Although I haven’t been traveling near as long as I would like to, I’ve already come to the realization that smaller towns are much easier to manage than big ones. When I enter a temple in a large city, where the church is established and strong, it’s hard to attract much attention at all. People seemed unconcerned and uninterested with your life story, and like I had said about Manhattan; hard to impress. The members are fantastic, and I don’t intend to bash upon any of them in any way, but there is a clear difference between those in larger towns and those in smaller ones. My arrival to the small Southern Maine town of Sanford was met with smiles, meals, and arms wide open.
Because Brother Shaw’s home was home to more than just his own family, he quickly found me a place to stay with an elderly couple right in town. He led me from the interstate all the way up the highway to his home, where he put more food in front of me than I thought I could eat. After I was too top heavy to safely operate my vehicle, I hopped onto the bike and followed him once again to that elderly couple’s home in town. Right from the beginning, I could tell I was going to love it there. The Coombs were quiet loving people devoted to their faith and always willing to help out in any way that they could. They instantly were my adopted grandparents, and I spent the first night enjoying an episode of “noodling” on the discovery channel with Brother Coombs (the process of catching a catfish by sticking ones hand into the water and into the mouth of said catfish and pulling the fish out in that manner).
It didn’t take long to realize that Brother Coombs was an artistic and talented man. His house was flooded with art projects and different work, as well as his beloved piano that not even a stroke, arthritis, or broken finger could keep him away from. It didn’t take much to convince him to fight through the pain and play a few songs for me- he played miraculously. I felt not only honored and blessed to see what I was seeing, but humbled as well.
The weekend I spent in Maine during my wait from Hurricane Irene to pass was a short one. By the time I was leaving Monday morning I was sad to see that it had gone by so quickly! I spent Saturday visiting the ocean between Wells and Kennebunk Beaches, unfortunately the haze kept me from any photography opportunities. My knack for getting lost followed me throughout my travels that day, and didn’t give me directions back to Sanford. By the time I had finished my way around southern Maine I was ready for bed. Sunday was an entirely different sort of day.
The hurricane had already begun to come in early that morning, but came with more force during sacrament meeting. Everything after sacrament meeting was canceled for the day- Church closed on account of Hurricane. I hadn’t seen that before. From the moment I walked into that ward, I was greeted with smiles, handshakes, questions, and conversations. I was pleasantly surprised to hear on several occasions in Maine that some people were proud of what I was doing. It’s strange to hear a recent acquaintance tell you they are proud of you- pleasantly strange.
I was invited to eat with a young family in the ward after church that just so happened to live right next door to the Coombs. By the time I had gotten back from church the storm was in full fury. I made my way hurriedly through the storm and too the next door neighbors home. If it weren’t for the fact that this family had a daughter mixed in with their three sons, I would have been thoroughly convinced I was looking at my own family. Their sons had personalities just like me and my brothers, and it made me think back to my own life and memories with my family. I wouldn’t be exaggerating to say I was blessed with one of the most amazing families in the world. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the days when my brothers and I would spend hours building elaborate forts in the basement with the hopes of a slumber party. We usually couldn’t make it through the night without getting scared and returning to our beds.
Near the end of lunch, the phone rang and to the disappointment of the kids, their dad was asked to help out with a couple trees that had fallen over onto the bishop’s house from the storm. They had been planning on having a Wii party sometime after lunch, and this news came as a blow on that plan. Me and their dad and the oldest son left during the storm and made our way to the bishop’s house. Within an hour what appeared to be the whole elders quorum had arrived to help.
Two chainsaw wielding backcountry Maine guys began hacking at those trees like they were butter, and I couldn’t help but think- one of these guys is going to cut his legs off. There were several instances when I thought they were going to die for sure, especially when one was on the steep wet roof with the wind steadily roaring as he cut through the tree with his chainsaw. If I learned one thing that afternoon, it’s that people are nuts in Maine!
By the time we had finished hours later, we were all damp and sticky with pine sap. That’s one way to get experience the wild land of Maine! We got back to the house, where the kids were eagerly waiting for the Wii party to begin. The next couple hours were spent hounding cookies and playing the Wii. I thought I couldn’t get any worse at bowling than I already am in real life- I stood corrected. My skills at baseball, bowling, and tennis all grew even worse in the virtual world. My spirits were crushed.
By that night the storm was cooling down, and I was sure I would be on my way to Acadia National Park on my way to Halifax that next morning. Although I didn’t want to leave all the amazing people I had just met, the beauty of Acadia seemed all too enticing.
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