Brothers and Sisters!

WBLM radio station in Portland became 50 years old on March 1!

BLM (which I always thought meant Bureau of Land Management— still do), had humble beginnings. It was started by Jim Mitchell (no relation) as an “easy listening/elevator music” station during the day, in a trailer in Litchfield, Maine. But under the cover of darkness — Rock and Roll baby! The first song broadcast in the overnight was The Moody Blues’ “The Story in Your Eyes.” The rest is history! Skynyrd, Zepp, Stones!

Recently I came across information about the Victory Chimes – she’s for sale.

My first encounter with this major vessel was during one of Boothbay Harbor’s Windjammer Days in the early 1980s. A photo I made in the Harbor showing Mark Friant and Merritt Grover zipping by the great ship became one of our first postcards. Mark and Merritt, I’m pretty sure, were still then in high school. They moved quickly about the waterfront back in those days leaving much flotsam and jetsam in their wakes! A dynamic duo to say the least!

Within a span of less than two weeks we experienced temperatures ranging from negative 30 degrees, with NW wind chill, to 50+ degrees with full bright sun. That’s a big temperature swing! Adjust to that Batman! What’s a mother to do?

It was quite fascinating to attend Gerry Boyle’s talk last week at Boothbay Harbor Memorial Library. Mr. Boyle shared some very interesting stories about his career as a reporter and writer. I was most impressed with the way he spoke about watching and listening. Clearly these are two well-developed skills encouraged by years working as a newspaper reporter in a variety of locations. The talk provided much usable information.

I’m not sure which is worse – no water or no electricity! We’ve had an opportunity lately to experience both, and I’m still undecided!

Our most recent stretch without power reminded me of how poorly prepared we were for such events of reasonable duration. Specifically, the need to run the portable gas generator from time to time to be sure it will operate when called upon to do so. I called; it did not answer!

Everyone had a garden in our neighborhood. From my earliest memory I recall the massive plantings of our next door neighbor Herman Marx, who had come to the U.S. after the second World War, traveling from job to job on a motorcycle with a sidecar laden with his masonry tools. He had homing pigeons, too. Herman shared a lot of fresh veggies with us and often,when the timing was right, delicious canned delicacies, including jellies and jams.

Last week’s column showing our deteriorating fence met with a variety of reactions!

“Hey Mitch, looks like you might want to spend a little more time mending fences rather than devising new plans for collecting doggie waste.”

“Cute. But what’s all that mess beyond the fence?”

Every morning we escort our pup to the back door and out to a small fenced in area for her daily contribution to the Earth’s surface. She’s not pushy at all about this, in fact if truth be known, it’s quite possible she prefers the warmer interior of our house. Thank goodness she has learned it is not appropriate to deliver anything inside, for which we are grateful. Took some time to get her trained but nice she has figured things out. She actually rings a bell when she wants to go out!

Bill Kirby came to Boothbay Harbor in 1988 on a road trip with his father. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but he liked the area, close to the ocean and less complicated than the world in which he had lived for much of his life.

It was a wild and raucous ride during last week’s storm. Aggressive surf, high wind gusts, splash over with big tides caused a lot ofdamage. Several places I visit escaped major damage but did not go unscathed.

The recent snow reminds me of winter, a season with which I have a love-hate relationship.

I love it for its transformative qualities and I hate it because I spend so much time removing something that eventually goes away on its own. That’s it in a nutshell.

The Opera House has always been a big community center, if for no other reason than it’s one of Boothbay Harbor’s largest buildings, located smack dab in the middle of town on one of our main thoroughfares. The builders knew what they were doing – high visibility and easy access. Eventually, the building, constructed as a meeting place for the local chapter of the Knights of Pythias, has taken on many new roles, from public roller skating rink, to basketball court, minstrel shows, and now a vibrant and successful venue for a multitude of community events.

For almost 20 years our trip to the local Hannaford market was made more delightful by the sound of Ruthie McLellan’s laughter. We always chose her checkout line. In those days when it seemed that grocery carts were less weaponized by strangers, we always knew that there was a bit of local joy awaiting us at the cash register staffed by the one and only!

Those items in the water are not errant pot buoys, floating logs, ducks, seals, or water buffalo! They are people.

This is not a hoax! These are real people in real cold ocean water. Really!

Schooner Ernestina-Morrissey departed her Boothbay Harbor berth at the Hodgdon pier (formerly Wotton’s Wharf) on Thursday, Nov. 17, at around 3:15 p.m.

After many years of rebuilding and restoration the ship heads to her new/old home in New Bedford, Massachusetts, where she has been designated by the Department of Interior as a National Historic Landmark and part of the New Bedford Whaling National Historic Park.

During recent rich and enveloping autumn fogs, our neighborhood was transformed.

Fog has a way of isolating and emphasizing portions of our vision. Through no fault of its own, fog causes us to see less, and for me, less is more. I love to photograph in the fog. It helps me notice things, ironically, more clearly. Fog makes a busy scene calm. It’s magic!

When our oldest daughter was in college we always enjoyed the trips over to visit. Route 101 to Keene, through Brattleboro, over the “Hogback” to beautiful Bennington. It was an interesting drive, winding at times and treacherous in winter, but none-the-less quite a departure from our Maine home.

First off, let me point out that the image shared today has nothing to do with what I have written. The photo was made in 2019 over the Isle of Springs on my way back from a job, returning to Wiscasset Municipal Airport. It was around this time of year which is why I have chosen it for this week’s offering.

“I struck my first arc when I was 9 years old,” said Liz Richmond during a recent visit outside her Boothbay apartment. As a child she was visiting a friend, watching her father work on an old pickup. He told her, “If you’re gonna own one, you should know how to fix it!” She was fascinated and particularly intrigued by some welding he was doing and asked if she could try it. Reluctantly the man set her up with the welding gear and let her have a go. He was impressed, and told her that she should be a welder. She ran a perfect bead. It was the beginning of a lifelong journey that she never could have imagined.

OK ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s yet again time for Uncle Mitchell to add “Memories” to my list of offbeat recollections.

I have always been fascinated by cemeteries, graveyards and/or burial grounds. I think, for me, it’s a way to stay connected to those who have gone before us – a way to appreciate the past. These places, no matter what we call them, are historical collections which provide a walking tour of history. A glimpse into the unknown, or the partially known. A look back.