A Time Before Electric Blankets

As fall weather brings cooler temperatures to Maine I'm reminded of what my Grandma took to bed to keep her feet warm at night. Until he passed it was Grandpa, but that solution is too obvious and not what I had in mind. Grandma was born in the late 1800's at a time before electric blankets, and the old ways of keeping warm in frigid Maine weather stuck with her into the 1960's.

The old wood stove was a source for transportable heat moved about in a variety of containers. One example is the clunky irons for ironing clothes predating the invention of electricity. Some of those may still be found serving as doorstops. The iron was heated on a stovetop and reheated as necessary until the ironing was done.

As a side note, other retired irons became rope and pulley gravity weights for automatic outhouse door closers. Nowadays you'd be hard pressed to see one in action. If a two-seater and occupied you may not care to witness this oldtime version of the modern chat room.

Anyway, the stove heat could be used in other ways, too. The first time seeing Grandma's bedtime routine for keeping her toes warm left a lasting impression. In later years she used the old fashioned hot water bottle made out of thick rubber with a water tight stopper. However, in the 1950's she revealed an even older secret when she opened the oven door to show off two bricks baking.

These were standard size bricks like those used to make a brick house, and were heated until ready and then wrapped in a cloth which was placed under the covers. Layers of blankets and quilts provide insulation for holding heat, but in an unheated home the bed is still frigid when you first jump in. Those baked bricks allowed Grandma to keep her feet comfortable while the rest of bed became warm and cozy.

Years later I took a souvenir brick from the home my great great grandfather built in the 1800's on what is now Degerstrom Road in Monson, Maine. The brick was discovered in the cellar when my brother and I found the abandoned and rundown home while investigating our family history. Wish now I had two.

TAGS: Maine stories Monson cold

Parkman Family Reunion Memories

The small photo shown to the left and taken in Milo Maine around 1957 brings back Parkman family reunion memories of Growin' Up in Maine.

The 8 people highlighted throughout the photo (left) include my 7 siblings and me. An enlarged version without any edits is included below to show more detail.

As kids we were less than fond of the photo sessions which is obvious from some of the facial expressions, yet 50 years later it is interesting to note the clothing and hairstyles of the era.

Enlarged photo of Parkman Family Reunion, Milo Maine (ca. 1957)


Earlier this year a new blog was launched featuring the matriarch of the Parkman family shown, my grandmother, and documents the Poetry of Beth Parkman (1893-1975). She is shown above (2nd female full face from the upper right) and my grandfather Earl Parkman is the second male in from the upper right in the top row.

TAGS: Maine stories family reunion

Trip to the Big City of Bangor

As kids growing up in Derby, Maine, and just an hour drive from Bangor, taking a rare trip to the big city of Bangor was unusally exciting. There were no statues in my small town, so getting to see the giant statue of Paul Bunyon shown here was a thrill. Other attractions like the community pool with diving board remind me of Jethro from Beverly Hillbillies calling 'em cement ponds.

I remember the first McDonald's hamburger joint on the outskirts of Bangor when it first opened in the 1960's, and the delight of 25 cent burgers with fries and great chocolate shakes. 45 years later those 75 cent meals are partly to blame for that extra 75 pounds I weigh now. The golden arches and X number of millions of hamburgers served were unique and iconic. Who would have known those Ronald McDonald toys would fetch a small fortune on eBay nowadays?

Looking back, and having traveled the world to view even more exotic sites from Europe, Africa, and Asia, the simple pleasures of living in a small town and spending summers like Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer still own my heart and memory. The Maine slogan "Vacationland" giving way to "The Way Life Should Be" seems even more appropriate.

TAGS: Maine stories Bangor

Tin Roof Toboggan on Derby Hill

Winter in Maine in the 1950's brings back fond memories sledding down Derby Hill. My friends and I were creative youngsters when it came to homemade sled vehicles for enjoying the snow. The illustration shown is a corrugated tin roof toboggan salvaged from an ancient outbuilding roof somewhere in town. The front was pulled up and shaped to a curve and though short would easily hold a single passenger or two daredevils.

On the downside of Derby Hill going into the village there were homes on the right and a huge field on the left with a gradual incline about 200 yards long. Across the road and behind the homes sled trails were made along a 50 foot wide stretch of open space between the homes and dense woods, and featured a steep incline for a fast ride once the trail was packed down.

The huge field was different at 150 feet wide and just as long. It was wide open without any major obstacles like trees or rocks, so the only dangerous spot was a 6 foot drop into the ditch along the road. Backing up a bit, I did say we were creative inventing rides like the tin roof toboggan? I didn't say the idea was brilliant. Ouch! If you can imagine speeding downhill on soft snow riding a sharp and rusty sheet of tin, the inevitable wreck had consequences. A crash meant stitches and a tetanus shot or bandages at the least. In retrospect I think the thrill was worth it.

Another beauty tranformed into a toboggan was a 1949 Henry J car hood. Now that baby was safe and could hold half a dozen fools, or more. Imagine the inverted car hood with a high pointed front to plow through the snow and sides to hang onto and hold us in place. Kids in the rear risked being knocked off the back, yet otherwise it was a luxury ride and wrecks were rare. Years later I rode a store bought wooden toboggan. It provided exceptional handling and an okay ride, but the thrill just wasn't the same as that Henry J hood or the rusty tin roof toboggan.

TAGS: Maine stories snow sled toboggan

Truth About Spring Brook Deadwater

Guest contributor: Blanche Degerstrom (Mom)
Recorded in 2000 on analog microcassette then converted to digital audio.

Introduction: In a previous fishing story of Growin' Up in Maine Dad reveals the name of the highly guarded secret fishing hole known as Spring Brook Deadwater where insiders fish for Maine brook trout. In this audio snippet Mom reveals the truth about this secret place where people catch some of the best native Maine trout.

This is one in a series of guest stories by my late Dad, Ted Degerstrom Sr, and some others like this episode that will feature Mom, Blanche Degerstrom.

Listen now (press right button below) and hear this old recording entitled Truth About Spring Brook Deadwater, or read along with the transcript (Time: 00:18 min:sec):



Truth About Spring Brook Deadwater, by Blanche Degerstrom - Mom (transcript)

Mom: Spring Brook Deadwater.
Self: Is that the name of a fish market?
Dad (and Mom): Heh heh.
Mom: No.
Dad: Yeah.
Mom: It's the name that ev.. that fishermen give when somebody asks them "Where did you get them?", and you don't want to tell them you say "Spring Brook Deadwater".
All: (laughing)
Mom: It's not on the map. (the end)

Closing comment from Jim: This was recorded around a campfire at Jo Mary Lake campground near Millinocket, Maine, and you may hear the fire crackling in the background during the telling of this story. More audio from these old clips will be featured in future storytelling.

TAGS: Maine stories fishing brook trout

Fishing Secret of Spring Brook Deadwater

Guest contributor: Ted Degerstrom Sr (1920-2000)
Recorded in 2000 on analog microcassette then converted to digital audio.

Introduction: In this fishing story of Growin' Up in Maine Dad reveals the name of the highly guarded secret fishing hole known as Spring Brook Deadwater where insiders fish for Maine brook trout. Maine fishermen remain tight lipped about the location of this secret place to catch some of the best native Maine trout.

This is one in a series of guest stories by my late Dad, Ted Degerstrom Sr, and some others will feature Mom, Blanche Degerstrom. While Dad describes the "what" about Spring Brook Deadwater, please wait before wasting time looking for it because Mom will reveal the secret of "where" in the next episode.

Listen now (press right button below) and hear this old recording entitled Fishing Secret of Spring Brook Deadwater, or read along with the transcript (Time: 01:49 min:sec):



Fishing Secret of Spring Brook Deadwater, by Ted Degerstrom Sr (transcript)

Did I ever show you that ahhh Spring Brook Deadwater? It's off the road coming in here... off from Bear Brook... not off from Bear Brook. No. No fish there either. I'm talking about Spring Brook Deadwater.

No. I'm talking about a spring in about ahhh an area a little bit bigger than this carpet right here... and just white sand, and that water ice cold. That water boiling right up out of that white sand and just as clear as a crystal.

I've often said "Oh, my God if a guy ever had that Spring Brook Deadwater near a city or any place... Wow! Gee!" Hell, that ain't too far from here. I mean if you went down to the end of the road. I'll bet ya it's still there, too. Yuh. Spring Brook Deadwater.

I went fishing up there and stayed overnight... with... ahh... remember Everett Black?... remember Cold Turd? You don't remember him? They lived up on top of Derby Hill. Geez whiz. I'll never forget the time riding home and we had them nice trout.

This ahh... old Doctor Bundy... Dr Bundy: "Hi Degerstrom, did you get any trout?"... said "Yuh", and Cold Turd said "Show him", so I opened up the bag. Nothing any more beautiful in the world. He says "Ohhhh, you couldn't give me a half a dozen of them could ya?"

I says "No, I couldn't". Hah! Heh! After going... going through all that... heh! Secret place. Nice trout. Spring Brook Deadwater. (the end)

Closing comment from Jim: This was recorded around a campfire at Jo Mary Lake campground near Millinocket, Maine, and you may hear the fire crackling in the background during the telling of this story. While Dad remained coy and elusive about giving directions to Spring Brook Deadwater, Mom spills the beans in the next episode. Stay tuned... you just might find out the given name of "Cold Turd", too.

TAGS: Maine stories fishing brook trout

Maine Hurricanes Carol and Edna in 1954

With the glancing blow to Maine by hurricane Kyle in the last 24 hours, I am reminded of the double hit from Maine hurricanes Carol and Edna in September 1954. At 5 years old, the most significant memory of those two storms passing through was witnessing one of 3 oak trees snapped like a twig in Derby, Maine.

The 3 oak trees mentioned stood in a row about 20 feet apart on the lawn of the Clarks who lived around the corner on Church Street in the first house on the right from my home on Railroad Street. Each tree was close to 3 feet thick, and it is hard to imagine the force needed to snap one in half. It happened to one in 1954, and now there are only two.

The sight of the stump and that flattened oak tree seems like yesterday. A direct hit with landfall from any hurricane in Maine is rare, and the last one was 17 years ago. Hurricanes Carol and Edna in 1954 were remarkable with each striking in tandem within 10 days. Kyle in September 2008 dumped plenty of rain without much physical damage, but the destruction just in Maine from those 1954 hurricanes exceeded $25 million.

TAGS: Maine stories hurricanes

Mayflower Genealogy Growin Up in Maine

A big thanks to Mom who visited this week and brought Mayflower genealogy evidence for yours truly, the author of Growin' Up in Maine. This history and genealogy details my ancestry on the maternal side back to William Brewster, a prominent passenger on the Mayflower arriving in America near Plymouth, Massachusetts in November 1620. Winter was spent aboard ship with the official landing the following spring.

The family oral history of relatives aboard the Mayflower was finally documented in writing by my mother's sister in June 2005, and then given to me 1,191 days later. That's a tad slow, despite our very large family, considering the Mayflower voyage took just 66 days. I am a 14th generation descendant of William Brewster, best known as a religious separatist who fled England to Amsterdam in 1608 and later escaped to America with 102 passengers and the crew of the Mayflower leaving Plymouth England in September 1620.

Here is my Mayflower genealogy leading up to Growin' Up in Maine.

William Brewster (c.1566-1644) b. Yorkshire, England - d. Plymouth MA
Patience Brewster m. Thomas Prence
Hannah Prence m. Nathaniel Mayo
Thomas Mayo m. Barbara Knowles
Thomas Mayo m. Elizabeth Higgins
Mercy Mayo m. Elkanah Young
Bathsheba Young m. Levi Higgins
Elkanah Higgins m. Azuba Knowles*
Nathaniel Higgins m. Remember Seward Blaisdell
Judson Higgins m. Avis White
Carrie Higgins m. Romanzo Parkman
Earl Parkman m. Elizabeth Thompson
Blanche Parkman m. Theodore Degerstrom
Jim Degerstrom

*The genealogical records show the Massachusetts birthplace and marriage of Bathsheba Young-Higgins and husband Levi Higgins who were married on February 19, 1767. Their daughter, Elkanah, was born in Bar Harbor, Maine, on August 16, 1769, and thus became the first official Mainer from our line of Mayflower descendants. Rules are rules. Her parents were "from away".

Looking at the timing of the marriage and birth you can't help but wonder how many other Bar Harbor honeymooners fall in love with Maine, and never go home.

Further online research of William Brewster descendants to document any 15th generation people besides Roger Degerstrom, my son, includes a surprise discovery of Sarah Palin, Governor of Alaska. That old adage often heard by Americans stating "my ancestors came over on the Mayflower" is certainly true for the author of Maine stories at Growin' Up in Maine.

TAGS: Maine stories Mayflower genealogy

What Every Teen Dreams About

As a teenager Growin' Up in Maine, and like most, there was one thing I dreamed about. You could successfully argue there are a lot more dreams for any adolescent; and fantasies excluded, I'm talking about a driver's license. The scanned graphic shown is a 2008 discovery of my 1966 Maine State Temporary Operator's License found this month during long overdue spring cleaning as mentioned in another story.

The license expiration date is shown as Nov 3, 1966, so as I recall this was to allow a person 6 months time to get the permanent one. The learner's permit was likely a year earlier after completing Driver's Ed at Milo High School, and I strongly recommend parents have their teens take a driving course.

My wife and I have each driven over 40 years without an accident, not counting my minor incident navigating my sister's '58 Chevy into a swamp on Ricker Road, or spinning donuts with my brother's '65 Mustang into a snowbank on Derby Hill during a blizzard. Full confessions may follow, but not today.

Instead, I want to focus on that driving class and the joys of sitting in the backseat while a novice driver finds out why the teens are the awkward years. Being from a small town with mostly two-lane highways and no stop lights, we hit the big city and tried out one-way streets in Old Town. Later we braved traffic lights and divided highways in Bangor.

Thank God for the extra brake pedal on the teacher's side of that car! He was a bit slow on the Brownville Road as one classmate nailed a dog she sent spinning to doggie heaven. All in all the excitement was good material imprinted on the brain for a lifetime of safe driving. Hope I haven't jinxed it.

Finally, as an afterthought I blurred the signature and birthdate in the illustration to obscure details. I'm not looking to attract birthday greetings or anyone after a new identity.

TAGS: Maine stories drivers ed drivers license

Growin Up in Maine Audio Discovery

For readers wondering about how the Maine stories presented as Growin' Up in Maine began, the idea was conceived long before the launch of this blog in 2007. This past weekend I was doing spring cleaning and tossed two truckloads of stuff which lacked any good reason for keeping. Spring cleaning in September you ask? Ayuh, being an expert in procrastination this was spring cleaning scheduled 5 years ago.

Amongst the treasures worth keepin' was a Growin' Up in Maine audio discovery as illustrated in the graphic shown. The two audio cassette albums entitled "Volume 1 - Down Back" and "Volume 2 - Hometown Mainiacs" (and then both subtitled "Dry Humor by Jim Degerstrom") are from a Growin' Up in Maine series I recorded in 1995, and since forgotten until now. The albums took place in California where I bought studio recording time, high quality cassette production services, and then insert printing and shrink wrap. The inserts announced 6 in the series though the last 4 never did get recorded, and those stories eventually became this blog.

The dusty box had a handful of volume 2 with about twice as many volume 1, and all in the original shrink wrap. The idea at the time was I sent copies to relatives Down East to offer to shopkeepers, and maybe have them on consignment for tourists to buy. Any dreams of being the next Bert and I disintegrated as those relatives balked at pitching the tapes and now 100's lie in dusty attics or landfills.

This discovery with 12 stories on each volume was interesting as I compared story titles to the currently published blog stories. For now 16 of the 24 stories have been presented here, so 8 from those cassette albums are yet to be told. Unlike the blog, perhaps the downfall of the albums was I named names without apologies, and the demise may have prevented legal consequences for lack of a "no resemblance to persons living or dead" disclaimer.

TAGS: Maine stories audio recording