Several years ago, well maybe more like seven or eight years ago, Barry Sherman called me. “Bobby!” Barry has always called me Bobby, I’m not sure why.

“Bobby! We are putting out flags for vets in area cemeteries and hoped maybe you could give us a hand.” Well, as anyone who knows Barry Sherman, when a task is at hand one must muster troops when available. Barry is an old buddy. I was available.

Every year, our family tries to arrange a weeklong gathering in August. It’s a much-anticipated event for everyone to be together onMonhegan, one of the most favorite places we know. Sometimes we have needed to adjust, as we did last year with the arrival of two wonderful additions to our crew, Vera and Winslow, our first grandchildren. We adjusted and managed to employ alternate plan B for visits on the fly, one grandchild in Maine and one in Brooklyn, New York. This year we are looking forward to having everyone together, including our newest little ones.  

Imagine if you can, a 118-foot, 12,000-pound tree lying on the ground with all sorts of branches dangling from the top one third of its length. Now, visualize lifting that tree from the ground, by its top, to a totally airborne vertical position. Then take that tree another 50 feet into the air so it can be aligned perfectly to fit in a hole just under two feet in diameter. It's an almost incomprehensible process. Then, once that tree is in place, do it all over again with another tree!

I know it is ancient history but so much community fun! Events with a focus on what makes the region a community. No great fanfare, no fireworks, nothing but a real treat to celebrate special local people and organizations. I miss it. But, generally speaking, things don’t happen just because I like them. However, looking back through old photos tells me it was a grand celebration for the history of our area. If today’s photo prints well, you will recognize many familiar things. The boats, the people, the buildings, many of which and whom are long gone, remind me of the basic stuff that galvanized our community and its wonderful people. I know I recognize many old friends and buildings, but I’m sure there are those among us who know way more than I do.

They’re back! And good for us … Saturday evening at the Opera House with a joyful return visit from Lara Tupper and Bobby Sweet. It’s been a few years since my last visit with this charming and wonderful music duo. I hope they still have chickens!

It's been 30 years since Cecil Pierce passed and 120 years since his birth, yet many of his accomplishments linger. The stories about Cecil’s accomplishments and activities are too numerous to mention, especially since my contact with him was quite limited. I knew about Cecil and have seen products of his creation, but I think there are many other people, especially here on Southport, who would be far more knowledgeable than I. Needless to say, Cecil Pierce was a pretty unique individual ... emphasis on individual! He built his own roads and traveled them without hesitation.

One of the nicest things about working with the Boothbay Register is Kevin Burnham’s willingness (reluctantly sometimes I suspect) to cut me some slack … and correct my screw ups! For example, today I was trying to pull something together for my weekly column. No small challenge! During a moment of brilliance, having written all but a brief signoff, I clicked the wrong key on my computer and vaporized the entire column! I wrote to Kevin to share my mishap and he graciously said it was OK if I took a little more time. I took a walk, made a cup of tea and here I am, trying again. Jeesh, thanks, Kevin.

What a pleasant surprise to see our shadows during a late afternoon walk with our newest best friend Leica the wonder dog. We wonder if she is a dog! What a piece of work.

Moore’s Rock is right behind the house where we used to live at the top of Sherman Street in the Harbor. At the suggestion of Bernard Coady, my barber for what little hair I had, we bought his mother’s house. Verna Coady had shared her house for years with seasonal women workers, a boarding house of sorts. Nettie Mitchell, our next door neighbor on Sherman Street, rented rooms to seasonal young men workers. It was a lovely neighborhood for our family. Uncle Harry and Aunt Alice Gray lived across the street. We bordered Moore’s Rock. The location was one of the highest points in the area, once sporting a tower for signal flags.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I was close, but no cigar! 

Our pond de-iced this past weekend but no ducks. It seems many of the island ducks have taken up residence on the Southport school pond, revving up a bit before making the big transition down the road to our place. There was a large gathering at the school the other day when I went by, possibly trying to reach consensus regarding the next move. I suspect we will see the flock soon on our pond about one week later than last year.

In the past several years, the village ducks have returned to our pond by now and are happily paddling around quacking as they scurry off to overhanging bushes lining the water. But this year, the pond seems to have a death grip on its ice, some of which may be the result of the deep freezing temperatures of early winter. From the amount of tracks on the snowy areas on the pond, the ducks' absence may be warranted. Seems like all the wildlife has been on high alert looking for food. I think it's been a tough winter for most.

It’s hard to believe that it's been 20 years since Captain Eliot Winslow logged out. It seems like almost yesterday that we chatted in the Robinson’s Wharf parking lot. Well, mostly I listened, Eliot chatted. He was an institution with plenty to say. We had become buddies over the years going back to my earliest times here in Maine.

Breeze Kidder is one of our most wonderful family friends. She and our oldest daughter Megan were classmates at the Harbor Children’s Center at the tender age of 3. The Children Center, which closed some time ago, was located on School Street in Boothbay Harbor. It is now the home of Coastal Payroll. Megan and Breeze attended under the watchful eye of Debbie Butterfield, the lucky recipients of her care. We were very grateful parents, happy for experiences shared with a substantial group of youngsters. And when a bug entered the building we all got to participate, building resistance to future colds and similar impediments.

Awaiting a winter storm is like watching bread rise: You know it will happen, but when exactly depends on the ingredients. For me, my bread formula (which is actually passed down from my Irish grandmother) generally behaves better in a warm kitchen. The dough rises, gets kneaded, then rises again. Patience is paramount, just like waiting to see what shows up in a winter storm. All preparations don’t guarantee results. In both cases, with bread and storms, the finished product is the final measure. Sometimes my bread takes forever to rise and sometimes storms arrive when they are good and ready, or bad and ready, as the case may be.

Perhaps a midwinter puzzle might provide diversion from the coldness that has been with us for our recent past and present, with maybe a small break coming up which may include some of my most dreaded winter rain. Ugh. I hate winter rain and its accompanying aggravations. But, temperatures should moderate.

My search for Larry Knapp turned into quite an adventure.

Since I don’t pick up bait early enough, that option was out. So I needed to do a little detective work. Where have I seen Larry lately? I recalled seeing him at the East Side Park dock during the tribute boat parade for George McEvoy, so I headed over there on a chance sighting. No boats, no luck. So my next thought was Atlantic Edge. I knew that Larry went out early and came in early, but I wasn’t sure what early was. I asked Linda at Atlantic Edge if Larry kept his boat there or on one of their moorings. She told me to wait a minute and went into the office to ask if anyone knew Larry’s traffic pattern. She came back out and said that he was just taking his boat across the harbor to the Tugboat marina which is where he has kept his boat in winter for some time. That was my break. I made it for the Tugboat hoping to catch him before he packed in for the day.

If you were to take a stroll (safely accompanied by shipyard staff) around the historic Boothbay Harbor Bristol Marine property, you would be amazed by the amount of activity at every turn.

Full disclosure. This week’s photo adventure was pre-flighted on Facebook. I put the image up for public view a week or so ago and got so many interesting and funny comments that I thought it might be fun to share with the “Register” crowd, given that not everyone looks to Facebook as a reliable news source. Sometimes it’s a little challenging to get accurate information online, especially with all the new ways to manipulate what is posted. I can confirm that the photograph shared in this issue is completely real and superbly incriminating. I screwed up, but in so doing, managed to tickle a few interesting memories out of the viewership! 

My first landing zone here in Maine, Treasure Island, rests on a small point of land, facing south near the mouth of Little River in East Boothbay. It was where, serendipitously, my life, as I have come to know it, began. Oddly enough, in the scheme of things, my string of good luck and lack of game plans, once again gave me another gift.

Years ago, when we lived on Barters Island, our mail delivery person Edith Lewis mentioned the January thaw. In the late ’70s there were some pretty tough winters when cold and snow settled in early. Mrs. Lewis, who braved some pretty tough winter weather, would remind us that there would be a break in the weather. She also mentioned the “onion snow” of late winter/early spring. These were unfamiliar weather-related phenomenon, but we were always interested in information acquired through the long years’ observations of local residents. Mrs. Lewis certainly experienced considerable weather-related events over her lifetime, so we were inclined to honor her predictions. More often than not, she was correct in sharing patterns she had observed over the years. Back then we were not particularly familiar with weather specific to the area, so it was always a little encouraging to become aware of possible tendencies.