Small Town Americana

Spending a few days in rural Maine for the church mission trip was like spending time in another country. I live in a bubble in the Northeast Corridor of the United States. The stretch of land from Boston to Washington, DC is not just densely populated, it is also has the densest population of ivy league school, it is ethnically diverse, religiously diverse, and even has some political density. 

In other words, it is densely filled with people. 

All sorts of people.

I didn't really think of this as I drove to Farmington, Maine. I noted that the 7.5 hour estimated drive would likely take me closer to ten hours due to traffic and bathroom breaks. When you live someplace as dense as I do, you anticipate extra traffic. Always.

Through New Jersey and New York I had slowdowns due to construction, downpour, and even a funeral procession, but once I crossed into New Hampshire the traffic magically disappeared. The ETA went down instead of up.

I met up with my cousin Rebecca in Yarmouth. Rebecca grew up in rural New Jersey, and worked at our alma mater. We actually met in college, lost touch, and reconnected through Facebook. 

She loves Yarmouth, and wanted me to fall in love with it, too. 

After dinner at one of the few places open past 6 pm on a Saturday night in the summer, we walked around downtown.

Yarmouth was setting up for the annual Clamfest, an event my cousin works hard on each year. I'm so pleased she could spare a few hours for a visit during a week she was busy baking pies to sell at the clambake. 

Rebecca pointed out their Carnegie Library (it was too late to go inside), her church, the eight banks for a population of 8,000 people, and noted they have two police officers. I wonder how many Lawrenceville has for our 32,000? I feel like it is more than eight.

What stood out were the chairs set up along the parade route. She said they started to set them up two weeks earlier, or about three weeks before the actual parade -- including a fabric, stuffed, recliner that was not at all weather-proof. The chairs sit there, claiming prime parade spots. Most are taken home afterwards, but not all. I asked my cousin to scout out the street for that recliner. Did it get picked up by the owner? Did it end up in a trash heap? I suspect I'll never know.

Yarmouth is suffering a crisis of affordable housing. Like many places, the cheaper places are no longer so cheap. They have been bought up by the local school to offer housing, and by entrepreneurs renting them on VRBO and AirBNB sites. Lack of affordable housing trickles down to lack of people able to afford to work minimum wage in places like restaurants and shops, which means the places either close down or have very limited hours.

I spent the next day in downtown Farmington, where we were staying in a dorm room. While the group went tubing, I explored the not-so-bustling not-so-metropolis.

I popped into a coffee shop in the hopes of getting an omelet for breakfast. Evan, the guy behind the counter, was apologetic. He suggested the diner (or "din" if the sign had not yet been fixed) about two miles away because the coffee shop only had liquid eggs. I thanked him and continued my stroll. He then flagged me down and suggested the pizza place, somewhere else he works. I hesitantly walked into the pizza parlor and explained "Evan said..." before their faces lit up. They were excited to make something other than a pizza. What did I want on it? What kind of cheese? What other ingredients? They made it for me, and charged very little. We were all happy.

Continuing my stroll I met Ashley Webb, a local who is running for the newly opened Maine US Senate seat. Her sign was all taped up, covering a name, so I asked about it. Until recently Ashley identified as James and ran for a different office then. I think she needs new signs. She has to collect 500 signatures from eight out of the 16 counties. It is not a shoe-in that she'll be running. I wish I had taken a picture of the sign.

I loved the history markers throughout town. I was pleased when later that week I had a chance to stop into the 1901 stone library. I wanted to see what was inside the rounded part -- it was a three store room, the top floor has a glass floor. I felt as if I was in a time machine as I drooled over the tall wooden shelves accessible by a ladder that I could picture Belle swinging from. It was silent inside as people were engrossed in their work, adding to the feel of stepping back in time. As I left I asked if it was a Carnegie Library (it had that feel), but was told no, but yes it was from that era.

Thunderstorms started before I had a chance to see the Cannery, but I did walk to the North Church, the old train depot, the WWI War Memorial, and Memorial Park.

The downtown is much more vibrant than the one in my town. It also has a better variety of businesses, including a three-story general store and a gemology shop. Of course it has a couple of banks.