“It feels like we’re in a movie,” a friend said the other morning as we waited in line for a hot dog at the Strawberry Festival, one that Jimmy Stewart would have starred in, all good feelings, neighbor-greeting-neighbor, that kind of movie. And indeed, it did.

Children everywhere, patting the Doans’ miniature horses, which were all done up with flowers braided into their tails and manes, blowing bubbles, playing the beanbag toss. The face painting crew, wisely set up under the shade in front of the church, had managed to paint a strawberry (or butterflies or rainbows, minions or baby Yoda, even a couple of werewolves) on the cheek of everyone who’d sit still for them.

Hours later, on a Wentworth run, a little girl spotted my strawberry – “I got one too,” and showed me hers. The clerk wanted to know where she could get the T-shirt I was wearing, the one with a smiling strawberry waving from a wagon. She’d been there that morning too, and hadn’t seen any for sale.

Note to next year’s Strawberry Festival committee: get T-shirts!

So, during this 22nd summer of the 21st century, with Russia’s horrendous war-of-choice decimating Ukraine, with gas at $4.99 a gallon, with a mass shooting every ten days, with triple-digit heat waves in much of the country, and a Supreme Court gleefully tipping over rights that we thought would always protect us, here in this remote little town on the shores of Penobscot Bay we can still smile. And sleep through the cool nights without air conditioning.

I worry sometimes as I write about Lincolnville, that I take too much of a Pollyanna-ish tone. Years and years ago I was accused of that by a woman who was definitely more on the Gloom-and-doom team regarding Lincolnville and life in general.

But here I go again.

Getting old certainly does have its downside. Everything hurts or will hurt. A glimpse of yourself in a storefront or mirror and for a moment, you actually wonder who is that wrinkly, dumpy old woman?

One by one the people you love – mother, father, sister, brother, spouse, friends – die. If you’re “lucky” enough to live into your 90s you may be the only one left. You know you’ll never live to see how, or if, we Americans ever trust each other again.

And always, there’s the certainty and the question: I will die for sure, but how and when?

But here’s the amazing thing about being old. Most of life’s responsibilities fall on our kids now. On the generation we birthed and raised. They’re busy doing that now, having babies, doing the diapers/car seats/never-sleep-through-the-night thing. Then the annoying twos, the adventurous threes and fours, starting school. Before they know it – puberty! Followed closely by drivers ed and college tuition.

And for most families, both mom and dad (if they’ve managed to stay together after the hurricane of having kids) are rushing out the door to work every morning, or splitting shifts so one is always home. Or going through the nightmare of finding childcare they can afford, or finding childcare at all.

Meanwhile, their own parents (that would be me) are getting older and needier. They’re squeezed in the middle, the sandwich generation.

If we’re lucky (and don’t have to raise our grandchildren, can afford to live on our means, and are healthy) we old ones get some years with fewer and fewer responsibilities. Time to garden, to eat out occasionally, to sleep in or stay up, to sit on the porch with a good book on a summer afternoon, to get involved in our town.

One old woman (she’s a year older than me), well known to many of us from the wildlife photos she posts on the LBB, is Corelyn Senn. Though she’s added a water-borne drone to her trail cams, Corelyn has another gig these days: figuring out the configuration of our shorefront, specifically the harbor between Frohock Brook and some distance beyond the ferry.

Take a look at the above photo of two women standing by a – what? Four posts or pilings which appear to be somewhere out in the water. It looks like low tide with seaweed covering rocks, and a water line well above the women’s heads.

Corelyn found it in an album that came from the house that is today’s Spouter Inn. A wonderful collection of early 1900 summers, people (all unidentified) pose in their bathing costumes, or as in this one, in their everyday dress. They’re clearly on Lincolnville Beach as this thing (labeled “Neptune” in the album) is visible in other photos with the background of the Beach buildings we still see today.

So what was it? Does anyone remember it? It doesn’t look like it had much life left in it, so it probably disappeared long ago, but perhaps it shows up in other photo albums. Possibly it marked the end of a long-gone wharf, an historic remnant even when the women posed with it. Have you ever seen anything like it anywhere else?

Corelyn would love to hear from you if you have any information, ideas, or guesses. It just may fill in another hole in the harbor map she’s reconstructing.

Along with a dedicated group of Historical Society volunteers (Jane Bernier, Kim Clark, Jane Hardy, Deanna Hartel, Cyrene Slegona, and Cheryl Wienges) I walk around with images of what the old Schoolhouse Museum is going to become. Even as the building is still under construction, still awaiting the return of its fire escape so we can welcome visitors, still waiting for all its windows to be replaced with the ones Mathews Brothers donated, for the siding Robbins Lumber gave us, and the completion of new lighting per Rick McLaughlin who has his hands full frying seafood from morning to night, we dream.

And there’s much to dream of. We have a whole building to re-design now, to fill with photos and displays, reimagining our town’s history in light of new interest in the native Americans who once lived here.

We’re seeing the Historical Society as an educational resource. We’re looking at the geology and the complicated environment of our town with its coastline, marshes, ponds, forests and hills. The changes we’re all noticing among plants and animals: invasive plants, insects that are waxing and waning, the coyotes and turkeys that have moved in.

And not to worry. The downstairs room and kitchen will still be a community resource for meetings and private parties.

The quite young (pre-children) and the rather old often are the ones who have the time to imagine a better town (and a better world). Committees research broadband improvements, they work to protect our ponds, to develop a Comprehensive Plan for the future.

The workhorses of any town are hard at work here too: the Selectmen, Planning Board, School Committee, Fire Department. Add in the various non-profits – Library, Veterans Park, Tranquility Grange, King Davids Lodge, Bayshore Baptist Church, Women’s Club, Lincolnville Improvement Association, United Christian Church, and of course, the Lincolnville Historical Society – and you have a functioning community, a place where neighbors can greet each other over strawberry shortcake or blueberry pancakes, a plate of baked beans or chicken barbecue.

A place where the biggest controversy on Election Day is how early you have to come to vote before the church’s baked goods are sold out.

Good-bye to the Indian Tent

Of course, the Indian Tent, which Bob Anderson erected every spring on the site of today’s post office, has been gone for over twenty years. When he and his wife Jackie closed the tent in 1999 they moved all the inventory to the barn next to their house north of Ducktrap.

Before long a sign appeared: Ducktrap Basket Shop where they continued to sell baskets and moccasins, and trinkets, and offer to show Bob’s collection of old Penobscot-made baskets and the tools that were used to make them.

Bob passed away two years ago. According to his obituary “He amassed a large collection of Penobscot baskets and implements and had an extensive museum in his home in Lincolnville. This collection will be safeguarded by the Hudson Museum. The collection will be returned to the Nation once a museum is made ready to accept and care for it. There have been many inquiries where one may send a donation in Bob's memory. It is suggested that donations be made to the Penobscot Nation Museum, 22 Wabanaki Way, Indian Island, ME 04468.”

Thanks to his daughter, Karen, the LHS will have a permanent display of Bob’s family and a collection of Penobscot baskets.

Karen is selling all the remaining inventory at 2790 Atlantic Highway, July 30-August 14, 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily. Contemporary and antique baskets 50% off or more, moccasins at $10 (kids) and $20 (adult) per pair, and lots of free gift and novelty items for the taking. See here for more information.

Indoor Flea Market

This Saturday, July 16, 8 a.m. to noon, the Lincolnville Center Indoor Flea Market will have a full house of vendors selling antiques, handmade crafts, one-of-a-kind items, and delicious baked goods. This is not an ordinary flea market! Come and check it out. Masks optional as long as covid rates are low. Sponsored by the United Christian Church; 785-3521 for more information.

Lincolnville Community Library

The library is open Tuesdays 3-6 p.m., Wednesdays 2-5 p.m., Fridays and Saturdays, 9 a.m. to noon. Librarian Sheila Polson says, “Come check out books, use the free high-speed internet, or relax in the cool and beautiful space! 

“The needlework group meets Tuesday, July 12, and also Tuesday, July 26 from 3 to 5 p.m. 

“On Tuesday, July 19 at 5 p.m. the book group will gather to discuss Sigh Gone: A Misfit's Memoir of Great Books, Punk Rock and the Fight to Fit In by Phuc Tran. This is a stunning memoir about refugees, racism, fitting in, and the Maine author's love of literature. 

“Everyone is always welcome to join either of these groups.”

Contact Sheila through email  or call 706-3896. The Library also has a great website.

Coleman Pond Association

Here’s a spring report from the Coleman Pond Assoc. newsletter:

“Ice out was on March 27, 2022. Soon after, we saw the usual variety of ducks: buffleheads, wood ducks, ring-necked ducks, and mallards; we also saw common and hooded mergansers … At least two loons were present. The geese are not in shortsupply.

“The pond has been very quiet. There have been only three motor boats, three kayaks, and a few fishermen. A few docks are in place. The loons are present, but often there are three which suggests that nesting may be interrupted, although I have not heard of observed the vicious fights between the loons as in the past. We think the geese are nesting on the island. Human activity is minimal. The water is high, but is slowly dropping. We are wondering if this will be a dry summer.”

The Coleman Pond Association meeting will be held July 23, 9 a.m. to noon at Whitney Oppersdorf’s studio off Slab City Road.