My initial visits to eastern Maine back in the early 1990s shocked me with the prevalent poverty. I thought I was in West Virginia. A harsh reality is often overlooked between the picturesque coast and the wilderness adventures in the north.
That awareness has been amplified after moving Downeast. Many rural homes are surrounded by debris, everything from boat hulls that will never sail again to earthmoving equipment that has gone to rust to a row of cars that would otherwise qualify as a junkyard.
Here’s an extreme case.