By Glen Birbeck --- The Buzz During my time in Ecuador, when escaping the Maine winter, I encountered all sorts of people. Not just nationalities, something that means less and less in our "connected" world. The Asian and the African at home both have dishes pointed...
Ever thought about how great radio used to be? Real local announcers, a variety of music and a lot more interesting than listening to Pandora.
If you’re interested in being an announcer and/or a behind the scenes person…
I generally interview the first person who speaks to me when I enter a business. Elissa Bower first spoke to me in the Good Tern Co-op, and she was standing by the sandwich counter. I thought she made the sandwiches, but come to find out, her hangout is the small...
A half block west of Rockland’s Main St. on Summer St, you would see Dr. Theriault’s long-standing dental office, though he just retired. Chandni Mahajan bought the practice and set up shop using his same dental and office staff. “I wanted a practice in a small town,” she told me, “with a close small-town community.”
What with the virus scourging the town, I observed that it must be a challenge opening a practice at this time. She agreed.
Only? Allow me to introduce, Lance Lee, well- known in nautical circles in Rockland and the world, and who is now in the 3rd and last phase of a 60-year career in developing experiential education.
He lives and works in a little house encroaching South Main, and many of us remember it as Peggy’s Kitchen. If you walk into the front door you first see a remarkable wooden Rushton guide-boat on the right extending through the house, and along that way are book chapters stacked here and there on the floor. A stairway climbs to a living room with comfortable chairs and an expansive view of Rockland harbor.
By Glen Birbeck --- The Buzz For a long time the idea of an ID card requirement for US citizens was toxic. Other countries, none as free as ours, have them, but not here. We do have drivers licenses. Driving is a right, not a privilege, I am told. But driving requires...
The invisible editor called me into his office on the top floor of the Buzz building. The view was incredible . “What do you see down there? ” he asked. “People, houses , ” I responded. “What else? ” he prompted. “Well, ” I began, “Trees , streets , cars , cats and dogs. ” I couldn’t actually see cats or dogs , but I assumed they were there.
“You see hope! ” he said firmly. “Hope” he repeated turning from the view to face me. “Hope” I echoed without much enthusiasm. I enjoy a metaphor as much as the next hack writer, but just what was he getting at? “All of that came from a seed, the people, the cats and dogs , the trees. ” “How about the houses and cars? ” I ask.
His metaphor didn’t waver, “The seed of an idea, ” he said. He reached down and from a silver tray and from the remains of his lunch he picked up an orange pip. He squeezed the seed between thumb and forefinger, holding it up to make the point. “How, ” I pressed him, “is a seed hope? ” He responded saying, “Because it embodies hope in function and design – Nothing in it imagines failure. The acorn knows it will one day be a mighty oak and dominate the forest. ” He saw my interest flag, my lunch making me drowsy. “Here is the point, ” he said pressing the orange pip into my palm.
By McCabe Coolidge — The Buzz
While recuperating from another bout with Lyme’s , I am paddling a kayak, counter clock wise around Lake Merritt. Just passing the boat shed filled with rowing shells , a man standing along the muck and grass of the shoreline greets me, “Sir, sir! Do you want a blessing?” I pull my paddle out of the water and lay it across the bow and coast closer to shore, wondering. He smiles , his skin like smooth ebony, dressed in black keds , jeans and a black, long sleeve shirt; he holds tight to a brilliant white scarf.
My kayak is still now. I do not know how to say “Yes! How badly I want, need a blessing! ” Just now, as I am trying to recover, finding a little strength and inspiration on these waters of a small lake in the center of Oakland’s downtown district. But I do not say a word or ask for what I need. I am mute. Me, a white man, a bit elderly, but okay economically, needing anything, anything at all from a stranger?
I nod my head, signaling ‘yes. ’ I look him in the eye. He raises his hand high, high, higher and keeps it there as if intoning for the heavens to open up.
By Phil Groce — The Buzz
Sitting in the corner booth, next to the fireplace at Waterworks Pub, it was far enough away that Hannah Potter and I had privacy from the customers—regulars at the bar, and young and old and families at the tables. She would be working the bar and tables after the interview. At 24, Hannah has the flush and beauty of youth and the added health aura of a mother of a 3-month-old girl.
“My mother and I moved up here when I finished the 8th grade—I’m an only child. I have to say that moving like that with me, a kid just entering high school, is NOT the thing to do.” What do you mean? “Before, I was the social butterfly in my school, into most every activity; but when I entered high school here, I turned inward, introverted—didn’t do much except study . . . but I was an honor student.”
By Glen Birbeck --- The Buzz --- In the waning years of the 19th century, say 1895, there were radio signals but no radios. Nature has always sent messages by spark generated radio waves , the announcement of a thunder storm on the other side of the planet. Up until...