moving faster
ZOOM
moving closer
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
moving faster
moving closer
DRY ICE
DRY EYES
I’m thinking of those ridiculous online ads that purport to be something about Maine but show us images of urban Arizona or maybe Miami, the furthest opposites to where I live yet purporting to be local for here. You know, most affordable housing or food delivery or the ten best restaurants or plumbers in Eastport. We don’t have nearly that many. Got it?
Many of them somehow zero in on tiny East Machias or, for our weather almanac, as St. John, New Brunswick, or Halifax, Nova Scotia. Do note that East Machias is not Eastport. They’re an hour apart.
There’s also the Microsoft ab that proclaims “Eastport light traffic,” which is truly baffling. There are only three or four traffic lights in the entire county, OK? Heavy traffic, apart from road construction, is usually three or four vehicles.
These are even worse than the late-night TV commercials that couldn’t come close to properly pronouncing where we lived in the Pacific Northwest.
RODE
RHODA
ROAD
I’ve been caught off-guard several times while wearing my gray Louis R. French historic schooner hoodie around Eastport. (Well, one of them. I now have three, but that’s another story.)
The first encounter was at the county courthouse in Machias while researching the deeds to our home. A registrar asked what I knew about the boat and I started replying with the history. She smiled and said, “My dad worked aboard it,” back when it was a sardine carrier based in Lubec, the town just south of Eastport. During that stretch, the masts were removed and the vessel was powered by an inboard motor.
The second time was when a friend, a legendary ship pilot, smiled and said he rode many times aboard it as a kid. Bob did correct me, saying the French wasn’t a sardine carrier but a freighter carrying cat food to Canada. (“Cat food to Canada?” Sounds like a title to me.) His family did own canneries in Lubec, Eastport, Portland, and a few other places. That’s yet another history to consider.
The next incident came while leaving my dentist’s office and his wife ( a.k.a. center of operations) Mary, blurted out, “Lewis R. French? That was my family’s boat.” For 50-some years, in fact, or the time it was based on our waters, when her Burpee and Vose families possessed the vessel. From her I learned that during the Prohibition, the French was an active rum-runner. Sardine carrier? Huh? The missions do get more interesting, no?
She also said something about ghosts. Well, if they could talk.
She does have the book published later, but I do suspect some of those details are missing.
The most recent account came while watching a big cruise ship come into Eastport. A woman standing nearby saw my hoodie and then told me she used to work in the office when the French belonged to Seaport Navigation. (She confirmed that my dentist’s wife’s families were among the owners). The headquarters was on the second floor of a waterfront building that she pointed to, one where friends of ours have their gallery and apartment, and said she never got tired of the view. She remembered typing up many documents regarding deliveries of canned sardines to the railroad line in St. Andrews, New Brunswick. Shipping them from there rather than by truck from Maine was much cheaper. By this point, the French was Seaport’s backup ship.
So sardines were still part of the story.
one more seal
in the sea
you’ll see
HISTORIES
MYSTERIES
what more will you say
But somehow, I manage to write without it.
a strike
a-waiting
a match