Insight: A Trip Through Time

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

It’s funny how hearing a song can bring me back to experiences in my life from years ago and open a floodgate of memories, but that’s what happened to me last week.

A snowstorm rolls across the Texas Panhandle plains near
Amarillo in 1972. COURTESY PHOTO

I was driving my car back home from the mechanic’s shop where it had received a new state inspection sticker and was impressed at how smooth it was handling after $450 worth of repair work. I turned on the Sirius XM radio in the car and the song “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon was playing.

Suddenly, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of my friend Craig Podosek’s Volkswagen Beetle driving across the Panhandle of Texas on New Year’s Day in 1973 bound for another semester of college classes in New Mexico.

Craig was from New York state like I was and both of us had traveled home over the Christmas break from New Mexico to spend the holidays with our families. We had spoken by phone before Christmas Day, and he asked if I wanted to drive across the country and share expenses with him.

The two of us had become friends a year earlier when we were pledges for Tau Kappa Epsilon fraternity. For three months Craig and I were part of a pledge class that put in a lot of late-night walking after being dropped off a few miles outside of town as a gag or spent time dragging a fraternity cannon to football games. The pledges met a few times every week to study the fraternity’s pledge manual prior to our initiation test.

I learned that Craig had transferred to our college after attending a community college in New York state and was studying to become an accountant. Somehow, all the pledges in our class passed the initiation test and we were inducted into the fraternity in November 1971.

Four days after Christmas in 1972, Craig arrived at my parents’ home in Rochester, New York, and we started off for college. The two of us drove the Volkswagen that first day all the way to Dayton, Ohio. We spent the night there at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base where his brother was stationed.

The next morning, we got up and drove all the way to Joplin, Missouri where we found affordable motel rooms for the night. Along the way we talked about school, interesting college classes that we had taken, friends and family, and our career plans and hopes. We also tuned in to radio stations that discussed weather conditions, trying to find the best route to take to avoid being caught in a storm.

On New Year’s Eve 1972, we pulled into the driveway of our fraternity brother Jerry Joyner in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, who was preparing a huge meal for us before his beloved Oklahoma Sooners were to play Penn State in the Sugar Bowl game. Oklahoma beat Penn State, 14-0, as the Nittany Lions played without leading rusher and future Heisman Trophy winner John Cappelletti, who had the flu.

We not only celebrated Oklahoma’s Sugar Bowl victory but also watched the ball drop on television in Times Square in New York City marking the arrival of 1973.

The next morning on New Year’s Day, Craig and I set out for New Mexico in the Volkswagen except this time we were tired and slightly hung over from all the New Year’s Eve festivities just hours before.

As we drove along I-40, most of the radio stations we were listening to kept mentioning that a massive storm was headed south into the Texas Panhandle with limited visibility and drifting snow. Both of us looked out to the north across the plains and could see the snow coming straight for us. We hoped that we could outrun the blizzard heading in our direction.

Since we knew what we were up against weather-wise, Craig suggested that we listen to some music and found a radio station from Amarillo playing popular hits. The station’s playlist coming out of commercials that day started with “Crocodile Rock” by Elton John and was followed “I Wanna Be With You” by the Raspberries and “Oh Girl” by the Ch-Lites. The fourth song, though, was brand-new and was the first time I had ever heard Carly Simon sing “You’re So Vain.” 

I turned to Craig when the song was over and told him I thought it was a hit song if I ever heard one. As it turns out, “You’re So Vain” became the top song in America for three weeks later that month and went on to capture “Song of the Year,” “Record of the Year,” and “Best Female Pop Vocal Performance” at the Grammy Awards.

Fortunately for us, the Volkswagen was great on gas, and we didn’t have to stop again for fuel in Texas. We were able to outrun the blizzard, making it all the way across the state line to Tucumcari, New Mexico before having to fill up again. We eventually arrived back at the fraternity house at our college about 5 p.m. and were relieved to have completed the trip safely.

It’s a small snapshot from my life but hearing “You’re So Vain” instantly returns me to that time 54 years ago. <

Barbara Bagshaw: Your Voice Matters – Why Showing Up at the Polls Strengthens Our Community

By State Rep. Barbara Bagshaw

As your State Representative for District 106 in Windham, I have the privilege of listening to neighbors every day, at the grocery store, at local meetings, and through the messages you send. One theme comes through clearly: people care deeply about the direction of our town, our schools, our costs of living, and the future we are building together. That care only translates into results when citizens participate.

State Rep. Barbara Bagshaw

Voting is one of the most direct ways we exercise self-government. It is not about any single candidate or party. It is about ensuring that the people who make decisions in Augusta and beyond hear from the full range of voices in our community. When turnout is high, elected officials of every background receive a clearer signal about what matters most to families here in Windham: property taxes, education quality, energy costs, public safety, and the everyday expenses that shape household budgets.

Maine makes it relatively straightforward to cast a ballot. You can vote early, request an absentee ballot, or go to the polls on Election Day. Confirm your registration, find your polling place, and mark your calendar. Local clerks and the Secretary of State’s office provide the practical details; taking a few minutes to check them removes last-minute uncertainty. Bring a neighbor if it helps. Talk with young people in your household about why the process exists. These small acts reinforce the habit of participation.

High participation also strengthens accountability. When more residents vote, representatives know they must answer to a broad cross-section of the district, rather than a narrow slice. That dynamic encourages careful listening and practical problem-solving over rigid ideology. It reminds everyone in public office that government derives its legitimacy from the consent of the governed—an idea as old as our founding documents and still essential today.

I have spent years in classrooms and community service. I have seen how engaged citizens improve outcomes in schools, local projects, and neighbor-to-neighbor support. The same principle applies at the ballot box. Your single vote may feel small, yet together those votes set priorities, fund programs, and shape the rules under which we all live.

Whatever your views on the issues of the day, the most important step is to make them known through the formal process our system provides. Mark the date. Plan how you will vote. Encourage others to do the same. A community that turns out in strong numbers is a community that keeps its government responsive.

It remains an honor to represent part of Windham. If you have questions about state services or need assistance navigating available resources, my office is here to help. Contact me at [email protected] or 207-310-0051. Thank you for caring about Windham and for taking the time to participate.

State Rep. Barbara Bagshaw represents part of Windham in District 106.

The opinions in this column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of The Windham Eagle newspaper ownership or its staff. <

Andy Young: The mail bonanza that wasn’t

By Andy Young

I loved getting mail when I was young. “Mad Magazine” and “The Sporting News,” two publications I pored over at great length during my extended childhood, arrived periodically (pun intended) in the mailbox, as did the junk I’d sent for after collecting the appropriate number of box tops from whichever cereal was offering cool (and free) stuff to loyal box-top-accumulators.

These days my mail consists primarily of junk, including periodic “special offers” from, among others, insurance companies, credit card purveyors, loan providers, landscapers, exterminators, and window-replacement companies, plus ads from local supermarkets and appeals from various donation seekers, a few of whom might not be scammers looking for new suckers to bilk.

Last Wednesday afternoon the first thing I saw when I opened my mailbox was, predictably, weekly circulars from three local grocery stores. But underneath them were a postcard and three envelopes, two of which were actual letters written by actual people, with actual stamps on them! The third envelope contained a bill from Portland Water District, but that didn’t lessen my elation. I rarely get three pieces of real mail in a month, so getting three in one day was like winning the lottery!

Energized, I tossed the ads into the recycling bin and donned a pair of reading glasses so I could fully enjoy the unexpected mother lode of personal correspondence. I began with the postcard, which had a photo of Paris’s Arc de Triomphe on it. On the back was my friend Kevin’s entertaining and informative handwritten description of watching, from his observation post atop the Arc, traffic from 12 different avenues trying to merge onto (and exit from) France’s most dangerous traffic circle.

The postcard describing Europe’s foremost demolition derby training ground was merely the appetizer. Shifting my attention to the main course (the two letters), I prepared to tear one open when I noticed it wasn’t addressed to me, but to my son, who currently attends the University of Maine. Closer examination revealed something more troubling: a yellow sticker on the envelope’s lower right, which read, “RETURN TO SENDER; UNABLE TO FORWARD.” Utterly deflated, I saw it had been postmarked 18 February 2026, meaning a letter I wrote to my son which he never received had just spent the previous seven months in postal limbo.

But the disappointment was just beginning. The second letter, also intended for my son, sported a “RETURN TO SENDER” label, too. The difference: this one was postmarked 9 September 2025, so it had spent more than a year in parts unknown prior to returning to its point of origin!

The United States Postal Service probably isn’t to blame for this snafu, since both envelopes containing the returned letters were unopened, and in perfect condition. I suspect the mix-up took place in the University of Maine’s mailroom, since my son was living in a dormitory there when I sent them to him. But at least I’ll have two interesting (and now historical) documents to give him the next time he’s home.

I cannot say enough good things about the University of Maine. One of my offspring earned his degree there, and another is scheduled to obtain his in just over a year. Both have gained a great deal from their experiences in Orono, although perhaps significantly, neither ever took a course in postal studies there.

I’ve written a check to pay the Portland Water District bill. I’m not sure where I’ll mail it from but I definitely won’t drop it in a mailbox where there’s even the slightest chance the contents will be routed through the University of Maine’s mailroom. <