Author: Jnana Hodson
In downsizing to a remote fishing village in Downeast Maine, this eclectic writer feels everything's coming together.
Oh, freedom!
There had been endless dreams of chasing after her and trying to catch up but failing. Curiously little from the time we were actually together. But, then, one night, I have one where she’s trying to catch up with me but can’t, unlike all the other times when I had been trying to catch her. And at that moment, I was free.
And then?
TRAVELING, BACKPACKING, with a female companion. We stop for the night, a small hilltop lodge. Next morning, she cannot be found. Has taken a walk. Later, down the pathway, a cabin has burned. Something the hostess says about an old hermit who lived there. And the host, “You won’t want to look there,” a warning. She had insisted on going off on the walk alone. Finally, I realize I must move on, alone.
I’M RIDING A BICYCLE, MAYBE even in Ohio. Beside me, on my right, is a blonde, short athletic hair (blue eyed?), mid-20s runner. We share an attraction, but light, playful, not sticky.
From behind my left side, then, up comes running another figure – as she catches up, more or less, it’s the golden goddess of my past! Shortly afterward, the roadway begins heading stiffly uphill.
My attention – and desire – shifts to her, despite the fact the other is clearly healthier for me. But I determine to ride on and redouble my effort. Fading as I lurch uphill.
Significant I was going somewhere – on my way – this time I wasn’t being blindsided, either, yet she wasn’t ahead. Her darkness or danger became apparent as I retold the dream.
NOW AS A VAMPIRE, AN INSOMNIAC GHOST. Her unimaginably long hair’s cut short, a different nose, too. Leading me out of my way: Dayton, Wayne Avenue, and Seventh Street area – not that I’m in love with her or anything but rather holding her accountable. Not taking any shit from her, but firm.
And then dismembering her, for a change. Not that a dream offers details of the carnage, or that I would ever possibly be able to do such a thing in reality. But in this sense, I could detach myself from her piece by piece, and that has remained very terrifying.
SHE APPROACHES ME, REBUFFED. The golden goddess has aged, grown flabby, lost her girlish charm, even the edge of her serious demeanor. In their place, a stupor.
She falls behind, cannot catch up. I’ve gained strength and move on. There are no words that bridge us.
Regarding the median age of tradesmen
As a passerby noted while observing renovation work in town, the median age of tradesmen in the U.S. is 57. It’s no doubt higher here in Maine and Sunrise County, especially.
There’s a lot of work needing to be done, too: carpentry, plumbing, roofing, masonry, insulating, windows … We have a long list ourselves and are still looking for help.
Forget the “Go west, young man,” advice of yore. Many youths would be well-advised to go into the construction trades, pronto. Financially, they’d be way ahead of those with a college degree but heavily in debt. They could even live wherever they want.
Hey, kids, if you love to hunt and fish or sail and camp, Sunrise County would fill your dreams. You’d definitely be welcome.
On a more personal note, send me your references and let’s talk.
Old Glory on barn overlooking Shackford Cove
You rarely know what they’re really saying about you, do you?
Ever encounter shining moments like these?
As I found in a Facebook comment mentioning me: “A compelling and brilliant man.”
Oh, my.
Or, another time, a friend telling of a colleague who asked, “Who was that distinguished looking gentleman you were with?”
Really?
That said, everyone needs some positive reinforcement!
Let’s crack into shellfish
We’re too far north to harvest oysters, at least for now. Ours come mostly for midcoast Maine. But our Downeast waters are famed for their scallops and other shellfish.
Last year, a Tendrils focused on lobsters, and I’m thinking of a few others in that vein looking ahead.
So today, let’s look at shellfish more broadly. You know, things like the fact they’re spineless and have hard shells. Now, for a few specifics, working around the fact that scientifically, they’re classified in three groups.
- Mollusks include snails, clams, mussels, scallops, oysters, octopus, cuttlefish, squid, slugs, and abalone. They form the second-largest phylum of invertebrates, making up 23 percent of the named marine organisms and also widespread in freshwater and terrestrial environments. The oceanic ones are usually very tiny.
- The expression of “happy as a clam” is more accurately understood in its fuller version, “happy as a clam at high water.” Or should that be “high tide”?
- The chemistry of creating their calcium-rich calcareous shells remains largely mysterious. Chalk, for one, is comprised of their deposits.
- But some of them, especially the larger species, have no bones at all. Can they even be considered shellfish?
- The second group, crustaceans, includes lobsters, crabs, shrimp, crawfish, krill, and barnacles. They come with a segmented body, two pairs of antennae, and a tough, semitransparent exoskeleton. That chitinous covering is something they have in common with butterflies, crickets, beetles, and caterpillars.
- A single shrimp can lay a million eggs. Of course, humans are far from alone in having a fondness for a shrimp dinner.
- Crabs communicate by thumping their claws and drumming in a kind of Morse code.
- And finally, echinoderms, which are found as adults on the sea bed at every depth. They include starfish, sand dollars, sea urchins, and sea cucumbers. They’re recognizable by their radial symmetry.
- In general, shellfish blood is blue, not red, because it relies on copper, rather than iron. And many shellfish rely on plankton for their diet.
- My favorite shellfish all seem to go well with melted butter and lemon.
The 1630s was a most remarkable decade in New England
A comment from a professional historian after one of my Quaking Dover presentations has me realizing how much more needs to be seen in fresh light.
New England history, he said, is told through Harvard. And then, to smaller degrees, Yale and Williams College. A more accurate verb might be “filtered” or “focused,” but the implication was clear. The tale is party-line. Even Greater Boston-based.
When I delved into the roots of tiny Dover to the north, from the perspective of its Quaker Meeting, I had no idea how unconventional my stance would be.
The traditional history, I will argue, is Puritan-based and largely pushes aside the earlier settlers and the cultural differences or influence they had.
The well-organized Puritan invasion began full-force in 1630 with Massachusetts Bay and then the Connecticut colonies. Their utopian vision was far more fragile in practice than we’re led to believe. In that first decade, Roger Williams, Ann Hutchinson, and Samuel Gorton were banished, leading to the establishment of Rhode Island and quickly afterward, in reaction, Harvard College. Their own charter was under threat of revocation from the king, and they placed cannon on Boston Harbor to fire on Royal Navy ships, if needed. Think about that. And its Pequot War enslaved Natives who were exchanged for Africans, spurring the lucrative slave-trade.
That’s a lot in a small space in a short time.
Settlement to the north was not immune.
In New Hampshire, two of the four colonial towns were established by religious dissidents fleeing Massachusetts. Dover’s Edward Hilton conveyed his charter (exactly how or for how much remains unclear) to the Lords Saye and Brook for their own management … or mismanagement. As my book details, the New Hampshire province and neighboring Maine quickly became a hotbed of dissidents and misfits – a story that is largely overlooked in the traditional accounts. Let me just say it was a ripe time.
What I’ve also been seeing is that the story of dissent has focused on Rhode Island and largely ignored the north, including Salem, Massachusetts.
Should one of my upcoming presentations redress that?
Flowage
Streams passing through Maine forests often open out into a wetland known as a flowage, a flooding typically caused by beaver dams or other impoundments. The resulting broad habit is crucial to waterfowl production, and also provides for excellent kayaking, canoeing, and fishing.
These shots are all from one spot. Note the beaver lodge in the last one.
Kinisi 161
FLAY
FRAY
FADE
A few more candid reader reactions
Despite nearly 60 years of writing, I’m still not accustomed to having readers come up to me in public with enthusiastic reactions.
My book Quaking Dover just may change that.
Here are two recent examples.
“It’s like you’re speaking right to me! It’s not like a history at all!”
That’s from a city councilor far from Dover.
I do hope that doesn’t put off history book addicts, though.
On the other hand, a Dover history buff said this:
“The clearest presentation of George Burdet I’ve read. Usually the histories of him are convoluted and hard to follow.”
When she first mentioned him, I felt some trepidation. Burdet wasn’t a Quaker and in fact predated them. He was one of those side details that could trip up the central argument if I had misread something.
More important than any praise is the confirmation. Or correction, too, for moving forward.
Jnana's Red Barn 