Seeing Things, Saying Things

Musings About Writing, Photography and Teaching

New England Fishing Village

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I don’t remember the name of this town or even what state it is in. It is somewhere in New England, probably in Maine.

I made a trip trip up that way in late October 1978. I had flown in Bangor, rented a car and set out the next day for Acadia National Park.

I don’t even remember what motivated me to travel to Maine. Maybe it was because I had never been there.

More than likely I was driving along and passing through a small town when I saw this scene. I stopped, grabbed my camera and photographed it.

It probably caught my eye because of its beauty but in a way it also captures my mental image of the quintessential New England fishing town. It looks like a scene you might find framed and displayed on the wall of a Red Lobster restaurant.

At the time, I lived in the farm country of America’s Heartland. We didn’t see scenes like this where I grew up. So it must have fascinated me to see something that I had only read about.

I’ve only been back to Maine once since this 1978 trip. I don’t know if I passed through this town or even if I could find it.

Yet it still looks to me like a typical New England fishing village.


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