Sometimes its a little challenging to gather information about people. I mean, good, clear important stuff that can be shared safely. It’s easy to slip up and generally likely that someone will manage to challenge what little I know, or innocently suggest, about many who live here in our wonderful corner of the world. 

In elementary school classrooms, we used wooden chairs that were fastened to the floor. On the back metal frame of the seat, a simple flat wooden board created the desktop for the next seat behind. The desk top had a small channel for pencils at the top and a hole for an ink well. In sixth grade we received penmanship instructions every day using a fountain pen. The “Palmer” method, as I recall. Otherwise known by me as “round-round ready write” madness!

I was hammer drilling a deeper hole for the sump pump in my wife’s mother’s house on West Street the other day, and it occurred to me that there must be a better way to make a living. I have put off that project for years but the recent perfect storm of deep cold and torrential rain enlightened me and also threatened the hot water heater and the furnace. With frozen ground, water runs fast down the back hill and floods into the basement . The sump pump didn't pump out enough, and some times the water rose too high. It doesn’t help that the sump is located in the remnants of an old cistern. Why wouldn’t the water collect there?

Allan Walton did not start painting until he was almost five years old! He grew up in Dixfield Maine. He probably didn’t know then that art would become the focus of most things he did, and he has done many things.

We rubbed elbows with Caitlin before she was born. In 1988, we attended a group Lamaze class at Miles hospital. Pregnant moms and nervous dads gathered to learn more about the birthing process. We and Caitlin’s parents, the Cronks, were enrolled. It was a great bunch of folks from all over, Waldoboro to Bath. Many of us kept in touch. We had a wonderful reunion after everyone’s baby arrived. What a scene that was. Ten new babies in the same room comparing notes. They had lots to say! 

GPS (Global Positioning System) is everywhere. The sky is full of objects looking down on us. It can tell us where we are when we don’t know. It can tell us our destination before we get there. It will argue with us in our cars (“Recalculating”). And it can tell us where things will happen before they do. 

On any given day the Southport to Boothbay Harbor drive occurs. Almost always, at least one trip per day, sometimes many, seldom never.

It’s not a long journey, but it’s where all the supply stations reside — major postal service, Fed Ex and UPS drop offs, technology, specialty shops and dining facilities. It’s where we go for stuff, plain and simple.

Nat Porter, from Winchester, Massachusetts, had a place at the end of Kimballtown Road on Barters Island back when we bought our first home there in 1978. Horace Lee of First Federal Savings and Ethelyn Giles helped us with that transaction. Our house belonged to the Roberts family for many years. At the time, Almond Roberts and his family lived at the end of Kimballtown, right next to the Porter property. Their house was taken down.

Back in the late 1980s, maybe say ’87 or so, we were trying to do a little better with our fledgling publishing business, CONNECTIONS. We had a small assortment of postcards, note cards and posters, and I think my first book “WINTER,” at that time.

Tom Nickerson and Karen Calhoun Pinkham have been friends a long time.

When they were in school, Tom did an internship of sorts at Elm's garage and Karen worked at the Dairy Freeze, nearby in Boothbay. Tom said he and Steve Gaudette used to stop by on a weekend evening to see Karen and get a big milkshake container full of soft serve vanilla ice cream to which they added a detoxification concoction for good measure.

In these politically charged times, I know I am walking on eggshells. But, politics aside, I am remembering Mrs. Cowan, a very dear friend to us and our communities.

A holiday season never goes by without thinking of this very special person. We see, still, long after her passing, reminders of her presence. We share those memories with others, and still can laugh and tell stories about what it was like when Mrs. Cowan walked into a room. You just never knew!

Having the Ernestina-Morrissey (aka Effie M. Morrissey) and the Bowdoin side by side at our local shipyard is like having the Patriots and the Red Sox bunking in together at the Seagate Motel. The history of these vessels is almost too much to comprehend. Both ships have made multiple trips to the Arctic. Now, both are here being updated and restored, at the Boothbay Harbor Shipyard, extending their longevity and service.

I think November is kind of a weird month. It seems to arrive in a sort of stealth way, sneaking in through the back door with little notice and a few surprises. So far, this November has, true to form, settled in and fiddled about with all variety of annoying and pleasant weather and events. 

From my first visit to Monhegan in the mid ’70s, learning of the island’s “Trap Day” interested me. Such a special event. An entire island population working together to prepare for the opening day of lobstering season. It was a great idea. The waters surrounding Monhegan were rich with lobster at a time of year when the price would be high. The only thing was, “Trap Day” took place at the coldest time of the year, Jan. 1.

Mother wasn’t a saint but she hovered in that vicinity. Even if, in my early years, I misunderstood how to behave prior to her morning cup of black Maxwell House coffee and a Camel cigarette.

In wooden boat-building circles, the tradition of the “Whiskey plank” is cause for great celebration. And why not? It is a pinnacle event, a milestone — the placing of the final plank and the completion of a complicated and sophisticated process. It is a major benchmark and recognition of successful, long-term teamwork. The ship's hull is closed, fully renewed.

To bee or not to bee, that is the question.

The alien looking subjects in this week’s adventure are Steve and Cathy Berger. They are seriously wrapped up in protective gear as residents of their hives react to some minor disruptions. It was time to administer a protective application which would help prevent bee sickness.

If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, there's still a chance that it's not.

1987 seems like a long time ago. It probably is. But in 1987 Keith and Constance (pictured above) got married and I was their photographer at Our Lady Queen of Peace. They became Mr. and Mrs. Bodine. In the scheme of things, I suppose, 31 years isn't all that long ago, but a lot has happened in the years since Keith and Constance got married. 

’Tis the season of autumnal evenings' recall to my annual Cape Newagen happy place. Our sun in making its way back up the Sheepscot, the evening glow time of year for west facing vistas. Bright afternoons bring much appreciated warmth as wood fires puff and chug up cold stone flues. It is my favorite time of year.