Resourceful

Something about Maine, perhaps.  Tales of derring do, and a “git ‘er done” attitude.

A friend, of Finnish descent, once told of his grandparents, fishermen, who decided to relocate the family from Bangor to Criehaven Island.  By row boat.  Down the mighty Penobscot River they rowed, by hand, their worldly possessions stowed into that boat, out into the Gulf of Maine some 15 miles.

That pluck abounds today.  I am glad to say.

Down at the big house, we are staining the exterior.  Glen, the primary painter, lost his driver’s license the other day.  I don’t mean he misplaced it, but that his license was impounded.  (A long story that, in which Officer Nappi, the local constable on patrol, let him off easy – i.e. did not throw him in jail – after hearing that he was working for us at the big house.  Glen was free to go, but he could no longer drive.)

I happened to be driving along and saw Glen, there, stranded.  And not too troubled by it all.  I returned, riding a fat tired beach bicycle, which I tossed into the back of his pick-up and drove him on to work.  The job must go on, and he put in almost a full day’s work.

But, no longer was he able to drive to work.  And we have lots of work to be done.

Now, as it turns out, Glen lives across the Saco Bay, and so, he wondered, why not commute to work on his Jet Ski?  An easy 8-minute dash (it takes about 40 minutes by auto).  I thought  it a smashing idea, and now he ties up at the yacht club, and walks straight into the big house yard and climbs up his ladder.

“Like working in paradise,” he says.

The only problem is his ladder remains on his truck, across the bay.  But I am sure we can resolve that little issue.