Yesterday my son packed up the family, particularly his son, the nine-year-old in my life, and headed out to that early spring ritual, the Cub Scouts’ Pinewood Derby. If you didn’t raise a son in Lincolnville, “back in the day”, you’ll have to take my word for it: Pinewood Derby day was a big deal.

We didn’t need a pandemic to feel cooped up, lonely, and bored at the end of a Maine winter back in the 70s and 80s when my kids were growing up. Pinewood Derby brought out all the parents, siblings, and grandparents of young boys, packed into the Community Building. The atmosphere was positively giddy with children racing around the big room, weaving in and out among the adults who were chattering as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, maybe months.

The race track, a long sloping plywood affair that only came out for this one day, was set up in the middle of the room. I seem to remember that it was the Crockett boys who set up a device that recorded the time, in seconds, that it took a car to travel down the track. Each car went separately, carefully released by the Scout at the top of the track. Much to the boys’ disappointment there were no actual contests of one car racing with another. That would have made it more fun.

Winners were announced after everyone had raced. Is it my imagination that the trophies grew larger over the years? First through fourth place winners got to go on to the district contest, held in Brunswick. We had such a winner at least once or twice, and that meant another Saturday spent in a crowded gymnasium or community building. “Those Brunswick dads,” Wally would grouse, “they’re all super-competitive pilots from the air base (remember when the Navy had a base in Brunswick?); they take this really seriously.” Implying that their sons’ cars had probably been tested in wind tunnels or something.

“What we want,” he’d tell me, “is fifth place. They get a trophy [a small one] but we don’t have to go to the districts.”

So what are these cars? Each boy is given a kit containing a block of pine, two metal axles and four plastic wheels. Supposedly the Cub fashions his own little wooden car out of those parts, but in reality it’s Dad, or maybe Mom or Grandpa or a handy friend, who carves, saws, or whittles the block into the shape of a race car. My oldest insisted, the other day, that he’d made his completely on his own. Who’s going to argue?

I do remember Wally tackling the project with trepidation; woodworking was never his forte. Think of it; three boys who were Cub Scouts for two or three years each. That’s a lot of Pinewood Derby cars, and they turn up unexpectedly all over the place because no one ever throws them out.

They can’t weigh over five ounces, and yes, they weigh them at the race. The trick was to drill holes in the bottom of the car and insert lead weights. Wally and the boy would take them down to Bo Rae’s Hillside Market and put them on his scale. But there were always disagreements about the best place to put the weights – near the back? By the front wheels?

Turns out the lead sinkers Wally always used aren’t lead anymore, but much more lightweight aluminum. Saturday, under the deadline and discovering his father’s sinkers were useless, Ed finally settled on pennies.

Don, another dad of a former Cub Scout, tells me he’d insert the axles into his power drill and smooth them with super-fine sandpaper. “Don’t forget the graphite,” he advised when we were talking about my grandson’s car.

Notice that the Scout himself, at least in this house and in this or previous generations, doesn’t have a lot to do with the actual construction.

But once the car is shaped and weighted, the boy usually does the sanding and painting. Decorations are important: tiger stripes, eyeballs, you name it. This boy’s Pinewood Derby car carried the number “04”, his grandfather’s race car number and the wolf symbol his other grandfather always signed off with.

It’s hard to imagine there was a time in this town when nearly every little boy was a Cub Scout, a member of Pack 244, actually the oldest Pack in the state. The Pack, led by the Cubmaster, consisted of several dens from youngest to oldest  – Tiger, Wolf, Bear, and Weblos – each with its own adult leader. When my three were Scouts the Cubmaster was a man – I remember Dick Koski running the Derby – while women were the Den Mothers. Weblos, (We Be Loyal Scouts) the oldest Den of Cub Scouts, had a male leader.

Andy Hazen led the Weblos and then was the Boy Scout leader along with Karlo Leach of Camden. The current Petunia Pump, our iconic Center symbol, is the work of Andy and his Scout troop.

 A crisis of Scouting was averted the year no man could be found to take on Cubmaster; Jackie Watts stepped up and said she’d do it. The bit of grumbly that ensued – this wasn’t a woman’s job! – was quickly squelched when realization hit that the Pack couldn’t exist without a Cubmaster.           

The Cubmaster officiated at the awards ceremonies and the Pinewood Derby; the Den Mothers held the weekly after school Den meetings.

Picture it. It’s Tuesday afternoon and any minute the big yellow bus is going to stop at your house and disgorge half a dozen rowdy little eight-year-old boys. They’re hungry (better have the snack ready; I remember making cheese pennies, thinking sugar wasn’t a wise choice) and after being cooped up all day at school, they were off the walls.

Wally loved to tell about the afternoon he got home from work and saw nine little boys standing transfixed in front Carol Arone’s large drawing of a nude woman I’d recently bartered for a rug I’d made, while my co-Den mother and I were busy setting out snacks.

What happened to Scouting? Or more specifically, Lincolnville’s Scouting? Why did our historic Pack 244 pack it in? I wonder if it fell before the circumstances that have brought down so many organizations. Grange, Masons, Eastern Star, Legion, movie theatres, lectures.  If it entails getting up off the couch, putting down the iPad, shutting off the TV, and leaving the house we just don’t do it. Was it the adults or the kids who lost interest? Very likely the strong sports program that’s developed at LCS diverted many potential Cub Scouts.

I’m afraid the pandemic with its reliance on Zoom to bring us together will further the trend toward isolation in the home.

Though today Pack 244 is no more, Lincolnville boys can join Pack 200 in Camden. Doug Grant is Den Leader for the Weblos, the Den my grandson is part of. And a dynamic troop of Girl Scouts is making itself heard in town, which reminds me that the cookies are in! If you neglected to order this year, I have it on good authority that there are some available to buy. Watch the Bulletin Board and Facebook for a contact.

The Pinewood Derby, held at the American Legion Hall in Camden this past week-end, had all the earmarks of those earlier ones, my son reported. Lots of boys, parents, siblings and grandparents with the addition of a computerized timing system and a computer scoreboard showing each car’s score. And the grandson? He took the coveted fifth place.

Veteran of nearly a dozen Derbies, I stayed behind this time, nursing my bad knee in the sun of Don’s deck.

P.S.

For those who’ve asked about my wonky knee: bone-on-bone says the X-ray. Ouch. Whine. Hobble. Looking forward to getting a new one ASAP, but meanwhile going to PT, doing the exercises, and learning patience!

Look at What’s Going On in Our Town

Simon van der Ven has been busy making new pots in his Center studio this winter. See the results at his online store going live at 12 p.m. this Tuesday. Siem, who has always enjoyed opening his studio to us, (and offering his homemade cookies) says, “I’ve come to accept that online shopping is a significant part of the new normal. I was recently bemoaning with a client the difficulties of buying ceramics from a screen. A sign in the middle of my gallery says, “Please touch”. Feeling the weight, running your fingers along its surfaces, and listening to the sounds it makes are integral to knowing a piece and making a decision about living with it. But that’s just not possible now. So if one of my pieces arrives at your home and doesn’t feel right, send it back and I will do my best to find something that does.

“Kate and I have both been vaccinated and definitely look forward to things opening up a bit. Until then, be well, stay safe and healthy.” Take a look at the beautiful work he’s done.

When Corelyn Senn posted the photo of an animal she couldn’t immediately identify, Christine Anderson-Morehouse replied: “My first thought was … ‘Mink’.  
We once watched a mink and her baby traveling along the edge of Megunticook Lake.  We were hiking at Fernald's Neck and heard an amazingly loud racket....  Turns out, it was the baby mink screeching to catch up to its Mom.  When it reached her, it jumped onto her back and along they continued.” Wouldn’t you love to have seen that??  

Liz Hand, with a perfect view of Coleman Pond, watches wood ducks feeding along the watery edges of the pond this week. But some animal she can’t quite identify – otter or mink – seems to be tracking the ducks which fly off whenever it comes along.

And the pond has been talking. Anyone who spends time on our frozen ponds knows they can be pretty noisy. Listen to the video (above) that Liz recorded at Coleman last week. As she said, it’s no wonder native peoples imagined spirits like the Wendigo inhabited our forests and lakes.