The Tennesseans

Continuing the history of our old house:

In September 1983, Elwood Stackwood Richardson and Mary Blanche Richardson of Smithville, Tennessee, took possession for use as a summer home. They already owned and operated the Dennys River Inn, a B&B in neighboring Dennysville, Maine. A decade later, the house was conveyed to Mary Blanche’s daughter and son-in-law, Wayne Henry and Mary Jo Warner of McMinnville, one county south in Tennessee. The move was essentially to handle the details of selling the site.

This stage of occupancy centers on Mary Blanche, who was born in 1916 in Puyallup, Washington, to a family of transplanted Maine lumbermen. After 1976, she married widower Elwood Richardson, born in 1907 in Bristol, Pennsylvania, and relocated with her daughter, Mary Jo, to Philadelphia. That’s where Wayne Henry Warner, born in 1941, enters the picture. He married Mary Jo, born in 1943, and became a high school football, track, and baseball coach in Tennessee.

Thus, they all would have been adults in their times in Eastport.

For them, Eastport was a summer home, one not rented out in winter, in part because of its rundown physical condition, as Mary Jo told me. Her mother had relatives in Maine, either in Whitney or Whitneyville, neither one far from Eastport. She also loved antiquing. Guests during the family’s summer often liked to tour the Franklin D. Roosevelt estate across the water in Canada, causing her to quip that she visited Campobello more than Eleanor had.

Elwood, meanwhile, enjoyed fishing.

Bicycling and taking nearby ferries were other summer activities.

Mary Blanche was responsible for having the shingles put on the exterior and would have appreciated our raising of the roof upstairs. “It was something she wanted to do,” I was told. The move was apparently inspired by New England author and illustrator Tasha Tudor. Mary Blanche did have a cat named Tasha, reflecting the fondness.

Mary Jo also confirmed that the beams in the front parlor existed at the time, along with the “rather basic” kitchen and its Montgomery Ward stovetop. The property across the street also a house trailer blocking a direct view of the ocean. The modular home came later. And she remembered how small the only bathroom was.

She also asked about the sewage situation in the cellar. What?

And then about our contractor, quite surprised that he shows up on time and sticks to his promises. No comment there.

She was equally delighted to learn that the downtown is no longer boarded up and that the arts scene has emerged. Her stepfather, Elwood, took up painting in his summers in Eastport and was part of a circle that had outdoor shows in town.

Eastport did look quite different that recently. It was a time when the population was sinking and many of the remaining but vacant canneries and their piers lining the downtown were falling into the sea, one by one.

When passion gets terribly tangled

Have you ever been in a committed relationship, only to be struggling against what you later learn was a triangle? The third party doesn’t even have to be another person, for that matter, but secrecy does tip the balance.

The desire was still there and burning, hoping for reconciliation and renewal. Just don’t call yourself a victim, OK? Not as long as you were actively engaged in the scene.

As for the evidence? In hearing your side, who knows what was factual or imagined, other than the reality of your feelings.

Move on, then, with the memories. Don’t say it wasn’t love, especially of an adolescent sort. Or maybe even your first time.

Having originally appeared in Thistle Finch editions, this collection is now available on your choice of ebook platforms at Smashwords.com and its affiliated digital retailers. Those outlets include the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, and Sony’s Kobo. You may also request the ebook from your local public library.

The move makes the poems available to a wider range of readers worldwide.

Do take a look.

Reclaiming Passamaquoddy

Living adjacent to the tribe’s Sipayik reservation opens new perspectives in my awareness. It’s not quite osmosis, but perhaps a willingness to listen.

One of the big breakthroughs for the tribe has involved access to 36 wax cylinders from 1890, the first field recordings ever made, when anthropologist Walter Jesse Fewkes came to Maine to test the Edison equipment before he headed off to Navajo and Hopi lands.

For decades, the recordings were kept in museum vaults, unknown to the tribe. And then, slowly, they came into consciousness, first through taped copies full of scratchy static and more recently cleaned up into digitalized files that tribe historians are carefully gleaning.

As a writer, I believe in the power of stories and the importance of language itself.

Here are some of the insights I’m hearing from my neighbors.

  1. Dwayne Tomah’s reaction on hearing the recordings the first time: “I wept. These were my ancestors speaking and singing to me.”
  2. The language has only two genders – animate and inanimate.
  3. Its wider family, Algonquian, features prenouns, a form shared only with Japanese and Korean.
  4. Translations from a tribal side, rather than a nontribal institution, can be revealing. For instance, rather than “Trading Song,” it’s more accurately “Let’s Trade.”
  5. The recordings preserve more than the language itself. There are also the stories, songs, and advices, sometimes with context.
  6. The Tides Institute’s latest map of our region portion of Maine and New Brunswick includes the Passamaquoddy place names. Tribal historian Donald Soctomah has used that to explain hard-to-translate subtleties, such as those describing qualities of water encountered in canoeing in a specific location.
  7. A Passamaquoddy-English dictionary, still growing, is available online. It has a range of expressions for anger that are totally missing in English.
  8. The language is being taught in elementary schools. (For generations, it was banned, even in homes.)
  9. The recordings are helping the tribe’s branch in neighboring Canada in its quest to gain First Nations status. One song, for instance, refers to what’s now the location of Saint Andrews.
  10. Even a few commonly understood words spoken among the tribe are rebuilding identity and pride, even when the rest of us watch on.

Acid test poet: Philip Whalen (1923-2008)

As a Reed College student, Whalen lived in a rooming house with Gary Snyder and Lou Welch, making for a trio of fine poets. There, through Snyder, he was introduced to Zen Buddhism after earlier dabbling in Vedanta yoga and Tibetan Buddhism. In time, he would emerge as an ordained priest at the San Francisco Zen Center.

Although suicide cut Welch’s life short, Whalen and Snyder remained close friends for life. I had no idea just how close until coming across David Schneider’s biography of Whalen, where the appear as complementary opposites – little brother helping bigger brother through key shifts in survival.

They were considered Beat poets from the start of the movement but soon moved away from its poetic conventions. Whalen, preoccupied with the movements of the human mind and awareness, blended mundane details immediately before him with timeless, erudite quotations from a world of sources. The results were a unique and absorbing mental dance on an unseen energy field.

I also enjoyed his novel, You Didn’t Even Try, dealing with a failed marriage.

He came a long way from the Dalles, a village along the Columbia River in Oregon where the eastern desert begins.