Maine Times, Aug 19, 2009

From New Hampshire, we moved on to the Maine, en route to Quebec Provence. We stopped in Turner, Maine to visit with my cousin, Horace. (Horace, aka as Sonny in much earlier days) is my mother's nephew.) Horace is is an ardent genealogist and has done extensive research on our family tree -- tracing some branches back as far as the Mayflower. Madeline and I spent a day with Horace, visiting cemeteries and various areas where my mother and her parents lived as a child.

The picture on the left, is what was once the Horace True farm on Upper Street Road. My mother visited here frequently when she was a girl, and her aunts used to live here.

This barn was on the farm where Charles Moody lived. It is in Turner, Maine. There is a cellar hole nearby where the house was. This is the farm my where my mother was born, and raised until the family moved to Auburn..

Some of my ancestors moved from Massachusetts in the early 1800's, settling in Minot, Maine. The original house they settled in was on top of a hill and the house and barn have since disappeared.

However one house of an early relative is still standing, and there is a picture of it above. Note the narrow windows and the window over the front door -- characteristics of homes of that early period.

After sending a delightful two days with my cousin we moved on to Arcadia National Park on Mount Desert Island. We camped near Bar Harbor. We had beautiful weather, while we were there. We spent some time examining the rocky shore, and drove up Mount Cadillac Mountain. The harbors, with the fishing boats and pine trees on the rocky shores are beautiful. On the left is a typical scene from Southwest Harbor.

There are a number of lighthouses around the Island. There is a nice picture that Madeline took of the lighthouse at Bass Harbor.

We had to wait to get a new water pump delivered from the RV factory in Alabama. This was a good place to do it, with the beautiful surroundings and nice neighbors. We were parked next to two RVs belonging to fellow Escapees, and met another family, that were just beginning to RV half time. Nearby was a patch of wild, low bush blueberries. We were able to pick enough in about 15 minutes to make blueberry muffins every night! Thanks, Debbie, for the great recipe in your family cookbook.

We are now in a campground near Eastport, Maine. Last evening we went down to the dock at Eastport. the tides are truly high here. The floating docks with the attached boats were probably fifteen feet below the piers. A number of people were fishing with poles off the piers. As is usually the case twelve-to-fifteen-year-old boys were catching most of the fish --- reeling in mackerel three at a time on triple-baited lines.

New England Yankees (meaning "natives" from Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont) have always had a peculiar relationship with out-of staters -- disliking them as a being intrusive, but of course, like any individual out-of stater they know. There was an interesting article in a local paper, The Fisherman's Voice, complaining about having to wait in line at grocery stores, while rich out-of-state people wait for their VISA card to clear. Anyway -- there is a new name for out-of state people --- "picked ears". Read this quote -- it is kind of funny.

"Lo and behold, someone discovered the charge card. Now we get picked ears everywhere. They leave home with a ten dollar bill in their pocket and a clean shirt in a bag. They stay a month and they never change either one. You come in off the water after a hard days fishing and stop at the local store on your way home. There they are, picked ears ten deep at the cash register trying to palm off some kind of charge card that half the time the cashier never heard of.

They stand there, trying one card after another while your beer is getting warm and your temper is getting hot. "

Picked ears -- that is a new one to me. I wonder where it came from.