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. 

The flowers of summer are beginning to take their final lap around the stadium with sun change and chill. Folks are putting gardens to bed but Fall can produce some interesting gifts. 

CBS “Sunday Morning” celebrates its 40th season this year. They had a wonderful retrospective special on TV, showing lots of clips from their many years of programs. Happy to say, our good friend Marylou Teel was very instumental in organizing the show which took long hours of researching archives in addition to her usual generous work load producing pieces for the weekly show. Great job ML and associates.

I was working on my computer in the office when the curtain on a west facing window rustled in an unusual way. I noticed the movement but continued to work. Then it happened again, with gusto. The curtain stretched into the room and papers flew off my desk. When I went to the window to see what was going on — it was unusally dark and the trees were swirling in the wind. The clouds boiled out of the west toward the northeast following a track over Ebenecook Harbor, heading for Boothbay across the north end of Southport. It looked serious.

In 1969 I lost my summer job as a laborer for a local masonry contractor in Clearfield, Pennsylvania. My job was to mix mud for three masons, lug concrete blocks and break brick tongs while balancing on ladders and scaffolding.

“Up on the northwest shoreline is a small converted fish house which was built by Reuben Davis after he bought his land from the heirs of Josiah Jr. He fished from this building from 1884 until his untimely death in 1909 when he fell out of his skiff while coming in from his days work. No one knows exactly what happened, but they found his skiff drifting down at Green Point, and when they found him he was about 40 feet from his fish house standing in the water with his hands straight up. Evidently he had his boots on and probably could not swim. 

So I called Rena to see if she could come out and play.

When I called her number at the Dump, aka, The Boothbay Region Refuse Disposal District, I got a voice mail recorded message which said “Hi, this is Rena, I can't come out and play right now, and I can't take your call because the loader makes too much noise. Please leave a message and I will return your call after the shift.”

Sometimes when you step into somebody's home there is an instant feeling of calm.

It was easy for me to sit down and relax with Jolly and Laura. In many ways I felt like I was visiting family. Odd, I guess. But, it was as if I had known these two folks all my life and I was just popping in to say hi. In truth, I had never been inside their house. I think it was the salt and pepper shakers that did it. And, maybe the fact the Jolly offered me a “Moxie” even before I sat down.

About ten years ago I was asked by the McWhan family (longtime summer residents) of Pratts Island Road on Southport, if I would be willing to do some family photos with them at their home. I had photographed with the family before and was pleased to be invited back. Nothing like reconnecting with families from years gone by. It’s always fun to meet new additions and catch up with everyone.

Millie Santiago was the ticket person for five years at the Boothbay Harbor Opera House. This involved ticket sales the night of an event as well as on line sales, personal drop-in sales at the House, and phone calls from happy campers. It’s a big job that can be demanding.

The ticket person is the up front contact and a big first Opera House impression.

Everyone knows West Harbor Pond. On the way to Southport, just beyond the Boothbay Harbor Yacht Club and Oak Grove condominiums, it’s the beautiful stretch of water lined with trees and blanketed with open sky opposite the salt water cove of West Boothbay Harbor. One would never suspect any problems with such a beautiful place but ... 

When I was a kid, my sisters and folks and I would visit our grandparents (Mother's parents) in Springville, New York, in the western part of the state, a little village south of Buffalo. Grandma and Grampa had a small farm along Cattaraugus Creek with rich lowland soils perfect for gardening. Our Aunt Marge and Uncle Jim grew the most delicious vegetables. I can still remember the melons that would melt in your mouth.

My image volume of many film photography years has dwindled considerably with the introduction of intelligent cameras, photo phones and the internet. But recently I got a nice burst of retro enthusiasm. A sustaining breath of fresh air from long time devoted Maine lovers and extended families. 

If laughter is the best medicine I just got enough to open a pharmacy!

These two fellas tell some of the funniest stories I have ever heard. And to think that the reason for my visit was to chat about their wood business. We hardly even mentioned it.