South End Streets,
 photo by Sandra Sylvester

“A Sense of Place”

A Special Event at

Thomaston Public Library

July 17, 7:00 pm

Come and join the discussion with

Sandra Sylvester

Author of The South End and

The blog

“Beyond the South End”

And

Head Librarian,

Ann Harris

We will discuss the strong sense of cultural regionalism or “sense of place” which is unusually strong in our Great State of Maine. Why do we have these strong feelings, where do they come from? Why do visitors from out-of-state love us for it?

Sandra will discuss the topic in relation to her book, The South End. She will have books on hand for sale and signing for those who are interested. If you already have a book that is unsigned, please bring it with you and Sandra will be glad to sign it for you.

Ann will add her discoveries about the subject and tell you why it is so important to Maine people and to her. Discussion with the group is anticipated and welcomed. Come join us and discover why Maine people are so unique.

A Sense of Place

Scene from Mcloud Street in the South End, Photo by Sandra Sylvester

Anyone who has ever lived in the South End; along the coast of Maine; or in any other area of Maine, for that matter, has a sense of place.

Our Maine writers do a good job of introducing you to the different areas of Maine they write about. Any writer hopes that if they write about the place where they grew up that they will get readers from not only the area they are writing about, but other readers out of the area. They therefore will work diligently while writing their “Maine” story to place the reader in the scene they are talking about. It only makes literary sense, after all.

I have recently had an email discussion with Ann Harris, head librarian at Thomaston Public Library about this very subject. She agrees with me about using local history in creating literature, such as the big “fire” story in Rockland’s history, which I included in my book, The South End.

To quote her email: “I’m very, very interested in the whole “sense of place” subject: how important place is, why we are drawn to some places more than others, how we seem to be losing much of the sense of place in this country as it is paved over and homogenized, etc.”

The chances of keeping the local flavor of our coastal area are bleak at this time. As one more chain store goes up, we lose another dose of local color. Do you miss Dave’s restaurant, for instance? How much longer do you think Dorman’s will last? It’s up to the Maine writer to preserve past pictures of the area as well as preserve local history.

How does a Maine writer create this “sense of place” in their story? There are many approaches the writer may use, including the senses (what special smells abound in your story); what scenery do you see around you; taste (can you taste salt water on your tongue?); hearing (do you hear fog horns or taxi cab horns…different scenes altogether.

If I may use The South End as an example, this is how I placed you into the many scenes of my story.

In the very first scene, I put our main character, Frank on the boardwalk in wintertime. He feels the cold winter breeze from the ocean. How he is dressed is mentioned to remind you of how cold you would feel in that environment.

I have included an actual map of the South End at the beginning of my book and pointed out where the homes of the important fictional characters of my story live.

When my characters travel around the neighborhood of the South End, I include the streets they cover, how they connect, and the weather conditions they encounter. A local reader can follow them easily and an out-of-town reader is then placed into the scene with other readers.

Another aspect of a “sense of place” is the ethos of the area. South End people have always known their “place” and taken pride in their resilience and ability to carry on no matter what. They help each other out and have each other’s back when necessary. The Frank in my story epitomizes the “go-to” person of the neighborhood who everyone goes to when they are in trouble. His struggles become our struggles; his triumphs also become ours.

To further the “sense of place” of the South End folks, I have included scenes from a resort area, the Samoset, at the other end of town. It’s a very different scene and one in which many of the characters in my story will never participate in even though the distance is but two or three miles away at the most.

As you read the stories of Elizabeth Ogilvie, Sarah Orne Jewett, Kenneth Roberts, Robert McCloskey and even our own Steven King, and poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, notice their “sense of place.” “Three long mountains and a wood” from Edna’s most famous poem, “Renascence,” tells you where you are in an instant. We’ve looked out at that scene many times from the top of Camden’s hills overlooking that harbor.

Rediscover your favorite Maine writers this summer. There are so many to choose from. Your local librarian will be happy to help you. My book is available at local libraries also. Happy reading!

Thanks for listening.

Sail, Power & Steam Museum

June 21

7:30pm

Come and hear the Songs of Summer, Songs of the Sea, the original and traditional music by Castlebay. Julia Lane, Fred Gosbee and special guest Nikos Apolonio.

 

Tickets $12, call 594-701-7627

The Hilton Homestead

The Hilton Homestead, in Bremen Maine, is the latest guest blog to join us here on “On Being a Southender.” Mary Sue Hilton Weeks is my cousin. We hope to bring you some historical material and other facets of the Homestead in the months to come. Exciting things are about to happen and we are both excited to bring them to you here.

                                           

I am living on a 100-acre farm that has been in my family through my great-grandmother's side for over 200 years. My great-grandfather William Bainbridge Hilton bought the farm from his wife Rhoda Little's family, and from then on it was known as the Hilton Homestead. I live next door to the family home where I grew up in the one-room school house where I went to school grades 4 - 8. In 1998 my sister Diane and her husband Lee retired from Washington, DC and took over the family home. They both passed away last year, and having no children, I acquired the family home. This blog is about my progress in trying to deal with it.

 

 

We have some pictures to share with you this month of activities, improvements, summer flowers, and animals now at the Hilton Homestead.

Repairs were made on the barn to go along with the new roof. Now it will last for another 200 plus years.

Here is some pictures of the sheep that have been added to the fields on the Homestead.

 

 

Mary Sue recently posted pictures of her summer garden. Her house, the old schoolhouse is in the background and to the right you can see the homestead.

 

 

 

Become a Member of Crescent Run Farm

If you would like to become a member of Crescent Run Farm, see details at:

http://crescent-run.com/csa

They also have different levels of participation. Choose the one that best suits you. Here’s what it says on the site:

Each week we will harvest, wash, and pack your produce to be picked up on the scheduled day. The CSA will run for approximately 17 weeks, between early June and late September, until the value of your share is met. Factors such as climatic conditions, season, and pests can influence the value of an individual pick-up, and the full value of your investment will be met over the course of your membership.

A Note for the Family: If you have pictures of the farm to share, especially one of the family reunions, please email them to me at southendstories@aol.com. Thanks.

I inadvertently left out the Blues Festival when giving you overviews of activities in Rockland this summer. For a complete run-down of events, please go to the May archives, “Enjoy Rockland this Summer.”

Tickets are on sale for this year’s North Atlantic Blues Festival, featuring some of the best Blues artists from around the world, hosted at the Public Landing in Rockland, Maine.

July 13, 14 2013

For more info and to purchase your tickets: http://www.northatlanticbluesfestival.com/
For travel info and reservations: http://www.kevinsgetaways.com

 

Sail, Power & Steam Museum

 

 

 

June 15-June 16

10AM

Family Fun Days

Yard Sale, Model T Ford Rides, Nautical Scavenger Hunt,

 Coastal Children’s Museum,

Petting Zoo-Touch Tank,

 Roasting Hot Dogs at the lime kiln,

 Music all day long.

By Ted Sylvester

 

Ted was surprised to read he was a part of history when he spied a recent “Today in History” story in the May 18-19 edition of the Bangor Daily News. He was reporting on this demonstration at Loring Air Force Base when the incident happened:

“On May 18, 1969, as reported in the Bangor Daily News, a veteran Air Force pilot with more than 100 missions over North Vietnam, escaped injury when he was forced to make a ‘barrier arrested’ landing after the left main landing gear of his F-106A interceptor malfunctioned during an aerial demonstration for the Armed Forces Day open house at Loring Air Force Base. The incident was out of view of the open house crowd estimated at more than 5,000.”

Here’s Ted’s Fish and Chips column for this month which originally appeared in the BDN on May 3, 1991.

Vacation in Arizona was visit to Paradise

 

Fanny Vance

Blotville Mountain,

Blotville, Maine

Dear Aunt Fanny:

It has been a while since I wrote. But I have got to tell you about our vacation for two weeks in Arizona. If there ever was a place that could be called “Paradise in the Springtime,” it would have to be Arizona. The weather was perfect, the people friendly, and there are more sights and attractions than can be seen in just two weeks. I found it interesting that there are so many from the Northeast who have moved to Arizona that they have their own “New England Club.”

The most-often heard remark was “What recession?” There appeared to be literally hundreds of houses under construction in Sun City West, with most of them already sold. There are so many Cadillacs seen on the streets that it should be designated as the official state car. Why, Aunt Fanny, I believe that there are as many Cadillacs in Sun City as there are pickups in Rockland.

Gasoline is cheaper, as low as 95 cents a gallon for unleaded; and many food items were much cheaper than here at home. You could get a good steak dinner for $7.95 that also included a country band and all the dancing you could stand. Great place, The Barn. The drummer in the band was from New Hampshire. The best meal we had was at Rawhide in Phoenix, a Western-style village that featured a hayride and a barbecue of steak and beans. This also featured country music.

I did notice, however, that Maine lobster at the supermarket cost $11.98 a pound.

We took in all the famous sights, including Grand Canyon—you have to see it to believe it—and Lake Havasu City, the state’s second leading tourist spot. This is where the London Bridge was erected in the desert and the Colorado River diverted to make the lake. By the way, the captain of the tour boat, Capt. Claude Beriau, is from Worcester, Mass. If you ever get there be sure and take his boat ride. Its great fun and very informative.

We also visited Montezuma Castle, which are centuries-old Indian ruins, and Biosphere 2, a scientific experiment to see if people can survive in an enclosed environment for two years. The giant greenhouse-like structure is the size of three football fields end-to-end. One of the eight scientists who will be involved with the experiment is Abigail Alling from Maine. She is in charge of the ocean and its species contained in the station.

Another favorite tourist attraction was Old Tucson, which is an actual movie studio built in the desert. It has been the location of hundreds of movie and television westerns. The “Young Riders” TV series was filmed here. The most recognizable spot for me was to stand in front of the old jail that was featured so many times on the Gunsmoke television series. I almost could see Festus standing out front.

There were many other sights and sounds too numerous to mention. But two exciting side trips out of Arizona were a visit to the glitzy and glamorous Las Vegas, and another to Nogales, Mexico and the culture shock of seeing children and old men begging on the streets.

Las Vegas is everything you ever heard it was. Rooms were $39 a night and the food is cheap. Steak and lobster was advertised for $6.95. One outside sign featured Maine lobster.

We went to a dinner show at the Tropicana, where the prime rib was tasteless and tough, but the show was terrific. You wouldn’t believe it, Aunt Fanny but the beautiful dancers in the show were topless. Shocked the devil out of me and wifemate. It was evident from the money we saw being dumped onto hundreds of slot machines and passed across gaming tables that nobody there had ever heard of any recession. As Mainers, wifemate and I were somewhat conservative. She spent about $3 in nickels, and when I hit a home run on the one-armed bandit for 200 quarters, and another for 150 we called it quits, almost. I sneaked back and lost about half of what I had won.

I can’t leave without mentioning that we went to Dan Quayle’s home town of Wickenburg to spend two hours of horseback riding in the desert. Quite an experience. Somewhat painful, but fun. Could not help but notice a sign there on a bridge going into town. It said “No fishing from the bridge.” It would have been impossible to begin with. There was no water. Dan couldn’t have had anything to do with this, could he?

We passed through several national forests on the way to the Grand Canyon. It was strange as there were no trees, just bushes, in most of them. There were some giant ponderosa pines at the Grand Canyon, but that’s all.

There was one sign along the highway that offered some good advice. It notified motorists that there was a federal prison nearby and warned drivers, “Do not pick up hitchhikers.”

All in all, Aunt Fanny, the trip was great fun. Expensive, but fun. I can’t wait to go back. All I need is a Cadillac.

 

  CHAPPED HANDS

 In Memory of My Mother

Doris Louise Blackman Merriam

 

My mother had chapped hands

Every winter

From doing the laundry

For nine

At some point in her life

An innovation came along

The Easy washer and wringer

Which helped immensely

But she had to hang out

All that cloth

Between porch and barn

On sunny days in winter

In the freezing cold

When we were old enough

We would trudge over

Pacific Street hill to Skim’s store

With a note for groceries

To keep all the human engines

Of 72 Mechanic Street going

Of course, now I feel guilty

For stealing an occasional quarter

From the lunch money for the movies

But I’m so grateful

To both mother and father

Using so much effort

To keep us alive and flourishing

Here in one of the most

Beautiful spots on earth and ocean

No matter the cost to  mother’s

Beautiful hands

 

Kendall Merriam,  Home, May 9, 2013 10:52 AM

Listening to Phyllis dressing

 

MEMORIAL MOON

 

                             For Kristen

 

                   I don’t want to talk

                   About soldiers

                   Though I was one

                   No cannons

                   No fireworks

                   Just this single lantern

                   Tied to God’s finger

                   Which he moves around

                   Like a celestial yo-yo                

                   Low and shining

                   Water calm

                    Almost a silent affection

                   Do you think our poems

                   Will be forgotten

                   I keep running into people

                   Who say they love the moon

                   But if that is true

                   Why aren’t

                   A thousand editions

                   Demanded

                   Across the world

                   Now frail clouds

                   Over the Mussel Ridges

                   Obscuring our friend slightly

                   But good to see again

                   A sign we are alive

                   And loving the earth

                   From mountain top to sea’s breaches

 

                   Kendall Merriam, Home 5/26/13  10:57 PM

                   Listening to a distant television

 

THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS

 

For my brother Robert

 

At the hall of the Grand Army of the Republic

where a bank sits now

each Memorial Day

there was oratorical splendor

veterans, politicians

but the most important was the delivery

of the Gettysburg Address

by a high school senior

one year my brother, Robert

was chosen

I do not remember him having

a loud voice around the house

but he was president of his class

small, slight

commanding some spirit

more than the Baptist Church

prepared him for

that May day was warm and sunny

a fair sized crowd

gathered around the porch of the G.A.R.

I don’t remember any loudspeaker

traffic was light on the holiday

so when my brother

recited Lincoln’s Holy Words

all could hear

there were tears

from local citizens

knowing how many from Rockland

shed blood in that national catastrophe

I am a sometime war poet

who cannot bring myself to read much

about those bloody fields

on the borderlands

it certainly was no “Civil” war

many still celebrate it

North and South

why did God demand so much

to bring freedom to the oppressed

African-American citizens

it is beyond comprehension

fields were littered with

bodies of men and horses

Traveler indeed!

what were the bands of superiority

that challenged humans and humaneness

even though Maine

contributed more men

proportionately

it is only now

lovely faces are arriving in Rockland                

enriching this tiny city

how fortunate we are finally

to hear the fruition of that paragraph

my brother spoke so many years ago

 

Kendall Merriam Home   May 5, 2013  10:37 PM

Listening to the “Best of the Gypsy Kings”

 

THE LEGACY

                   For Marshall and Danny Merriam

 

                   Gray seas today, boding rain

                   Maybe an Easterly

                   No worry in the lobster yacht

                   No worry on the 900 footer

                   In the Gulf

                   Ships bring father and son together

                   A trade ancient and new

                   Not many now under the American flag

                   The work is fraught with danger

                   A loose tripod just down the street

                   The fire of drilling

                   Every precaution is taken

                   Much of the sea year is pleasant

                   Except when it isn’t

                   Poseidon demands much from Odysseus

                   Up to the days of sea horses

                   Who do the work of keeping our

                   Expanding population

                   Fed and fueled

                   Spray gives the salt of longevity

                   So many losses out of Rockland

                   Ships and schooners, johnny wood boats

                   But father and son

                   Have no hesitation

                   In going out

                   Calling on family need, personal need

                   We say silent prayers

                   At each gust on a blowy day

                   We also offer pleas

                   For wood, plastic, steel

                   That each hull hold, each engine

                   Drive the prop properly

                   We cannot abide losses

                   Of any rank, by any wind

                   The music of wind and wave is so enticing

                   We hear it here at the Head of the Bay

                   Where the father was inundated

                   With the thirst of plowing the waters

                   And now the son rides a ship

                   Of giant size trying to find oil

                   We trust they are protected

                   For a long maritime life

                   Braving the oceans for centuries

 

                   Kendall Merriam,  Home, May 19, 2013  4:05 PM

                   Listening to a CD by Dramtreeo  “Waterside”

                   And a compilation of world music by Rebecca Hill

 

THE ROSE

                              For Meg

 

                   She works on her knees

                   Trimming, weeding, adding

                   Flowers to the landscape

                   Of her husband’ s long love

                   Of the sea

                   She represents all the wives

                   Waiting for ships and schooners

                   To round Owls Head Light

                   In a fair breeze

                   Vessels with a paying cargo

                   She never mentions it

                   She just prays

                   That the Captain and all his men

                   Are safe and hearty

                   After facing all the seas’s

                   Mysterious Gods and Goddesses

                   Who work by whim

                   She holds tight to earth

                   Caring for a row of roses

                   That give courage and beauty

                   No hat but her

                   Golden crown of sea gold

                   Brought from

                   Madagascar or Ceylon

                   How the brilliant sky and ocean

                   Match her will

                   For caressing the earth

                   On this day

                   With a hint of summer

                   Edged by an afternoon Southwest

                   That comes nearly every day

                   It tangles her hair

                   A breeze off the harbor

                   Where so many ships were built

                   Sailed and returned

                   When not caught by storm, sleet, fog

                   Can the scent of roses

                   Guide all boats into port

                   As much a lifesaver

                   As any horn or light

                   Is that why she works so hard

                   To please men and God

                   Who walk dangerous and beautiful waters

 

                   Kendall Merriam, Home,   May 16, 2013 1:37  PM

                   Listening to the Allman Brothers