Each year as Christmas looms nearer I think of Doris Miller Holmes. She lived in Belfast just down the road from the business she and her husband ran for many years. By the way, the enormous poinsettias standing along United Christian Church’s balcony rail come, as they do every year, from Holmes Greenhouse, a nod to Doris’ affection for that church.

As with all the stories I eventually wrote for Staying Put, this one started as a simple memory, an old woman remembering a certain night when she was six years old. I asked a lot of questions about what life was like in an old farmhouse in 1924 Lincolnville. Every detail she told me – dumping icy sap into her boots, the stranger stranded in a storm, the hand-me-down winter coat – made it into the story.

The Miller homestead, Twin Elms, 2498 Belfast Road, stood at Clark’s Corner, the intersection of Slab City and Belfast Roads. The house and barn have been well-cared for over the years and must look much as they did when Doris and her older sister, Jane, were little girls. But oh, how much has changed.

The town that had a population of 811 in 1920 has today, 2,164 souls. Scott Knight’s General Store has undergone a transformation that would boggle the mind of the farmers (and farm wives) of that earlier time. There’s hardly a single thing in today’s Lincolnville General Store that those folks would recognize – pizza? Unicorn Snot? Legal alcohol??

The trip today from Clark’s Corner to the Center takes about three minutes in a warm car. No horse to harness or buffalo robes to mess with. But also, no starry sky or snuggles under the robe, no anticipation of an adventure. In fact, today’s trip in itself has almost no significance.

The multi-generation family home still exists here and there; I can happily attest to that, but it’s rare. In Doris’ childhood it was the norm. Let’s be realistic – it didn’t always work out so well. Imagine being raised in a house where the mother-in-law was resented or the bachelor uncle was always underfoot or there were just too many mouths to feed and not enough food to go around.

We shouldn’t let an old woman’s sweet memory color our view of the past, make it into an idyllic existence. Except to say it did happen, or at any rate, it’s how she remembered it. That memory nourished Doris all her life, as did the painting of the Camden hills that hung in her living room, the view from Twin Elms, the scene that she grew up with. I think of her every time I make the turn onto Slab City Road and admire that lovely line of hills.

It’s what memories are for; they’re the compost we use to build the rest of our lives.

Doris Miller couldn’t wait for it to get dark. Jane, two years older at eight, pretended to be much more patient than her little sister, but inside she was just as excited. This was the day, or rather the night, that their father was taking them to Scott Knight’s store in the Centre to do their Christmas shopping. Mama would fix supper earlier than usual, and then they could go.

 The girls helped their mother, Annie, by setting the table. She was fixing their favorite tonight—pancakes with her own maple syrup. Doris carefully carried the pitcher over to the table, mindful of what had happened last spring when she’d tried to help collect the sap, and accidentally dumped the icy stuff into her own boots! As usual, there were six places around the table—Doris and Jane, their parents, Horace and Annie, and their grandparents, Allen and Emma Miller.

 Sometimes, especially in the summer, there were several more places to set for the relatives who visited from all over the country. Still, even in the middle of winter, Annie Miller was ready for company. You never knew who might be there at mealtime. Sometimes it was a hired man, or the minister, or even a stranger, stranded in a bad storm.

 Where was Daddy anyway? Doris peeked out the kitchen door toward the barn, then quickly closed it against the cold. He ought to be back from the chores by now. Supper was almost ready, and then it would be time to go. Finally, Horace came in carrying the pail of warm milk, and a basket with a few eggs. Jane carefully put the eggs in a bowl; the girls knew that hens didn’t lay many eggs in the middle of winter, and they couldn’t afford to break any.

 Their mother strained the milk, and put it in a cool place, not hard to find on such a cold night. Just like the hens, the cows were slowing production. Only one cow was still milking, and even she was at the end. Come spring when all the cows had their calves they’d be swimming in milk again, and Annie and Emma would be busy making butter to sell.

 Finally the family sat down to their meal of pancakes and maple syrup. By this time, Doris was just too excited to eat. When her mother said she couldn’t go out in the cold with out eating a hot meal, that was all she needed to hear. She quickly finished her pancakes, then watched impatiently while her father took his time. Maybe the store would close before they got there.

 At last everybody was done eating, and the table was cleared. Their grandmother started washing the dishes at the sink, using hot water from the big kettle that was always kept full on the woodstove. The two little girls stood with dishtowels, ready to dry, though Doris kept an eye on her mother. Maybe they wouldn’t have to do it tonight.

 Sure enough, Annie was getting out their coats and hats, mufflers and mittens. Time to go! Doris put on her warm, wool coat, the one her mother had made for Jane two years before. It was hers now, and she loved it. They wrapped the long mufflers around and around their necks, pulled hats down over their ears. Annie tucked the cuffs of their mittens inside their sleeves, and pulled their mufflers up over their mouths. The big buffalo robe had been warming near the stove, and she handed it to Horace. At last, they were ready.

 By the time the children went outside their father had driven the horse and sleigh out of the barn. He tucked the robe around the three of them, and they were off. Doris looked over her shoulder and waved at her mother, standing in the kitchen window. Once they were away from the warm, lamp-lit house, the night felt unimaginably black and cold. The runners of the sleigh made a crisp sound in the still air, punctuated by the regular clopping of the horse’s hooves on the frozen road.

 Doris looked up at the bright white stars. The ride seemed to last forever. Their cheeks, the only part of their faces exposed to the cold, were frozen. But all the rest of them was warm and cozy under the thick robe as they snuggled next to their father.

At last Horace pulled up on the reins, and the horse stopped in front of the store. The girls looked up, up to the peak of the tall building, taller than any house or barn in their neighborhood. The wide glass windows glowed yellow in the night. The children squirmed out from under the robe and jumped down from the sleigh. They waited while their father tied up the horse. He came over to them then and held out two fifty-cent pieces, one for each girl, and put them in their mittens. “There’s your Christmas money. Let’s go in and see what you can find.”

A wave of warm, dry air enveloped them when they stepped inside the door. The golden lamplight sent flickering shadows into the dark corners and along the high ceiling. But the girls hardly noticed. They went right back to the long counter and stood shyly waiting while their father spoke with the store’s owner, Scott Knight. Just then Eleanora, his pretty wife, came in from the back, and asked if she could help them.

Doris was tongue-tied, but Jane spoke up and said they needed to find Christmas presents for everyone in their family. Elo, for that’s what everyone called her, took them over to the shelves near the front and helped them pick out the perfect present for each family member. Doris found a hairnet for Grandma and a bar of soap for Mother. Elo showed her a washcloth that would be just right for Jane, all the while hiding it so her sister couldn’t see it. Doris picked out a handkerchief each for her father and grandfather; she was satisfied. She went over to the candy display and studied each kind while Jane picked out her presents.

Elo wrapped up their gifts in two brown paper bundles and handed them over the counter. “Come back soon, girls,” she said. Jane and Doris were in no hurry to leave, nor was their father. But while he was wasting the precious minutes in the store talking, the girls were making the most of them, looking at every single thing on display. In front was the molasses barrel, where their mother sometimes filled the jug she’d brought from home, and the row of little glass doors with different kinds of cookies behind each one. There were shelves of dishes, and pans, and towels, and underwear, more things than they could ever see.

Doris was beginning to feel drowsy. Maybe it was the heat or the excitement or just past her bedtime, but next thing she knew she was picked up in her father’s arms and carried outside. He quickly set her into the sleigh with Jane snuggled next to her, the buffalo robe tucked around them all. Doris felt a jerk as the horse started up, but her eyes were too heavy to watch the houses fly by or the stars overhead. Then her father was carrying her into the kitchen of their own warm house where her mother and her grandmother and her grandfather were all waiting for her.

Town

A big issue the town will be facing in the new year concerns the old Beach Schoolhouse, aka the Lincolnville Improvement Association (LIA)at 33 Beach Road. This town-owned building was, for many years under an informal agreement with the town, maintained by the LIA. Then several years ago the town assumed responsibility for the structure, with the LIA continuing to take care of utilities and custodial duties.

Last year voters appropriated money to have a complete assessment of the building – foundation, roof, structural integrity, systems. That is now complete and, not surprising, there’s a lot that needs fixing. Hear the report given during the Dec. 9 Selectmen’s meeting here: the discussion begins at 42 minutes.

Built in 1892 as a one-room school, today it serves several functions. The downstairs room and kitchen is a meeting place for the LIA, for the Women’s Club, the community Christmas party, and for private parties. The second floor is rented out to the Lincolnville Historical Society (LHS) and houses both the town’s historical archives as well as the Schoolhouse Museum.

Sometime in January the Selectmen will meet with the LIA and LHS officers to discuss in detail the findings of the engineers that studied it. Our town is rich in historic public structures; recognizing that only two are actually town-owned (Beach School and the Bandstand), I count nine:

The Beach School

Tranquility Grange

Bayshore Baptist Church

King David’s Lodge

Petunia Pump

United Christian Church/Community Building

Bicentennial Bandstand

World War II Memorial

Library

It’s time that we as a town start planning for their future, how they’re going to be maintained and used.

School

The eighth grade’s annual post-holiday bottle drive (save up all those returnables that collect during the festivities!) will be Saturday, January 4. Bag them up and leave by the curb (if any of us have curbs) by 9 a.m. that day. Volunteers will come by and pick them up. Proceeds from the bottles will go into the class trip fund, the eighth grade trip to Quebec City in the spring.

Read all about recent LHS basketball games, girls and boys, on Lynx Tracks

the school newsletter. This week the teams will be playing:

CRMS (Camden Rockport Middle School) at home on Monday, Dec. 16, girls at 3:45 and boys at 5:15.

Wednesday, Dec. 18 Islesboro will be at LCS, with the boys

at 3 p.m. and the girls at 4:30.

Thursday, Dec. 19 LCS travels to Troy Howard in Belfast, boys first at 3:45 and girls at 5:15.

The last day of school before the holiday break is Friday, Dec. 20 with an early dismissal of 11:30. School resumes Jan.2, 2020.

Library

The book group meets Tuesday at 6 p.m. for a discussion on the novels and non-fiction of Geraldine Brooks.

Rosey Gerry’s annual Holiday show featuring stories, poems, music/sing-alongs and cookies! starts at 7 p.m. Come early to get a seat, and Rosey says “bringing Christmas cookies to share would be nice.”