A dry tempera moment in a rainy, very wet week.
Lobstermen have had a tough season this year...
Lobstermen have had a tough season this year. And now, the seas are up. Hard to find reliable crew. Damn, it's been hard to find the damn lobsters this year. Lobster catch down approximately 40% from recent years. Please, fact check and correct me on that number if I have it wrong.
Oaxaca Memories 2019
Oaxaca
Memories 2019
Park Benching
Park Benching. #oaxacamemory
One of my favorite Halloween moments.
One of my favorite Halloween moments. Memory from October 31st 2011: My Neighbor Is a Witch
When I arrived home yesterday afternoon...
Dear Anonymous,
When I arrived home yesterday afternoon I was greeted by a box of socks, thermal shirts and fleece lined hoodies. All new. We handed them out this morning and this man said 'How do we thank them? These are amazing?'
I said a photo might be a place to start. So this is one happy man who really appreciates the help.
He tells me he is working things out with his wife and gonna find a way to co-parent their little one, who he is sad to miss Trick or Treating this year.
That led to a nostalgic conversation of Halloweens past. Of running from house to house in the dark. The naughtiness of a roll of toilet paper. Candy.
And the guys refrain of 'It just ain't the same anymore.'
'Hey, ma!', he yells from down the street.
Dear Anonymous,
'Hey, ma!', he yells from down the street.
He calls me Ma. Yes, that makes me feel ancient but at least he doesn't call me Grannie.
'You gonna be proud of me!', he continues.
Which, of course, I am . So I remind him.
But he says 'Yeah, but I got a month bus pass for three dollars!'
Which is wonderful because he needs a bus pass each day to get to the methadone clinic. That bus fee is often a barrier to getting there.
Which is wonderful because he is thinking ahead. Which is wonderful because he thinks it's worth it. Maybe even that HE is worth it.
Life is worth it.
I notice he looks straight into the lens. Something he rarely does. And it makes him feel uncomfortable, but he offers this. I notice the hematoma on his forehead is appearing to resolve. That he has his medicine bag around his neck.
Never question my pride in you, I want to embroider that somewhere close to that medicine bag.
There appeared to be a new guy...
Dear Anonymous,
There appeared to be a new guy in the group this morning. Quite tall, maybe 6'1" or so. I didn't recognize him. Until he turned and it was our friend.
He mentioned someone in his life, a young woman , told him to stand upright. To meet the world standing tall. That he deserved that. He deserved that respect. He listened.
And here he is . Standing tall. I think he is pretty grateful for the hooded sweatshirt. The coffee. The cookies this morning. And so he offers what he has. This unwavering gaze into the lens that always reminds me that we are made of the stuff of the universe, and at times, it shines...no matter what. And how grateful I am for that.
Thank you, Dear Anonymous.
Great job by my Location Scout, Pepper, the Rescue Puppy...
Great job by my Location Scout, Pepper, the Rescue Puppy. She chose to STAY and nibble on a seaweed encrusted crouton instead of chasing her...friend. All is well.
My Location Scout, on the job...
My Location Scout, on the job. Distracted on occasion by squirrel and heron.
Somehow it was the architecture of my not quite dreaming...
Somehow it was the architecture of my not quite dreaming, hours before the sun would rise. Hours after my body said 'Enough sleep.'
'Do you have any shoes?'
Dear Anonymous,
'Do you have any shoes?' he asks quietly.
He shows me his.
'Someone cut my shoe
open while I was sleeping.'
I've never had to worry about someone slitting my shoes open while I slept.
Thank you Dear Anonymous, those shoes helped.
Ann Price, graduate student, Masters of Library Science
Ann Price, graduate student, Masters of Library Science, has attended MANY a MaineWorks Circle at 6 AM. Listening. Learning. And she partnered with two other librarians to create a zine for Maine Library Workers titled HEALTH LITERACY & THE OPIOID CRISIS.
This re-envisions the space of library, or at least my dusty and stuffy old school version. Instead library becomes a vital living and safe space for resources needed by community, a place to craft language that avoids slurs and implicit judgement, and helps describe sometimes confusing subject of harm reduction and more.
Thank you Ann Price again. For showing up. For listening. For advocating.
Cookie Treat for the Location Scout
Cookie treat for the location scout
They stole my phone.
Dear Anonymous,
'They stole my phone. The screen was all cracked and it wasn't worth much but it had photos of all my kids on it....
Who DOES that? If that's how bad it is,
that you gotta steal a broken phone, and leave me without pictures of my kids, maybe it's time for detox...'
He's making his way back home, up the coast. Trying. Today's phone loss is unfortunately common from what folks share. And there's often that one item people experiencing homelessness covet and need to get through the day. In this case a phone; scrolling through the pictures of his kids can provide comfort, connection,relief and motivation in some cases.
Coffee cake, a coffee card and some dry clothes help. A backpack. A pair of socks.
Everyone, trying to find their way home.
September heads out. So does the Haley G.
September heads out. So does the Haley G. With Emily Selinger sterning on 'a day off' from Emily's Oysters.
He stood beside me.
Dear Anonymous,
He stood beside me. He rarely says much. Often ducking and darting up and down the street, hood always up. Today he stood quietly after finding a coat that fit and a couple of shirts. And a backpack.
I realized I had never photographed him. And I asked.
And he stood tall, took his hat off and leaning into the light...smiled.
Some people they just can't GO in.
Dear Anonymous,
'Some people they just can't GO in. She had an apartment and she left it. Left the TV and a whole bunch a' stuff. She just leaves. We had her over to sleep when it was rainin' and she couldn't do it. She left by 11:30. She been institutionalized to the streets. It's where she operates. She don't trust nobody after alls been done to her since she was a kid and nobody understands that when she acts out she don't know it.'
Mike is describing a woman who has been out here for over 11 years, he claims. He says the resource center is doing what they can to help.
Meanwhile, Mike is struggling with the methadone clinic , missed a day and spent it in bed yesterday. Hopefully today will be a bit different.
A man walks by with a pack on, head down, hood up and a dog on leash. He doesn't stop. It feels slightly menacing to me. And then Mike shares a story about that young man...who had acted with extraordinary generosity and kindness toward him. One never knows.
The Rose Man
Dear Anonymous,
The Rose Man, our street nickname for him, is working hard toward sobriety. I don't know if this is something he has battled over and over and over in his life or if this is a first or second solid attempt. I don't know. He recently shaved his head and I admit, I thought he looked great.
He stops by for a coffee card. He takes very little, though he does indulge in a piece of coffee cake.
It is his value not to take more than he immediately needs. It is his stand. His boundary.He is the anti-hoarder.
And it was a gift to me, that he offered himself in the light for a straight on photo.
I just love him for that moment, this one wildly vulnerable fraction of a second when we are seen...even with the accompanying panic in our hearts and heads about self worth, and appearance, and shame, and pride and EVERYTHING.
I placed socks and a coffee card close to her huddled body...
Dear Anonymous,
I placed socks and a coffee card close to her huddled body and quietly said so as not to startle her 'It's ok. Just leaving something for you.' and walk away back to my car. I see she sits up. She is beautiful ...and sleepy. She is wearing one of the handknit neck warmers as a head band over a scarf. She smiles weakly and I go back and hand her another couple neck warmers. And I leave. She turns her face looking down at the granite step she is on, and her reclining pose, up on her hands, arms straight hips on the ground, legs folded beneath her is striking. I don't photograph. It feels too vulnerable and I don't have it in me to ask her directly for permission.
A young woman. On the streets. Don't know her story. How easy it could be to be taken advantage of. In so many ways. I don't know her story. She may be strong as an ox and as defensive, unlike me. But every assault against me as a young woman is close to the surface of my own skin. I leave her be.