Author: Jnana Hodson

In downsizing to a remote fishing village in Downeast Maine, this eclectic writer feels everything's coming together.

Opa!

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

In relocating from Dover, I do miss its annual Labor Day weekend Greek festival – the food, conversations, dancing with live music, and overall happy vibe. What they call kefi.

For Greek Orthodox congregations across North America, these events have become a traditional way of celebrating their culture, welcoming the surrounding community to sample it, reenforcing the bonds of their membership, and conducting some needed fundraising, sometimes for local charities as well as the church itself. The deep commitment of the volunteers and the overall organizational skill always amaze me, and it has been fun to be part of the food-serving line some years.

Earlier in the summer, neighboring Portsmouth usually has its own, similar but also with differences, and both weekends draw big crowds, jammed parking, and partisan comparisons. Dover’s has free admission, unlike Portsmouth, which has more dance addicts.

The festivals closet to Sunrise County are in Portland and Lewiston, downstate five or so hours away. Or, for variety, Halifax, Nova Scotia, which has a four-day schedule but is a six-hour drive away – or seven if you take the shortcut ferry ride across Fundy Bay.

~*~

For the Labor Day weekend, Eastport has a much more low-key observance, the Salmon and Seafood Festival.

Things get wilder the following weekend, then the pirates invade for what’s our blowout to the summer tourist season.

What are you doing special for the holiday weekend?

Our annual salmon festival has me thinking of sardines

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The American Can Company factory, now a hulk out over the water, had a daily output of more than a half-million cans for sardines. It employed 300 people. It was at the end of the line for the railroad, too.

In the adjacent canneries, sardine-packing women had hands moving so fast in cold water you saw only a blur, according to a friend who was a teen at the time and couldn’t begin to keep pace when he worked there.

I still have no desire to eat a sardine, though. Consider that the statement is coming from someone who’s learned to appreciate anchovies in his old age.

The Salmon Festival always takes place over the Labor Day weekend. 

Lost in translation

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I have to meet a Quaker representative – AFSC or FCNL or some such – at the airport. Not actually an airport, but more the sense of waiting and greeting. A sunny, springtime morning, a little before 8 a.m. She {maybe an elderly he, the two overlap} is to make a presentation before a public-school crowd. We’re running late, which becomes a problem because I have to get a second Public Friend and am caught in transporting the two. Am supposed to get the second at 10, but the first is still at the lectern.

I greeted the first using “thee,” then realized she had no idea what was happening, so I added: “I guess it’s been a while since thee’s been addressed in Plain Speech.”

 

The demise of AM radio

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

In all of today’s media upheaval, many younger users are puzzled by the term AM radio, while automakers are even considering eliminating the bandwidth from new vehicles altogether.

When I was a teen, this would have been entirely inconceivable. AM was king, period.

Dominated by clear-channel 50,000-watt stations that covered half of the country at night – and many having staffs of several hundred – they ranged down to much smaller voices that aired only during daytime hours, and even those frequencies were highly coveted by investors or niche nerds.

In contrast, FM was more limited in range and quite fringe. Many of the stations simulcast the AM sister’s programming. Others specialized in classical or jazz or “elevator music” for medical offices and retail store backgrounds.

Flash forward to today, when FM is where the audiences are. Not just for music, either, though much of the classic rock was crafted around the sound of AM top-40 formats. The shift of talk radio to FM sealed the deal.

I’m still surprised when traveling to find how little is available on AM, at least in English. More surprised, actually, to hear of station licenses being laid down and going idle, even in rural areas like the one where I’m living.

Gee, we might even begin wondering about the era of radio drama and comedy. Those really were something.

What are you listening to today?

 

When a painter writes poetry, too

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I love the idea of artists who are inspired by other artistic fields. Too often, alas, they’re stuck in their own genre.

The term for what I’m discussing here is cross-disciplinary.

For example, I’m primarily a writer, lately of fiction as well as a poet, but I’m moved most intensely by classical music and then opera, jazz, folk, film, theater, and yes, painting and related visual fields. And I consider myself essentially a visual person?

Maybe you get the idea.

So a few months ago, I got news that a friend now living in California had a new book, Roots, Stones, & Baggage, and I assumed it was a catalog for his most recent gallery presentation. He is, after all, a marvelous painter, still active in his 90s.

What arrived in the mail was mostly his selected poems, revealing a whole other side of himself. They’re good, by they way. He respects craft. And there is a sampling of his paintings over the years, too.

I remember his reply during a Q&A at his gallery show opening at the Ogunquit Art Museum in Maine when he said he understood Blake’s poetry, something that left many dumbfounded. Think of understanding as gut-level rather than legalistic, OK?

The new booklet’s worth getting even for the wonderful introduction by his son, the celebrated novelist Jonathan Letham.

And the poet slash painter in question is Richard Brown Letham, still going strong.

Calais, the one just north of us

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The biggest municipality in sprawling Washington County is the city of Calais, pronounced CAL-us, like hardened skin, rather than the French Cal-LAY, its namesake port on the English Channel.

Set north of Eastport and having a population of slightly more than 3,000, it’s the retail hub of the county and neighboring Canada and the principal international border crossing for traffic to and from the industrial port city of Saint John, New Brunswick, and other coastal points.

With that in mind, here are a few more facts.

  1. Thanks to the border traffic, much of it as Sunbury tractor-trailer rigs, Calais has all of the permanent traffic lights in the county. Three, make that four, if I’m counting right. Yup, pay attention.
  2. It’s the eastern terminus for the Airline Highway, a section of State Route 9 that connects those trucks to Interstate 95 in Bangor and all points south and west in the U.S.
  3. Calais abuts Saint Stephen in Canada, which has both a candy museum and manufacturer and the best health fitness center in our region. The Saint Croix river separates them before continuing upstream as the international boundary.
  4. Calais has the only new auto dealership in the county, as well as the only Walmart.
  5. It’s home to the community college.
  6. The first European to explore the place was Samuel de Champlain in 1604.
  7. That year he was one of two leaders in settling on an island in the tidal stretch of the river. That effort was abandoned the following spring after a brutal winter in which more than half of the colonists perished. Had the venture succeeded, it’s possible we’d all be speaking French here. Today the site of this first French settlement in New France is commemorated at the Saint Croix international historical park.
  8. While its name honors French assistance to the American Revolution, I should also point out that the original had also sometimes been part of England.
  9. It was first settled by Daniel David Hill of York County, Maine. He was likely a descendant from an old Quaker family affiliated with Dover, New Hampshire.
  10. In summer, it’s often much hotter than Eastport. In winter, it’s typically colder.

Oh, yes, there’s even a tiny movie theater we want to check out.

 

The joy of paying bills online

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Longtime readers of the Red Barn know my identity as a neo-Luddite, someone who resists many technological advances for ethical reasons. You know, let’s keep people employed.

But after some of you encouraged me to move ahead on the banking front, and heeding your advice, I’ve made the leap. And now I’m asking, “When is the last time I wrote a check?”

Actually, it was for cash, only because I’m still resisting the ATM option. I do like face-to-face, especially in a small town, OK? And I believe an awareness of personal spending is important.

That said, among the unanticipated consequences of the shift is the fact I no longer need to keep a separate ledger, except for the checks I actually write, and my wife has instant access to those numbers, too, for our shared expenses covered there. (I won’t get into the details of our domestic bill-paying, but it’s worked for us.)

It’s also led to my using my credit card in many small-transactions instances, much like my younger daughter,  rather than cash. As she does for a cup of coffee.

But now there are new questions, like what am I going to do with all of these commemorative postage stamps I ordered as a bargain online? In response to Donald Trump’s destruction of the U.S. Postal Service?