Fire in the Woods

The middle weekend of October is foliage tour time in Maine.

Come along to see what we saw this weekend when we took a little tour through Fryeburg, Lovell, Newry and back to the Portland area.

There was a lot of color in the Mahoosucs

There was a lot of color in the Mahoosucs

Bridge

It wouldn’t be New England without a covered bridge photo.

I love the little grove of evergreens at the top right as much as the quilt of changing deciduous trees.

I love the little grove of evergreens at the top right as much as the quilt of changing deciduous trees.

An inviting path through the woods.

An inviting path through the woods.

Sunday started out gray, but the sun asserted itself and before we reached Oxford County there was plenty of blue sky overhead.

We passed numerous U-pick apple farms, the now-quiet Fryeburg Fairgrounds, several shining lakes with only a lone float or two, and geese and ducks arrowing their way south.

The air was chilly enough for a light fleece, no longer summerlike but no where near as cold as it will be soon.

When we got home we surveyed the garden and decided Monday would be the day to pull the green tomatoes off the vines, collect the final cukes and cut most of the chard.

We also realized the trees in our own front yard were putting on a show of their own.

Right in our own front yard.

Right in our own front yard.

 

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The Beauty of Life Stories, Well Told

This post first appeared on the Maine Crime Writers blog on February 18, 2019.

I love a well-written obit.

In fact, the obituary section may be why I still subscribe to several newsprint papers, which, unlike their digital cousins, invite me to really read, rather than skim. That’s important when we’re talking mini life stories. Friends, mere acquaintances, total strangers—it doesn’t matter. I want to know what they invented, who they loved, how they made a difference in the world.

As a journalism student I worked at the Boston Globe, initially as a newsroom clerk (we all were called copyboys, even though by the late 1970s some of us were female).

We wrote on these, back in the day.

We wrote on these, back in the day.

One of my duties was to write basic obits. When person died who was moderately famous (or infamous), at least locally, the city editor would assign whichever copyboy wasn’t otherwise occupied to gather information and write it up.

I wasn’t a reporter yet, but was striving to be, so I paid close attention to the newsroom veterans who wrote the feature obituaries. While theirs may not have been the most exciting beat, they were masters at the craft of condensing someone’s life into a respectful, sometimes funny, often poignant short story, usually on a tight deadline. I eavesdropped sometimes while they asked question after question, mining for the nugget of gold that would explain something essential about the subject’s life.

That’s where I learned the important lesson that I’ve carried over into my crime writing: detail illuminates character.

A memorable example of this is in the 2015 obituary of Leon Gorman, the grandson of L.L.Bean, who transformed that iconic Maine company from an outdoor gear store with fewer than 100 employees to a billion dollar business. His obituary talked about his business success, of course, but also about something he didn’t advertise. For a dozen years, Mr. Gorman was late to work every Wednesday because he spent the early-morning hours at Preble Street in Portland, helping to prepare and serve breakfast to hundreds of homeless folks. That telling detail has stayed with me for years.

A few weeks ago, I was moved by the obit for Bernice “Bunny” Sandler, known as the Godmother of Title IX.  After experiencing sex discrimination in the 1960s when she was told she wouldn’t be considered for a position in academia because she came on too strong for a woman, she became the driving force behind the 1972 law that barred discrimination by educational institutions that received federal funding. Title IX is most often talked about in terms of increasing opportunity for women and girls to play sports, but Bunny Sandler’s determination revolutionized the world of education on every level.

Last week, I read in the Globe about Betty Ballantine, who died at 99. Betty and her husband Ian are credited with introducing America to the paperback novel. Starting in 1939 when she was just 20 years old and he was 23, they began to import quality novels in paperback form—popular in Britain but not in the U.S.—and built the enormous market for which we writers remain grateful. Betty and Ian went on to found Bantam Books and Ballantine Books, both now part of Penguin Random House.

On my website I link to a site called Obit of the Day, an amazing compendium of stories about ordinary and extraordinary people. Readers who share my love for a good life story should hop over there and browse. An example of what you will find: On the day after Christmas in 2012, Fontella Bass, whose song Rescue Me has resonated since it first hit the charts in 1965, died after a lifetime making music. According to her obituary, it is a common misconception that Rescue Me was an Aretha Franklin song. Here’s a link to her obit, if you’d like the rest of that story and a link to the song as well: http://www.obitoftheday.com/post/39037775836/fontellabass

So here’s to the obituary writers, who manage to capture something of the essence of a person’s life in a few paragraphs, one of those thankless jobs that deserves a sincere salute.

Blog Readers: Do you read the obits? Why or why not? Please let us know in the comments.

Brenda Buchanan is the author of the Joe Gale Mystery Series, featuring a diehard Maine newspaper reporter who covers the crime and courts beat. Three books—QUICK PIVOT, COVER STORY and TRUTH BEAT—are available everywhere e-books are sold. She is writing a new series that has as its protagonist a Portland criminal defense lawyer willing to take on cases others won’t touch in a town to which she swore she would never return.

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Walking the Winter Beach, Redux

This post was originally written in March, 2017 for the Maine Crime Writers blog.  I re-posted it on MCW on January 18, 2019, when Maine was bracing for this weekend’s big storm. I moved it over here today because it is so timely. If you’re inspired to head out on a beach walk of your own, don’t forget to pull on your long johns, grab your thickest mittens and maybe even bring along a facemask for the half of the walk when-inevitably-you’ll be marching into the wind’s sharp teeth. Enjoy!

by Brenda Buchanan

Sunday afternoons lend themselves to rituals.

Leisurely drives to who knows where. Gathering around the table for dinner with family and friends. Kicking back with the Sunday papers, funnies and all, at least at my house, where we’ve never stopped immersing ourselves in newsprint. Joe Gale and his real-life counterparts (including three generations of Millikens) are our heroes.

Our central ritual is the Sunday afternoon beach walk, which happens year-round but is especially wonderful in the winter. There’s nothing like a bundled-up exploration of what the tide has wrought to re-charge a girl for the week ahead.

For readers of this blog who don’t live near enough to a Maine beach to walk regularly in the cold-weather months, here are some favorite photos to get you through until spring.

Some weeks the beach is drenched in sunshine.

And sometimes skies are gray.

More frequently than you might believe, the weather changes in the course of our walk.

Last Sunday the wind was howling at Pine Point Beach, transforming the waves into wild ponies.

Yesterday I found this lobster trap, marooned in the dunes.

Sometimes we’re entertained by intrepid surfers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And sometimes we entertain ourselves.

No two weeks are the same, on the beach as in life.

I can’t say I’m ever bored when propelling myself through the wind along the wrack line. When I can’t sleep, I sometimes try to conjure the sound of the waves hitting the shore, especially the winter beach, when stones tumble against each other at the verge, tapping in a rhythm that soothes my soul.

We typically stick close to home—Scarborough and Ferry beaches near Prout’s Neck, Pine Point when the wind and tide are right, Crescent Beach in Cape Elizabeth when we want to approach the shore from the woods.

Occasionally we wander up the coast to Popham or Reid State Park.

Something always provides a nudge of inspiration for a story.

Do you have Sunday rituals? Or favorite beaches?

Brenda Buchanan is the author of the Joe Gale Mystery Series, featuring a diehard Maine newspaper reporter who covers the crime and courts beat. Three books—QUICK PIVOT, COVER STORY and TRUTH BEAT—are available wherever ebooks are sold.

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