were a short cut when you had not done the eyeball scan.

Read cover to cover Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace, other great literary works your Maine high school teachers or college professors put on the assignment sheet of must reads. There will be a test. The cheat sheet short cuts are actually written by teachers, professors as an overview guide.

And as belt and suspenders even if you had done the read read read like the wheels on the bus go round and round.
Sometimes You Are The Passenger, Not The Driver In The Information Relay Process.
These resources helped fill in the fuzzy nooks and crannies. A deer jacking bright spotlight splashed into shadowy knowledge cracks. For the highlights, to sharpen the recall. Save time. To earn a better grade higher up in the beginning of the alphabet.

Out in life though, do you do your own thinking or are so overbooked you pretty much go along with the flow of purchased, spun opinion?

Your thinking decision making best options gleaned from others can make you more of a passenger than a driver of your life experiences. Some blame our approach to the educational system process in our country. Losing the creative thinking skills in the bubble. For more uniform gaming the system that is mismatched for outside survival in the real world. To keep the planet spinning.

Like a musician that always does just cover songs. Very well, but just a copy. Not from deep down inside their own soul. Lacking the creative spirit or hand crafted passion. With fire in their belly created uniqueness to shine brightly on its own. To add new and fresh not recycled old.

Iggy Pop, The Passenger Music Video

Today it is big business to be an information gatekeeper.

To round up public information, let folks join for a fee and give back as gospel what you need to do when looking for a product or service. In small Maine towns, that money would be wasted because the natives talk. Share, care, are connected. Over the grape vine, by water coolers, at the barbers or hardware store. Sitting on diner counter stools. Uncomfortable bleachers in small gyms or chilly ice arenas or playing fields at a sporting event.

And online you pick up what you need to know. Form a clear impression of how the local turf moves and grooves. When all that information is put in your pipe and smoked. Chewed on. Who is doing a good job, who is pulling up the rear. And all the in between and why. We use our open porch swings in Maine. Unfold a chair around the lake camp fire for our free therapy with family and friends too. Not relying on paid sessions with a stranger for the 55 minute weekly intervals stuck inside four walls with soundproofing. White noise in the background to assure privacy from eavesdroppers.

But it is not a case of good or bad. More what works best for you.

Tailor made for what you feel is the most comfortable. In the what do you think? Like the relationship, connection you have with your doctor, lawyer, real estate broker, funeral director, pastor, boss and on and on down the pike. Where you shop and why. Because you make the top ten list of what you are after, not someone else if you think for yourself. Are not a passenger bumbling along down the twists and turns in the short highway of life here on Earth.

I understand marketing today. How herds of large groups of the fragmented audience segments are important. Critical to get your message out in front of to connect with, get their attention. To gain their interest, build desire, to engage to get action, results. But still I worry about independent thinking. Dependency on others to spoon feed in the decision making.

Like a Presidential debate, I listened to the entire presentation. Don’t need a talking head media head to tell me what I just sat through, heard with my own two ears.
First Me In Maine Handheld Cub Reporter’s Recorder. Cell Phone? Or Is That A Graham Cracker?
I can see his or her role in the next day’s newspaper or newscast to hit the high points purpose. In reporting what might have been missed because it was bowling night down at the club. Or was over at the church or grange because setting up for this weekend’s fund raiser community supper. Or away at a kid’s concert, game.

Christian Mingle’s claim to “find God’s match for you” which is a real stretch. Like having a wire tap, being able to eavesdrop into the red phone parked on the corner of the Oval Office desk stuff.

Connecting the super powers of the blue and green marble for the real skinny. The low down on the behind the scenes, the court and spark. But knowing like the Angie’s Lists, Better Business Bureau that all want you have a membership. To play the information marketing game. Swim in the fishbowl. There is an agenda. A platform built to make money. Or it won’t survive in society if not monetized.

What if we all had no disposal folding currency, plastic with the magnetize strip and how we “bought” goods or services were with barter of skills only.

Or delivery of firewood, something to eat, a farm animal to trade even Stephen. The throw money at the monthly services would dry up, disappear. And more self reliance, better impulse control to ask around, do your home work would come back into vogue. Keeping it real, honest, down to Earth common sense. The way we operate in Maine which is a sparsely populated, well spaced collection of the neatest 108 small towns, only a handful of cities.

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

February 23, 2014
Old Houlton Maine Car Owner Hangs Up The Keys To Save Lives.

Classic 1940 Ford, Sold For What The Owner Paid For It New. Called It Even Stephen.

The Aroostook County car owner had her four wheels to sell.

For years was head of the local Houlton Maine telephone office. Known as a telegraph office in the beginning of her long career.

But in her nineties now. Never married, no child ever called her Mom. With surrender, a white flag being waved. Accepting the time had come to freely give up the car keys forever. To get off the highway for good. Part with an old friend from Motown.

The fellow who ended up buying the classic, a painter got wind of the car sale from his brother. Word was getting out quickly. Trending on the local grape vine. The brother urged his flesh and blood to get his tail in gear. Throw it into overdrive. For him to fly over to the first home heading up Pleasant Street hill, on the left, the north side. (Home now gone, used as a parking lot for the corner Mormon Church, formerly the Christian Missionary Alliance house of worship where parking was always scarce, precious.)

The buyer’s brother said the car was a 1950 Ford.

Which was an unexciting model the buyer always thought to be ugly, ho hum. But when he arrived, pulled in the driveway at the home, the car’s owner answered the back door. The two strolled to the garage. And when the door pulled back on the sliding garage door rail, there she was. But ten years older than his brother’s report. The Ford was a 1940, two door, one owner black beauty waiting for his inspection.
Old Lines, Classic Shape, 1940 Ford Coupe.

Nothing wrong with the car, always maintained, bought new. When the owner was asked what she wanted, what the sale price was she smiled.

For a price on the vehicle with twelve thousand original miles, she figured what she paid for it was a fair exchange.

Bought back before the country officially got into the second big war. But was up to its knees in lend lease.

Before victory gardens, movie black and white war effort news reels flashed, rolled in front of the flicks at Houlton’s two movie theatre. Warning silver screen fans about loose lips sink ships. And showing Rosie handed the riveter gun. Winking, flexing a muscle being splashed up front. Just above where the piano player used to park, tinkle ivories before sound. The talkies some said would never last. Just a fad.

Sliding Behind The Wheel Of A 1940 Classic, A Ford 2 Door Coupe. No Idiot Lights, Ipod Port.

The antique car buyer now excited, with a change of heart. The car in question not the lack luster model he was seeing himself kicking the tires on.

But being shrewd, taught thrift, casually asked how much the approaching 100 silver haired lady paid for the title from Henry Ford. The answer $900.

He started to pull the car out by hand into the yard to look it over more thoroughly in the daylight. And was promptly quizzed on why tow it out. Just turn the key in the ignition. Start it up, drive it out for a looksie dear. Everything works.

In all aspects the Maine car was immaculate, in mint shape.

The price settled on $700 and a hand shake. Driven, enjoyed around the small Maine town. Profiling in the old ride bought in the early 1970’s was a hoot. Until a little boredom, need for money, or both kicked in. Or another sleek classic caught his fancy. Broke the spell.

Black beauty was sold for $3500. To a big Northern Maine farmer, a collector of antique cars. Lots of regrets now for parting with the midnight shade sedan in mint shape. Dreaming of what it’s value would be today. The bigger profit if he had just hung onto the cream puff ride with unheard of low mileage.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.5463
info@mooersrealty.com

February 20, 2014
Editorials In Maine Newspapers, Broadcast News Centers.

When reporting the news, it is the five W’s.

Who is it about?
What happened?
When did it take place?
Where did it take place?
Why did it happen?

And sometimes a sixth question gets asked from the guy or gal with the reporter’s top spiral ringed notebook. How did it happen?

And it’s all about taking meticulous notes, gleaning quotes collected in the hen scratching shorthand. Or fielded with a handheld micro audio recorder, video camera’s blinking red light. To capture the news maker.
Team Work, For The Good Of The Game, Played By Rules. Positive Lessons Taught Early In Maine.
Catchy soundbites that pretty much size it up in the news maker’s own words. Make it you are there. With the person in the news or in the know for the show and tell. That’s the way it is as Walter would drawl. Slowly removing his black rim glasses with one hand. A stack of news held in the other. Saying goodnight with a warm trusting smile. You believed him. It was all the news fit to air, print, circulate.

Stepping around the journalist alone in the news organization. Peeling off one level of the news reporting, layering means let the interviewee talk. Just listen. To the guy or gal who knows way way more about the topic. So you see, hear in their own words. Complete with inflection, strain, pain, excitement, pause, raised eyebrow or the tip toeing. Dancing around the subject. Because you’ve all heard the question posed and had the scratch your head feeling.

Saying out loud “just answer the question”! Politicians are famous for carrying a list of bullet points. That somehow regardless of the query, the topics are sliced, diced. Seasoning, sprinkled, spread all over the interview. Injected, infused into the news reporting from questions asked that get these facts and figures, sentiments weaved into the Q & A discussion slyly. It is an art to say how did they make that connection to something out of nowhere. You think.

So what about editorials in Maine?

In some European countries they are on the front page. And don’t have to be as long as your arm diatribes of rhetoric fed in paragraph form only riding tucked inside the newsprint folds. Cartoons, images to prove the news organization opinion on a subject it finds pertinent to hash and thrash. Beyond the 5 W’s. And along with the opinion piece, often there is a place in the newspaper, magazine or newscast for “Man on the street” pieces across the crease. For reaction to earlier editorials. To make it fair and balanced, news and opinion. The needed clarification coming at you in two way fashion. To expand on a topic, issue. With collective, not just one voice sounding out.

In Maine, the 4th lowest crime state, our news gathering, reporting is pretty tame.
Staying Positive Wins The Game. Helps The Lesson Learning Happen Quicker, Easier.
Compared to places with gang turf wars, political corruption, sex scandals, drive by shootings that are a given in the daily diet of local reporting. More people, bigger problems, greater saturation of negative news fed into the stream. But do you think that is the kind people like, that sells papers, gets viewer ratings?

Do we live in a negative reporting society by choice? Low on hope, cynical, quick to judge. Maybe attempting to make serious subjects, issues into a comic book over simplification? Is that the way you lead your life?

Shouldn’t your new sources operate with the same approach to life? Or do you argue it just reflects the good, bad and the very ugly? And if you are unhappy, does learning about someone worse off somehow spur you on as one of the lucky ones? Making you count your blessings.

Do you ever get cranked up over editorials with an obvious agenda?

When the day after day hammering, lashing is happening? To the point you cringe, cower. Don’t really want to tap into that signal. Because of the bitter after taste hearing, seeing it in print? But not just because you see the spin being applied and let it go as sad, for what it is. Mean spirited. Sometimes coming off as a hatred, attack knee jerk. And other more important subjects are not addressed that are screaming for the attention. Helping hand. Even if not so handsome, sexy, trending or easy to beat the drum about out of habit. Or that might take time away from what the editor really wants to see addressed over and over.

Leaving me wondering what good comes out of this waste of space that could be so so beneficial, supportive and insightful. With real solutions offered. Spread out over a multi part series of solutions, stances for the same goal. To help readers, listeners, views. Not the often same angry condescending regurgitation copy and paste points. From earlier editorial recycled venom. More often than not some individual or a group or political party the punching bag. Battered newspaper or newscast syndrome happens.

The population that picks up the signal gets depressed, not trusting many of the national, state or community leaders. What did we do wrong now? Kick the state some more to be feeling the shame of how we seem to come up so short across the board. Just about the same time when locals were feeling pretty high about accomplishments in a complex World we live in. Could some of it be the voice of a transplant not happy where they lived before either? Hand the megaphone, typewriter to another with a more positive approach to rally around. With a little praise for what we do right in so so many ways in Maine. And gentler, kinder prodding on how to step it up in other areas needing spotlight exposure.

A steady diet of “what did we do wrong now” is literary abuse.

It is lazy too. And maybe a little like the sea captain pirate. Who reminds all those down below rowing and manning, loading the long canon guns. That the beatings will continue until the morale improves drastically. The readers need more than water and bread spread across the pages.

There should be a requirement of before the dissing, cussing, fussing what is the variety of solutions getting the bulk of the ink or airtime. The tone, attitude, approach of your news machines is so so important to be pro-active in a state like Maine with 108 small towns, a handful of cities. Where individual volunteers, families, civic groups are working so hard to make a difference.

To huddle, chatter it up in the dug out, on the bench, out in the field like a Maine little league team.

To be constructive, informative, teaching life lessons. That make their area of Maine a little better place to live, work, play. And the media individuals, organizations out for a pound of flesh need to develop a more positive solution oriented approach. The one we all take on the local level in Maine. Rather than the finger pointing, scolding attitude in their editorial stance that does so much harm. That causes newspaper cancellations, broadcast dials to be cranked hard, changed up.

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

February 19, 2014
Maine Is The 5th Highest For Beer Microbreweries.

A local Maine lawyer dropped me off a gift bag a couple weeks ago. The present? A pair of home brews.

Twin dark styles of beer. The blue hand written labels proclaiming, hinting what lies hiding inside. The dark tall bottles were Coffee Vanilla and Chocolate Maple Porter.

One count I looked up showed Maine had 31 beer breweries.

Then the raise your hands count eighteen months later, the end of 2013, the number climbs. Hoisted to 40 Maine microbreweries dotting Vacationland. Shipyard Brewery in Maine is the USA’s fifteen largest. It’s microbrewery products shipped, stocking shelves, or available on tap in forty states. All, starting in 1992 bottle operations with humble Maine beginnings in Kennebunk.

Clean Air, Water, All Natural. Maybe Why 40 Maine Microbreweries.
For awhile it seemed cool for a restaurant, bar, golf course, resort, white water rafting or ski slope business to have it’s own microbrewery. Handcrafted barley pop and enjoyed pretty much only locally. But often the operation going out of business, one for the history books. Nice try. It’s built on a business platform first, for profit. Not a government agency yet.

One group of Presque Isle Maine doctors gave birth to a restaurant microbrewery in Aroostook County.

Been a few year’s since the place with the copper distillery big tank, hoses, piping, couplers closed its doors.

Seems marketing the anemic volume of production, distribution, consumption like most businesses peddling a product came home to roost.

To die with poor beer reviews for suds designed with less alcohol and fewer carbs.

Like a lot of health clubs, ski areas, it seems the same pattern to make them successful.

You had to be second or further back in line. Patient. To buy them at the bank foreclosure auction for fifty cents on the dollar or less for better odds to succeed. Again. For less overhead then the over the top original dreamers begged, borrowed and stole. Invested with second and third home mortgages, cashing in life insurance policies that failed despite the all out effort. Still went under. Timing is key along with a sound marketing plan.

More what the state of Maine microbrewery licensing regulations say. It takes money, funding to get a microbrewery licensed, off the ground. Here is what one Maine couple’s microbrewery community fund raising plan.
Barley farmers, hop growers, the job comes with challenges. It is after all farming in Maine, ’nuff said.

The cost to start a microbrewery, depends on who you talk to, listen to. The basic steps in the start up.

Have to report back on the lawyer’s home brew but if you are buying, Allagash White is pretty tasty.

And another choice, Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale that is not so rave reviewed by some but you be the judge. Do your own thinking about what you are drinking.

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

February 17, 2014