A new beginning was what my husband and I perceived as we left for Maine. We drove from Woodstock, Vermont to the Waldo County village of Bayside, Maine in March 1984. Hiring a moving truck which got stuck in the driveway of our rented log house was the first obstacle. After all, it was mud season.

We had visited friends in Brooks several times, once in a pop up camper, parking in their sheep pasture. Waking up to baying sheep and a curly sheep face peeking in the screened window is a memory I’ll never forget. We always had memorable trips to Maine; whether it was driving thru Lubec in August fog so thick as to be in a dream; or waking up in the back of our camper to the barking seals in the misty harbor; or hunched over in the chilled sea air, eating homemade sandwiches on the mailboat from Northeast Harbor to the islands. Maine has always given us a hug.

Waving goodby to our Vermont spirits, we started our drive east over the Kancamagus Highway in two vehicles. My husband drove a 1979 silver Cheyenne Blazer, and I followed in my 1980 green VW Rabbit with our two-month old daughter snuggled in her carseat next to me.

Loaded up with our CB radios, the plan was to blink my headlights when she needed to nurse, alerting him to find a place to pull over and stop. Since there was little traffic, it was easily accomplished. I have forgotten how many times I blinked those headlights, but it probably took a lot of patience on his part to constantly check the rearview mirror for my blinking lights and to find a place to stop.

The moving truck rolled its muddy tires east to Brooks where we were able to unload and store our belongings in our friend’s barn until we got settled. When we arrived at the furnished cottage in the Waldo County village of Bayside we discovered the only heat source was a Vermont Castings stove. Our friends left us some slab wood, so we were all set for awhile.

After my husband left for his office in Camden the next morning, I found myself alone with a two-month old watching the curtains blow on their bungee cords as the sea wind curled thru the window frames. After calling my husband to inform him of the situation, our friend arrived with a kerosene heater, which provided the needed warmth and turned my daughter from a cool blue to a warm rosy pink to my relief.

Once we adjusted to our coastal cottage environment, we enjoyed the peaceful village off-season, walking to the docks, and hanging out with the neighbors who welcomed us in.

It was a special time in our lives, embracing life with a newborn in a new state more spacious in area and in mind than Vermont. We spread our wings, and our wing span took us east over the Kancamagus Highway, and we gave Maine a hug back.

— Special to the Telegram

Copy the Story Link

« Previous

Through heart failure, stroke and transplant, a young mother powered on

Next »

Our View: Maine can’t afford to be cheap with direct care workers