Insight: Seven things I’ll never do again

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

Don’t bother to ask me because the answer will always be no.

Here’s a list of seven things that I have done in my life previously that I simply will say I will never, ever do again and a brief explanation as to why not.

#1. Remove the gas pedal from an automobile. On a Saturday morning when I was about 8, my father asked me if I wanted to ride along with him when he went shopping at a nearby five-and-dime store. When he went into the store, I stayed behind in the car. Crawling along on the floorboard, I went to get up and grabbed the gas medal by mistake. It broke off, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t reattach it. I propped it up as if nothing had happened but when my father returned and tried to start the car, he noticed what had happened. He told me that if I ever did that again, he wouldn’t ask me to ride with him anymore.

#2. Handle a snake. When I was a member of the U.S. Air Force, I went to a party at a friend’s house, and he showed me several of his pet snakes. He insisted that I hold one of them and to not show fear in front of the other party guests, I held it briefly and the entire time that it was happening my knees were shaking, and I was trembling deep down inside with fright. I swore thereafter to never do that again and I’ve kept that vow for more than four decades now and counting.

#3. Arrive at a fire scene before the fire department while covering it for the newspaper. Once while working in the newsroom for a daily newspaper in New Hampshire, I listened to a radio call for firefighters to respond to a house fire. I knew exactly where the fire was and drove there quickly, arriving at least a minute before the fire trucks got there. A fire truck parked behind me and a firefighter laid two 6-inch fire hoses up the middle of the street, making it impossible for me to leave once the fire department had extinguished the fire. I had to wait for 45 minutes afterward until the fire hoses had been drained and reeled up before I could drive away.

#4. Eat lima beans, parsnips, artichokes or Brussels sprouts. When I was growing up, my mother was a stay-at-home mom and instituted a “Vegetable of the Day” program for our household. She said she did it to introduce us to the taste of as many different types of vegetables as possible. Through that experience, I came to loathe lima beans, parsnips, artichokes and Brussels sprouts and made myself a promise that I would try to avoid eating them in the future. I can honestly say I have never willingly ordered any of those vegetables throughout my adult life.

#5. Wear waist Size 32 or 34 pants. For at least 10 years when I was in my 30s, I only purchased trousers which were waist size 32. At age 41, that increased to waist size 34. But by the time I turned 45, my waist expanded again to a size 36 and I’ve pretty much stayed there ever since. It’s reassuring to know that I cannot fit into Size 32 or Size 34 pants, so I don’t even try to.

#6. Report at the scene of a fire without checking with firefighters. When I was a newspaper reporter in the 1980s, my editor sent me to cover a massive mobile home blaze. I got there and ran up the driveway while starting to take photos. Suddenly I heard a fireman behind me shouting for me to stop and not take another step. I looked down at my feet and noticed a live electric wire wriggling around and snapping just inches from my shoes. They never taught us this in journalism classes in college, but I have made it a point since then that if I am out covering a fire somewhere, I always ask firefighters where they advise is a place that I can stand and observe things safely.

#7. Pick up a stack of lumber without checking what’s underneath it first. Living on a farm in New Mexico in the 1970s, I was gathering small pieces of wood to use as kindling for the fireplace. We had a pile of old lumber behind a barn on the property, and I thought I’d grab a few pieces from there for kindling. I didn’t realize it but underneath the first few pieces there, hornets had decided to make a nest for the winter, and I ended up getting stung 44 times on my arms, on the top of my head and all over my back. Forced to drive myself to the urgent care clinic, I watched the physician carefully remove as many of the stingers as he could find over the course of the next hour. After that painful incident, I vowed that I would never reach blindly into a pile of wood without examining the wood pile first and I’ve zealously kept that promise. <

Andy Young: Exploring uncharted gourmet waters

By Andy Young

It’s ironic I’ve ended up living near what’s considered one of America’s premier “foodie” cities, because as a kid I spent less time at restaurants than Abraham Lincoln passed surfing the web.

Our family never went out for dinner, aside from stopping at a Howard Johnson’s when we traveled to Montreal the year after the World’s Fair there. The closest we came to dining out was when our mother would, on rare occasions, pick up a bucket of chicken from the Drumstick Bar-B-Q on her way home from work.

The first time I remember eating in an actual dining establishment was during my senior year of high school. When the place where I worked closed for the summer, Barney, our boss, decided to reward his half-dozen high-school-aged employees with a trip to a local restaurant. Since the community where we lived was completely devoid of eateries, our dining out experience would take place in an adjacent town.

Due to my inexperience in the sort of surroundings I’d be visiting, or perhaps because I was something of a picky eater, my mom gave me a pre-night-out talk about proper restaurant etiquette. She encouraged me to have an open mind, and to try a little bit of everything. She also stressed the importance of saying “Please” and “Thank you” to the people who’d be serving us, and to Barney for his kindness.

Our destination, it turned out, was the Golden House, which on the outside looked something like a pagoda. Never mind Asian food; the closest thing I’d experienced to any ethnic cuisine was my mom’s meat-and-vegetable sauce poured over La Rosa spaghetti. Barney announced he’d do all the ordering and began by requesting a Pu Pu platter. For obvious reasons I didn’t want any part of anything with “Poo-Poo” in it, but remembering my mother’s pre-dinner instructions, I gritted my teeth and accepted the first item sent my way, something called an “egg roll.” I had always hated eggs, but there was no dog under the table to surreptitiously pass it to, so, water glass at the ready to provide a chaser, I braved a tentative nibble from the suspicious-looking golden-brown object.

It wasn’t too bad, so I took another bite. Then I devoured the whole thing, along with the remains of one the kid next to me had foolishly placed on a napkin that was within my reach. When the main dishes (several of which were aflame) arrived, I heeded my mother’s counsel, trying a little bit of everything. For openers I sampled the pork fried rice and vegetable lo mein. Then I took some moo goo gai pan. After my third helping of pepper steak, I loosened my belt a notch, then removed it entirely a few moments later, after dispatching yet another steamed dumpling. I’m not sure my mom would have approved of having her son take his belt off in public and stick it in his pocket, but by the time I did so, I was confident that my pants were in no danger of falling down. Besides, I needed to breathe. The meal concluded with a fortune cookie, although I’m still waiting for the good financial news that the paper inside it promised was right around the corner.

When it was all over, I couldn’t believe I had let 18 whole years go by without knowing of the existence of Chinese cuisine.

I’d love to go back to the Golden House sometime, assuming it’s still in existence. Now if only I can find a boss willing to pick up the tab for me and five age-alike friends! <

Andy Young: Looking forward … and back

By Andy Young

“You have the power to change the world, whether through grand gestures, or quiet moments of compassion,” RSU 21 Superintendent of Schools Dr. Terri Cooper told Kennebunk High School’s Class of 2025 at the school’s sesquicentennial (150th) graduation ceremony earlier this month. She later added that the day was “not an ending, but a beginning.”

For me her message rang both true and eerily familiar, because the previous day I had attended the reunion of my own high school class on the 50th anniversary of our graduation.

When I heard several months ago that the Class of 1975 was going to get together, I wasn’t sure I’d attend, particularly when I learned the date was the day before the commencement ceremony at the school where I’ve taught for the past 23 years. It’s a lengthy drive to where I grew up, so I’d have had a reasonable excuse for begging off. But after learning attendees would be coming from, among other places, North Carolina, Texas, Virginia, Colorado, Missouri, and California, well, being reluctant to make a mere 470-mile round trip from Maine sounded pretty weak.

Thankfully name tags had been provided, which was fortunate, since most of my erstwhile classmates had been frozen in my mind’s eye as 18-year-olds. Five decades of living can radically change a person’s outer shell; they’ve definitely altered mine. There have been other less noticeable physical changes in our chronological peers as well. I quickly lost count of our class’s collective number of joint replacement surgeries.

At one point I found myself renewing acquaintances with a circle of six people I had ridden the morning kindergarten bus with – in 1962!

There wasn’t nearly enough time to touch base with everyone I wanted to, even if I hadn’t gotten lost on some local back roads and arrived 45 minutes late. Each attending alumnus has lived (and is living) a unique and remarkable life.

I heard about personal and professional successes and setbacks from teachers, bankers, social workers, lawyers, and accountants. I visited with widows, widowers, divorcees, couples who’ve been wed for 40-plus years, and individuals who’ve never married. A significant number of attendees still reside around where we grew up; including at least one who lives in the house he was raised in.

Some Class of 75er’s have children nearing 50 years old; others have multiple grandchildren, and at least one has three children still attending college. Nearly all have lost parents, although I did learn of two still-extant mothers-of-classmates (ages 99 and 98), along with a 95-year-old dad. An unlucky few have experienced the excruciating pain of losing a child, but in the face of that unimaginable tragedy discovered strength and resilience they were previously unaware that they possessed.

The level of energy in the room that afternoon was high, although maybe that was to be expected, since those living less happily most likely passed on coming to the event. Perhaps another reason for the positive vibes: not one person, or at least no one I interacted with, uttered a word about politics.

I found myself counting my blessings the next afternoon. Not everyone gets to go to a festive high school graduation and a 50th class reunion on the same weekend.

The Class of 2025 is full of eager young people who can’t wait to start making their mark on the world, be it through grand gestures or quiet moments of compassion. Which, oddly enough, is exactly what the remaining members of the Class of 1975 are still aspiring to do as well. We’ve just got a little less time remaining to make our impactful contribution(s). <

Insight: ‘Illusion-grams’ and utter nonsense

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

I recently saw a post on a popular social media platform mentioning that American soldiers who fought in Europe during World War II were misguided and it wasn’t all that bad, in fact it was merely a tool concocted to help lift Americans out of the poverty of the Great Depression.

Ed Pierce, Sr. graduated from
high school in 1943 and was 
drafted into the U.S. Army,
serving in combat in North
Africa and Italy during
World War II.
COURTESY PHOTO 

The person posting that nonsense has no idea what he is talking about and is certainly a good reason for me to stay off social media. My father, who would have turned 100 this year if he was still alive, would have refuted that post and would shake his head at some of the misinformation and untruths which pop up often on social media these days.

Yes, my father and his family did experience abject poverty in the Great Depression. He was the youngest of nine children and over the years, he related to me what it was like to be poor and how it shaped his life growing up.

While other students at Fairport High School outside of Rochester, New York were playing sports or participating in other after-school activities, my father worked two jobs. On Saturday mornings he received a penny for every bowling pin he placed upright on a lane as a pinspotter at a bowling alley. When classes in school finished on weekdays, he then went to his job at a company that made tin cans for businesses and paid him just 13 cents an hour.

There wasn’t money for anyone in the family to go to the movies, buy new clothes, or purchase groceries regularly. No one in his family owned a car, and he walked six miles into town for school and then back home again every single day.

My father had thought about attending college after high school but wondered how he could ever pay for it. On the same day that he graduated from Fairport High School, his draft notice arrived in the mail and those plans were put on hold. He trained as an infantryman at Camp Fannin in Texas and soon thereafter he departed the U.S. on a troop ship bound for Libya in North Africa.

He told me that although he considered his family to be poor, he witnessed seeing real extreme poverty in Libya as families would raid the soldiers’ trash dump and convert discarded burlap bags into clothing worn by their children. In Morocco, he saw residents scrounging for potato peelings from the Army dump to make a meal.

Leaving North Africa, my father was part of the U.S. contingent of troops landing at Anzio Beach, Italy in January 1944. In one of the bloodiest battles of the war, with Nazi troops holding the high ground overlooking the landing beach. He watched many of his friends die as Germans rained down machine gun fire and launched deadly mortars upon Americans on the beach.

A few months later, as my father’s unit was advancing on the town of Cisterna in Italy, he was shot in the back by a sniper while trying to repair a broken communications line. He survived his wounds and was discharged from his military service in 1946. He enrolled at Manhattan College in New York City and used the GI Bill to study mechanical engineering, finishing his degree after transferring to the Rochester Institute of Technology and working a series of part-time jobs in addition to his college studies to pay for his textbooks.

I constantly would ask my father to tell me about his wartime experiences. We would watch a television show called “Combat” in the 1960s and he told me that program came close to what it was like to serve on the front lines during the war. He eventually shared a few stories with me when I was in high school and they were gruesome and disturbing.

He told me about being part of an exploratory mission in Italy after surviving the landing at Anzio Beach and stopping to rest briefly under a tree with several other soldiers. They heard rifle shots and suddenly, two soldiers that were sitting next to my father keeled over dead having been shot in the head. On another occasion, my father said he witnessed the remnants of a German unit in Italy who were burned alive in a bunker after being torched by an American flamethrower.

More than 30 years later, I enlisted in the U.S. Air Force and saw the results of World War II in Europe for myself. There was still extensive damage to some buildings and infrastructure in Germany and cemeteries were filled with soldiers killed in the war.

In the Frankfurt, Germany town square, I saw a memorial dedicated to Jewish residents who were rounded up in that city and taken to concentration camps or sent for extermination in Nazi gas chambers. I spoke with German and Dutch families who lost loved ones in the war and never recovered afterward.

To say that World War II wasn’t all that bad and was nothing more than a tool to lift Americans out of Great Depression era poverty is ludicrous and a propagation of misinformation.

As Phineas T. Barnum is known for saying, “There’s a sucker born every minute.” <

Insight: If love is blind can marriage be game show fodder?

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

Growing up in the 1960s, spending Saturday evenings at home with my parents was tough when I was a teenager, especially when they controlled what our family watched on television.

'The Newlywed Game' was created by Chuck Barris and
featured newly married couples predicting answers by
their spouses to win a 'Grand Prize. It aired on Saturday
evenings on ABC Television in the 1960s and 1970s.
COURTESY PHOTO  

“The Newlywed Game” was a staple of not only Saturday night viewing in our household but my mother never missed an episode when it aired weekdays. The show was hosted by Bob Eubanks, a popular young disc jockey and promoter of Beatles concerts and later the manager of country performers such as Dolly Parton, Barbara Mandrell, Marty Robbins and Merle Haggard.

Each “Newlywed” show followed the same format with four couples married under two years competing in three rounds for a grand prize. The first set of four questions was posed to the husbands or wives with their spouses isolated offstage. They were asked by Eubanks to predict how their spouse would answer the questions.

If their answers matched the ones their spouse gave, they were awarded a series of points, starting with five points for each correct question in Round 1, ten points for Round 2 answers and a 25-point bonus question for the final round. The game show sets were sparsely decorated with a podium on the side of the stage for the host, eight seats for the contestants, sheer curtains at the back of the stage and an electronic scoreboard for each couple in front of their seats.

The concept for “The Newlywed Game” came from the mind of Chuck Barris and was intended as a companion series to “The Dating Game,” also created by Barris. The banter between Eubanks, who was just 28 when “The Newlywed Game” launched in 1966, and the couples, was supposed to prompt embarrassing answers.

The formula worked among viewers as “The Newlywed Game” program was ranked as one of the top three daytime game shows for five consecutive seasons between 1968 and 1973. It also scored big with primetime television ratings, ranking among the top three primetime game shows for five consecutive years between 1966 and 1971.

Barris chose to end the nighttime version of “The Newlywed Game” in 1974 but continued to promote the show in television syndication with editions airing on TV screens across America from 1977 to 1980, 1985 to 1988, and again from 1997 to 1999. Cable television’s Game Show Network started showing reruns of “The Newlywed Game” in 2009 with Eubanks hosting special original episodes in both 2009 and 2010, making him the only television personality to host a game show in six consecutive decades – 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s and 2010s.

But for me, the version I recall the most was the one airing in the 1960s. Some of the crazy beehive hairstyles, outlandish clothing and just plain corny answers among the participants were sheer torture for my teenage angst having to sit and watch the show with my mother and father every Saturday evening.

Questions asked of the couples competing for the Grand Prize were not only silly but embarrassing.

Samples of typical questions included:

** What would you say is your husband’s weirdest quirk?

** What is your wife’s worst habit?

** What is your husband’s pet name for you?

** What is something that your wife is most likely to end up in jail for?

** What is the first movie that you saw together?

** Would your spouse rather spend an evening at home with you, or a night out with you?

** What are you most likely to argue about?

** If your spouse could only eat one food for the rest of their life, what would it be?

** What is your spouse's most prized possession, or the item they'd save in a fire apart from you?

** Who has more exes, you or your spouse?

** Who is a better driver, your spouse or you?

Petty arguments would often arise when contestants would differ on answers and spouses thought the other should have answered correctly but missed. Correct answers usually were rewarded with a smooch by the couples. The host was prone to provoking ridiculous arguments by pressing couples who differed on their answers on the game show.

Eubanks himself became known to many viewers for his catch-phrase questions regarding “Makin Whoopee,” on “The Newlywed Game.” Every other show seemed to include a question about it, and I found it highly disturbing that my parents would always laugh loudly or shrug it off when one of those questions was asked of the contestant couples. I suppose they came from a generation where innuendo and witty banter about the subject was humorous, but as a teenager, I found it all to be silly and preposterous.

At the end of each episode, following the reveal of the Bonus Question, the winner was the couple with the most points. The winner received a special Grand Prize selected “just for them.” Typical Grand Prizes were “all new living room furniture from Broyhill” or “a full-size camping tent and matching his and her motorcycles” or even “a shiny chrome and Formica dinette set and a new Hotpoint electric dishwasher.”

To this day, I wonder how many contestants divorced after the show aired. <

Andy Young: How many Months in a month?

By Andy Young

June is an utterly unique month. None of the other eleven months begins on the same day of the week as June does.

Ever.

Not only that, March and June always end on the same day of the week, even in a leap year.

A surprising number of June’s 30 days have been designated as special ones, including Father’s Day, Juneteenth, Flag Day, and, in just about every high school in the state, Graduation Day. But that’s just scratching the surface.

June is also National Rose Month, National Safety Month, National Adopt a cat Month, National Country Cooking Month, National Zoo and Aquarium Month, National Dairy Month, and National Fruit and Vegetables Month. In addition, June is Caribbean-American Heritage Month, Men’s Health Month, African-American Music Appreciation Month, Aphasia Awareness Month, and Rebuild Your Life Month.

Far be it from me to criticize the folks running the DMD (Department of Month Designation), but how can anyone possibly cram so many Months into just one month, let alone one with only 30 days in it? I’d happily commemorate each Month within the month of June, but I’m not sure I’d have the time or the wherewithal.

Ever.

Some of June’s Months won’t be a problem. I already eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, and between that and refraining from tobacco use, skateboarding, helmetless motorcycle riding and social media, I’m doing my part to observe Men's Health Month. The milk I pour on my cereal each morning covers National Dairy Month, and I’d like to think buckling up before I start my car qualifies me as an active observer of National Safety Month.

I’m perfectly willing to visit a zoo and/or an aquarium, and since I’m a big fan of diversity and learning, I’m all for taking part in any or all activities celebrating Pride, National Caribbean American History, and African-American Music Appreciation, even though strictly speaking I don’t fit into any of the specific demographic groups those particular Months are designed to celebrate. Apparently I could also use a refresher course on Aphasia Awareness, because until I looked it up I thought Aphasia was the hair loss condition that afflicts Jada Pinkett Smith, and moved her husband, Will Smith, to angrily stalk out of the audience at the Oscars and slap Chris Rock, the ceremony’s host, after Mr. Rock’s unscripted wisecrack that alluded to Ms. Pinkett Smith’s shaved head a few years back. Oops. That’s alopecia, not aphasia. My bad.

I’d happily celebrate as many of June’s Months as possible, but I’m drawing the line at adopting a cat. The money I’d spend on cat food, kitty litter, and veterinarian fees would make it fiscally unfeasible for me to buy anyone a dozen roses. Or any roses, for that matter.

Ever.

As difficult as it would be to properly observe each of June’s Months, commemorating each of its special “Days” would be even harder. National Iced Tea Day, World Bicycle Day, National Bubbly Day, World Oceans Day, National Donut Day, World Environment Day, International Day of Family Remittances, World Milk Day, and Fresh Veggies Day are just some of this month’s designated “Days.”

June 1 alone is National Nail Polish Day, National Game Show Day, National Olive Day, National Hazelnut Cake Day, National Go Barefoot Day, National Pen Pal Day, National Heimlich Maneuver Day, and National Say Something Nice Day.

Here’s what I’ll say that’s nice: I’m glad no one is required to wear Nail Polish on National Nail Polish Day.

And I sincerely hope that no one reading this needs to give (or receive) the Heimlich Maneuver this month.

Or ever. <

Insight: Exploring the age of English words

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

Sometime in the 1970s, I recall watching a television show on PBS about English language words and how you could tell a verb’s age by the way it is conjugated.

For example, if the past tense of some verbs in English end in a “t” it is likely an older word than the past tense of one ending in “ed.”

The university professor who was giving this presentation said that words such as keep, sweep, leap and send are derivatives of older Celtic words which remain to this day in modern English. The past tense of keep is kept, for sweep it is swept, feel becomes felt and send is sent.

By this logic, the professor concluded that other old English verbs include sleep and creep, with the past tense of sleep being slept and creep becoming crept. Weep’s past tense is wept, lend becomes lent, spend’s past tense is spent, while the past tense of lose is lost and for leave, it’s left.

He went on to say that bend is an older English word because it’s past tense is bent, while the past tense of mean is meant, deal is dealt, and build is built.

Other older English verbs by his definition then would include buy (bought), catch (caught), bring (brought), seek (sought), teach (taught) and think (thought).

Because some newer verbs were introduced later to the English language and were first conjugated with a “t” but can also be conjugated in the past tense with an “ed,” the professor suggested these words were newer in origin.

These verbs include burn, dream, kneel, leap, learn, smell, spell, spill and spoil. Using very old English, some authors may say burnt, but nowadays the preferred term in modern English is burned. Same thing holds true for dreamt (dreamed), knelt (kneeled), learnt (learned), smelt (smelled), spelt (spelled), spilt (spilled), and spoilt (spoiled).

Through time, several other older English verbs conjugated in past tense can have two different words meaning the same thing, such as pass, pen, and bereave. The past tense of pass can either be past or passed, while pen’s past tense can be pent or penned, and bereave’s past tense can be bereft or bereaved.

In his presentation, the professor said some of the older Celtic verbs are thought to have been spoken by the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes, originating from northwest Germany, southern Denmark, and the Netherlands. They brought their Germanic-based dialects to England and these dialects combined with Celtic languages already being used set the cornerstone for the old English language. That became modified with infusions of older Norse as Viking invaders raided parts of early Britain and were further shaped by the Norman conquest of England in 1066 which introduced some French influences into the English dialect.

Old English words thought to have come from Vikings are knife, freckle, berserk, window, sky, husband, aloft, awkward, bag, blunder, and droop.

Some examples of newer English words with French influences, the professor said, contain “ch” and “que” and “ou” such as machine, unique, antique and boutique or youth and soup. Other newer verbs of French influence in English that came after the Norman invasion can be conjugated in the past tense with “ed” instead of “t” and include waste (wasted), and taste (tasted).

The Renaissance during the 16th century was yet another period when new words were added to the English language, the professor said. Some came from Latin origins and were introduced by scholars of that time such as atrocity, debilitate, ferrous, naïve and stipend while others derived from Greek origins including duo, pneumonia, and gravity.

Back in 2009, a study conducted by Reading University in England found that the oldest words in the English language include “I”, “we”, “who”, “two” and “three,” all dating back to at least in common use prior to the Norman invasion. The discovery was made by tracking the divergence of ancestral words into different languages including old English using a supercomputer and before the introduction of AI technology.

Many older English words commonly used centuries ago never quite made it into the modern English language and the list is lengthy.

Here’s a sampling of few old English words no longer used today and their meanings:

“Afeared” or “Afeardt,” meaning frightened.

“Bodkin,” meaning a dagger.

“Contumely” meaning insulting behavior.

“Cumberground” meaning a totally useless person or a total waste of space.

“Demesne” meaning domain, realm or territory.

“Doxy” meaning a mistress.

“Elflock” meaning wavy or tangled hair.

“Frore” meaning extremely cold.

“Jargogle” meaning jumbled.

“Lollop” meaning a drunken or foolish person.

“Maegth” meaning family.

“Recreant” meaning cowardly.

“Sluberdegullion” meaning slovenly.

“Varlet” meaning a crook or a conman.

“Wamblecropt” meaning someone who is overcome with indigestion.

“Wundorlic” meaning a feeling of wonder mixed with fear or the awe experienced when seeing something both marvelous and unsettling.

Taking a deeper dive into the English language can be both fascinating or frustrating and yet with everything else going on in our lives these days, examining the origins of certain words and conjugations may not appear near the top of many people’s lists of things to do.

But it can be interesting to learn the age of some commonly used words today. <

Level up and make your bed: Hugelkultur drives our frugal culture

By Michelle Cote
The Rookie Mama

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, gardening is a solid metaphor for raising kiddos. You plan, you plot, and once your sweet sturdy seedlings are firmly planted, ready to take on this world, you can only hope the fruits of your labor thrive on up despite unpredictable elements and cautions thrown to wind that comes their way.

And – it’s a dirty business.

My husband and I have exponentially upped our vegetable gardening game since becoming parents a teenaged handful of years ago, and though we do this in part for the unbridled joy and satisfaction it brings, and sunshine felt, growing our own greens is also an absolute necessity in order to feed our large by today’s standards family.

We’ve built a series of raised beds in recent years to be kind to our future backs. And though we function as a DIY compost family operation, the truth is we don’t produce quite enough to fill enormous beds when they are newly built from scratch.

Enter the centuries-old Hugelkultur – pronounced ‘hoo-gul-culture’ – which leads our frugal culture. If you have access to logs, branches, other organic materials and kiddos with helping hands, this German gardening technique – literally translating to ‘mound bed’ – is a fun workout for the entire family.

Move over, Peleton.

Hugelkultur is a foundation of large logs or other woody debris layered up compost, leaves, grass clippings and organic matter, then topped with garden soil. As these materials decompose, water is retained, weeds suppressed, nutrients released, and the stage is set for a well-drained growing extravaganza.

And because these logs and branches are literally found items around the property, that’s where the frugal part comes in.

Debris – It’s free!

Yet having so much of it for this purpose helps us feel rich.

A few weeks ago, our older children dragged over some cut logs we’d recently chopped, and we stacked and organized them in the bottoms of our two newest beds.

My husband chopped larger logs in half to fit.

Like building a fire, that same excitement, that anticipation filled us. We’d recently pruned our orchard trees and other plants and saved the trimmings just for this purpose. Even our littlest was in on the action and tossed those branches and boughs into helpful heaps.

Before we knew it, we beheld a beautiful lasagna rich with organic materials – just no ricotta cheese.

We’ve since topped each bed with gorgeous compost in the top third and planted our seeds and seedlings.

The invaluable strength of simple logs and branches – Did I mention it’s free?

This past Sunday morning we toted our boys to a salvage store and our 4-year-old asked for a metal rake and shovel set just his size so he could help in the garden.

Help he did, as he assisted in transplanting strawberries, kale, potatoes, melon, asparagus, beans, cukes, and more yummy favorites.

We can only hope to feast on what grows of it in the future and preserve for winter.

We made our beds, so to speak, and so now we lie.

And I’d be lying if I said getting my littlest involved was a straightforward, easy breeze.

Eventually he scampered off to play with toy tractors.

But I must remind myself to grow patient while growing greens, that these are teachable moments and life skills for next-generation gardeners while their attention is rapt.

Laying solid foundations and weaving in frugal living skills – We can do this.

And so we wait.

For harvest, for fruits of labor built on that free debris.

And in the meantime, I’ve now worked up an appetite for lasagna.

With all the ricotta cheese.

­­– Michelle Cote lives in southern Maine with her husband and four sons, and enjoys camping, distance running, biking, gardening, road trips to new regions, arts and crafts, soccer, and singing to musical showtunes – often several or more at the same time!

Tim Nangle: Strong communities start at the ballot box

By Senator Tim Nangle

One of the most important things we can do as citizens is vote — not just every two or four years, but also in the local elections that shape our day-to-day lives. On Tuesday, June 10, all five towns in our district — Casco, Frye Island, Raymond, Westbrook and Windham — will hold municipal elections. These ballots will include a range of items, such as town and school budgets, races for the select and school board, and other important local questions.

State Senator
Tim Nangle

It might not always make headlines, but what happens in local government matters deeply. Decisions about school funding, road repairs, emergency services and property taxes all start at the municipal level. These are the issues that most directly affect our kids’ classrooms, the quality of our drinking water and the conditions of the streets we drive on every day.

In the Senate, I’ve been proud to vote for legislation that delivers funding to our municipalities and schools, supporting them in crafting their budgets. But before I was elected to the Maine Senate, I served as a town councilor in Windham. My experience there taught me just how much local decisions and the people who make them rely on input from engaged residents. When more people participate in these elections, we create stronger communities and a more accountable government. Your vote helps shape the direction of your town, whether it's by considering a school budget or selecting someone to sit on the board that oversees it.

If you’ve never voted in a June election before, or if you’re not sure what’s on the ballot this year, I encourage you to take a few minutes to find out. Voting is simple, and your local town office can help answer questions about registration, absentee ballots or what’s on the ballot.

Here’s when and where to vote in each town on June 10:

Windham:

Polling Location: Windham High School's Auxiliary Gym, 406 Gray Road
Polling Hours: 7 a.m. to 8 p.m.
On the Ballot: RSU #14 Budget Validation Referendum

Additionally, Windham’s Annual Town Meeting will be held on June 14 at the Windham Town Hall Gymnasium, at 8 School Road, to adopt the 2025-2026 annual budget.

Raymond:

Polling Location: Jordan-Small Middle School Gym
Polling Hours: 7 a.m. to 8 p.m.
On the Ballot: RSU #14 Budget Validation Referendum; Annual Town Warrant; Two Select Board members; Three Budget-Finance Committee members; One RSU Board of Directors member

Casco:

Polling Location: Crooked River Elementary School, 1437 Poland Spring Road
Polling Hours: 8 a.m. to 8 p.m.
On the Ballot: Selectboard Member; MSAD #61 Board of Directors Member; Open Space Commission Member; Casco Naples Transfer Station Council Member

Frye Island:

Polling Location: Fairway Lane, Frye Island
Polling Hours: 10 a.m. to 8 p.m.
On the Ballot: Four positions for MSAD #6 At-Large School Board Director; MSAD #6 Budget Validation Referendum

Westbrook:

Polling Location: Westbrook Community Center, 426 Bridge St.
Polling Hours: 6 a.m. to 8 p.m.
On the Ballot: Municipal School Budget Validation Referendum

Let’s not take for granted the chance to make our voices heard. Make sure you make a plan to vote on June 10. I hope to see a strong turnout in our district. Local government works best when it reflects the people it serves — and that starts with you.

As always, if you have questions, concerns, or ideas for how state government can work better for you, please don’t hesitate to reach out. You can contact me at Tim.Nangle@legislature.maine.gov or reach the Senate office at 207-287-1515. <

Andy Young: The graduation speech that wasn’t delivered

By Andy Young

I wasn’t asked to speak at my school's graduation ceremony this weekend, but If I had been, here’s what the attendees would have heard.

Congratulations, Class of 2025. You’ve made it!

I commend you honor students for your lofty GPAs, but for all of you: your grades no longer matter, and neither does what team(s) you played for, who you took to the prom, or, for that matter, if you even attended the prom!

College, a good job, or military service are all worthwhile next steps. But for each one of you, the greatest part of leaving high school is getting the chance to reinvent yourself.

An opportunity like this doesn’t come along very often, so don’t waste it, because before you know it, you’ll be surrounded by people who’ll see you primarily in your role as a plumber, hairdresser, doctor, coach, teacher, and/or parent. And when that happens, you’ll find yourself conforming to certain behaviors because, well, that’s what people expect of plumbers, hairdressers, doctors, coaches, teachers, parents, and/or other community members they think they know.

Sooner or later, you’ll acquire a perceived outer persona which, like it or not, will be yours for a long time to come. Many of you have already been pigeonholed into certain identities. Look around you. Admit it: you yourself see many of your peers primarily in their current guise(s): class clown, athlete, burnout, bookworm, artist, snitch, chic dresser, gearhead, suck-up, actor, slacker, trusted confidant, or rebel.

Just like many of them (often inaccurately) see you.

Trust me: you don’t want to be universally perceived in any one particular context no matter how attractive it seems today. And now is one of the few specific junctures in life when you can conveniently initiate meaningful personal alteration.

I myself never considered changing anything after high school. Why would I? I was in the midst of a two-decade adolescence that was my ultimate comfort zone. But at age 30, I found myself training for a new job, 1,000 miles from home in a roomful of people who knew absolutely nothing about me. That’s when I experienced an epiphany that I hope all of you do today. I realized I could be anyone I wanted to be! No one knew if I was an athlete, a musician, or a thespian. Was I an introvert, or the life of the party? Democrat, Republican, Independent, or politically unconcerned? At that moment. I could present myself to these new colleagues however I saw fit. If I were ever going to change others’ perception of me, this was the time.

I listened more and talked less that day, dialed back the jokes, and interacted a bit more cautiously than I did with people who I had known for years.

Ultimately, I didn’t make any radical changes, because for the most part I liked who I was. Thankfully there’s no law requiring you to alter your personality.

But don’t be like me and wait until you’re 30 years old to take advantage of having a clean slate. Understand that starting now, the first day of the rest of your life, you can be whoever and whatever you want to be.

It’s probably not a coincidence that I wasn't asked to be the commencement speaker at the school where I currently teach, or at any of the ones I attended as a student, despite my having amassed 35 years of valuable high school experience.

But I’ll get another fresh start when school reopens in 10 weeks. And that’s more than enough time to undergo some subtle reinvention, if that’s what I feel is necessary. <