If you live in Philadelphia or New Jersey or New York or Virginia or Miami or, well, most anywhere with 4 to 8 lane highways and soot, you owe it to yourself to take one of those highways due north to a place of pine trees and clean air called “Main” with an “e’ at the end.
The name probably comes from the early seaman’s reference to the main land, as opposed to islands that dot its coast. An important distinction? Actually…No.
Maine is a throwback to earlier times, when speed limits were limits, not starting lines, where the air is so clean sunsets explode with color, where customs were based on community need, not personal greed.
Kinda of like Maine’s next door neighbor, Canada. Hmmm…
Anyway, once you get to the border, you’ll leave the 4 lane highway for 2 lane roads, lined with tall pines, wandering through hills and valleys like something out of a 60’s TV show. You’ll drive through tiny villages, most of which have a “Main Street”, a country (not grocery) store, a church and, just in the nick of time, a gas station where you see the owner tell a frail, white haired man with rusty 70’s pickup that he’ll drop by the man’s farm on Sunday to fix his tractor.
“No. No charge,” he says to a curious bystander. “Sunday’s my day off. He works seven days a week.”
And you thought Canadians were nice.
Stop at a thrift store and pay $25 for an original Kodak Brownie Hawkeye camera that sold new in the 50’s for $10.
If you were lucky enough to be invited, you’ll end up at a farm in Harmony, Maine (Yep. The town is named Harmony), with a couple of farm houses, a rustic barn, and five small cabins overlooking a sprawling lawn that flows down to a lake as clear as any you’ve ever seen. One or two small inns are nearby, but the nearest hotel is an hour away in Bangor, named in 1791 for a Welsh hymn. (I’d sing it, but I don’t speak Welsh)
A few weeks ago, a young couple named Tommy and Karla invited a hundred or so friends to visit Bangor hotels, Harmony inns and the cabins for a few days and, on Saturday, attend their wedding at the farm.
Don’t get me wrong. This wasn’t a posh, big dollar wedding. The farm had just opened for weddings and lacked some of the basics. Tommy’s mother and step father brought and cooked food for two days. They brought lawn games and kayaks and canoes. Karla and her family brought fresh flowers, bouquets, and the rehearsal dinner of lobsters…from Maine, of course. Everyone helped clean up. It was family affair.
As the sun set over the lake, a pediatrician friend of the couple, flanked by groomsmen in kahki and bridesmaids in pale blue, spoke from, not the Bible, but his heart, and led them in their vows. No one cried…well, maybe Tommy and Karla. OK… and possibly Tommy’s dog who was walked down the aisle with the wedding party, but he’s so big and furry, it was hard to tell.
Later, there was a proper bar and tables in the wood-beamed barn, as the crowd settled down for a catered dinner.
The whole thing was out of a “How to Throw Wedding” textbook, mellow, choreographed, traditional …
Until the first bars of a romantic ballad based on the 1784 French love song “Plaisir D’amour” introduced the first dance. A sweet song nobody had heard of and a sweet salute to a sweet day, right?
Except it wasn’t 1700’s sweet. It was 1960’s sexy, as Elvis Presley’s iconic baritone burst into the room like a motorcycle gang at a Holy Communion.
A 1961 hit for the first dance of a 2025 wedding party? Really?
“Wise men say, only fools rush in,” crooned Elvis as Tommy took Karla in his arms. “But I can’t help falling in love with you”. He swooped her over backwards in a classic 1930’s dance move.
The place erupted.
Ties were loosened, high heels kicked off, and arms, hips and other body parts started swinging. The party was on! And on… and on… until long after those who had actually grown up with Elvis and Brownie Hawkeyes were asleep, dreaming of the good old days of 2 lane roads and good neighbors.
Maine is an actual place, not a fictional story land, a real piece of an America we used take for granted, a place of ethics, kindness, civility, and beauty. And almost magical memories.