Doris Heal woke up at dawn on her wedding day, and ran to look out the window.  A white world lay before her, unbroken snow as far as she could see. But the sky to the east was pink and clear. Thank goodness, the snow had stopped during the night. The blizzard that blew all day yesterday had seemed likely to cancel their plans for this evening, but now she felt hopeful again.

She ran back to her bed and burrowed under the quilts for a few more moments. She’d lie here until she heard her mother stir. She tried to concentrate on all the things she had to do today. Her cousin, Marjorie Calderwood, was helping her make the pink tissue paper flowers and green leaves for the living room archway, where the ceremony would take place. They’d made enough to cover just half of it; if it hadn’t snowed so hard yesterday they would have finished. Maybe she would come over this morning and help her.

Then there was the food. Her mother would keep her busy at that the rest of the day, making tea sandwiches and punch and sweets. At least her dress was off the list. Every day for the past month she’d had to sit still and sew beads on her white silk dress. The best light was right by the kitchen window, when the morning sun was coming in; she freely admitted she was tired of sewing on beads! She’d even complained to Percival, but he wasn’t very sympathetic. Hadn’t she made the dress, and decided on that design?

The thought of Percival set her to daydreaming. Yesterday she’d even had a moment when she was afraid he wouldn’t get to Lincolnville for his own wedding! But her mother calmed her down; he’d get here, blizzard or no blizzard, Mary Heal assured her. He’d been busy hauling lumber down to their new house at 35 Harden Avenue. Their new house! She felt a thrill every time she said the words.

Her parents’ wedding gift was all the lumber to build the house. And Percival was building it. Her father, Dave Heal, had the logs cut on his land, then sawed at his own mill across from the cemetery [Center Burying Ground on Heal Road]. Her cousins were building the fireplace in the living room from rocks they’d all collected on the shore. She didn’t know any other 18-year-old bride who got to move into her own brand new house built just for her. She was very lucky.

Wasn’t it just luck that she and Percival Sawyer had met? If she hadn’t decided to go to Tranquility Grange’s costume dance last fall, and if he hadn’t decided to go, well, where would they be? Certainly not getting married this winter day! She’d devised a Bo Peep costume, and later he told her how sweet she’d looked. He was dressed as Perroit, the French clown, and she thought he looked swell, too. At first she couldn’t believe such a mature man would be interested in a girl of 18. Why, at 35, Percival was almost twice her age. But before long they were hitting it off like the oldest of friends. More than friends.

To think, he and his twin sister, Corinne, were attending Camden High School the year she was born. They’d even had a famous classmate, or at least she was making a name for herself—Edna St. Vincent Millay. Doris wasn’t sure what the fuss was all about, but her English teacher had told them about her poetry. Much later, Percival had gone to the war; that Doris did remember, especially the parade when the soldiers came home.

She lay staring up at the ceiling, watching the white plaster change to a rosy pink with the rising sun. Her whole life was about to change; when would she sleep in her own bed again? She thought of her younger brother, Dave, still asleep across the hall. Annoying as he could be, she would really miss him. For a moment she felt a little less sure of herself, of what she was about to do. Did other brides have doubts on their wedding day?

Then she heard her parents’ door open and her mother’s step on the stairs. Doris threw back the quilts and hurriedly dressed, relieved to get on with the day. There really was such a lot to do. 

**********

Mary Heal stood in the doorway, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders against the bitter cold night. Dave, stood in the driveway, seeing off the last guests. Their horse broke into an eager trot as soon as it reached the snowy road, pulling the sleigh and its occupants smoothly behind it. The full moon turned the town bright, though every house but the Heals’ was dark, as befitted the hour. Dave came up the back steps, and followed his wife inside. Mary was already carrying cups and saucers to the sink, and piling sticky plates and silverware in the dishpan.

“Do them in the morning. Come to bed,” her husband said from the doorway.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Mary looked at him sadly from across the kitchen.

“That’s what happens when they get married,” he answered, but his look was not unkind. “I know, Mary. I’m going to miss her, too. Now come to bed.”

“Give me a few minutes to straighten up,” she said, brushing past him. “I won’t be long.”

Dave shrugged and went up the stairs. Mary began pulling down the tissue paper flowers that Doris and Marjorie had hung so carefully just a few hours ago. She’d feel better in the morning without all these reminders of the wedding. Still, it had been a nice ceremony. Reverend Horace Holt and all the guests from Camden and around Lincolnville had arrived in old-fashioned horse-drawn sleighs, making for a festive atmosphere. The blizzard had turned the day into an adventure for them all.

She was a foolish mother to be sad about her daughter’s marriage. Percival Sawyer was an established and respected man in Camden. It’s just that Mary wasn’t quite ready for her only daughter to leave home. She went upstairs and did something she hadn’t done in years—opened her son’s room and peeked in at him, sleeping. At least she had one still at home.

Doris had left the lamp burning in her room. The beautiful silk dress lay rumpled on the bed where the bride had tossed it, exchanging it for her traveling outfit. Mary picked it up and held it to herself, allowing a few tears to drop onto the soft fabric. The day they’d both planned and worked towards for weeks was over so soon. She carefully folded it up and lay it on the bed. In the morning she’d find some tissue to wrap it in, and then put it away. The little orange blossom crown made of papier mache that Doris had worn to hold her veil in place was on the bureau; she put it in its box. She had no other daughter to wear these things, but nonetheless she’d save them. Maybe someday she’d have a granddaughter.

Read more stories about Lincolnville in Staying Put in Lincolnville, Maine 1900-1950, available at Western Auto or Sleepy Hollow Rag Rugs  217 Beach Road, Lincolnville 

Joan Sawyer Tibbetts, the granddaughter Mary only imagined on her daughter’s wedding day, told me this story in all its detail. The beautiful silk dress with its beads – a “flapper” style dress – was Joan’s favorite to wear for dress-up when she was a little girl visiting her grandmother in the Center. With the dress flowing around her ankles and the veil held on with the little papier mache crown of orange flowers, Joan would “float down the front walk” of her grandma’s fine house in her mother’s wedding dress. Joan grew up in the 35 Harden Avenue house her father built for his 18 year-old bride.

Wedding stories are always appealing, especially to women, and I’m no exception. Imagine today’s parents with their 18 year-old girl marrying a 35 year-old man! Yet that seems to have been fairly common based on my scant anecdotal research. My own mother-in-law married, with her parents’ blessing, a 30 year-old World War I veteran when she was 16. Several of the women, 20 and 30 years older than me and with whom I’ve spoken with over the years, were in their teens when they married men 15 years older than themselves.

Why marry men so much older? Basically, for the security a more established fellow could offer. Often the girl would come from a large family (not the case with Doris Heal who had only the one brother), and each child that married meant one less mouth to feed. Parents could feel secure that their daughter would be taken care of with an older husband.

And how weddings have changed! You don’t have to have a recent bride in your family to be aware of the huge wedding industry that continues to blossom. Think of Bridezilla, the stereotypical bride of today with her 5-figure budget and 6-12 months of wedding planning. Then remember Doris Heal, making her dress, sewing on those beads, twisting tissue paper flowers with her cousin, the tea sandwiches and punch her mother made. And next time you drive through the Center, glance at 228 Main Street and picture Mary and Dave Heal waving good-bye to the last of the wedding guests, departing in horse-drawn sleighs, from their front door on a bitter cold winter night.

The Lincolnville Historical Society has a few wedding dresses in its collection, and not a one is what our 21st-Century eyes would recognize as traditional. Probably Doris Heal’s white silk flapper dress come as close as any. Basically, a wedding dress or costume seems to have been a girl’s best dress, possibly made for the occasion, but maybe not. And most weddings were much like Doris and Percival Sawyer’s, complete with tissue paper flowers.

Many of the old houses, maybe most, saw wedding celebrations, and most of them became lifelong marriages. Our own house held one sometime back in the 1970s when a couple we knew asked if they could be married here. We talked to Pastor Jack Diamond, then minister at Bay Shore Baptist Church, about doing the ceremony for our friends, and he agreed.

We’ve since lost track of that couple, but what I do remember is that our two little boys (so it must have been before #3 arrived in 1978) were sick. They wanted to see the wedding, consisting of the couple, two witnesses (Wally and me) and Pastor Jack, so we tucked them into sleeping bags on the floor, where they could watch the “ceremony.” I think we drank a toast to them afterward, and that was their wedding.

Speaking of the Historical Society, we’re making an effort to bring in some new folks. Specifically, we’ll be doing a “face-lift “ of the Schoolhouse Museum this winter and spring, putting up new displays, rearranging some things, and making new signs, and it would be helpful to have people who can look at our collection with new eyes. If the thought of going through boxes and boxes of neat old stuff appeals to you, let me know!

Meanwhile, work on the ground, so to speak, continues. As I’ve often thought, Lincolnville’s real historical treasure is right on the ground, in front us. It’s the rocks that make up the walls, the dams, the lime kilns, cellarholes, and bridge abutments that can be seen in almost every corner of our town. Oddly enough, a big part of this work isn’t done out in the bitter cold at all, but rather done in the quiet (and warm) offices of the Registries of Deeds in the counties of Waldo, Hancock, and Lincoln. No, Lincolnville didn’t move, but it’s been in three counties nonetheless.

I’ve written before of Randy Harvey’s discovery, a year or so ago, of a forgotten granite quarry in his back yard on Slab City Road. That discovery has led Randy, along with his wife, Jill, on an ever-expanding search into old tools, iron-making processes, brick-making, nails through the years, and the often complicated financial dealings of the men who owned the land in Lincolnville in the late 1700s-early 1800s.  And that’s only one quarry, one discovery, in a town of 39 square miles, a town that’s easily got many, many other compelling stories to be uncovered.

We used to say of our old friend, Frank Slegona, that he was like a red squirrel, always curious, always wondering why things were the way they were. Let’s all be red squirrels!

The LCS Geography Bee Finals on Dec. 23 had sixth grader Sam Moody and eighth grader Trey Gilson neck and neck with Sam ultimately winning. Sixth grader Simon Polk came in third. Others competing were eighth graders Dawson Allen and Noah Lang, seventh graders Kris Kelly, Hayden Marino, and Hope Osgood, and sixth graders Skye Abaldo and Angel Freeman. The next step for Sam is to take a test to qualify for the March 27 statewide bee.

Students of the Month for December are: K- Silas Moody; grade 1 – Jacob Greeley and Sophia Skrivanich; grade 2 – Gwen Hustus; grade 3 – Chloe Day-Lynch and Owen Mc Manus; grade 4 – Skyler Joy and Layna Thompson; grade 5 – Joey LaChance and Lizzie Larsen-Leavins; grade 6 – Rose O’Brien; grade 7 – Ellie Silverio; grade 8 – Abby Milner.

Next week the basketball season winds up with Quarter Finals on January 20, Semi-Finals on Jan. 22, and Championships on Jan. 24. Lincolnville’s eighth grade boys team,  which, according to Principal Paul Russo, asked that they be able to play, in a more competitive league as a team separate from the regular middle school team, is going great guns. Read about them here. 

At the Library, this Saturday at 10 a.m., the monthly craft will be making gilded birds in a cage, another of Julie Turkevich’s wonderful projects for kids (and their parents too!) You don’t even have to be attached to a child to come by and make one. It’s free to all and materials will be provided.

Also at the Library, next Wednesday, Jan. 21, local (as in L’ville Center!) humorist Tom Sadowski will be the speaker, and pianist Richard Kinney will provide the music at the monthly winter program. Space is limited so contact Rosey Gerry, 975-5432, to save a seat; admission is $10 and benefits the Library.

Librarian Sheila Polson is posting new hours for the Lincolnville Community Library on Tuesdays; during the remainder of the winter the Library will be open 4-7 p.m. on Tuesdays, rather than 5-8 p.m.

For the next two weeks, as Pastor Susan Stonestreet begins working part-time, United Christian Church will be hosting two guest preachers, Rev. Richard Snyder and Rev. Kate Braestrup. Susan, who has been UCC’s pastor since 1999, will be leading worship most Sundays, and preaching twice a month going forward, while guest speakers take the pulpit for the sermon on the other two Sundays. All are welcome any Sunday, 9:30 a.m.