I was raised in various suburban and city locations to that point in my short life. Over the 5 or 6 weeks I was at "Half Way Up", I hiked in the woods with my uncle; fished and swam in the local lakes and ponds. We saw beavers, otters, deer, a couple of moose frolicking in the swampy end of Horn Pond and I picked up my first Snapping turtle. It was a small one, but hey, I was small then too.
On top of Abbott Mountain in Shapleigh, the next town over, I marveled at what I imagined looked like unbroken wilderness as far as my eyes could see. The landscape has changed some since 1960. Now the woodlands are less unbroken, but the view is still awesome.
Unconnected events in my life conspired to make sure I ended up in Maine. My Uncle Herb developed liver cancer and died in late summer of 1965. My father went to Maine to help his sister deal with the last days and straighten out any affairs after his passing. He decided he liked Maine.
"Hey, it's been at least two years since we moved the last time....... We're moving to Maine now."
I was still in High School in Maryland. Suddenly, I was basically on my own from that point forward. I stayed in Maryland, graduated 3 years later and started college at Towson State, just north of Baltimore. From there, I began working and living in the Baltimore area.
Late summer of 1980, my father died laughing in the kitchen of the house I live in now. His passing set off the final set of events that would usher me out of the selfish and often childish lifestyle I was living and into the adult mode I would live with from then on.
I married my girlfriend, we re-settled in this house and proceeded to live the life we have enjoyed these past 44 years. And I am so very grateful. I cannot imagine what our lives would been like had we stayed in Maryland. Moving to the state whose unofficial motto is "Life in the Slow Lane" was the second smartest thing I ever did. The smartest was asking my old girlfriend and current spouse to share her life with me. 44 years of wedded, well, calling it bliss might be too strong a word. We have made it this far despite my loose dog ways from time to time testing the bonds we had built.
Ya''ll take care now ...........................
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The image of the "Wiggly Bridge" at the top of the post is an image I poached from a short reel I found on Facebook. I manipulated it into what you see there. Eric Storm, the originator, has posted quite a few reels and images. I only just noticed his fine work recently.
The Wiggly Bridge was constructed in the 1930's and supposedly named by a Girl Scout troop. It crosses tidal mud flats found in abundance on the seashore in and around York.
Some claim it is the smallest suspension bridge in the world at only 75 feet long. Regardless, it is one of the thousands and thousands of beautiful spots in Maine.
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Since this post is all Maine from beginning to end, I figured I should highlight the "Rustic Overtones", a band that has been entertaining Mainers for going on 32 years now. I first saw them in the late 1990s with my wife and daughter. Since then, I have seen them at least 8 or 9 times. I even had the pleasure of catching their concert that included the Portland Symphony Orchestra. Talented musicians who play music for the love of it.
Here is "Gas on Skin" - maybe my favorite song of theirs. Enjoy.
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