The Moxie Feud

Posted on July 9, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Sometimes, a blog post takes a long time to write.  Most of the writing for this post, for instance, has been in my head for several months although only a few phrases had made their way into my “Reporter’s Notebook.”  It was a writer’s block which did not respond to pulling weeds at the Hampton Victory Garden late Sunday afternoon.   Digging up a few potatoes didn’t inspire me, either.

I tried a few other techniques to get the writing process moving; I called Aunt Rita to find out if she was coming to the Moxie Festival and jotted down a few notes from our conversation.  That might be a future blog post.  Then I balanced my checkbook, did some dishes, and tuned in the Red Sox game.  Finally, I powered up my netbook.  I started writing but then decided I should look through some old photographs.  45 more minutes of procrastination passed and I still hadn’t started writing.

Writing unhappy stories is difficult even when they have a happy ending.  Who wants to relive mistakes and have regrets?  Life isn’t always perfect, though.  Sometimes I’m going to have to tell an unhappy tale; here goes.

***********

I only have one sibling, my brother Jim.  He is two years older than me and is therefore my “big brother.”  When we were growing up, we had a typical sibling relationship.

There were lots of boys in our neighborhood so my brother had lots of friends.  They would ride bicycles, play baseball, and build forts in the woods behind our house.  Without me.  I sometimes felt left out but books became my friends and I spent my free time at the library.  Jim and I may have had a fight once in a while, but it would quickly dissipate when our mother would say “wait until your father gets home.”  One time, I punched my brother in the stomach when he was on crutches with a broken leg.

That wasn’t very nice.

We grew up and went our ways.  My brother got married and had a son of his own; I got married and divorced and invested large amounts of time in jobs and volunteer work.  I moved to New Hampshire.  Sometimes my brother and I would spend time together and sometimes we would have disagreements.  We didn’t have good tools for resolving conflict; it was easier for me to avoid talking to my brother for months over a seemingly critical thought or idea.  In retrospect, it was my hurt ego or my stubborn pride.  We’d make half-hearted attempts at resolution and they would be effective for a time.  Then something would cause a breach again.  The periods of silence grew longer and the good times were fewer.

Ten years ago, my brother started blogging and writing.  In 2005 he wrote and published his first book, “When Towns Had Teams.”

I was jealous.

I guess I hadn’t learned much in Mr. Treworgy’s World Literature class when we studied Shakespeare’s “Othello.”  Even though I memorized Iago’s classic line “O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; it is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feed on” and I can repeat it from memory to this day, I conveniently forgot it in regards to my brother.

Our last disagreement was at the 2010 Moxie Festival.  I won’t bore you with the details, but we had a public disagreement during the parade.  Ad hominem attacks were made.  A police officer on bicycle patrol stopped while we threw barbs at each other on a side street.  When we told him we were brother and sister, he said “shouldn’t you be over this kind of stuff by now?”

No, I’m not making this up.

I don’t know exactly what it was that “fixed” things.  Maybe it was my nephew Mark encouraging me to write my own blog, maybe it was a shared affection for the old school fierce qualities of the Boston Celtics and KG; maybe it was the realization that life is short and sibling rivalry sucks the joy right out of life.

I missed my brother for a long time.

Conflict is unpleasant and I don’t like it, but I can’t run away from it either.  As I often say on this blog, I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but my approach to conflict these days is one part “Always resolve everything now” and ten parts “It’s not all about me.”

If you’re planning a family feud in Lisbon Falls during the Moxie Festival on Saturday, July 14, 2012, make sure to stop by Jim Baumer’s booth in front of the Moxie Store on Main Street first.  Not only will he be signing copies of his latest book “Moxie: Maine in a Bottle” from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., but I’ll be hanging around too.  We can talk it out before you punch your brother in the stomach.

You don’t want a cop on a bicycle scolding you, do you?

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The Moxie Book Sale

Posted on July 8, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Things don’t get much better on a summer Sunday afternoon than relaxing on a “chaise lounge” with a good book.  I think “chaise lounge” is French for “rest and relaxation.”

It’s easy to set up the chair or chaise lounge in a sunny spot; it’s hard finding a good summer book.

Growing up in Lisbon Falls, I spent a lot of time at the library.  Each summer, I would participate in the “Summer Reading Club” and maybe I got a ribbon for reading books.  I would have done it for free.  I loved the library so much I would sometimes work there for free, too.  That’s called “volunteering.”

There were always a few good books kicking around at the library.

During the Moxie Festival, there will be books for sale at the “Friends of the Lisbon Library Book Sale” at the MTM Center at 18 School Street.  The MTM Center is actually the old Marion T. Morse School and it’s where I learned how to read.  The sale begins on Friday, July 13, 2012 at 4:00 p.m. and runs through Saturday, July 14, 2012 at 3:00 p.m.  You can fill a bag of books for $5.  You can even bring your own bag.

This Sunday afternoon, I’m going to relax with a book I picked up at the “Friends of the Lisbon Library” book sale last year, Edith Wharton’s “The Fruit of the Tree.”

You rest, relax, and read today too.

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Friday Pillow Talk – A Moxie Dream Come True

Posted on July 6, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I haven’t written about dreams lately; it’s “Show House season” and I decided to put dreams on hold and write my Friday “Tales of the Toile.”  I made an exception this week because it’s the prelude to the Moxie Festival in my hometown of Lisbon Falls, Maine.  I have a lot of things I want to tell people about my town, not the least of which is a crazy dream I had which came true without me even telling anyone about it.

Last summer, Uncle Bob was chosen to be inducted into the Maine Baseball Hall of Fame.  I had written a letter of recommendation for him in the spring; although my letter was more a narrative on Uncle Bob’s character, I was pleased my humble words may have made a tiny difference in his selection to this honored group.  He was featured in local newspaper articles and everyone who knew him was happy because, well, everyone loves Uncle Bob.  He’s popular!

Sitting in my cubicle at the Big Corporation, I would sometimes think about what I could do to make Uncle Bob’s small town fame more fun.  I concluded that Uncle Bob needed either his own float in the Moxie Parade or he needed to be chauffeured in a classic car.  I quickly nixed the float idea because I knew it would take more time than I had available to deliver a product worthy of Uncle Bob’s celebrity.

I went through my list of friends and acquaintances and realized I knew no one with a classic car.  I went to a classic car seller in Hampton and learned it was a complex proposition to borrow a classic car.  It was not like going to Avis or Enterprise and a credit card might not be enough.  I did some internet searches and then reluctantly decided the logistics of delivering a classic car to Lisbon Falls for the Moxie Parade was beyond the scope of my capabilities.  Reluctantly, I gave up.  Every once in a while I would find myself sitting in my cubicle, thinking about Uncle Bob riding in the back of a ’57 Chevy or a ’64 and a half Mustang, waving to all his friends and fans.

It bummed me out and my heart was heavy when I made my pre-dawn drive to Lisbon Falls the Saturday of the Moxie Festival.  I had even considered not going to the parade and just spending the morning working in the garden.  I drove home the same way I always did, taking the familiar turns with my eyes practically closed.  I took a right on Pleasant Street, remembering all my old paper route customers as I idled by their houses.

I just wasn’t in a Moxie state of mind.

What happened next is amazing and unbelievable.  As I approached Uncle Bob’s house, I opened my half-closed eyes to see if he was sitting on the porch; parked in his driveway was a red Ford Galaxie convertible, either a ’62 or a ‘63.

Uncle Bob and his friend Al were standing next to the car, chatting and laughing.  I parked my Jeep and got out to investigate.

Apparently, someone in Lisbon Falls had the same idea I did and that particular someone knew someone with a classic car.  I could hardly breathe I was so happy and I must have been babbling all kinds of silly things in my excitement.

Someone had made my dream come true without my even asking!  I’m getting a little weepy right now as I remember that magic moment.

I’ve written about dreams before and I still recommend letting a few people know when you’re serious about making them come true.  The likelihood of something fantastic happening telepathically is about a million to one; I don’t know why I got to be that lucky one, but I am grateful it happened to me.

I have a dream I’m working out in my head about this year’s Moxie Festival and I’m getting ready to tell someone about it.  In fact, I think I’ll tell them today.

Speaking of classic cars, there will be a Moxie Car Show on Sunday, July 15, 2012, from 8:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. at Lisbon High School on Route 196 in Lisbon Falls.  A couple of my classmates are putting it on.  For information, click right here.  I’ll be there and if I’m lucky, my dream car will be there too!

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Getting Ready

Posted on July 5, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Eight more days.  Counting down…

My brother wrote a sweet piece about Moxie and I’ll be adding my own noisy thoughts to the mix for the next week or so.  Just remember, Moxie is distinctly different.

Drink your Moxie!

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The Fire (Working) Man

Posted on July 4, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Living in New Hampshire, it’s easy to get tired of fireworks. They’ve been legal here for a long time. The Coop is in a “resort community” and we have fireworks every week during the summer. When I first moved here, I liked the idea of going to the store and picking up a box of explosives, even if I hardly ever did. Live free or die, that’s the state motto.

Growing up in Maine, fireworks were reserved for the Fourth of July, festivals, and maybe county fairs. Not every town could afford to sponsor regular pyrotechnic displays. An added difficulty was my father’s work schedule.

No stranger to the art of combustion, my father was a boiler operator in a paper mill. Big papermaking machines aren’t like cars; they don’t stop and start by turning a key. When they’re running, they’re running for a while and depending on the type of paper a company is making, they require energy to chop, beat, spin, and turn trees into paper. My father’s mill, the Pejepscot Paper Company, ran three shifts all the time and my father was the man who helped provide the fireworks.

Because of the boiler’s criticality in the paper-making process, my father had to work a lot. It was profitable to work overtime; holidays might have paid double or triple time. My father understood the basic principles of economic independence and so would take advantage of his opportunities to work. Unfortunately, he often worked on the Fourth of July. I don’t recall going to more than one or two fireworks displays as a child. When we did go, my father never seemed awed by them. Maybe he was a little tired about the whole combustion process, since it was his job to play with fire night and day.

This year, the Fourth of July is on a Wednesday. There is no way to create a three-day weekend on a Wednesday and driving home to Maine for the day would be a fool’s errand. I saw lots of fireworks last night anyway, while I was taking my full moon ocean walk.

Today, I’m going to be a Baumer and work. I am free to do so.

Stay free.

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No Need to Speed

Posted on July 3, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Last weekend, there was an air show at the Pease International Tradeport, where I work and take lunch walks with my friend and co-worker, Cherie Ripperton.  Cherie’s been on vacation for what seems like forever and she missed a visit from the Blue Angels.

I’ve never seen a proper Blue Angels’ performance.  There was a naval air base two towns over from my hometown, but we never went to the air shows.  A lot of my classmates were Navy kids and sometimes I’d go swimming on the base with them; I was always fascinated by the sentry guard at the gate who would give a proper and precise white-gloved salute to the station wagon hauling us.

According to the literature and the local papers, Blue Angel 7 arrived Tuesday night; the rest of the jet-fueled celestial choir screamed into Portsmouth on Wednesday night.  It was smoking hot on Thursday, but I hit the roads of the Tradeport anyway and was treated to a free performance of the U.S. Navy’s flight demonstration squadron.  They fly at speeds ranging from 120 to 700 miles per hour.  In comparison, the speed of sound is approximately 768 miles per hour.

The first thing I saw when I walked out of the Big Corporation’s doors and looked into the sky was a lone hawk circling some pine trees in the distance.  The roar of the jet engines was just ironic background music for that bird.  He was not flying at 120 miles per hour, but he was soaring.

The practice session was “fantastic” in a “seemingly or seemingly conceived by unrestrained fancy” sense of the word (Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary).  I tried not to be a gawker as I looked into the sky and took a picture.

When I would look away from the flight line and look in the direction of my forward momentum, there was always some natural aviator in my line of sight.  Dragon flies, sparrows, crows, hawks, and even a few seagulls were flying around the Tradeport and they were oblivious to the near-Mach 1 sound and fury.  If they could talk, they might have said “we taught you everything you know about flight.”

Apparently, the air show was a success, with approximately 60,000 people visiting this cramped little strip of New Hampshire granite.  I read somewhere that air shows at the former air base near my hometown used to boast of crowds of 150,000.

On Monday, the break down and load out of the show was on its last legs, with trailer trucks full of tents and toilets making a slow pull down Aviation Avenue.  I had to dodge a few dump trucks and puddles and then decided to walk over to the fence at the old Pan Am hangar.  Looking through the chain-links, I saw Blue Angels 1 through 6 parked on the runway, side by side and rumbling.  All at once, they revved their engines simultaneously and billows of exhaust smoke came out of their engines.  It must have been part of their take-off checklist.  Then they left, in two sets of three.

I looked up into the sky to get a final look, but there were big, low clouds on the horizon and the only thing I could see were two dragonflies floating carelessly, having effortless fun.  I could almost hear them laughing and saying “no need to speed.”

Sure enough, there is no need to speed today.

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Wading through the Weeds

Posted on July 2, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I stopped at the Hampton Victory Garden on Sunday afternoon. Four days had passed since my last visit and I could not believe how much things had grown in such a short period of time. Rain plus heat equals growth and we’ve had both of these ingredients in the last few weeks.

Generally, things are booming in the garden around the Fourth of July. I’ve been eating snap peas for the last week and my lettuce has been delivering a steady supply for three weeks. My potato plants have flowered and I dug up one little red potato on Thursday. Once again this year, I have planted too much arugula and it’s bolting. My dream-inspiring medicinal flower, Calendula, is blooming, too.

This moment in the garden is beautiful and dangerous. It’s easy for me to get comfortable and say to myself “no worries, I can just sit back and let things grow. Maybe I’ll go to the beach instead of the garden.” From personal experience, I know this is not the time to go to the beach. It’s time to make a few extra trips to the garden and pull weeds because if your plants are growing by leaps and bounds, so are your weeds.

Of course, if your vegetables and flowers are well established, healthy, and strong, a few weeds don’t really matter and seasoned gardeners know this. I’m not directing my suggestion to the seasoned gardener.

For the new gardener, there is a lot of excitement in starting a garden. A new community gardener will plant a stellar garden in April with symmetrical beans, tomato, and squash plants. Ornamental flowers will accent the green vegetables with little bursts of color. Things are beautiful in that new little garden. The weeds are just a green mist around the edges.

Then, like fireworks, the green mist of weeds will explode. I have seen many a good garden go right into the ditch over the Fourth of July. The damage isn’t final; a new gardener can recover from it, if they want to. Sadly, most do not want to. They look at their garden and say “this is too much work. The beach is easy and comfortable. I can get lettuce and tomatoes at the store.”

To all of you who have lost your gardening moxie, I want to encourage you to KEEP GOING! Resist the siren song of the lawn chair for just a few minutes this morning and gussy up your garden. A little weeding can go a long way and you might be surprised to find your garden has become a sign and a wonder to another gardener.

Weed your garden; WEED IT!

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Number Nine (Pause) Number Nine

Posted on July 1, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

A few weeks ago, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in a long time.  We chatted a bit and then the name of a mutual acquaintance came up.  My friend said something critical.

I’m not sure why, but it upset me.  Not because I knew the mutual acquaintance very well, but because I didn’t know the mutual acquaintance very well.  Prior to this, I had never heard anything unflattering about the mutual acquaintance.

This is not a theological blog; lately, I’ve been thinking about gossip based on a meditation I read on the Ninth Commandment.  Number Nine says:

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.

It is a hard thing not to bear false witness against neighbors; gossip is fun sometimes.  We are living in unusual times and discord is all around us.  I’m not perfect and I have said unflattering things about people.  Being human, I will again.  I’m working on having a charitable esteem of my neighbors and rejoicing and promoting their good name.  Sometimes, it is the only thing we can do.

Think about it.  I do.

Peace out.

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Talk of the Toile – Old Stuff and Rocky Pastures

Posted on June 29, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

The Designer Show House at the Kenneth Roberts Estate in Kennebunkport opened to the general public on Saturday, June 23.  “Rocky Pastures”, as the estate was called when Roberts lived and wrote there from 1938 until his death in 1957, is a 97 acre property including a field stone country house.  The property is currently for sale for $2.7 million; hosting a show house on behalf of a charity often helps to sell such a property.  The proceeds from this show house benefit the Kennebunkport Historical Society.

I arrived in Kennebunkport early on Sunday morning, slowly making my way south back to the Coop after a week of activities completely unrelated to interior design, fine furniture, and decorator fabrics.  Saturday night’s hard rain cleared; it was a spectacular day of bright sunshine and dry air.  Since the show house didn’t open for a few hours, I decided to put on my sneakers and walk along Ocean Avenue.  Kennebunkport is a peak-tourist destination; it’s also a fantastic town for walking.

Even though I was sporting Laura Petrie plaid pants, I hoped my “I belong here” attitude and determined stride would prevent me from being labeled a tourist.   I’m familiar with the neighborhoods in and around Walker’s Point, so I turned off the well-traveled path just beyond The Nonantum and sallied forth unnoticed.  I even got the “locals wave” from a gentleman wearing a Woodchuck Hard Cider t-shirt who was working in his garage.

The stately foxgloves were in bloom all over town.

Preoccupied and writing outlines of future blog posts in my head, I almost missed the “Estate Sale” sign.  I considered skipping it, but something drew me to whatever treasures might be nestled in the woods.  The old dormered gambrel needed a little love, but it had good bones.  A Buick Roadmaster station wagon was sitting in the driveway, looking like the owners had just unloaded groceries.  $3,500 or best offer.  I was tempted.

I’m not ashamed to say that I used to daydream of having such a gas hog back in the days when I thought perhaps I would be a stay at home mom and antique collector.  My life didn’t turn out that way and since the Roadmaster’s low clearance probably wouldn’t work in an agricultural setting, I crossed it off my mental list of possible purchases and made my way into the house.

Although many things were in their place, there was a musty sadness in the house and I wondered how many years had passed since it had been filled with laughter, liquor, and lobsters.  An old silk wedding dress was poised on a dress form in the foyer; I’m not sure if anyone else asked “Miss Havisham?” to themselves.

Antique dealers and collectors were scurrying around, grabbing things and making piles.  (Estate sale rule number one:  never touch a pile a collector has started.)  I didn’t need anything; I was looking for a story.

Forest green floral wallpaper was peeling and sagging off the stairwell walls.  I wanted to take a small piece as a souvenir, but the same restraint that kept me from snapping a picture of the wedding dress kept me from helping myself to a scrap of wallpaper.

The dealers and collectors were everywhere, snatching at textiles, making quick inspections, and then dropping things.  Seven or eight aprons lay on an iron bed in one of the bedrooms and I grabbed them before anyone else saw them.  They smelled musty, but they were cute and they’d wash up nicely.  Besides, I was going to use them, not resell them.

I made my way through the rest of the house but all the grabbing and snatching tired me out and I paid for my aprons and left.  I walked to the end of the secluded dirt road which intersected with Ocean Avenue and there was Walker’s Point.  I looked at my watch and knew I had to step on it if I wanted to get to the show house when it opened.

I thought about that sad house and its lonely stuff a lot that Sunday.  I thought about my own stuff and whether I’d want someone pawing over it one day.  Just how much stuff does a person need, anyway?

I’m glad I had rescued those aprons.

The show house was perfectly lovely, even if it was anticlimax after the estate sale.  I met the designer Paula Robinson Roussouw and was impressed with the extensive reading and research she had done on Kenneth Roberts to inspire her living room design.  She was generous with her insight and patient with my questions.  She told me that Rocky Pastures had been a working farm during Robert’s lifetime; he was interested in agriculture.  He also loved the color orange.  The Portland Press Herald wrote about Roussouw’s work and the show house and said everything I might have said had I not gotten distracted by the estate sale.  They did not, however, mention that cloth booties are mandatory and going barefoot is not an option.

I still don’t know how much stuff a person needs, but there is some beautiful stuff to see at Rocky Estates.

The Designer Show House at the Kenneth Roberts Estate runs from now until July 14, 2012.  The house is open every day from 10:30 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.  On Sundays, the hours are from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. and on Wednesdays, the hours are Noon to 7:00 p.m.  The house will be closed on July 4, 2012.  For more information, visit www.designershowhouse.org.  Tickets are $20.

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Lee Annie’s Birthday!

Posted on June 28, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Remember Lee Annie and her appendix?  She missed a few weeks of work, but she’s all better now (phew!) and we celebrated her birthday yesterday.   Birthdays are fun at the Big Corporation.

(Tiny Little Cake Courtesy of The Beach Pea, Kittery, Maine)

Happy Birthday, Lee Annie, and many happy returns of the day!

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