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Bartering And Hey, What If There Was Less Inflation?

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Do you have skills, talents beyond just what you do in the primary chase, hunt down?

In the bag and tag of the weekly paycheck? What you may have a background, a degree, training of some type in. That all around you just automatically associated with you. When they think of when it’s time to reach out. Who you gonna call. For someone that does your kind of primary employment.

Maine Sea Gull Paddling.

Surrounded By Island Water, Meet Your Neighbors.

Growing up on a Maine farm, there was lots of exchange of talents, swapping one piece of equipment for another in the arsenal of each farmer’s barn yard.

To avoid buying, tying up precious cash on a farm implement that only was used a couple if that times a year.

My Dad would borrow a belly straper from Don Hagan to smooth up the driveways. The right tool for the job and all set up on one of his 806 IH tractors. Nothing to pick up, hook on our own, unbolt. Remove, return hassle for just a little once in year job.

The feeling in the swap mutual with another Maine farmer.

That returned the equipment, did not let every other Tom, Dick and Harry use it. So when you needed it back, you did not have to do search and rescue. For the MIA red, green or whatever color farm tractor attachment. It can work, the give and take with the right responsible partners.

Had a real estate buyer tell me about her adventures while living in Florida with bartering. She bartered for medical services, everything else she and her family needed. The exchange just was not the cash and carry most of us are used to today. No credit extended. Unless it was I am coming over and shingling your porch roof for the swap of you letting me have that ailing lawnmower, a half cord of cut, split and has to be moved wood.

Maine Photo, Image Beauty.

Pick Your Outdoor Pleasure. Maine Has Them All. Spread Over The Four Seasons.

Do you have something to trade, swap or is it like the card game of Fish.

For the got any skills beyond brain surgery and diamond cutting, whatever ask?

If in this country all heck broke loose, a full compliment of survival skills held in your hand, inside to tout would be necessary. If money was no good, did not do the trick for the other end of the dickering, bartering, exchange.

If can you fix my car, have you got any gas, ammo, food was more important, sought after.

Instead of what if tucked in your purse, folded in your wallet for green, dead Presidents. Or plastic, worthless cards with magnetic strips no longer of any value.

Inflation with money no longer so sought after would be gone from the survival equation.

The folks deep in the hearts of a city that did not live on farms, did not have small business enterprises their parents ran to learn a myriad of skills. From the hands on, the neat feeling of I can do this, that and a lots more too. Empowerrment. DIY before it became a household word like “green”. Where we in Maine lived that way before someone thought of adding a color, marketing as something new, novel. To the day to day approach to life.

Maine Living In Moderation, Alignment, Balance.

Uneven, Rocky Crooked Paths But Still Seeking Alignment. Balance,

Worked at one radio station in Bangor where other than payrolls, so so much of everything else was a trade out, bartered.

For example, we’ll give you a dollar a holler, a radio spot cluster package in exchange from the heating oil company we were bragging up on air.

The cost of the goods, services reduced to strictly wholesale to wholesale. No mark up, waiting and in and out exchange of services. Not so sure taxes, service fees were always tallied up either. It could have been under the table stuff, slight of hand maneuvering. I just spun the records, rip and read the news.

The paved parking lot needs surface crack filling and resealing? Why don’t we tell the world about the great job you provide and reasonable prices doing just that Mr Guy With The Black Tar application devices? While you are out front the little studio with the big stick and guy wires in the back yard beats feet.

Does the job in a jiffy of efficiency. For us to broadcast it all over the listening area.

That that big red and white, lighted tower radiates, connects with on air, shares with all the listeners digging the music, news, other services we provide. Trade outs, bartering that the IRS is not so cranked up about, done below radar with a no paperwork. Just a gentlemen’s agreement. Simple hand shake and fair exchange between two parties. The arrangement that lasts, stands the test of time and just works in small Maine town living.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Some Maine School Board Members Lay Their Heads On The Desk.

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The school board in a small Maine community held some late night meetings.

Actually early morning discussions. In fact one that droned on at 2 AM in the morning. That caused some school board members to close their eyes, put their heads on the table in front of them. From the exhaustion of the topic front and center before them to thrash out, come to a shared solution, conclusion.

Maine School Boards, Working Toward Common Goals, Tackling For Solutions.

Score The Goal, Make The Point. At A Small Maine School Board Meeting.

To move on to other bigger problems of running a small Maine school system. Keeping everything afloat, everyone in the boat.

The issue at hand not about the heated debate over a school budget and spending money the district did not have.

It involved a child wearing a mask daily to school. Not with aspirations to be a bank robber. Or a fantasy of being a super hero.

The surgical like blue mask to protect the small boy from pollutants, contaminants. That threatened his life, immune system.

And one local teacher feeling sorry for the boy who was the target of jokes, sneers and just too much attention.

Maine Cows, Needing Haircuts.

Seeing The Issue, The Resolution At A Small Town Maine Meeting Can Be Hard.

Due to the mask asked “could you go a day without it?” Innocent question, not a demand but just wondering what would happen, was it really needed all the time.

The parents got wind of the question when the lad got home.

A phone call was made, the beginning of a series. Then letters generated from a law firm and here we go. We have a barn burner of a legal issue staring down the double barrels right at the school board. With a what are you going to do about it, looking for damages from the hub bub.

At the school board hearing with both parents in attendance, smoking was allowed. This was back in the time when it was smoke them if you have them. Reach for your chest pocket or purse and be a real Marlboro Man. Or a Virginia Slim Lady. As the parents explained that the boy was allergic to everything. You could not help noticing being quiet as a church mouse in the room that both parents were professional smokers. Toking, smoking, lighting one up before the other stopped the blue haze, toxic wispy air curls.

The school board chairman, a doctor had tried to make it off limits to smoke at the school board proceedings.

Any meetings but was quickly hushed up by one school board member that did smoke. But does not now and is dead because of it. But at this proceeding with the high power out of town attorneys racking up the billable hours to oversee the what you say, how you say it, it was obvious.

Maine School Systems, All Over The Map

Running A Small Maine School System Smoothly.

The small boy had rights to wear the mask.

But with the amount of two, three packs and more of second hand smoke generated by his dad and mom, it was obvious all the blame was not to be rock piled on the school board for questioning the need to wear the mask.

Because of the impassioned plea from the school board chairman at 2AM in the morning, a call came in from the parents.

The next day they dialed him up on the rotary phone. Thanked him crying. Saying they were sorry for making an issue of the teacher who was simply trying to help the boy with the mask.

Who got a little too much attention over the need to wear it at recess, at home too. To protect from those who loved, cared for him who were part of the problem as heavy, round the clock chain smokers.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Watching, Learning, Growing Up Bumping Into A Maine Sign Painter.

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Small Maine towns are filled with lots of interesting people that make the communities sparkle, special, different.

The career path for one young lad in one small Maine town in Aroostook County started early. Always drawing, sketching. Guiding either a number two graphite lead or colored pencil in his hands. Eventually dabbling in paint colors.

Maine Small Town Living.

Outdoors, Simple Living In Maine Small Towns. Lots Of Natural, Not Store Bought Colors, Tints, Hues.

Shaping, forming, creating simple works of creative art.

The drawings that would never end up displayed some day in the Lourve. Or hanging on some other famous lighted display wall.

Roped off in purple or maroon velvet hip high arched strands. To contain, keep the crowd back. Wearing cameras hung around their necks. Herded to a safe distance away to protect, preserve his one of a kind work.

His dad worked for Putnam Brothers, a local petroleum products dealer on Pierce before it turned the corner heading east. Becoming Leonard Street. Long before 911 jumbled all the Maine small town street names.

So everyone became confused, not so sure. Not just a few to these new parts transplants that needed to raise their hand. Had the need to go ask for travel directions to get somewhere and back.

Maine Moose Trail Traffic.

Busy Winter Woods Trail Traffic In Maine.

Allison Britton, the main, primary local sign painter was sitting on a wooden stool.

Lettering the driver’s sign door of a new service vehicle for the blue and orange brand color oil company. One practical sign painting application demonstrated.

That the small boy of twelve witnessed when he had ridden his bike over to just say hello to Dad. Enjoying the freedom of street to street summer vacation travel with pedal power. Under his own steam of his two wheel bike that all safe small Maine towns afford youngsters that get off the couch.

The liquid strokes of paint, the fluid motion of lettering his Dad’s name just below the driver’s side window mesmorized the boy.

Inquisitive, engaged and thinking I can do that. But finding out at home that duplication of what he had seen, studied was not so easy. But practice makes perfect. The vocation training, inspiration outside his own doodling at home had started. To flatten the learning curve.

Maine Horses, Big Powerful Pets.

Big Pets, Maine Horses Are Also Workers. More Than Hay Burners. Pretty Against The Green Backdrop.

The advancement of the young lad’s career got a little help from one of Cupid’s sharp arrow.

As fate, destiny would have it, the young boy as a teenage used to walk home with the sign painter’s daughter Barbara. They would say their goodbyes, the up and coming sign painter wannabe would go into apprentice mode.

Entering the shop when Mr Britton, the girl’s Dad was in his paint studio on Spring Street. The one beside Chadwick’s Florist on one side. The young girlfriend, classmate’s matching red colored home on the other.

Twenty questions were asked but mostly learning by watching in silence provided the most information transfer.

Observing the ease that the practiced right hand danced, darted with deliberate strokes. Leaning for support on the left one planted on the surface of whatever lettering project for support. Outdoor advertising, billboards in Maine was not illegal. Not banned, outlawed yet around the countryside. For messages aimed to be read at 55 mph by highway motorists. Kept simple to appear in the corner of their eyeballs.

Lettering trucks, service vehicles, window flyers for store advertising part of the sign painter’s operation.

Hand painted work from scratch done for hanging business shingles for out front an enterprise. To be hoisted when the paint dried. To ride high, wide and handsome on a sign belt above the shop doors.

My Dad has this talented painter create an eight foot ear of corn. “Farm Fresh Corn” announced in a crown over the golden kernels. Just peeking through the green skin ear covering. With cascading brown, white and golden silk topping his vegetable creation.

Simple Living, Using Horse Sense In Maine.

Coming Together, Working Out Solutions In Maine Small Towns.

The one placed yearly on US Rt 2 to announce the Maine farm stand for just picked produce, vegetables, fruits is open for business.

The farmer’s market in the front yard of the homestead. To beckon to motorists that created a steady stream of customers for me a boy of nine to peddle product to after school, weekends.

My Dad also used Allison Britton every time a new trailer truck was bought and needed the Prem Pak label centered, hand lettered on the doors along with the vehicle numbers. To help Mom keep the shipping freight paperwork straight.

I remember being on my hunches squatting, watching the gold leaf applied. Or whatever lettering Allison had been commissioned to do by my parents.

The young Jedi sign painter that learned by watching did not end up marrying the daughter he walked home, then dated through high school. Did not inherit the camel brushes, the wall murals created during the slower winter months by the seasoned teacher, his inspiration. But the skills made the transfer from old to young just the same in a small Maine town connection on the border in Aroostook County.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

One Small Thing Maine Is Big On, Has Plenty Of To Share.

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You see a city image of a crowded overflowing sidewalk.

A sea of people with expressionless faces. Some in a major marathon rush hour hurry. Late for some very important mad hatter like date. Others spilling, sprawled like wall to wall fluid glue, thick mud, ice cubes. Wearing casper like tans. Sporting flat line or upside down smiles.

Crowds, No Space, Not Much Expression, Detachment Happens When No Elbow Room Happens.

Crowds, No Space, Not Much Expression, Detachment Happens When No Elbow Room Surrounds A Person.

A liquid phalanx of human urban crack filler. Tangled, layered, knotted. Kitty corner varicose wedged between the movers and shakers.

The hustle and bustle from the crowd, mob, cluster sirens visual stress and plenty of worry.

A few poker faced and seemingly casual in a detached sort of way. Maybe the stop at the corner pub after work gets the credit for a hint of bevity.

Plenty of don’t get involved fear expressions the rule though.

A common goal shared by many. When full scale panic would take over if trucks stopped shipping goods into a city for just a couple days. In their just in time inventory practice to local merchants, peddlers of foodstuffs.

To just slip through the 360 degree obstacle course everywhere they turn in the watch where you step, no way to move in the herding.

Until a let down, long sigh. When the click of a dead bolt is heard, felt. The grab the dangling, swinging security chain finishes the slide ride to the side. Finally. Whew. Geez Louise. Home, sweet costly leased home. The one seventeen stories or more jacked up, hoisted from the high priced, in short supply terra firma down below.

But back to the sidewalks you can not see for the people stuck, melted together.

Add in the taxis, mass transit bus stands and underground or elevated train stairway interruptions. Non stop, round the clock never sleep loud honking horns. Black diesel fume belching buses. To make it a challenge, slow the process of getting from A to B. Upping the stress levels as you can collectively hear all the worn time devices ticking loudly. Like the Pink Floyd song intro.

As someone in the control room slides the audio, cranks the dials on the VU meters. To make them dance, linger, loiter in the red region. To add depth to the what does it feel like. In that crowded, elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder stark black and white image. Look at all those people. Where you don’t know the face of even one soul in the crowd.

Now picture you are in Maine.

I know. Can you stand the sound of all that Maine quiet?

Gone are the sounds of city clanging. Of garbage, municipal trucks, fire engines, ambulances meat wagons. Where every year is getting shorter.

Maine Lake Photo

More Outdoors, Less People, That’s Part Of Maine’s Magic.

And self medication in all the wrong varieties to manage. The try to cope with city stress addictions, tricks of self deception all melt away.

Like that permanent truck tire around the waist you wear. Oddly enough worn in the urban setting. To fend of others in some bizarre bumper car rubber self protection device strip sort of way.

In Maine on a small town sidewalk there is plenty of concrete showing.

Take your time in the casual no pushing, no shoving stroll. Maine you get extra helpings of space. No matter where you are. Or what you buy for real estate. Measured in acreage, hundreds of yards not fractions of inches.

People wave, smile, hold doors open for you in Maine. Use taught manners. Let you go in traffic.

Safe Place To Live, Maine.

Destination Maine. It’s Living Outdoors, Small Town Friendly, Families.

In Maine towns with maybe just a handful if any red, green, yellow hanging or corner positioned vertical lights.

Less herding help with the population needed in a small Maine town. Kids walk home from the down town movies at night without fear of abduction in the 4th lowest crime state.

You can cross the uncrowded streets anywhere too. Not just at certain times on specified designated cross walk reflectorized painted grid lines.

Where even when it’s your turn, you take your own life in your hands every single time you step down off the granite city curb.

Is it crowded where you live now? You’re not in Maine are you?

Do you feel a connection to others around you? Sense like if you were not around long where you live others would know it, miss you? Let go. Run away. Get to Maine. Feel the release of tension, anxiety, all that bottled up worry and frustration. Lose the worry about hitting someone by accident, mistake. Or out of self defense and reaching for a fully charged taxer, can of mace.

There is another setting. All natural, unfiltered, unplugged and with freedom on every level written all over it. Enjoy, bask, bathe in the clean air, crystal clear water and all this space in the place called Maine.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

When There Are Hundreds To Pick From, Music Channels.

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I don’t know about you but music, all types need to be in my diet, the background.

No matter what is going on.

Maine Lake Summer Moonlight.

Summer Moonlight, Outdoor Fires On A Maine Lake. Peaceful, Romantic, Relaxing.

Maybe it is to avoid “dead air” training from early years in a Maine radio career. Where Mighty John Marshall threatened to fine on air record spinners a quarter for every second of wasted, empty “dead air”. To keep everything hot, dancing VU meters in the red tight. Flowing, polished, professional. Without cracks, gaps or joints in the programming.

In Maine the outdoor sounds can be the muzak that motivates, stimulates.

Crickets chirping, birds peeping, loon crooning, crying. Or whispering pine needle vibrations humming when the wind picks up. To go with the sound of rain water on a tin roof, sleet against a side window on the northeast. Or waves lapping the rocks, against a dock along a Maine lake or oceanfront craggy shoreline.

But back to the digital music channels from 30,000 miles into space. The gazillion available to tap into, dial to enjoy.

To set the tone. Which ones depending on your mood, what you need to enhance the day or evening musically. The last three days on the ride to and fro in the jeep, the 40′s channel is where I have it locked in. Not a regular haunt like Alt Nation, Classic Vinyl, The Loft, The Pulse, BPM, Backspin, etc.

The itch to change the channel. Not leave it where you got it. Because the longer you sample any type of music, repetition starts to creep in. And it’s time to pack up and move sideways. Up or down the dial. To find a new musical home to explore, sample, enjoy. This big band, musical production channel from the 1940′s features your classic dance bands. That include Artie Shaw, Duke Ellington, Woodie Herman, Glenn Miller, Jimmie Lunceford.

The lyrics when Bing Crosby, Jane Wyman, Bob Hope, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Shore, Helen Humes, Jo Stafford, Helen Forrest, Peggy Lee or whoever paired up as boyfriend/girlfriend.

Or husband and wife duos with common themes. Each partner with defined, distinct and obvious roles in the partnership. Love, managing the money, raising kids, all reflecting the times. Often World War Two war subjects.

Being blue because of being apart. Or heartache recovery while floundering, on the rebound. Or feet not touching the ground in love, bitten and smitten. Not able to think straight but both the love birds in la la land. And put to words, dance steps to prove it.

Trying to share what each is feeling deep down inside.

Because of what the other in their system is doing to the other in the new blossoming love. Full of hope, promise, plenty of potential. Love and marriage. Bring in the baby carriage. We’re off to the races.

Stretching the dollar, starting a business, tilling a patch of dirt, just having carefree let your hair hang down fun dancing. Common decency, manners, values, starting a family. All of it splashed generously into the production scores. Striving to have it all. The American Dream. The cape cod, big car, filled with lots of kids. All of it surrounded by the picket fence.

Saturday Afternoon Bath Time For Mr Maine Moose.

Moose In Maine Further Up In Aroostook County Safe From Drunk Hunters. Who Start Shooting Cows, Horses In Lewiston, Further South.

Taking the train into the city for a broadway show.

Up to the mountains in New England to ski. All weaved into the G and F clef sheet brass, woodwind, percussion, ivory key musical arrangements.

Nothing like rap, no degrading woman, crude or for shock value lyrics or obscene way beyond just suggestive sexual gyrations on camera on the Hollywoood or club sound stage.

Everything black and white simple, good, respectful. G Rated. The nice guys wearing white hats obvious. Good wins out over evil everytime. Happy endings to the musical movies. The entire premise of each filled with all American themes. Causing itchy pants, squirming. Not being able to sit and waste good dance music.

Everyone dressed up, to the nines, the latest style, young. Out at clubs, with lots of clouds of first and second hand smoking around the corner booth tables. A few high balls, gin and tonics, manhattans or old fashions scattered, filled with ice. IV’ed into the musical melodies. Lubricating the entertainment dance and music two step process.

Cutting the rug. Everyone smiling, happy, out for the evening. To celebrate something big. Or just the end of being away, a hard week of toiling.

To dance, sing along. Anything but stalled, parked, sitting still.

Everything simpler, decent, wholesome.

I think of my parents listening to many of the familiar songs. Music that filled the Maine farm home. Usually the needle on the vinyl groove dropped on Sundays. Just before dinner, sandwiched right after the church time slot. When later that afternoon it was taking turns. Shut the music off, put the 33.3 RPM black discs away.

To land at one of my Mom’s eleven kid family of brothers or sisters. With cousins socializing in new backyards. While the parents sat in lawn chairs, recalled history. Caught up on the latest happenings in the local area from the weekly circle of chair meet up in a small Maine town.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Independent Thinkers, Mainers Run Their Own Thought Process.

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In an age of highly specialized across so many industries today, the downside is falling short in many other areas of life.

Because all the money in the brain trust is placed on the marble circling the roulette wheel. To land on one specific number, colored slot.

Coffee Tastes Better On Maine Porches, Decks, Patios.

Maine Porches, Free Therapy, Shelling Fresh Peas, Naps Happen Here.

And when you are very good at a skill, craft and have a talent in one specific sought after area, you are sought out.

The money you make for a reward of being pretty special in that one narrow area. Means throwing some of it around. Hiring out lots of other areas of your life decision making.

In my industry of real estate, if the price tags hanging off the property listings are high enough. Blessed with lots of zero places, it opens the door.

A bunch of them. To lots of side contractors in the process of selling a home.

Home stagers to tell you no no, the colors you picked over the years are all wrong. This place could fetch way way more. If we pull all your furniture out. Throw it into storage or give it away to Catholic Charities, the Red Cross. For some family a victim of a total household loss fire.

Not Stuck Inside, Moving Around Outside In Maine.

Outside, Moving, Catching A Ride To Maine Adventure.

And (beep beep) back in, slowly, steady, that’s it. Easy, hold it. Good.

A truckload of the latest and greatest colors, styles. The arrangement of the accessories around the brand new smelling furniture in the shrink wrap.

Consulting Angie’s List on who you gonna call. Paying some service to monitor your credit. To see with speed of thought quickness. If there is a negative blip in your financial scores, debt ratios, the works under the financial hood.

When you buy new appliances, anything electronic how about insurance to cover the what if. When warranties used to extend a longer time. Companies stood behind the product without the consumer footing the bill on breakdowns right off the bat. Shortly after lugging home all that shiny, gotta have the newest gadgets. That marketing tells you you need. For a happier, fuller life. Cause you deserve it, have earn the right.

In small town Maine we are brought up cross trained.

Skills sets for survival. You change out the GFI outlet in the bathroom yourself. Cut down, haul to a yard. Split the wood behind your house to heat it this winter. This summer that garage roof gets re-shingled. After stripping the other two layers down to the boards. Carefully making the new asphalt or metal water tight. High and dry by yourself.

Of like the barn raising ritual of I’ll help you with those hand hewn beams, post and pegs this weekend. You and your family come on down. To my Maine farm yard next Saturday and Sunday. To return the favor. Barter exchanged, not dead Presidents swapped for the effort for payment.

If we don’t know in a small Maine town who to call for a repair beyond our expertise. That no one in our circles of family and friends can lend a hand with, well now. The eenie meenie miney moe is easy. Tune in to the Grapevine channel. Not an XM selection choice.

Big Fish, Happy Fisherman.

Local Fresh Maine Fish, Not Shipped In From Who Knows Where.

It’s the common answer to questions asked while sitting in a small Maine town barber’s chair.

Hearing the same response on who to call. At the vet’s getting the booster shots for Fluffy or Spot. Waiting in the staging area for the medicine application. Or getting tires rotated for free at the place you bought them. Asking others in the same routine. Sampling the coffee made yesterday. While comparing notes, experiences. Sometimes horror stories.

Maybe in line at the local IGA or Shop and Save, when asking around. For the survey says (ding ding) this is the person, the selection of folks you ought to call. Based on the experience of your friends and neighbors you know personally, trust completely in a small Maine town.

Self sufficient, more reliant on me, myself and I happens in Maine.

Because we are not a state flush with cash. Don’t hire it done. Big time DIY. You are in simple, frugal living Maine. Where there are not layers, smothering expensive blankets of delays, added costs in our day to day. We do our own thought process. Can hear ourselves think with less people, more direct hands on in the process of living day to day. We don’t hire it out, not so dependent on others.

Maine, where our entertainment is always outdoors too. No or very very low cost. 52 weeks a year when blessed to live in Vacationland full time. With the fun in the sun. Under the blue sky, the same one that shifts to black velvet. And the curtain opens. For the brilliant nightly light show. From a zillion stars you can actually see twinkling, performing overhead. Not lost in a sea of smog, light pollution like a city. Maine, unplug, refresh, recharge. Whew. Relax in the Pine Tree State.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

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Tecumseh Penned Wise Advice That Is Not Dated, From The Heart.

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Tecumseh reminded “a single twigs breaks, but the bundle of twigs is strong.”

In small Maine towns, keeping a clear concise direction, path visible to all is critical to its survival. There is no room for dissension, back biting, or working contrary to the course needed to keep the small Maine town alive. It will take all on board for success.

Maine White Tail Deer

The Nature Of Things. The Balance, Harmony, Reality.

Tecumseh grew up in Ohio, back in the time of the American Revolutionary War, the Northwest Indian War.

He became a local folk hero around Native American, American, Canadian historical records.

The philosopher had lots to say about living life fully. Poems written about death, dying, bravery and attitude. Essays that still apply, inspire today.

Tecumseh Quotes, Sayings, Wisdom Highlights

“Live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart.
Trouble no one about his religion.

Respect others in their views and demand that they respect yours.
Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life.

Seek to make your life long and of service to your people.
Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.

When you rise in the morning, give thanks for the light,
for your life, for your strength.

Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living.

Maine Lake Sunset Photo

Preparing Before The Storm. Prior To Being In The Eye Of It.

If you see no reason to give thanks, the fault lies in yourself.

Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools
and robs the spirit of its vision.

When your time comes to die,
be not like those whose hearts are
filled with fear of death,
so that when their time comes they weep
and pray for a little more time
to live their lives over again in a different way.

Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.

When the legends die, the dreams end; there is no more greatness.

When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.

Keep It Simple Living In Maine.

Maine Is More Outdoor Beauty, Less People Problems.

“When you rise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life, for your strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason to give thanks, the fault lies in yourself.”

“A single twig breaks, but the bundle of twigs is strong.”
“Show respect to all people, but grovel to none.”

“Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.”

“Let us form one body, one heart, and defend to the last warrior our country, our homes, our liberty, and the graves of our fathers.”

“Always give a word or sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, or even a stranger, if in a lonely place.”

I like the philosophy of Tecumseh. Hope you did too.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

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Maine, Fourth Of July, Summer Weather.

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Maine is four seasons and hard to put a finger on the favorite.

Because each shine in their own way. Partial to the four. But all involve being outdoors to enjoy them most. Not cooped up, suffering from house arrest.

Maine Wild Lupines.

Maine Is Outdoors, Wild Lupines. Summer Living.

Cabin fever or being jammed in like four walls are closing in. That is not Maine.

The fourth of July means working on community events in a small Maine town. Friends, family, classmates from out of town coming home for the patriotic holiday.

Picnics, hiking, biking, swimming. Golf course scrambles. Maine state fairs and rides. Or Maine horse shows and cattle, cooking, quilting, tractor exhibits.

Jeeps with missing tops, some ladies dressed not far from the same condition.

Red Cheeks, Sliding Down, Trudging Back Up A Maine Snow Sliding Hill.

In Maine We Dress Warm First, Stylish Second.

As temperatures rise, clothing is shed. Water wear takes over the wardrobe. Lakes are the haven to take a dip, cool off. Swim like a fish.

Or to get that fresh cut Maine farm hay baled, in the barn. Before thunder bumpers, dark clouds open up and let loose. With the raining cats and dogs.

Bolts of lightning when it sounds like someone upstairs if bowling. Getting lots of strikes with the heavy pins.

Maine summer living, is home made food, band music. Farmer’s market visits. The goodies made with recipes from long ago and passed down. Strawberry rhubarb pie, hand churned ice cream.

Hear The Music Of Maine, Local And Out Of State Artists, Musicians.

Maine Is Music All Around You. The Natural Kind, The Songs The Local Volunteer Musicians Create To Entertain The Whole Family Outdoors.

Sizzling cook outs with background, summer music, laughter.

Refreshments, water melon, potato and macaroni salads.Gathered around the grill, on the open deck or patio. A circle of chairs around the open fireplace.

As the sun sets, moon rises, crickets tune up. Frogs supply the base line. Maine loons belt out the solos.

Get to Maine, cross that big green bridge to the south. Watch a Maine 4th of July parade, see the fireworks. Meet the friendly people who live here. Come to Vacationland. The way life should be. Still is.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

The Maine Late Night Card Game Has A Pick Up On The Table.

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Playing cards for money, something more in a small Maine town.

Life is a gamble. And some like the thrill of what four kinds of cards, arranged the right way can cause for a winning hand. Or bluffing your way into making others think you are holding dynamite. It is a skill, art form for many. To put on your poker face. Become ice cold. Blank. Hard to read. A card shark.

Maine Is Four Seasons.

Four Seasons, Sometimes One Ends Quickly In Maine.

One late night card game in Houlton Maine had a pick up truck on the table.

Up for grabs as the pot grew and the players reached deeper. Got creative. Caught up in the heat of the what to hang onto, discard.

What to wager and when to keep going or just fold. Push away from the felt top table. As a bartender kept the crew lubricated so to speak. Running drinks from behind the bar, the late night watering hole.

Max Escovitz a local car dealership owner in the day that many still talk about. That happened decades ago but still recalled by the few in attendance. Drinking was involved. The hour was marching into the wee early morning region. And the final hand was one that Max had had enough. Folded and wanted to know what was in the hand of Justin Hogan. Who was not a partaker of the fire water.

Justin said you folded, doesn’t matter. You quit. Stopped the game. Had enough.

But Max offered a thousand dollars to know. He had to end the suspense. That would haunt him for the rest of his life. The need to know strong.

Maine Small Town Living.

Watering Holes, This Kind Horse Used In Market Square.

A pair of twos held by Hogan was what beat a pair of kings in the hand of the car dealer. Max told Justin to come down to the dealership later today. Select your pick up. Figure out which color, model and he would do up the paperwork. Pass the title.

Wheeling and dealing.

Playing the odds. Max would order a dozen limos from the car maker, the factory. Knowing they only made these luxury rides a certain time of the year. Then stopped production until next year. He would store them up over Farrar Brown, a auto parts place in downtown Houlton Maine. On the corner of Pleasant and Mechanic Street where Aroostook Auto Tech is now.

Maine Small Town Farmer's Market.

Maine Veggies, Home Made Products. Meet Your Neighbors. Eat Healthy.

Then auto dealers from around the state, or further away would need a limo out of season from the manufacturer.

Max would get a call. Sure he had a limo. They could have it today. For a price. A tidy profit. Smart man that sold New Moon mobile homes, took potatoes for payment from area farmers. Helped financed your fertilizer bill. Anything to make a dollar, turn a profit. A true business person, mover and shaker. With fire in his belly. Winding himself up to go go go each morning.

But one night, lost a pick up truck in the shuffle, deal, look at your hand. And figure out how to play those red and black cards. To make others think you were holding something you were not. Confessions of a bartender now long retired that I ran into yesterday. And cub reporter like took a few notes after the reminiscing. To spin a tale, create another blog post for you faithful readers.

The drink maker, smoke provider who says to this day after being behind the bar for many evenings, he can still remember what everyone drank, puffed. From memory. When he sees them on the street. Or if passed away asked. Because it was his job to know how this person liked their gin. Something he called pine cone water. That dentist Dr Ira Tarbell could differentiate, not be fooled in any taste test. He knew, enjoyed his gin. All the varieties.

The bartender, giver of advice or just an available ear to listen. Keep pouring them. Taking orders unless that’s enough. Shut off the hose. Just knew what that person preferred to light up. In the smoke ‘em if you got ‘em. He remembered. Had to, his job. Back when second hand smoke was shared freely. Everyone did light up. We all did not know any better.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Shared Experiences, And Is It Quiet Enough For You In Maine?

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Quiet, can you stand it in Maine?

When you live next to an city airport, near the elevated train overhead or subway that rumbles under foot. The clanging of garbage trucks on a steady beat to stay ahead of the rubbish. In a place that never sleeps. Quiet does not happen. Without ear plugs, sound proofing, something to replace the sounds of the city.

Maine Is Home Made, Small Town.

Maine. The Crack Of A Bat. Little Leaguer Sliding In Home Plate Sounds.

Sirens wailing up and down numbered grids of street. With police cars, paddy wagons zinging by. Fighting crime, chasing gangs.

Towing illegally or expired meter parked cars to an impound. Hospital ambulances pretty much running round the clock.

Cabbies hollering, honking. Trading paint. Jockeying for position in the stopped dead in tracks. As tempers flare. But the meter still runs. Bleeds out.

Proving the point for their fare in the backseat of the chariot. That they will fight hard and long. To get to that loading gate for your important flight on the silver bird.

Cities are noisy, dirty, crowded, disconnected, impersonal.

Sure everyone feels good coming out of a sporting venue when the city team won. Maybe the barley pops trigger that letting down the guard. But the pace combined with the sense of crime constantly makes one pretty self contained, careful. Don’t make eye contact, just do what you have to do with safe consistency. I think you could be very lonely in a city.

There are city sections you avoid late at night. Your Combat Zones, outskirts of a Miami, Washington DC, etc all have areas where it is not to so safe. Any time of the day. Crime happens, spreads. You hear gun fire, see folks yelling, road rage erupt. Stop signs in neighborhoods you are advised to roll through. Don’t stop and stay down, low in the car. But keep moving. DO NOT STOP.

Maine Boy And The Boot.

Kids Laughing, In Safe Small Town Surroundings. Not Noisy Cities.

Being careful, on your toes. Not so trusting is a constant when leaving that dead bolt, extra chain, security camera with a rent a cop compound.

Relax. Breathe. Maine is not that way at all.

All that is gone. It can be a shock and the quiet can be deafening. So if you find yourself lucky enough to squirrel away the time. High tail it to Maine. Often. WARNING :The peace and quiet can be unnerving until you adjust. Figure out what is missing. Nothing is wrong. Go easy. But expect it.

Otherwise it takes time to get beyond the fish out of water feeling you can not put your finger on right away. So foreign. You forget there is another way to roll.

Where I live in Maine we don’t lock doors.

Everyone makes eye contact. You kinda, sorta know most of the people you see. Or someone connected to them. Through work, marriage, church, civic club, your kids. Maybe working a local event experience. You bump into the members of a small group more often in a cozy Maine town. Not swallowed up in the masses, the sea of people that a city comes with. Where just the law of average, probability make the chance meetings less likely.

Find Yourself Ouside In Maine.

Unplugged, Hard Wired Into Maine’s Outdoor HBO.

Keys are in the vehicles ready to fire up, take a spin in Maine. But we try to walk, bike, use our own power. To enjoy being outside, more aware of our surroundings. Not belted in and doing the 10 and 2. Checking the rear view and watching the speed. Or kids connected to balls racing out into traffic when the sun is in the wrong place.

Take a day or two to come to Maine.

End up feeling like someone turned off the high pitch motors. Or the power went out. All the compressors, music, fans, people yacking, whatever suddenly stopped. Like someone must have clipped a utility pole. All the noise in the background that you forget about until someone shuts it off. When you decide a trip to Maine to unplug, recharge is needed. Where you can hear yourself think if you can stand the quiet. Or learn to turn up the hearing. Realize those are crickets, lake frogs and loons, morning birds singing.

In a completely different way, the sound of your surroundings from a city does a 180 in Maine.

Maine Is Small Cabin Wood's Living.

No Neighbors, The Wind In The Trees. Crunching Fresh Snow Being In Some Stove Wood.

The sounds of the urban concrete jungle replaced with a lake lapping against the shore line rocks. A stream babbles, gurgles while you cast a line fly fishing. A river forced to push through rapids from a dam release of too much water creates mist, velocity. Noise to laugh, shout over. As you paddle hard left, hold. Hang on. The bottom drops out of the rubber boat.

If the Maine lake, pond is not bottle polished, completely still, calm. It adds background music as you glide in a kayak. Churn the “j” strokes in a canoe.

The breeze in the pines whispering or humming. Wildlife surround you but out of sight. The birds practice their parts in outdoor songs. Maybe the lack of outside noises lets hear your own inner singing. You’re happy and you know it. (Clapping hands). That gets drowned out when quiet is not part of your routine.

But in Maine where crime ranks in 4th lowest for the nation, you may miss the sirens.

The flow of wall to wall sound of people coming and going. Traffic, car doors, construction, just all around banging and thrashing. Added to the pace. The hurry scurry chasing the dollar. Cities are expensive.

You don’t grow fresh garden food in a garden in an apartment cooperative. Sure you could have a topsy turvy tomato hanging plant or two hanging.

The Sound Of Inside You Increases.

Getting High, Climbing Mt Katahdin In Maine. To Hear Yourself Think. Get Above It All.

Maybe sneak up on the roof and pull off a raised bed garden plot. But you don’t heat with wood you cut, split. Stack for a winter ahead when you have an address in the city population center. You give up much. It becomes store bought. Put in the coin to keep the machine running. Like life support, hooked to expensive hoses, wires. Tethered.

Maine is free, wide open, no or low cost.

That means you are relieved of so much worry from the no crime to no mortgage and more self sufficient living. You feel empowered and self confident. Your self esteem soars because you realize you can achieve much, do greater good in a smaller community where you are really needed. You are the small community in Maine. Not an outside, participant of events but on the committee putting them on. Year after year.

If you live in Maine you get it.

Pull up a lawn chair or something to sit on. Hey, slide that cooler over here. In front of a crackling fire with a circle of other campers. Use that. This is a shared experience blog post.

Preaching to the choir. And trying not to preach at all. But espouse the merits of just living simply in rural Maine. When the mechanics, dynamics of life are stripped down to bare bones. It opens up space for what is really of value. No distractions, deeper appreciation, a sense of joy inside. Jack of all trades working on more skills in the set. That is home grown, built by you. Not for you. Nothing to throw money at to achieve. More blood, sweat, tears and patience involved in the home grown, self directed.

Knowing what you have is more than enough. Being grateful. And all because it is not too noisy to mess it up, miss out on the real natural sounds of Maine.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker