The North Pond Hermit
The first place I saw a coyote.
Learning to love an old house for, rather than despite, its imperfections.
True or false: There are more lawyers in Maine than lobstermen.
Down East comes to the iPad.
Maine in ten years.
Looking back at former Down East art director Francis "Frank" Hamabe.
Going to high school in Portland in the early eighties, and how the city has changed over the last thirty years.
When I was in high school and college, I spent my summers working in various capacities at the Black Point Inn on Prouts Neck. I started as a dishwasher, graduated the following year to the grounds crew, and even did a stint as a night watchman (a job that mostly involved chasing raccoons out of the hallways and local kids out of the pool) before I finally found my true calling as a bellman. I didn’t think much of the position at the time, but, in retrospect, I realize that working the bell desk was a pretty good gig.
Summer in Maine is all about house guests. In the springtime Mainers begin receiving unexpected calls and emails from old college classmates and second cousins twice removed who are planning a trip to the Pine Tree State, and by the way, would we happen to have a spare room where they could spend the night? Being obliging sorts by nature, we dust off the porch, launder the linens, and shake the road sand out of the welcome mat. When you are entertaining company, you want your place to look good.