Posted on February 9, 2011


Old-time photos from Around Here run to the Civic Group picture, in which everyone in Eastport lines up in front of the Gleaners Hall in uncomfortable clothes, and the Whoa, Looka the Size of those Logs! picture, in which everyone in the lumbering camp climbs atop several hundred tons of white pine stacked in the approved manner. The people are dwarfed by their enterprise, by the trees, the snowbanks, the lakes.

But every now and then . . . I can’t take my eyes off a face. A stranger steps right out of 1900 and into my cabin, shoos the Duo off the couch, sits down and looks expectant. Tell my story.

There are so many stories, and I don’t know enough about any of them, and they ramble around and intertwine and go off down a hundred rabbit trails. Where do I start? And what’s the ending? Nobody knows. Just begin. Keep going ’til you get there. That’s what we did.