Slick, polished, smooth when you want something. Snooty and snarky, aloof when you don’t. That is not the way of the lay of the land in Maine.
Down home, family centered and local pride in the small town in Maine the resident hails from is the heart beat. The love of where you live, being connected to the others in the small population that work together.
Peaceful, Four Season Drop Dead Gorgeous, Maine.
Instead of attending events, you work them in small Maine towns.
Things don’t get hired out. The locals are knee deep in the behind the scenes of the home spun happenings.
Creative input, individual resourcefulness drip off every local event. And once you sign on, step up that is in your collection to be counted on for the next installment of the home grown production.
In business deals, you don’t need an Angie’s list to look up who you gonna call. You know the others in the small Maine area. The news through the grapevine is like the porridge, hot, cold or just right.
The local ethics, values define a person along with the effort put into the work out in a local Maine job or service.
Or volunteer church, school, whatever civic or hardship fun raiser endeavor in the event of the day in the small Maine town. Wine and dine palava , feeling hustled and worked does not work in Maine. That kind of politics is saved for back and forth across the aisle and some legislative center.
Never Fade Memory Making In Maine. Collect Your Images, Experiences.
Huckstering, feeling worked over to force a conclusion causes anyone within earshot to put up a hand. To ask if the neighbor is okay.
Or being hassled and if they need help, want a hand with anything.
Bullies, attacking people not the problem is not Maine.
Fear, forcing the outcome with the chip on the shoulder. Nope. No thanks. Forget the line in the sand one up manship insecurity.
Too much depending on channeling all the emotion into something more productive.
Missing the back room maneuvering and empty promises. The glowing smiles that go with it that can shred the receiver to pieces.
Smug to sulk to get your way is up to you. But the results are poor because folks around you in Maine will get up, stretch, say “gotta go”. And like Elvis, leave the building.
Mainers are busy, productive, grateful for all they have. They don’t waste daylight in work or play. Don’t enjoy playing games with other people’s emotions or meddling in a harmful way in another’s life. They are kind, sensitive, but tough skinned if you are trying to pull the wool over the eyes.
When You Live In Maine, Everything You Need Is Right On Your Back, Carried With You Daily For Skills, Talent.
Maybe in larger population areas that Maine lacks where folks blend in, don’t really connect those “social street smart alley cat skills” are needed.
To keep your head above financial water, by hook or by crook. In Maine, you do transactions for life, not one deal and that’s all she wrote. Why? Transparency, only so many folks in the career flavors for goods and services.
Maine, the living is just simpler by design.
The people are not. Rich and grateful makes most happy, joyful. The approach to the day to day is more hand’s on, self empowering without cash to burn. Money is taken right out of the equation in much of the daily life in Maine. Not needed and DIY flourishes in a small Maine town.
When you live next to an city airport, near the elevated train overhead or subway that rumbles under foot. The clanging of garbage trucks on a steady beat to stay ahead of the rubbish. In a place that never sleeps. Quiet does not happen. Without ear plugs, sound proofing, something to replace the sounds of the city.Maine. The Crack Of A Bat. Little Leaguer Sliding In Home Plate Sounds.
Sirens wailing up and down numbered grids of street. With police cars, paddy wagons zinging by. Fighting crime, chasing gangs.
Towing illegally or expired meter parked cars to an impound. Hospital ambulances pretty much running round the clock.
Cabbies hollering, honking. Trading paint. Jockeying for position in the stopped dead in tracks. As tempers flare. But the meter still runs. Bleeds out.
Proving the point for their fare in the backseat of the chariot. That they will fight hard and long. To get to that loading gate for your important flight on the silver bird.
Cities are noisy, dirty, crowded, disconnected, impersonal.
Sure everyone feels good coming out of a sporting venue when the city team won. Maybe the barley pops trigger that letting down the guard. But the pace combined with the sense of crime constantly makes one pretty self contained, careful. Don’t make eye contact, just do what you have to do with safe consistency. I think you could be very lonely in a city.
There are city sections you avoid late at night. Your Combat Zones, outskirts of a Miami, Washington DC, etc all have areas where it is not to so safe. Any time of the day. Crime happens, spreads. You hear gun fire, see folks yelling, road rage erupt. Stop signs in neighborhoods you are advised to roll through. Don’t stop and stay down, low in the car. But keep moving. DO NOT STOP.Kids Laughing, In Safe Small Town Surroundings. Not Noisy Cities.
Being careful, on your toes. Not so trusting is a constant when leaving that dead bolt, extra chain, security camera with a rent a cop compound.
Relax. Breathe. Maine is not that way at all.
All that is gone. It can be a shock and the quiet can be deafening. So if you find yourself lucky enough to squirrel away the time. High tail it to Maine. Often. WARNING :The peace and quiet can be unnerving until you adjust. Figure out what is missing. Nothing is wrong. Go easy. But expect it.
Otherwise it takes time to get beyond the fish out of water feeling you can not put your finger on right away. So foreign. You forget there is another way to roll.
Where I live in Maine we don’t lock doors.
Everyone makes eye contact. You kinda, sorta know most of the people you see. Or someone connected to them. Through work, marriage, church, civic club, your kids. Maybe working a local event experience. You bump into the members of a small group more often in a cozy Maine town. Not swallowed up in the masses, the sea of people that a city comes with. Where just the law of average, probability make the chance meetings less likely.Unplugged, Hard Wired Into Maine’s Outdoor HBO.
Keys are in the vehicles ready to fire up, take a spin in Maine. But we try to walk, bike, use our own power. To enjoy being outside, more aware of our surroundings. Not belted in and doing the 10 and 2. Checking the rear view and watching the speed. Or kids connected to balls racing out into traffic when the sun is in the wrong place.
Take a day or two to come to Maine.
End up feeling like someone turned off the high pitch motors. Or the power went out. All the compressors, music, fans, people yacking, whatever suddenly stopped. Like someone must have clipped a utility pole. All the noise in the background that you forget about until someone shuts it off. When you decide a trip to Maine to unplug, recharge is needed. Where you can hear yourself think if you can stand the quiet. Or learn to turn up the hearing. Realize those are crickets, lake frogs and loons, morning birds singing.
In a completely different way, the sound of your surroundings from a city does a 180 in Maine.
No Neighbors, The Wind In The Trees. Crunching Fresh Snow Being In Some Stove Wood.The sounds of the urban concrete jungle replaced with a lake lapping against the shore line rocks. A stream babbles, gurgles while you cast a line fly fishing. A river forced to push through rapids from a dam release of too much water creates mist, velocity. Noise to laugh, shout over. As you paddle hard left, hold. Hang on. The bottom drops out of the rubber boat.
If the Maine lake, pond is not bottle polished, completely still, calm. It adds background music as you glide in a kayak. Churn the “j” strokes in a canoe.
The breeze in the pines whispering or humming. Wildlife surround you but out of sight. The birds practice their parts in outdoor songs. Maybe the lack of outside noises lets hear your own inner singing. You’re happy and you know it. (Clapping hands). That gets drowned out when quiet is not part of your routine.
But in Maine where crime ranks in 4th lowest for the nation, you may miss the sirens.
The flow of wall to wall sound of people coming and going. Traffic, car doors, construction, just all around banging and thrashing. Added to the pace. The hurry scurry chasing the dollar. Cities are expensive.
You don’t grow fresh garden food in a garden in an apartment cooperative. Sure you could have a topsy turvy tomato hanging plant or two hanging.Getting High, Climbing Mt Katahdin In Maine. To Hear Yourself Think. Get Above It All. Maybe sneak up on the roof and pull off a raised bed garden plot. But you don’t heat with wood you cut, split. Stack for a winter ahead when you have an address in the city population center. You give up much. It becomes store bought. Put in the coin to keep the machine running. Like life support, hooked to expensive hoses, wires. Tethered.
Maine is free, wide open, no or low cost.
That means you are relieved of so much worry from the no crime to no mortgage and more self sufficient living. You feel empowered and self confident. Your self esteem soars because you realize you can achieve much, do greater good in a smaller community where you are really needed. You are the small community in Maine. Not an outside, participant of events but on the committee putting them on. Year after year.
If you live in Maine you get it.
Pull up a lawn chair or something to sit on. Hey, slide that cooler over here. In front of a crackling fire with a circle of other campers. Use that. This is a shared experience blog post.
Preaching to the choir. And trying not to preach at all. But espouse the merits of just living simply in rural Maine. When the mechanics, dynamics of life are stripped down to bare bones. It opens up space for what is really of value. No distractions, deeper appreciation, a sense of joy inside. Jack of all trades working on more skills in the set. That is home grown, built by you. Not for you. Nothing to throw money at to achieve. More blood, sweat, tears and patience involved in the home grown, self directed.
Knowing what you have is more than enough. Being grateful. And all because it is not too noisy to mess it up, miss out on the real natural sounds of Maine.
If you are brought up, taught to just take what you need, leave the rest for others.
To improve situations the best you can. Strive to make them better that they were. To contribute for the greater good. Well now Mister Man. You’d fit right in nicely in a small Maine town. What Red Flags, I Don’t See Any. Let’s Charge Right In. Saddle Up For The Last Stand.
Because there is a connection, an urge, a need to pitch in, help out.
Plenty of opportunity in a sparse population. There would not be a small Maine town for long if that fire in the belly fever, passion was not the case. If it was just a dog eat dog, every man for himself. All about me.
But sometimes the critique asked for because of pressure from a local community board is something that just gets lip service by a CEO.
Lt Colonel Custer just needs a little direction, guidance, correction but is the last to know it. Wearing blinders like you put on horses to keep them focused on a task. Less aware of activity around them that could spook, distract them. Pride is the wrecking ball in all relationships from work to love and in between.
The need for change happens in a person, a group, a community to create peace. Not continued drama, turmoil, confusion. Technological developments can improve life too. Help cause greater efficiency. To lead to harmony, even fun, joy to permeate your thoughts, relationships on all levels in your small Maine town surroundings. It is not just about survival. It is about quality of life for others, yourself as the secondary gain.
Tweaking, dial adjustments, small changes to the any one’s day to day. To approach this, this and a few other critical issues from a whole new approach. Because things are starting to wobble. Or the Maine expression, “go out of kilter”. Don’t jive. The planets are just not lined up correctly Chummy.
The community relations group I was on polled the audience. Each asked our sphere in the circles we make in the small Maine community for input.
For a show of hands one by one on a private level.
Taking notes, not using a mic or camera. To gather the crystal clear common themes, perspectives that started to emerge. Peace, Harmony, Delicate Handling Of Small Town Relationships.
Because without this asking for a critique to get to the bottom of what is wrong “it’s hard telling with out knowing Bub”. The interviewing where no one leaves their name, the sources are kept in the shadows.
But knowing the collective truth will set you free. Of whatever is causing the friction that leadership just does not have its finger on the pulse of the problem. But needs to swallow the bitter pill and fix the ills.
That are the fresh poison, lingering toxins needing weeding, not feeding.
When we reconvened for a breakfast meeting, after passing the eggs, toast, home fries and a couple coffees.
The new and old business agenda items housekeeping chores were checked off the list, here it comes. Light and bright stopped.
What are you hearing out there is the community? I had my turn, fourteen specific areas shared from my informal polling of community members. From both folks working in the organization and out. Public opinion sorted through after asking the pointed questions to get to the root of exactly what is the problem needing a socket wrench. A cutting torch, new ideology parts bolted, welded, brazed into place.
The CEO’s smile left the room.
All eyes were on the man wearing hush puppies. He waved an arm, gave one of his customary annoying nervous laughs. “Nothing to any of that”. I thought of Col Jessep’s “you can’t handle the truth” famous line from A Few Good Men movie. But there was no need for a court martial proceedings because we were not all on the same page.
Constructive criticism ushered out into the daylight, given fresh air, put on the table. If allowed to be considered with a what if, just what if approach. From the pretty solid minds that live, work and play right in your neighborhood. If collected, shared, chewed on, batted around. Then something for a plan comes out of the pow wow. If implemented and “now we’re cooking with gas happens” is a very very beautiful thing.
You know how when you really have to stay focused, have a task at hand requiring your full attention?
When other things going on around you are a distraction and trying to pull you away from that goal? What do you do? In Maine, simple living is the approach to everything that happens. Lots Of Senses, More Than One Egg In The Simple Living In Maine Life Basket.
Some retreat to a small Maine woods camp to ponder the problem. The whispering wind in the pine needle vibrations. Howling, cold swirling around the eaves. Heard inside the warm as toast, wood stove heated simple log cabin helps clear the head.
Just getting, being away from people all hollering what you should do is control, alternate, delete poof. Gone. Replaced with solitude Maine is famous for, has plenty of if you make the time.
Adjusting, tweaking the life dials. Happens in Maine way way easier. Than a crowded urban setting where there is just not any easy direction to run, hide and think.
Maine is a good place to regroup. Step back from a situation. Take the long way home. Spending time on an open porch or tree canopied deck. In front of an open rocked fire pit circle to collect positive ions. Coming Together, Working Out Solutions In Maine Small Towns.
To gain the 20 20 needed to trot right back in and know the best course of action in what to do now.
It avoids the looking back and second guessing. Because what you did, chose in your life at the time of decision making was the best for all concerned. When all the exhibits, A through Z were eyeballed, punched, poked, studied from all angles.
Others find the solitude of downhill or cross country skiing. Hiking, biking. Being out on an open lake fishing. Kayaking down a challenging section of waterway the key to release.
Frees up, defrags the mental hard drive. For the guidance in your life, living in Maine comes from being outdoors all four seasons. Space, wildlife, scenery. Away from people so you can hear yourself think. Get caught up in the real not fake in our everywhere you look. Drop dead gorgeous natural Maine simple living.
Had a lady in the office looking at Maine homes from Canada this week. Who indicated most of her life “I was never really on my side in arguments”.
No room. Too many strong willed, bossy people telling her you are wrong for how she felt, what she thought. No matter what her position, the topic. It was like walking underwater growing up difficult. Thinking like a driver, not the passenger works best in life. Ever seen households, families where all the relationships in them have to run through just one person? Instead of encouragement to think on your own, dare to be different? To find, define, refine, be just you.
Ate breakfast with a Joel Graham at the Elm Tree Saturday morning. His Dad Jack was short, carried a tall, big blue bottle of Maalox under his arm at all times. Like the green tanks on wheels you see following people connected with one long clear tether cord of piping. He was one of my Dad and Mom’s best trailer truck drivers for Prem Pak. Heck of a roller skater too my Mom said when growing up. Before he added the bright blue bottle to the look. Popping, throwing, flicking Rolaids into the air wrist action. To catch on the tongue habit into his daily living routine.
Jack trained a lot of truck drivers in his family.
Son Joel while working his way through a ham and cheese omelet, home made toast triangles, a couple of midnight black coffees said instead of trusting gauges and idiot lights, you just have to listen. To how the truck was sounding, running what his Dad taught he, his brothers. And with your pair of ears you could pick up on the change in the sound. The pitch, buzz, rattle and hum loudness. Look For The Sunshine. Unplug, Recharge In Maine.
Which meant there was a reason for something in the machinery not quite sounding right, normal. Catching the problem, picking up the cue before the gauges or idiot lights told you what you already knew.
But too late.
It is awareness. Looking for red flags, not being so caught up on the blur of other people, their demands around you. Using, relying on the five senses God wired into all of us. Joel said ice fishing is his best therapy. To untangle the mental knots, kinks in the hose affecting your life.
It’s start, end with what do you want to do, think is best in the long run in small town Maine living.
Then branches out from there to hopefully help. Please lots of others along the way too. Beyond your family, out in the local Maine communities. Because we are all connected in a special way. Have to be by design. Because when you look over your shoulder for a replacement if tired, overbooked, you figure out like the others shoulder to shoulder around you. You pretty much signed on for life in this, this and that job or position in the small Maine town. The burg, village, hamlet that is depending on each and every one of us. To sparkle, struggle through the low points. But survive no matter what and shine brightly, uniquely.
Storms In Life Happen. Mainer’s Are Prepared For Them. Whatever Way The Wind Blows, Life Brings For Challenges.
When you are lucky enough to live in a small Maine town, what Vacationland is, spread out rural communities, it is like one big family.
All crowded into one house. Not always happy. Lots of wide open space outside. Special considerations on the inside for cramped quarters and everyone knows your business. Or thinks they do.
Small town living in Maine is empowering, it’s own rich reward.
And the connection to others in the small Maine town can be like the expression. Familiarity breeds contempt.
Because you do work closely together on projects, civic, school, church and sporting events. Have to bump into each other because like a bench chasing the black circle or black, white or orange ball, only so many players. Look over your shoulder when you are working a community volunteer events, and there is not a long line of replacements.
So when the small same group of worker bees pitch in and put on the best performance possible with the resources and talent available, here what can happen. A whine, groan amongst the way to go, attah boy’s. How come you did not do this? Why don’t we do that? We? (Digging out, opening up the Little Red Hen Golden Book, thumbing through the pages).
Living in a small Maine town demands toughening up that hide, your outer skin to criticism. Because everyone is not going to be a happy camper round the clock. Or some at all. There are Eeyores in the audience. But constructive criticism is warranted for better result too. Hear them out. Consider the merits of the suggestion. And make them chairman of that new committee.
So tough skinned, tender hearted and expecting less praise from others. Got it.
More you yourself knowing if you put in the over the top effort. Planning was done methodically, adequately or not. It’s a no fly zone. For the by the seat of your pants, last minute slapped together. Lots of pride in your work radiates, glows in the dark. There is no room for lazy in any discussion of the members of a small Maine town. Call it our farming background heritage. Label it a survival skill because small Maine towns are an endangered species. If the community falls asleep at the switch. Last guy or gal out turn out the lights.
Happy, Family, Small Town Maine. Growing Up Spent Outdoors.
When you live in a small Maine town, you learn to appreciate the little things more.
And besides being some kind of glad traffic, crime, gangs are nil, the list of what rises to the top of extra special starts with the people. The local population is small in any of Maine’s 108 small towns. So everyone steps up to take on their role of what their purpose is. Why they are in this small Maine town. What they have for a skill set, talent to contribute to the local flavor of the community. That is the gold that all the money in the world can not buy, possess.
Folks are not lost in a sea of faces in a small Maine town.
The cast of characters is not large. The population thinned out. And those smiling faces are not forgotten because the individuals ARE the unique community. For years, like clockwork they step up to do this, put on the apron for that. Work behind the scenes for the events. Raise solid families. With the heart of a volunteer, the strongest thing you’ll find in a small Maine town. Pushing people to go over the top, to contribute, to make the small Maine town all it can be with their help. A New Day Awaits Full Of Promise In Maine.
Home made not store bought.
Grass roots simple not importedexpensive. And after a trip to the bright lights, big city, and lots of shoulder to shoulder sardine packed people, coming home to wide open scenery hits you. While crossing the big green bridge leaving New Hampshire with the up and over rising curve of the river hop back into Maine, Vacationland.
You can feel a relaxation, a sebse of relief. Or loss of anxiety happening inside as you enter Maine. It floods, washes your insides as you pass majestic Mount Katahdin on Interstate 95 or reflect, relax paddling an early morning sunrise kayak, canoe. Or taking that walk in the woods serenaded by song birds, crickets, the sound of wind in the pine needles.
And the feeling of “glad I am home” gets more kindling, is fueled to a stronger, hotter blaze inside. As one by one the people you meet in Maine brighten your day. Because Mainers are helpful, family oriented, hard working and an interesting bunch. With stories, experiences. Because they are more resourceful, creative than your average bear. Have to be to survive, to prosper and find true happiness during the days on Earth. Making the most of what we have.
We have more than enough around us in Maine to be grateful.
Because it is not this beautiful, unspoiled in other places outside of Maine. All the natural resources to tap into and getting to enjoy year round right in our backyard. The big decision being what to do this weekend for new and different in a state as big and varied as Maine.
When a crime happens which is rare but amplified ten fold by the city papers, a native thinks “that could not have been done by someone who lives, grew up, is from Maine”. It is not because we belief natives to be free from reproach, but are so accustom, engrained with the right and wrong from the time of being a young grasshopper. The woodshed used for a little discipline early on. Getting To Know, Explore Maine, Four Seasons Fun.
Small Maine towns are not easy places to pull shenanigans.
Partly due to our consciences, and like the old song about the Night Has A Thousand Eyes. Small means visible and the ripples are felt through the town limits, region because we are all connected. Care about each other and depend on the individuals in a small Maine town.
When a newspaper editorial that slams our state and is sharp edged, not solution suggesting happens over and over, we get mad. Because that kind of journalism does not build, grow, support an area. Serves no purpose but to tear down and destroy if the readers buy into the notion that Maine is like so many other places in the country. Which it is not. Discover, Grab Your Paddle, Hit The Waterways In Maine.
The one by one images of Maine prove that blaringly. The first instinct when reading editorials like that is the poison pen holder must not be from Maine. Because the venom, toxins in black and white don’t move Maine forward and only serve to cause discouragement, no hope for the future.
