MeInMaine Blog

Category: Uncategorized

  • Not Many Bad “Seeds”, Kids… Usually Lousy Parenting.

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    Let’s rewind back to your childhood, and what worked, what did not in the kid-parent partnership.

    Everyone in a family has a role, responsibility and should feel their special place in the household. And that Maine home would not be the same, like the small, tight, local community if the individuals that make it shine were missing. Not in the equation. But lots of “experts” will shake their head side to side when you claim to be one of the lucky ones. And think your parents did a pretty good job of raising their Maine family.

    Raising kids is a process. But like anything, opinions on the good, bad, the ugly are all over the landscape about parenting, how best to do it. Ten mistakes in parenting. Every kid is different and so are you through out the cross roads, mile stones of ups and downs in your life. Because of what else is going on around you in the day to day. While parenting and the effect all the people, events, situations ripple. Cause for disturbance from the other balls, knives you juggle to try and hold down a job, improve relationships, to provide a warm, healthy, safe, happy Maine home.

    My oldest brother of the four boys Mom and Dad brought into the world says he had different parents than me.

    He’s ten years older, I’m on the tail end of the lineage. Parents had some logged miles under the belt by the time I climbed up into the high chair at meal time. And I think he means they were new at this parenting game board, gig. Started immediately after the stork with the tail wind flew over. Air dropped the package. The bundle of joy that was him. The first grandchild that my Aunt Ruth took a real shining to and to the point my Mom had to remind her to bring him back to his real home.

    My brother Steve also claims the first kid is a throw away baby because there is a such a steep learning curve for brand spanking new parents. And due to just no written manual on the corner of the coffee table to thumb through for the follow along. To guide, navigate, for directions. To help in the humming the song until you learn the words. And don’t you just get it figured out and there they go. That class is over. Into another new family phase of exploring, independence happens. And the awkward point of still a kid, not quite a grown lady or man presents itself. Spoiling a child is far worse than neglect. A guarantee of unhappiness when others don’t provide the same ego stroking lavishing praise, trinkets. And not being taught responsibility for their own actions, taking ownership of mistakes they do, will make.

    Slowly letting out the rope. We prepare kids for the day they leave the aircraft carrier. Launched out into the wild blue yonder. Jettisoned with everything we have learned, passed down and mixed in with items gleaned along the way whipped into the education. To prepare them for the life journey. For when we are gone and no tether harness to bolt cut, saw off, un-knot. For total freedom to run, be in charge of their own life.

    One thing for sure, the pirate approach of “the beatings will continue until the morale improves” might work in prisons.

    But outside the crow bar hotel or under household roofs not waving the jolly roger or skull and cross bone flag, it is all about consistency. It is moderation. It is routine. Unconditional love and two parents on the same page or at least presenting a unified front. Until behind closed doors, or over coffee in a pair of open porch rocking chairs or on the same swing. To hammer out a solution that is not one or the other but a blend. Of the best of both in the approach to what do we do, say, need to see happen.

    So the kids can not work one parent against the other to achieve their means, meet their desires.

    New blending families are ripe breeding grounds for missed cues, waving then dropped red flags. The kid wanting his or her way. To game the out come of say “am I getting the keys to the car to go out on a date Friday night or not?” Wanting to know Monday. But being told “It depends on what kind of week you have Suzie, Jimmy”. With hopefully no outside family interference in the leave and cleave. What would they do on The Walton’s, Little House, Ozzie And Harriet, or Ozzy and Sharon? (Record diamond needle ground, ripped across vinyl record scratch, screech sound).

    Ever been somewhere when a small child has a tantrum, meltdown? Ever want to give advice but not your kid but you see who has the upper hand, no respect for the one that is suppose to be in charge. Pushing the card, paying for the goods at check out. During the carrying on, screaming, beside themselves emotional boil over.

    Video On Not So Happy Small Kids, How Parents Handle It Right Or Wrong.

    Did your parents threaten to put your tantrum, melt down on You Tube instead of the standard default response to a quandry. “You wait until your father gets home.”?

    Maine, we keep it simple, it’s all about the four season natural setting, pitching in, making it better in life.

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

  • Your Favorite Flavor Ice Cold Milk Shake On A Hot Day In The Maine Potato Field.

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    Little things, kind gestures go a long way to make the day.

    Especially if you are a young child sitting, standing or dragging along a Maine potato field basket. Under the hot sun of a fall day of brilliant colors during potato harvest. Potato pickers get a major boost, shot in the arm when out of the blue, the farmer’s wife delivers an ice cold treat. Which at three oclock when the snacks are gone, wearing off, the water jug getting warm and low in reserve. It’s a welcome out of the blue sight. Mirage like but for real. As one by one the tired, dirty, rag tag motley crew of potato harvest workers reach for, get an unexpected present.

    Our kids picked potatoes for Hodgdon potato farmer Kirk Wilson.

    His mother was the popsicle lady. Showing up and answering the charge with afternoon delights. So did Littleton Maine potato farm owners Leslie and Greg Schools. Who on the last day of Houlton Farms Dairy Bar’s season rounded up each potato harvester and spud bin winter storage worker’s favorite flavor milk shake. Took the order, picked up, delivered to the individual worker as a treat. A thank you for your effort on the potato chain gang. We need you, appreciate you, and here’s something to remind you how important you are. A pause for the cause. The treat that refreshes. Hits the spot.

    Harry Bass, long time and now long gone Maine potato farmer had a five cent bonus rule. And candy bars. For the crew that stuck it out, could be depended upon to be there when the last gun was fired. In the last row dug, picked, hauled away to the long tall dark potato bin for the winter storage. A perk, incentive to hang in there. Stick it out. Stay on board. To pick them clean. Fill those barrels. And to remember, no matter how many rows you get behind in the potato field, no one leaves at the end of the day until everyone is caught up, picked up. And reaches for the empty dinner bucket, radio, water jug, sweatshirt used as a section marker.

    Looking back when you were a kid, remember busy adults but not too helter skelter to take, make the time?

    To do something little that looms large inside for the rest of your life? That touched a place, filled a need and is never forgotten. Meant so much and hopefully spurred you on to do the same in your life in little ways. Whenever you could, in whatever small fashion that presents itself. Kids remember, don’t forget and learn from our actions.

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

  • The Maine Potato Picking Field Checks Gladly Handed Over To Your Mother…

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    The long standing tradition of picking Maine potatoes, when harvest hand crews reined supreme, kids were king.

    My Dad a farmer claimed that potato pickers, the rag tag motley crew of mostly kids did the best job. Leaving less behind in the field. Picking them clean as the field boss walking by would remind.

    Hand crews dressed in layers of clothing for frosty mornings. But stripped down to just a t-shirt by noon time as barrel production was in full swing. Hit the top efficiency stride with only a short break when the tractor digger broke down. And you darted to the woods for a nature call. Or pulled up a seat with your back to a full pair of potato barrels. To tap into the food supply stash. That tasted oh so much sweeter, more delicious because of working hard out in the Maine fall fresh air and sunshine.

    Both cedar stave or taller, narrower more expensive plywood potato barrels used, bought new in Bridgewater Maine from Wheeler’s Mill.

    Wearing your number on the ticket flapping in the breeze. Slid into the top barrel groove wherever you could find a space to securely wedge it. To tell the world you get credit at the end of the day. When the one by one hoisted full, 165 pound barrels of golden Maine potatoes rolled to the back of a field truck got counted. Tallied up. The ticket can and all that fine Maine potato dust filtered down on to the yesterday’s newspaper. Laid out over the farmer’s kitchen table to reflect, record each pickers production efforts that day.

    The Maine farm trucks cruising up and down, plying every other picked row in the potato field. Vehicles used pretty much just for a three week stint each year. Whipped into action. Thirty years old but only showing less than 7,0000 miles on the cab dashboard odometer. The triangle over and over mission from the field of the day, to the potato house bin, back to the farm headquarters was a small one.

    Greater yield, avoiding the bruising and skinning of the famous Maine potato is why Dad and Mom kept very large picking crews of kids.

    Harvesting, picking potato acreages that were usually table stock varieties. Burbank Russets, Katahdins, Green Mountains, Superiors, Ontarios, Shepodies, Atlantics to name a few. But all destined for a housewife’s supper table in states to the south. If they stayed good, held up in storage. If pockets of rot, or over production in other areas, too low market prices did not mess up the plan before the trip to ship to market.

    Talked to Joe Fitz, a local business man from a large family who at this week’s Rotary Club meeting Monday remembered the ritual. Work hard, hand the picking check over to your mother gladly. To buy your own winter coat was part of where the earnings got ear marked. New clothes, shoes for church and school replacement wear was each child’s job, obligation. And the individual kids in the family felt more responsible for their welfare. Gave them a sense of pitching in, to help carry the load of the family household where each held down a special spot. The Maine farm potato picking job and entry level employment that sets the stage, becomes the rock solid foundation for your approach to every other work assignment.

    A few dollars trickled back from your mother was part of the plan each fall harvest too.

    To spend wisely. On something not so practical but that fueled, provided the steam to get up in the dark, very early each morning. To drive the process of motivation to head to the potato field. Where the local farmer needed you to show up, counted on your presence. In the field for another long day where it might rain.

    Once in a while snow flurries happened, spitted, appeared on the scene. If it became too late in the game for harvesting the rows and rows that never ended. Where the section you marked out represented just long enough a stretch so you were picked up completely just as the squeak squeak squeak of the digger bed and old familiar drone of the tractor engine approached. Pasted your section providing another row of uncovered spuds to remove the tops. Shake them free and fill one of four weaved baskets of brown ash to make another barrel for the cause.

    Kids did not feel picked on, taken advantage of or abused.

    And all your friends were in the potato field. The norm not the exception. Trucked in riding with filed to the brim metal dinner buckets of loving prepared sandwiches, snacks. Carrying precious water jugs. As you climbed up and into the back of a canopied pick up truck. On the chain gang. The same vehicle that delivered you back to your house at the end of the long day in the farm field. To hop out, head to the bath tub, clean up for a hot meal waiting back at home.

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    While you thumbed through the just arrived Sears or Penney’s Christmas catalog. And between mouthfuls of supper thought about what to spend that few hard earned bucks on. That were all yours to enjoy. To make the executive decision solely by your lonesome. On where to spend those dollars. And whatever it was you bought, what you did Saturday night down town in a small Northern Maine community, you took very good care of the wise made purchase. Respected it more because of the patient selection process, study. All due to the effort it took to raise the funds, on your own wallet horsepower, to actually be able to buy the item.

    Sometimes you walked away.

    And left the pondered item parked back on the shelf if that was just too many barrels of potatoes in your opinion. The final conclusion to not let go of the hard earned money that easily if the value was missing. If things just did not add up in your young mind to represent a fair exchange, trade. I am so glad like my three older brothers, all my friends growing up that we all had the family farm picking potato experience. All of my kids did too. None are the worse for wear because of the valuable work ethic lesson. All think proudly of the contribution each had, the role they played each fall in Aroostook County spent out in the fields.

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

  • The Tonic Of Wilderness, Maine. Drink Up.

    The call of the wild, the revisits, treks back to Maine year after year.

    They happen for a reason. The attraction is more than a casual flirtation. Deeper than a fleeting warm and fuzzy, temporary condition. Because once Maine takes your hand, gets into your system, you are done. That’s all she wrote for any other passions to top the urge, itch, hunger for a destination.

    Maine is a jealous but kind master. She wants, no demands, grabs hold, takes all of you.

    Hook, line and sinker. Surrender to her natural beauty. Explore and discover her nooks, crannies that are not your typical tourist haunts. Ask a local in one of the small 108 Maine towns what his favorite spot is. Collect them one by one. Everyone in a small Maine town is on the front line of customer service. Wants to make sure others know, respect, enjoy Maine the way they do. Just ask for suggestions, guidance.

    islandmainelakeThe beauty of being on top of Mt Katahdin peering out over mountain ranges. Bopping, paddling a two person sea kayak out to one of the 68 lighthouses for a better angle to capture a snap shot glimpse to take back home. Meeting Mr Maine Moose in his habitat. Swish swish carving new snow cross country on a Maine lake or down a Sugarloaf, Sunday River or small slop recharge a person. Help you find true, lasting contentment.

    Park in on a Maine lake.

    Hoof it, tramp into the wilds of the vast, endless list of unorganized township this, range that numbers and letters. Where animals, wildlife out number you ten thousand to one. Where you can detach, tune into to the crystal clear, surround sight and sound wilderness channel of Maine. And feel like the last person, only guy or gal left on the planet to turn the lights out.

    Humbling, sacred, soothing, hitting you deeply.

    Penetrating regions you did not know you possessed, that even existed in your heart, mind and soul. Dorothy was right, but sorry. It’s Maine not Kansas you seek, need for a forever home. Click those ruby red slipper heels together. Transport to Maine every chance you get. Don’t stay away so long.

    When the long views winding down a black twisting ribbon of highway in Moscow Maine opens up, unfolds in your lap, you just know this is a place where I am suppose to be. No where else but Maine. Plain and simple. No matter what the season, you don’t need a reason to return to Maine. To those special unspoiled by man, no crowd places Maine is loaded with, just waiting for your return visit to enjoy.

    Get to Maine. Don’t you dare to even think for a moment of standing her up, keeping her waiting.

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

  • Happiness, Gratitude, Ice Cream, Winning Maine Combination.

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    “When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.” John Lennon

    Happiness starts and ends with the motivation to be that way. To get to that place. You have the intention, will, passion to achieve it. Gratitude plays a big hand, has a major role in the exercise. Making your own luck. Working with what you have. To make it the most. For it to be plenty. All you need. Did you have loved ones that showed you how to be happy? That you watched growing up and knew without a doubt they were sincerely happy, joyful, grateful?

    “Live with intention.
    Walk to the edge.
    Listen Hard.
    Practice wellness.
    Play with abandon.
    Laugh.
    Choose with no regret.
    Appreciate your friends.
    Continue to learn.
    Do what you love.
    Live as if this is all there is.”
    ― Mary Anne Radmacher

    Any one want, need an ice cream, the universal people pleaser no matter what the age or how the day is going?

    Blog posting on a Monday morning. Have a great day, the start of a new week, as we all enter a new month. Head full speed into the colorful fall outdoor season in Maine. Pray for a safe harvest, high yield production bounty this autumn for all our area Maine potato farmers, workers around Aroostook County.

    Make the time, take a trip to the “Crown Of Maine” during the fall harvest.

    To see, hear, feel, smell, experience fully the Maine potato harvest operations. The handiwork of Jack Frost who has been pretty busy, highly talented more than usual this fall. The detonation, explosion and “second bloom” of color is underway in good shape. Saved you the best seat in the house to enjoy it all if you can just get to the northern part of the state.

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

  • Maine, It Starts With A Visit, Then Ends Up You Stay A Lifetime.

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    Most new relocating small business owners in a Maine town started out with a simple visit to the community first.

    Maine vacations are the spark that ignite the intense wildfire blaze. The kindling triggering, exciting, energizing the insides of a person. Who for way way too long has been smothered, cut off with the toxic pace of urban living.

    The person in the wild blue yonder audience who aches, screams out loud inside daily for the simple, small Maine town rural way of life.

    Who warms up nicely to the friendly Maine people. Fits right in. Longs for the black velvet night sky studded with brilliant stars overhead. The clean air, the crystal clear full time waterfront recreation options. The lack of pushing, impersonal city crowds surrounding them that they can not get free of, away from daily. Maine provides the magic soothing, therapeutic massage for these folks not made to do city dwelling.

    All the Maine small town living elements working their charm, magic to refresh, recharge folks who are bruised, pretty much bone weary tired.

    Had enough of the city that they decide is just not for me. Killing them slowly. Starving for space, thirsting for the endless supply of the wide open outdoor space of Maine. With more wildlife than people for neighbors.

    Maine where’s there little traffic, the 4th lowest state for crime, no noise or the grime or stench you just can’t wash off. That the city mouse is used to putting up with because of all those people. Jammed in an over crowded city where all the jobs are. Where eight out of ten people are forced to live today. Or are they any more?

    When the realization solidifies that whoa, wait just a cotton picking minute. I can see myself living here in the great, unspoiled four season outdoors of Maine. How to do it starts with some basic needs. Internet connectivity, speed of thought broadband access is key. For two reasons. To let other outside vacationers discover the Maine signal that tractor beamed them to Vacationland. To keep ’em coming. For the next tech savvy vacationer to stay connected to the outside while visiting Maine’s willy wags. FACT: No polar bears in Maine.

    To telecommute to work out of state from Maine.

    To tap into the outside markets for those stepping up for rural living full time. Who brought their city job with them thanks to new technology option advances. That is the key to the survival of small Maine towns. To stop outward migration or the memo being issued of “last guy out, remember to shut off the lights.”

    Sitting in home office den at a desk with a desktop or laptop computer, a fax machine, phone lines ready and waiting to work. Or setting up shop on the second floor of a small Maine down town office building. In a dirt cheap office suite reporting to work from Maine but telecommuting, online. Far away from the town lines of the small Maine community is where you head, report to work.

    The wire or fiber optic pipeline that funnels the information, the conveyor belt for the media streams needed to connect the Maine burg with the rest of the blue and green spinning marble. With the urban world centers where all the people, customers, clients are forced to live. That the transplant new small town business owner to Maine relies on to provide a service to, for selling a product. All produced in good old Maine. Bring your old job out of state with you and consider telecommuting online from Maine.

    Rural area tourism where the local characters that are the gems in a small Maine town are put on camera, handed a microphone to tell their story.

    What is special about a Maine small town should not be kept a secret.

    You can live here but work outside and we’re not talking merchant marines gone for six months, here for the other half of the year. You work online down state, out of state or the country but live in Maine thanks to a little device that changed everything. Leveled the playing field, the Internet. That puts a small Maine town on equal footing, overcomes the distances away the mile marker reminds traveling. Puts you in the city 9-5. But living in small town Maine after work is done. The best of both worlds is possible.

    Sure our kids in Maine can still head to the cities but online. Still live where the call of the outdoor, the hiking Baxter Park, the biking Acadia’s pathways and stone bridges happen. The paddling kayaks on a bottle smooth Maine lake are fit into the schedule more than once a year on vacation. Or white water rafting the Kennebec, Dead, Penobscot rivers lots of times. To sit in the sun on a Maine harbor open deck feasting on fresh seafood. Roaming the old port section of Portland visiting quaint boutiques, quirky shops. Local bean suppers, living off the land healthier homesteading, creating a craft sold for bigger money outside Maine. A safe place that is wholesome to raise your family with a lower cost of living price tag to pull it all off is where Maine shines brightest. All because you chose to live in Maine, but work online outside Vacationland’s funky shape outline.

    Maine is holding all the face cards for a straight, royal flush of quality of life. In jaw lowering, drop dead gorgeous four seasons surroundings. Maine, come for a visit. Then see what happens once she grabs your heart, gets into your system. And good luck trying to stay away from that moment forward. It’s that special in Maine. The place with the space, that’s all natural, unfiltered, unspun.

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