Memoirs of a Maine-iac: Growing up in Maine in the 1940s

By David Mitchell Edes

This collection of stories will take you back to the exciting world of a boy growing up in the 1940's in the small rural town of Sangerville, Maine. From the great northern woods, to the rocky coast, Dave brings you along on his adventures. Struggling through the dreaded childhood killer Tuberculosis, almost perishing under the ice of a frozen pond and thwarting the attack of a bear are only a few of the exciting times in young Dave's life.

 

When he was older, he moved away from Maine for his work, and lived in places such as Arizona and California before settling in his current state of Florida, he still returns to visit Maine when he can, and will always consider himself a "Maine-iac" at heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edes Publishing Company
• Release date: May 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781943472833

Book preview

uncledave_cover.png

Memoirs of a Maine-iac

Written By

David Mitchell Edes

2604.png

✙

EDES PUBLISHING CO.

Memoirs of a Maine-iac

By David Mitchell Edes

2715.png

Copyright ©

2022

By David Mitchell Edes

---

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise without written permission of the copyright holder.

ISBN-10: 1-943472-83-1

ISBN-13: 978-1-943472-83-3

All rights reserved, Published by Edes Publishing Co.

Cover illustration: Lowe’s Bridge, Sangerville, Maine.

2725.png

Made in the United States of America

Dedication

To my parents.

Contents

Preface

Part One

MY BOYHOOD

ADVENTURES

Chapter 1

Moving in

Kale

Harvest

Games

Chapter 2

Scar Face

Chapter 3

Pig Prank

Chapter 4

Huntin’

Part Two

SOME

CHALLENGING

ADVENTURES

Chapter 5

TB

Mayo Memorial Hospital

Quarantine

Eighth Grade

Chapter 6

The Icing

Chapter 7

Basketball JV

Part Three

MY DRIVING

ADVENTURES

Chapter 8

Driver’s License

Appendix

Chapter 9

My Summer at Kokadjo

The Bear

My Job

Asking The Girl

The Campfire

Greenville

Payment

My Dream

Chapter 10

The Wood Lot

Chapter 11

Logging

Pittston Farm

Driving the Logging Truck

Part Four

EXPANDING

MY HORIZONS

Chapter 12

Baseball Story

Chapter 13

Shoah Dinnah

Chapter 14

Varsity Basketball

Epilogue

 Preface

As I look back on my childhood, I realize just how fortunate I was to have grown up in Maine. It is a beautiful state, with dense forests of maple, oak, birch, pine, spruce, and other evergreens and hardwoods, covering hills and valleys (some not so gentile of slope), and crowding the banks of lakes, rivers and streams, creating a veritable sportsman’s paradise!

Thankfully, urban sprawl has not reached into the central and northern part of the state, like it has in Florida, my present home state. Here in Florida, large tracts of land are completely cleared of vegetation to build homes, high-rise condominiums and apartment buildings. It leaves the land dead and uninviting, stripped of personality. Not so in Maine. Homes are built among the existing trees and undergrowth and blend into the landscape so they are not conspicuous as one drives along the secondary roads.

If one survives Maine’s sometimes brutal winters, the other three seasons are very pleasant. Spring may be a bit wet and slushy, depending upon the amount of snow fall that winter, but the summer time is ideal. Temperatures range in the 70’s to low 80’s during the day and cool mid to high 50’s in the evening and during the night. Summer rain is moderate with just enough showers to keep the grass green and the crops growing. But of all the seasons, Fall is my favorite time of year.

As the first cool weather starts to set in and possibly the first frost, the leaves on the hardwoods transform into multiple shades of red, orange, yellow and green and the hillsides are aglow with these beautiful colors. There are only a few days when the colors are at their brightest and most beautiful, and it varies every year. The sight is so impressive, that people come from all over the world just to see it and the Fall Foliage Tour companies strive to coordinate their tours with these times.

Those who live in Maine, however, experience the exact moment when nature is at its most amazing. It is truly wondrous and rather humbling to witness such awesome beauty every year and those who live in Maine cannot remain untouched by it. It impresses itself on you, becoming part of what it means to be a Maine-iac.

This collection of stories comes from the depths of my memories about growing up in a small town in Maine. When I got older, I moved away from Maine and now only come back to visit, but I am still a Maine-iac at heart. I wanted to share stories about some of the most influential people in my life during this time period. Who I am, is in large part formed by the friendships, shared life experiences, and inspiration I received from my association with these special people. This book is a way of my saying thank you to those who gave time out of their lives to invest in me. I am immensely thankful for their friendship and caring guidance, and without whose intervention in some cases I would not be here to share these tales.

Hopefully, this will also impart a look into the past, not only for the benefit of my family, and any interested in Maine history, but to share a glimpse of what it was like to be a Maine-iac in those years.

Part One

MY BOYHOOD

ADVENTURES

2538.png

Chapter 1

Moving in

D ad, this is the best idea! I exclaimed to my father as he cut the top two edges off the rectangular basketball back board and rounded them into a half moon shape.

My father chuckled quietly, I know that everyone else has them in a rectangle shape, but I did catch a glimpse of a picture of the backboards they are using in that big high school in Portland, and this is the new thing, he told me.

Well, this is going to be great! I’ll bet this is the only one in town, I said sweeping my arm around at the second story of the barn that we had cleared out to make a basketball court. Dad was sanding the edges smooth and getting ready to secure the rim and the net on the backboard. This was our first project that Dad did after buying the former farm house. The barn was filled with junk on the first floor and it was easier to clear off the second floor, which was originally used to store hay, to make our basketball court.

Wait until John sees this, I was chattering to him in excitement as we worked together, referring to my cousin. He loves basketball as much as we do, you know!

John won’t be visiting for another two weeks, my dad said thoughtfully, maybe you can show it to that boy down the street. He looks about your age, my dad suggested seeing my excitement. I think his name is Eric Small, he added.

Sure, I’ll go see if he’s around, I said. Maybe he’d like to come over and play here with me. I joyfully ran down the steps and out into the sunshine. It was a beautiful day and I saw the neighbor kid, Eric, out in his front yard.

In my excitement, I jogged quickly up to him, not really paying attention to what he was doing, and blundered into the middle of a solitaire marble game he was busily engaged in on the smoothed dirt.

Now look what you’ve done! Eric exclaimed angrily, throwing several marbles he’d been holding down in the dirt. I don’t know what you want, but I wish you’d get out of here! He snarled.

Taken aback at this reception, I bent to collect up the marbles that I’d kicked to give them back to him. As I reached out, he pushed my arm away to keep me from touching the marbles and catching me off balance, he shoved me back. I sat down hard in the dirt.

Hey, I retorted, you don’t have to be a sorehead, I was just going to pick them up for you. By that time I was getting angry, too. I was a good size and weight for my age, and although Eric was smaller, he looked wiry and fast. He was already on his feet and standing over me akimbo. I know you’re new here kid, but I don’t like you! he exclaimed.

Not to be bested, I replied sharply, I don’t like you either, so if you’ll move aside, I’ll go back home. I was only coming by to ask you something. I was being nice!

You call that nice? the other answered and as I started to get up, he shoved me down again.

That does it! I yelled and pushed him hard enough to shove him onto the ground. I was a pretty peace loving kid, but my ire was up and this kid was asking for it. I jumped to my feet and stood waiting for him, my hands tightened into fists and ready in fighting position.

He jumped back to his feet and charged into me. I had all I could do to meet his rush with equal force and push him back. After that, it was a punching, kicking wrestling match with us in close combat, grappling together and rolling in the grass and dirt.

The fight had drawn a few onlookers from the neighbors and a young girl who had come out of one of the houses began crying loudly as we wrestled frantically.

I pushed Eric’s face into the grass and he turned it to the side while I held it there, his ear pressed against the ground.

Give up? I asked through gritted teeth.

No! he grunted as he threw me off.

We grappled like that for another few minutes, until we were disheveled, sweaty and covered with dirt. Both of us were winded, but neither of us really had the advantage, although I really felt like I was somewhat ahead.

Why are you so angry, anyway? I asked panting. I didn’t do anything to you.

Yes, you did! You moved in, Eric said also panting.

You mean, you’re angry at me because I moved here?

Yeah, this is my street! I’m in charge here, and I run things. You come around here and act like you own it.

So that was it, this whole ‘fist-a-cuffs’ was because I was a new kid and I had to prove myself. I knew instinctively that I’d better hold my own or I’d never be able to hold my head up in the neighborhood ever again. I didn’t have any choice, I wasn’t going to back down on his challenge.

This is my street now, too, I said, deliberately provoking him, so, get used to it!

Not if I can help it! Eric said, flying at me again.

We grappled again but the fight lacked the same intensity as before. I could tell Eric was getting pretty tired, and I was flagging myself, but I felt that I had represented myself well and that I had earned my right-of-passage so I wouldn’t be embarrassed for the rest of my life. We’d sufficiently battled it out and Eric had proven himself a worthy opponent. Although neither of us were seriously injured, I still felt like I was coming out on the winning end. We were both sitting in the dirt warily eying each other.

You can keep your stupid street, I told Eric as we paused for breath again.

I plan to, Eric replied. So, you’re running off home like a baby?

No! I’d go back home just to get away from you, I told him in disgust, but, I don’t want you to be telling everyone that you beat me, so you’ll have to make me, if you can, I told him holding my ground.

We continued to sit there relaxing slightly.

What did you come to tell me, anyway? I’ll bet it was something dumb, Eric growled.

I came to ask you over to try out our new basketball court in the barn, I told him, but, I don’t want you to come see it now, so forget it.

Eric wiped his face with the back of his hand. He was bleeding from a cut on his cheek and looked at the blood in annoyance.

A basketball court, huh? Eric said thoughtfully.

Yeah, a really great one. It takes up the whole second floor of the barn.

That’s a pretty big barn, Eric said. You play basketball? he asked in interest as the onlookers wandered back to what they had been doing before the altercation.

I sure do! It’s my favorite game, I told him. Do you?

Yeah, it’s my favorite, too.

Our backboards are half moons, I added. None of the schools around here have ‘em, except the ones down in Portland. My dad saw them. He’s a basketball coach, you know.

Wow, Eric muttered clearly interested. I’d sure like to see it.

I got to my feet. You want to? I asked him, reaching out and offering him a hand up. Eric took the offered hand and got up.

Sure! Hey, I’ll introduce you to Jack at the farm next door later, if you want. My parents don’t like me going over there ‘cause of Jack’s parents drinking all the time, but they’re really fun, you’ll like them. And there’s lots of things they let you do.

That sounds great, I told him. By the time we were at the barn looking like we’d had a box of dirt poured on us, we were chattering like old friends.

My dad took one look at us, surmised what had happened, and tossed us a basketball.

Kale

The next day, Eric and I were well on our way to becoming the best friends we would be for the rest of our lives, and Eric true to his word stopped by. I was shooting baskets on the barn court when Eric climbed the stairs and caught the ball after it dropped through the net from my last shot. He dribbled for a minute and took a shot himself, and I collected the ball for him. We played for a few minutes like that, then took a break. We sat on some chairs we had assembled along one wall for the spectators that we knew we’d soon have.

Want to go over to Crain’s farm? They are great people, Eric asked me as we sat there.

Sure, I agreed. But, that’s not really what I heard, I said. My dad told me the same thing that your parents said. He said that they are pretty rough guys and that they drink a lot.

Ah, yeah. My parents think they are a bad influence, too, but they will let you help with the chores, and sometimes they will give you some money for helping. I’m saving up for a bike! Eric said triumphantly. Anyway, they are always doing something. One day you’ll be there and get to help with milking the cows, then next time you go, they’ll be feeding the pigs, or mowing hay. And you really don’t want to miss when they plow the fields. They grow potatoes, you know, Eric added as we got up and started down the stairs. We wandered out of the barn and headed across the road, Eric filling me in as we went.

There are two brothers, Eric told me. One of them, Dick, has his mother living with him and his wife, he told me as we walked, pointing out things along the way. That’s Dick’s house, he indicated a simple farm house at one side of the drive, And John and his wife live over there, he pointed to the other house on the property. Jack is their son.

Jack?

Yeah, he’s a lot older than us, but he’s really great.

How much older?

Oh, I don’t know, about six years older, I guess, I don’t think he’s in the grade he should be in, though. But, he knows lots of stuff.

As we walked across the farm yard, there were a few other kids that I recognized from the neighborhood that were gathered in front of the barn, and a rough looking man was talking to them and gesturing to one of the fields.

That’s Dick, Eric told me. As Eric and I got closer, the man haled us.

Do you boys want to go swimming?

We looked at each other.

We sure do, we said simultaneously.

We are going over to the beach after we get some chores done, if you want to come. First, we need to get some weeds pulled from the potatoes, though. It’s pretty hot work, so if you all help we’ll get done a lot faster and then we can head over to the lake to go swimming.

Do you really mean it? one kid asked skeptically. You told us that last week, but you never took us.

You didn’t work fast enough, and we ran out of time last week, Dick explained.

What about yesterday, the kid persisted.

I can’t help it the truck wouldn’t start yesterday, he said looking somewhat irritated that we doubted his word. But look, he pointed to the truck sitting in front of the house. I got the pick up all fixed up and it’s running great. I’ve also cleaned the back of the truck all out just this morning, all by myself, he sounded like we should have known he was doing it and it was our job to be there to help. Remember the grain sacks that were in there? Everyone nodded. Well, do you see ‘em there now? Everyone shook their head. That’s because they are all in the barn now and no one was here to help.

Somehow I felt personally guilty at that remark like I should have known that he would need help unloading his truck and if I’d been there, I would have been doing a benevolent deed that would ensure that I was a step closer to getting into heaven.

There’s nothing to stop us from getting to the lake today, Dick assured us with complete confidence. At that proclamation we all let out a whoop!

I got caught up in the excitement about getting to go to the lake to go swimming. There was a somewhat sandy area that we called the beach at the end of the road that led out to the lake, and it was a favorite summer hangout. I could already imagine being all hot from working in the sun, running and jumping into the back of the pick up, bouncing down the road with my friends with the wind blowing our hair and clothes, then piling out and running into the cold refreshing water. The thought of the cool refreshing swim after completing some chores, captivated all of us and we eagerly awaited instructions.

We were excited at the task for the day which would enable us to reap our reward. It was to pull some dark green leafy weeds out from the long rows of potatoes to keep them from choking out the young potato plants. It was a noble deed to help the potatoes grow and prosper and we were energized for the job. I have since discovered that the green leafy plants growing with the potatoes was kale, a valuable crop in its own right in today’s world, but at the time it wasn’t considered edible, we just pulled it and threw it between the rows to lay there and decay back into the soil.

The field had been partially weeded already, so we all spread out and got to work. There were five of us all together and we talked animatedly to each other as we worked. The sun was hot on our backs and heads and we began to mop our faces with the backs of our forearms. My hands were getting raw and sore from pulling some of the larger more well rooted stalks, but the hotter I got and the more sweaty I became, the more I glanced at the pick up truck. The pick up truck almost seemed to be calling me. It began to look like the shimmering mirage of an oasis in a desert. I imagined us climbing into that truck bed in such minute detail that I could see us all in it already.

When we finally finished pulling the last of our own rows of weeds, we began to join up to help each other finish the rows in turn until we were all pulling together around the last boy that had any weeds to pull. In triumph, we finished the last row together and even though very tired, all started at a jog towards where the truck was.

We reached the location of the truck and stopped and stared at the spot where the truck had been only minutes before. The truck was gone!

We all looked around to see if the truck had been moved. One boy ran to the barn and looked in, then ran all the way around the barn and a second boy ran out to the street and looked up and down it. The rest of us peered around the trees and bushes. Finished searching, we reconvened at the empty place.

He’s gone! Eric said in disbelief. And I believed that he really meant it this time.

What do you mean, I asked. He probably just went over to the store for something.

No, he’s gone, Eric said dejected. I knew it! He never takes us swimming. Something always comes up.

I think he plans it, one of the kids said. I always fall for it, too, but I sure believed he meant to take us this time!

Yeah, me too, came a chorus from the others.

He tells us he’ll take us swimming, then he always backs out, Eric said to me. Come on, let’s go home.

Don’t you want to wait a little to see if he comes back? I asked in disappointment.

He’s not coming back, there’s no use, one of the boys told me in dejected tones. I’m going home, too.

Dirty and tired, the small band of friends, of which I was now a completely accepted member, trooped across the street and dispersed to our individual houses.

That’s a pretty dirty trick, I told Eric later as we sat on the sidelines of our second story basketball court.

It sure is, Eric agreed. But, he does it all the time, he makes us believe that he is going to take us, we believe him, then we don’t go.

Well, we sure had fun anyway, I said remembering the camaraderie of my kale picking friends in the field.

Yeah, it was swell, Eric agreed. I guess that is why I keep going over there even though I know that they are just teasing us about the beach.

It was worth going over for the fun, I agreed.

Summer was never long enough and soon we were back in school and cold weather was fast approaching. It was potato harvesting time at the Crain farm before we