leaving that establishment, if we were feeling particularly
energetic, we would walk the extra mile or more to Blotner
Trailer Sales the site of the present day Aroostook Centre
Mall. Walking through the mobile homes, we imagined the
style and decor we might want for our future home. Finally,
our feet weary, we made our way back to our home street
and decided at whose place we would spend the night.
We alternated our sleep over from week to week. Clearly,
there were advantages to staying at Martha’s. Her parents
were older than mine and slept downstairs away from the
main part of the house, while Martha’s bedroom was on the
second floor. This logistical advantage played perfectly in
our master scheme.
Upstairs, we listened to our 45’s and our 33 albums,
shared our dreams for the future and waited. Midnight...the
magic hour finally arrived. Excitedly, we left Martha’s room,
walked to the second-floor landing and listened. The only
sound we heard was soft snoring from where her parents slept
in the bedroom below. Stealthily we made our way down
the wooden stairs careful to avoid the spots where we knew
there were squeaks in the boards. We paused occasionally to
make sure no sounds of wakefulness emerged from below.
At the bottom of our descent, the front door came into
view and ever-so-quietly Martha turned the knob and we
exited the house. As soon as our rubber-soled sneakers made
contact with the pavement, we began to giggle – another
successful getaway.
With no clear destination in mind, we strolled
our familiar neighborhood streets enjoying the quiet of
night. The sounds of peepers could be heard along with the
occasional bark of a dog and the buzz of insects. Once in
a while, a brown bat would swoop close enough to cause
a reactionary flailing of our arms as we frantically fought
to ward the nocturnal flying mammal away. In our small,
rural community, the stars were clearly visible with no
high-rise buildings blocking out their light and every now
and then, we were afforded the rare privilege to cast our
wish on a shooting star. At this juncture, I would like to
point out that our attire was rather suspect in that we were
clad in long, flannel nightgowns and carried our coveted
Benson & Hedges cigarettes with us. While neither of us
smoked, it was part of the facade we adopted and no laws
existed at that time specifying an age limit for purchasing
tobacco products. And so, we ambled down street after
street, allowing our cigarette to burn on its own, enjoying
the aroma.
Surroundings appeared much different in the
nighttime, softer and less defined in some ways. The orb
of the lunar body provided all the light that we needed,
our shadows cast on the pavement as we sauntered along
verbalizing our thoughts. Houses took on a warmer
appearance as the amber light showed through windows
devoid of curtains. The needle-bearing fir and spruce
trees appeared as black silhouettes against the backdrop of
night,while the leaves of the birch and maple rustled softly
with the slight summer breeze. There was a distinct, sweet
perfume to the summer air, one that could in no way be
duplicated by commercial production.
During our strolls, conversation was steady and
our voices low yet not quite in a whisper. While the
phrase “coming of age” was not one with which we were
yet familiar, indeed we were truly in the throes of exactly
that. Never before had we experienced these observations
or sensations nor would we in the same way ever again.
We shared issues typical of teenaged girls of that time, with
subjects ranging from boys to siblings, parents and what we
wanted to do when we grew up. We were not however in
the age of electronics. The IBM electric typewriter with the
round element would be the precursor to more sophisticated
office machines to come. Our corner store still sold penny
candy including the red-waxed lips, Kool-Aid filled straws,
candy necklaces and much more. With only a nickel in our
pocket, we were able to enjoy the sweet commercialized
treats. For us, it was a magical time in which to be alive.
One of our favorite walking routes took us up a
long, winding driveway lined with mature evergreen trees.
Our destination was a secluded old structure, Victorian in
style – one of the local funeral homes. We seemed to be
inexplicably drawn to the site week after week. What we
considered daring was to peer into the basement windows,
our imaginations reeling with thoughts of what we might
see lurching in the dark abyss. In all our attempts, never did
we witness any fearsome foes. In fact, only one time did we
experience any fearful event at that location.
As we prepared to end our walk on this particular
sultry summer evening, whatever subject we were discussing
caused us to be laughing when we rounded the corner
from the funeral home preparing to walk down the paved
driveway when headlights were upon us. Reacting quickly,
we grabbed each other’s hands, our laughter abruptly ceased
and we took cover as we dropped to the dew-soaked lawn
where we lay flat at the base of one of the large spruce
trees. The vehicle, as it turned out, was clearly marked with
the emblem of a local police cruiser. We literally held our
breath as the cruiser made several passes up and down the
driveway before finally leaving. After a reasonable length of
time, we rose up from our hiding place, nightgowns wet
from the damp grass and in a somewhat shaken state we
cautiously made our way back to our home street. With the
same stealth that we exercised during our earlier exit, we
now re-entered through the front doorway, walked up the
creaky steps and exhaled in great relief once in the safety of
Martha’s room.
Those midnight strolls were, without question, the
highlight of our summer evenings and were made known to
our parents (to their horror) only many years later.
During that brief period of summer school break
however, we made the most of the vacation with simple
activities that were memorable and helped sculpt the
women we are today. Summer of course would not have
been complete without a visit to the Northern Maine Fair
in August, traditionally signifying the end of the school
break. With a maximum of ten dollars in our pocket, we
would walk from our street to the fairgrounds, whic