
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

Stroll through Eastport’s downtown – rebuilt within a year or two of the disastrous 1886 fire and now in the National Register of Historic Places – and you’d think it was always like this, only with all of the storefronts bustling.
Not so, as I’ve been hearing, and that’s confirmed by a closer look at the undated aerial photograph on the cover of Joe Clabby’s two history books.
So as an idea of how things have changed.
Here’s how the waterfront looked even earlier, from two photographs taken by Lewis Wickes Hine in August 1911, now in the Library of Congress collection.


There’s nothing “quaint” about the place in these, is there?
I’m waiting to name a character Sorrell. And Hezekiah is what I would have loved to have named a son, not that I would have found support on that one. Maybe as a middle name?
In a story, I try to avoid using names of people I know, or at least know well. Ditto for close family. So they don’t count here. It certainly narrows the range. On top of everything, after multiple revisions, I don’t always remember what I’ve kept in the end.
Besides, a name should be suggestive.
Now for ten or so more.
For children, though, I’ve become very fond of handing down family names. Even using a maternal surname. Guess it’s the genealogist in me at work.
We haven’t even gotten to nicknames, which can really pop a character into focus. Think of “Willy” as one possibility.
How ‘bout some suggestions from you?
Have no idea why it started dancing around in my head. Maybe it’s an example of why I don’t write rhyming poetry.
It may be a small city, but even so, it was home. And much larger than where I’m now living.
So some of what I miss?
Eastport’s economic glory days were when the city was the Sardine Capital of the World.
They’re small herring and abounded in the waters around Eastport, where they were easily caught and delivered straight to the cannery atop the wharf.
Here are some related facts.


Look, don’t make me elaborate. Here are a few, in no particular order.
Your turn! Lay it on!
Each fall, donors to the Support the Met Broadcasts campaign receive a handsome program guide to the upcoming opera season.
I’ve kept mine, going back to 2005, and find they make a fine reference collection regarding both the plots and performers.
My own listening experience goes back to Joan Sutherland’s first role there in late 1961 or ’62. It was exciting, even through all of the AM radio static of the day.
While much of the core repertoire remains the same, there are also new productions and new or rare works, and it’s interesting to see how these are lined up.
What struck me in the new booklet is how few of the singers’ names I recognized.
When I first started listening, the leading performers were celebrities, often household names and gossip column fodder.
It was a tight circle at the top, in this country and in Europe, enhanced by handsome multidisc LP albums.
Think Pavarotti or Callas.
Well, times have changed, as has the focus. The singers are often more musically informed, and they’re required to physically to act and project their roles in sometimes demanding stagecraft. As for the sets and costumes? This is the height of theater.
The amazing thing is how many fine performers there are now, and they’re active far beyond the confines of the Met and its elite sisters.
There’s a similar shift in the conductors. I recognized only six who will be in the pit. The biggest surprise was seeing the Pittsburgh Symphony’s maestro among them, and he’s considered solid but hardly superstar. (Consider that a compliment, by the way.)
What’s significant is that one-fifth of them are women, one leading two separate operas. The cadre is growing.
What’s missing, though, is American-born conductors. They are active on the symphonic scene globally.
This was going to be about squirrels, my nemesis in Dover, but now I’m thinking of Bullwinkle and his kin.
After all, I am living on Moose Island, not that I’ve seen any in town yet. But then I’m not seeing many squirrels here, either. Instead, it’s mostly deer.
Now, for the star of today’s show.
In my relocation, I’ve often been on my own. And that means fully recognizing my tastes in food, rather than relying on my wife’s memory of what delights me.
Let’s go.
What would you add? Or maybe subtract?