The radio antennae on the pony car made in Motown had a Budweiser can perch atop to improve reception.
The young lad from California, the west coast reporting for duty for Uncle Sam at Brunswick Navel Air Station. And kindly asked by his commanding officer, a lieutenant with more stripes, bars why doesn’t he attend a Baptist church service. Which the transplant from the other coast does during a Maine winter where he arrived totally unprepared for the weather. Seriously under dressed, lacking the layers for comfort around the snow flake holidays in Maine.
And in the opening stand and turn to meet and greet your fellow pew worshipers, for the warm friendly hand extension to acknowledge, welcome those around him, he met a lady.
That shook his hand. That eventually became his wife of thirty four years to date.
He noticed her instantly, there was a connection. She, not so much the other way. He did not show up on the initial eerie green radar scan but maybe she was distracted. Thinking of preparing the heart, opening the mind and settling in for the worship message about to be preached from up front. To receive what the Holy Spirit would lay on her heart. That she would leave the building with the steeple, bell on top. Carried deep inside her.
The signal between the two percolating nicely, going both ways now strongly. Felt, fueled with a little time. Pretty obvious for anyone in the room of the couple. And her prim, proper, black and white disciplined ways the total opposite of what this somewhat lost, confused lad was wearing, showing, presenting at first.
He was a long long way from home when they first met. Crossed paths. But drawn to the young Maine gal from Lubec who has an genuine, infectious full smile of straight white teeth. All of them. And the strong, playful spirit personality. That without a lot of words spared or the need to call attention to herself. Not requiring to be the center of attention, to be seen and heard from to make a long, lasting impression.
He was her challenge.
Wild, rough around the edges she says kindly. He needed patience to be led to the Lord. And she did extend it. You can tell the bond without explanation or further details from the pair. As they sat in the Maine real estate office this week. Helping a pair of Amish southern boys that were sent to scout ahead. Look for some Maine land. An abandoned Maine farm to establish an outpost. For the move of the rest of the two families left behind waiting. Anxious to learn of progress in finding a new home with lots of land in Maine.
New people of all ages are the life blood of a small Maine community. To keep it from becoming narrow, stagnant, stalled. To open up the idea channel on how things are done in other parts. For the comparing notes, group brainstorming to make solutions happen easily. For problem areas, for the things needing to be done to square away the day to day operations that happen in the local community.
The will, passion, desire and talents or skills to pitch in and make the small Maine town shine.
To bring with them as one by one they cross the town line. What they share, add to the local stew of characters, personalities, DNA. That make the small Maine town shine, vibrant, unique. Long lasting to endure whatever storms come up in life. They say your best sparring partner is adversity. Maine, experience her four seasons, meet and greet with the people that you will never forget. Where something rubs off. You are not the same at the end of the day as you were before the connection, collaboration.
Big Moose, Lots Of Meat, Trophy For The Wall Needing A Couple Railroad Spikes To Hang, Display.
This big fella with a rack of nearly six foot wide spread lost at the game of hide and seek in the North Maine woods yesterday.
The fall hunting season is underway for those lucky enough to have won a spot, hit the Maine moose lottery for selection to tramp the woods. Toting firepower, extra ammo, animal scents and calls. Looking, scanning the hardwood ridges and favorite wildlife watering holes. For grub to fill the big chest freezer. Better he met his demise in the woods rather than the tragedy of a car load of people hitting something this big on the open Maine highway. Like a recent big Maine black bear did kissing a red jeep called Sally.
Hunting camp in Maine, not always about the end all to bag some game, to go home with a deer, bear, moose or game birds. Sometimes it’s just the getting together part. Being away from the normal surroundings and off the beaten path at a Maine woods camp.
Sporting camp businesses in Maine make a healthy chunk of change from out of state hunters.
Eager to know where the game is and relying on locals to point out the locations. So they get up to speed quickly on just where to spend the week’s vacation hunting, looking dressed in blaze orange. Carrying a thermos of hot brewed coffee and snacks for the long lonely times up in a tree stand. Waiting, thinking, relaxing with the smells, sights, sounds of the forest around you.
Maybe hearing a brook babbling, bubbling, gurgling nearby. Cascading, splashing, dropping over rocks river waterfalls. As the flow zig zags, twists, turns, empties from a nearby waterfront source. Or makes a natural deposit into one of a chain of nearby lakes, ponds. Just teaming with fish calling the hunter’s name. When rod and reel replace the shooting iron with the deadly accurate cross hairs scope on top. Watching, Studying, Wondering Is That A Friend Of Foe In The Maine Woods.
You can hear your self think when you are in the big wide open …
The volume of your thoughts get tuned in, turned up. Become crystal clear. When the regular to do list, task of chores for the day gets left untouched. When you take a break, spend some time with the regulars at the Maine hunting camp or sporting lodge.
This is your place, playground, spot in Maine.
To catch up, compare notes, share stories. Play cribbage. Sit in front of a crackling fire to warm your bones. What you do when the leaves chameleon the colors. Drift lazily to the ground one by one. To signal the approaching white out of winter. The change up of the four big backdrops. Slid into place in Vacationland to prepare for snow flakes, different frozen water fun options. Wearing, adding a few extra layers of clothing. As you continue to head outside as often as possible. No matter what the season in Maine.
Welcome hunters to Maine, the headquarters, cookie jar. Like the potato chip bag you can not leave alone. Stay away from, go back to for memorable trips into the woods. To areas where Bambi, Thumper live. Where it is a game of staying low, walking softly. Not being seen for a few weeks until the out of state plates do an about face. Heading downhill back across the big green bridge at the entrance to Maine, Vacation. And the wildlife, our cows and horses too can sigh in relief. Prepare for the holidays.
No Injuries, Well Except The Maine Black Bear Had A Goose Egg On His Noggin.
Raising kids is the most rewarding privilege, honor a parent could ever have.
And after years of feeding, clothing, teaching them right from wrong and saying their prayers with the stories before lights out, you never lose the worrying part. Because you love them. Family is the top priority no matter what. You, the Maine village, other family members, the teachers, sports coaches, pastor… all helped shape them into young adults. And would do anything to keep them out of harm’s way even after they leave home.
You sometimes forget just how attached, connected, much you actually worry about kids who have left the nest when they return for a stint.
The volume of that tug of the heart glows ET brighter. The two boys were able to work a couple weeks of Maine potato harvest this fall before both bee lined, headed due west to Colorado. And with a loaded up red jeep called Sally that four kids developed their earliest driving skills in, the pair headed down Interstate 95. And in Howland Maine in the highway darkness met up, tangled with a black bear. No other cars, no property damage but Sally took a hit. The bear had had better days too. Probably won’t forget the rendezvous. The dance spin into the back door of the jeep after kissing the front corner of the Grand Cherokee chartered for Colorado.
So back to home base, regroup, down size the cargo freight weight for the heading west mission. Shoe horn, hop in the teeny tiny t roof black Del Sol Honda. All waxed, fluids checked, waiting and ready to be whipped into service when the call to the used car bull pen came in.
The thought of boy I am so glad that thump from the Maine black bear that took out the front driver’s side fender, rear passenger door, one headlight eye and half the bumper did not cause the vehicle to roll.
Skid out of control. Go end over end with gruesome results to the most precious cargo, the two brothers. As a parent you think for a moment of wheel chairs, hospital beep beep monitors and aluminum flip charts, funeral homes, visiting hours. And thank God, count our blessings instead. Because a little sheet metal can be fixed. Kids can not be replaced. You could never hammer out that hole in the heart left in the rest of the family, small Maine community that had a hand in the building of a young grasshopper into a young adult.
As they head west in the shuttle not the Starship Sally Enterprise. With nightly calls, daily texts and using the communicator to beam in. Determine just exactly where they are now on the big USA GPS map along the way. And tie in those coordinates with lap top, tag teaming with James T Kirk. To help find the best for the least. A motel room near I-70 for once they’ve had enough collecting mile markers. The gong sounds. Signalling the end of the long driving day.
To shift into sleep mode after putting on the feedbag for something not dropped out of a rest area, service center vending machine.
The head to bed for the night and some much needed shut eye, Zzzzz’s manufacture. Getting off the highway just in time to stretch out, relax. See the Red Sox lose to the Tigers last night by 1-0 in the opener of the playoffs. Darn. The Replacement, Utility Hitter For The Ride West.
Growing up, when you crack the door to their rooms after the nightly ritual of getting them ready for bed. To check in, make sure they are warm, covered. Pick up the caught trying to escape stuffed animal or their special, high mileage blanket off the floor. And with a peck on the cheek to stand back. To take a one by one last glimpse of the miracle, wonderment of having a quiver full of kids. That you would do anything to protect.
Glad Sally got the boys through the head on with a hard charging Maine black bear.
And with the help of local parts providers, a skilled auto body man wearing a mask, with a pry bar in one hand, a paint gun in the other she will get the wrinkles removed. To be tip top, ship shape and ready for another adventure when any of the kids come home. Need a rig to throw a canoe on the top to head to Baxter for a hike, some paddling, camping under the stars.
We Mainers get attached to our vehicles because we hang on to them, take care of them and they are involved in major chunks of our life. Not traded every year for something new, shiny and that come saddled with a heavy payment booklet to boot. Small town Maine living is so so vastly different than the approach to life living in the concrete urban jungle.
Sally’s in sick bay, taking a pit stop. She, I will be waiting, on stand by until that moment of a kid’s return happens. When the children’s path brings them back to their Maine hometown. To be safe and sound in their original beds. Maine, it’s all about family. It starts, ends with the most sacred institution that affects, influences all the rest of life’s journey.
What Needs Fixing, How To Approach Problems In Small Maine Towns.
Sometimes it is easy to caught up in the day to day living and with the speed of life blur miss cues.
To not be as sharp, aware, to see with clarity what is happening around you. When you pull, rack back the focus and see what’s going on as the Buffalo Springfield song warns. Not everything is always hunky dory. There is plenty to gripe about, to whine and wish this or that situation was different if that is the sit down and have a pity party approach you want to take.
But making things better than they were starts with realizing some tinkering, fixing is needed.
Mistakes happened but lessons learned from decisions made in the trial and error tinkering. But arriving at some common ground where the folks that swim with you, the birds of a feather that fly next door are in pretty much overall agreement. On the same page of where are we now, where do we go from here? What is my individual role to help not hurt the process? Sometimes it’s say nothing, don’t fight, take the high road. But not being apathetic, discouraged just sizing up the situation to see where you jump in.
Nothing stays static. Try to keep up or take shelter under some flat rock to avoid being stampeded can happen when you live where there is nothing but a sea of not so happy faces anywhere you crank your head to gawk, take a gander look-see. Finding a place where the pace of life is a tad more sane, lower miles per hour is a start. Where you are aware of the night sky stars overhead. The clean sparkling bubbling water, the neat well versed seasoned neighbor. Those are just three Maine face cards in large supply. Where the population is not wall to wall that always comes with a severe price in the trade off.
There is a reason the population is smaller in a Maine community.
A little ways away from major markets. Insulated from the rat race. You have to make your own opportunities. See new ones that could work with passion, dedication and right thinking, near perfect timing. But is small town Maine community life the same for everyone or a carbon copy of the day to day you would live in a larger population center? Absolutely not. Maine, Outdoor Four Season Simple Living. Real, Rich, Simple.
You swap certain things, give up and gain much when you relocate, move, invest in a Maine small town lifestyle.
Time spent sitting in traffic, worrying about personal property disappearing and saving your own hide from harm gets traded for not having to lock your doors. Not always looking over your shoulder. Protection not needed from the folks that smile, make eye contact. Mainers that have manners, are polite and considerate makes everything different. From ones who seem disinterested, rude, too busy. Or just avoid connecting, reaching out and acknowledging others surrounding them when you bee line for a life in the city chasing the dollar to make ends meet.
The “don’t get involved in an urban area” is exchanged for pace yourself, relax, breathe. Pick and chose carefully like signing up for college classes to avoid being overwhelmed with credit hours. Over extended and pulled in too many directions for community service. There are never enough local volunteers. Plenty of folks that say it can not be done. But the step up to the plate types in a small Maine town you will find have a heart that nothing compares to, is stronger. Because of fierce pride, passion, a will to pitch in and see their role in the local landscape to improve the small Maine town. To apply the talents, skills or hone them to apply, do their best when not many sign on. Step up in a positive way. Get On The Highway To Maine. Simple, Beautiful, Outdoor Special.
The ringing bells ringing are bickering on the local level that wastes times, does nothing for confidence or to inspire folks to sign on.
To buy in, pitch in, not shy away. The red flags are the finger pointing instead of offering solutions and collectively hammering out the where do we go from here, what do we do now to stay on the straight and narrow. The right path.
And the ooh ooh that smell is the unmistakeable odor that oozes, permeates when something is rotten. Feelings have no IQ but can stall, side rail or push back the work process that needs to be done in a small Maine town. Unmet needs, not “feeling” appreciated or needing recognition can be in short supply but replacing it with pride, self satisfaction and more self reliance is what under populated, natural Maine simple living is all about right?
Staying Huddled Close, Tightly, A Connection Living In A Small Maine Town Means Faster Internet Has To Happen.
Speed of thought internet, where access is not the garden variety typical available options.
Not what most local providers offer to the general public. No no, this small Maine town invested in a wireless blanket to cover the community. Lightning fast internet bandwidth speeds. With wireless nodes on poles through out the burg, around the village. And serious thought, an investment of tax payer dollars were earmarked to get the zip code some kind of well wired.
Local ambulance EMT’s tap into the wall to wall internet strength and hospitals see the vitals as it happens, real time on the way in and prepare for what has to start stat to save a life.
Firefighters have the same information pouring in. Know the situation, who needs to do what when and where before they even roll up the big fire house doors. Fire up the diesel engine. Turn on the lights and siren. And the black and white spotted dog leaps on the back end of the lead fire truck speeding out of the station.
Why? The economic strategy of the small Maine town was to make sure all the existing manufacturing, distribution and service providers already here were never taken for granted. Where municipal officials worked hard to meet the many needs of those already putting cash in the local coffers. But also promoting the safe small town way of life by seriously courting, sparking and going all out with a full court press for the telecommuter. The Jack and Jill out in the wild blue yonder who live in a Hartford CT, Providence RI, Boston MA or NYC who want a change.
The online worker who can take their job anywhere on the planet but the tractor beam tugging at his heart is pulling him to Maine.
That are not tied to a specific location and may have to fly to a major city of two a few times a year to make the leap to the Maine small town work. To smooth any wrinkles being a little further away from the face to face with the customer can cause. But these online bring your job with you folks are some kind of good at what they do. They are valuable to their present employer or are independent contractors that bid on jobs. Proven dependable, on time, to do expert work.
No one wants to lose a valuable trained, seasoned employee or service provider like that right? So what about your local internet providers, show us what you got that’s hot. Entice me, “tease me please me” has to happen.
So why this particular place to call home of all the 108 small Maine towns to live, work and play? To raise a family or to think about retiring in? Because of all the four season natural recreational options. The down to Earth friendly people who live in a small Maine town who care about each other. Where there is a connection, a flavor, quality of living that they just can not strain, squeeze, take away from the crime riddled city. The expensive, noisy, dirty, just too many people in a small space urban area.
But this Maine town offering bigger, better, “wicked” fast internet. Hands down as close to lightning as possible for the quick as you can get on the planet.
Takes an investment from the local municipality. Pushing, moving a stack of colored chips onto that economic development life board game space is worth it. Telecommuting to work was not an option fifteen years ago due to limitations of service and speed. But the bugs on that are worked out, and straight ahead highway paved in fiber optics means floor it. The sharp dangerous curves and blind spots have been removed if the small Maine town has vision, a plan, a strategy. A pipe for the electrons to ride the information wave.
And just as important as all the wonderful things Maine is famous for from clean air and water, no traffic, lower cost housing, it’s the long list of what we don’t have here too. That is a strong attraction to the telecommuter. You don’t have to lock your car, there are no daily drive by shootings, no gangs, no living in fear or having to never ever roll through this or that seedy neighborhood where you take your life into your own hands if you do. That’s no way to live. That is not what it is like in Maine. People wave, smile, make eye contact and hold doors open for you. Let you go in traffic. They are happier because of where they live that has high test quality of life written all over it.
Telecommuters to Maine, don’t need employment to open up, already have that.
Have a satisfying, rewarding job, will travel is the motto on their card. Like a hired gun. Bring it along and spend the money they make outside of the small town in the local community. New dollars to turn over an average of six times in a Maine town means they create wealth. Not recycle it.
I am lucky to live in a Maine town with not just internet, but faster, more dependable, advanced connections. And working to be even better at a rate other areas have ignored. Or have a false sense of security that they have good enough internet service already. It’s keep up or get left behind. Let go of that thinking or get dragged under happens. Make it a sport, passion to be better, way beyond just “good enough”.
So the wireless, DSL, cable, whatever internet partner options available in a small Maine town need to hop up on the leather examination table covered with paper towel like material.
To turn it’s head and cough, have a thorough physical exam. To stay healthy and ahead of the rest of the herd of other small towns. For the “pick me pick me” feeling showing proudly. Like the one you experience every time you wander into a Maine animal shelter. And one pooch or feline does a better job pulling at your heart strings. Ending up riding home with you to a forever home.
To live in a world where we all know time is money. And the only way to make more time is by better use of what we already have. Faster connections, quicker uploads, downloads and redundancy. For consistent, never loose that signal to happen. And always having a pipeline that is providing a bigger chunk of the bandwidth speeds from the ten meg horsepower. So it is like someone put the nozzle of 100 octane aviation grade fuel into the telecommuter’s computer. Strapped, bolted on a blue NOS bottle of rocket juice. To really zing, sizzle. All the time.
Maine, The Place To Live, But Work Online, Telecommuting. Make It Happen With Job Outside Vacationland.
For Dick and Jane to work hard, be productive online but then shut it off, to enjoy the four seasons natural beauty of Maine.
That everyone from outside of Vacationland wishes they could tap into for more than just one week a year away. If there were just the job options like they already have in the city in Maine. For the telecommuter, with a high tech town in Maine that can offer the speeds and in all spots, he or she now can make the move to a rural lifestyle. Broadband is critical for a small Maine town’s survival. The fastest internet speeds in the USA is in a small Washington town of about 7000. pretty close to the same number in a head count of my small town, Houlton Maine.
What little small Maine town would not want to have an extra 1000 people for tax payers, contributors to the local community with all the talents they bring along and contribute to the area? To stem the flow to cities for jobs that are just not available locally. Or ones that were but dried up with automation. Other economic reasons. Folks employed that buy local and keep the lights shining brightly for everyone that already lives, loves and wants to stay in the small Maine town. It’s a beautiful thing.
There is always a hesitation, a pause to reflect while the next next of Maine’s four season backdrops squeaky wheels into place.
Sometimes because the season you just enjoyed so much ended way way too soon. Because all you wanted to do in the outdoors in Maine that season was left with a few items just not scratched off on the mental to do list. Juggling life events and keeping a balance in the important areas of your life secure has to happen too right?
You try to have the yearly traditions like hiking up Mt Katahdin or camping at Baxter Park. A trip or two to the Maine coast. Hiking, piking, kayaking, or just walking, sitting, gazing. Being fully aware of Maine’s natural beauty surrounding you. One more wet raft ride down the Kennebec, Penobscot, The Dead Rivers. But in the fall wearing a wet suit of neoprene top and bottom. Hitting all the senses, not just using the eyeballs in all we experience in Maine. Peaceful, Four Season Drop Dead Gorgeous, Maine.
Fall in Maine happens right on time. As you tramp through the woods but wearing orange, red in search of game.
Or just sitting on an open porch of a lone Maine log cabin in the forest. Listening to the quiet. Watching one by one colorful leaves spiral, drift to the ground. Smelling the fall aroma of trees, grass, ground cover, morning frost, evening dew. The crackling, sparking, blazing camp fire. Or something good cooking up, sizzling in a large black iron skillet. That whatever is served will taste over the top special. Because it is the yearly tradition, handed down recipe of stew, biscuits, home made this or that. And because your lungs have OD’ed on fresh clean air today.
It’s like someone put on a face mask early in the day pumping only green bottles, canisters of pure oxygen. So different, foreign, refreshing after the city smog, smell of industry, automobiles, diesels trucks and trains. That is your usually air supply. All your body is fed round the clock.
Fall is a time to reflect on summer, get ready for winter.
Each season is connected, wired in series and all detonate, fire up, percolate all year long inside a person. Because it is so different when you pull back on the crowds of people. Rein in the crime, traffic, and open up the skies. With a black velvet back drop high overhead. Of a zillion brilliant stars that you admire and forgot were up there because the city light pollution robs the opportunity to visit them nightly.
Digging out the boards to go skiing, moving the snow sled into position from in front of the car in the garage to beside it. Uncovered, waxed, fluids readied. Digging around for the registration to trot to the local town office to get a new different colored sticker for the sides.
Getting the wood splitter back from your neighbor to finish up what has been put off. Needs to be racked, stacked in the cellar after the splitting process. Removing air conditioners, replacing door seals, tightening window latches to batten down the Maine home. Bringing the green canoe out from behind the garage, to its special spot tucked inside. Along with the patio chairs, glass top table and flower pots. Leaning a picnic table up against a tree sideways to shed snow.
Seasons change, color, filter the people of Maine that enjoy all four. In distinct unique ways, locations, with the neat people who all somehow find their way to Maine.
Attending harvest church suppers, craft fairs and thinking holidays with the family. But admiring summer images on the refrigerator of moments captured that make you smile, happy to live, raise a family in Maine. It’s not just about summer weather, and we have no Maine polar bears, igloos in the winter. There are four seasons to collect, over and over through out a person’s lifetime in Vacationland. Maine. Get to know her, don’t stay away so long.
