Dear Gov. LePage,

How goes the vacation?

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The University of Maine "has come up with a golf ball made from, get this, crushed lobster shells," Bill Nemitz notes.

I’m not sure if you’ve been firing up your laptop between golf rounds down there in Jamaica, but it sure looks like you picked a great week to flee damp, dreary Maine for a few days of fun in the sun.

Say what? You’re tuning us out completely?

Can’t say I blame you.

If I had 350 angry citizens outside my empty office hollering for me to put back the labor mural, I’m not sure I’d be streaming it live via the Internet, either.

And if eight senators from my own party had just published an astoundingly public rebuke of my first three months as governor, I’d probably hit the “delete” button, freshen up my little umbrella drink and go practice my short game on the practice green.

Then there’s that recall thing winding its way through the House of Representatives — I’ll bet that’s putting a little more pop in your swing every time you tee off!

Which brings me to why I’m so boldly interrupting your not-so-hard-earned vacation.

After months of “go to hell” and “kiss my butt” and “ladies with little beards” and calling your fellow Mainers “idiots,” I’ve come across a new slogan that’s guaranteed to get you some desperately needed good press — here in Maine and across the nation.

Repeat after me, Governor: “Lobster Balls.”

Stop giggling, sir. This isn’t an anatomical joke about Maine’s trademark crustacean. (And I’m praying you’ll resist the urge to turn it into one.)

No, Governor, this is about business. It’s about innovation. It’s about creativity and branding and education and all the things that go into turning empty political rhetoric about being “business friendly” into real-life economic development.

You see, Governor, while you were busy last week dodging political brickbats and packing for your Caribbean getaway, the University of Maine announced that it has come up with a golf ball made from, get this, crushed lobster shells.

That’s right, sir. David Neivandt, a professor in UMaine’s department of chemical and biological engineering, and Alex Caddell, a university student from Winterport who knows his way around a driving range, unveiled a perfectly normal-looking golf ball with “UMaine” and a small lobster printed on it.

It gets even better. If all goes according to plan — working in conjunction with The Lobster Institute, the researchers already have obtained a provisional patent on their can’t-miss product — the lobster ball soon will be mass-produced and marketed to the cruise-ship industry for guys, just like you, who like to hit a few while traversing the ocean blue.

OK, so it’s not a top-of-the-line Titleist. In fact, cruise ship or no cruise ship, the lobster ball’s susceptibility to damage by the golf club makes it a one-hit wonder.

But consider the upside here, Governor.

The lobster ball is made from a waste material that, as Professor Neivandt put it last week, “is currently miserably underutilized” here in Maine. (Not to mention it stinks to high heaven.)

What’s more, the lobster ball is 100 percent biodegradable. (Heck, with the right “Maine’s putting the lobster back in the ocean!” campaign, you might even talk People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals into jumping aboard. Winning!)

And best of all, it’s proof positive that Maine is home to smart, innovative young researchers who are eager to put a positive spin on the state’s most recognizable brand. (No, sir, not Marden’s. Work with me here — we’re talking about the Maine lobster.)

Now I admit that when I first read about the lobster balls, Governor, I quickly scanned the UMaine press release looking for your name. Or better yet, a photo of you, Big Bertha driver in hand, thwacking one lobster ball after another into Penobscot Bay while federally protected sea gulls frantically dove for cover.

But alas, you were nowhere to be found. If memory serves, it was around the same time you were calling a significant number of your constituents “idiots.”

To be fair, the good folks at UMaine tell me last week’s lobster ball rollout was a relatively low-key affair that didn’t include an invitation for Maine’s chief executive to get in a few pre-vacation practice swings.

Still, Governor, guys who held this office before you — I’m thinking Angus King, for one — often seemed to have a knack for spotting those priceless moments when Maine’s traditions intersect with its technologies. And more importantly, they made sure they were there to promote the hell out of them.

You? Well, let’s see: You’ve tacked up an “Open for Business” sign alongside the Maine Turnpike and … and … and … hmmm, that’s about it.

I just got off the phone with Jake Ward, UMaine’s assistant vice president for research and economic development. He tells me that all kinds of fascinating things are happening at UMaine’s Foster Center for Student Innovation — an entrepreneurial incubator where kids from all academic disciplines begin with “what if?” and, more often than not, end with “we did it!”

Ward also tells me that since last week’s lobster-ball launch, UMaine has fielded several inquiries from companies that want to buy them or, even better, manufacture them.

Not bad, huh Governor? And not a shred of red tape in sight!

So here’s my suggestion.

When you get back next week, take a ride up to Orono and see what Professor Neivandt and his kids have been quietly creating and building while you’ve been busy tying Maine in political knots.

(You might also check out the “Bridge in a Backpack” that last week landed UMaine’s Advanced Structures Composites Center a prestigious award from the American Society for Civil Engineering — your office apparently missed that announcement too.)

Once you’re finished touring the facility, step up to the media horde awaiting you in the lobby and tell them (nicely) you’re not there to rehash the recent past, but rather to focus on the future.

Then reach for your Big Bertha, tee one up and say with a can-do smile, “Folks, let me tell you the story of Maine’s lobster balls.”

Trust me, Governor, by the time you’re finished, all of Maine will be breathing a sigh of relief.

Even the bearded ladies.

Columnist Bill Nemitz can be contacted at 791-6323 or at: bnemitz@mainetoday.com

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