As you may, or may not know, my family is planning on relocating to Portland, Maine. This past Friday our house finally sold and it really started setting in and becoming a reality. Lots of emotions, happy, sad, scared, excited. Definitely a rollercoaster. It'll be different in working 100% remotely for X-Rite, but lots of new opportunities as well for Baba.
Good stuff all around.
Heather's brother just sent her an email that he had published in the Camden, Maine newspaper last August. It really sums it up from his perspective. She's been away from home for about 10 years and it's time for her to be back near her family.
Here it is:
Coming Home
CAMDEN (Aug 12): This story is fiction, inspired by my sister’s
recent return to Maine.
He stood there as the van pulled in, up on his toes like a
little kid, gazing intently at the tinted windows. His eyes fixed upon the door
as it swung open, not sure exactly what he would see. As a runner passed by
him, sweating in the blazing heat, the man seemed in a different place; a
nervous smile, a bit overdressed, unaffected by those around him. He hadn’t
seen his sister in ten years. Sure, they talked on the phone occasionally,
though not as much as they should have. Letters were written, many unreturned.
It was a busy time in their lives, with kids to raise and careers to pursue.
They were living in different worlds, separate worlds.
Her move away was unnatural from the beginning, the two having
grown up so close. All of those summers at the lake, finding adventures to fill
the days. With no television or phone, what we call quality time today was
seemingly abundant then. The chapters of their young lives were written
together. They had always just been there for each other.
The limited communication over the last decade, though
attributed to lack of time, was more likely a result of stubbornness, a wall
built up to hide true feelings of hurt. She was not to blame; After all, she
followed her heart, which took her to a place far from home. She was, in fact,
the one who would suffer most from the distance.
Now, so many years later she called to see if her family could
stay with him until they found a house; she was coming home. With a husband and
two kids in tow, they rode across the country, to find a new beginning in a
familiar place.
He politely obliged, not showing his true excitement, a bit
afraid that he would get his hopes up for nothing. Having a few days to
contemplate her return, he recalled the days of their childhood, the continuous
stream of stories and events that made up their unique history. They shared a
piece of life that was now far behind them, and it was painful to face the
reality that, having gone their separate ways, they had now grown up.
Finally she appeared, the kids peeking shyly from behind. They
knew him only through pictures. Their big eyes and cute round faces were his
sister 25 years ago. That’s when he knew her best, though didn’t know it until
she was gone. Smiles turned quickly to tears, as the weight of the years poured
from their hearts. Throats tight with emotion it was hard to talk. Seeing her
now was more overwhelming than he expected.
With little said, they walked. The kids, who he should have
known as babies, followed closely behind. Finally she spoke, explaining like
never before her sadness about the time they had lost and her regret that her
kids didn’t even know their uncle.
Finding the words somewhere, he said, “Oh dear sis, when I look
to the days ahead, my plans now include you. For that, I am thankful; for now,
that is all I need. Now let’s go.”
Ok, not sure how much about marketing or branding this’ll be, but it’s definitely on the personal side of things. Smyrna, Maine, this is a remote area of Northern Maine, about 15 miles from the Canadian border. Just working out of the Brookside Restaurant/Motel (Exit 291, I-95 if you’re ever up in these parts). Been talking with the waitress Megan here (she rocks by the way). Explained to her what the heck I’m doing up here. I guess I feel a bit like a fish out of water. Lot’s of lumber dudes and farmers here. I would try to blend in, but don’t have my camo, hunter’s orange or boots on. Got on my Red Wings hat which probably pegs me as an outsider since this is Bruin’s and all that is Boston land. I didn’t shave though, so that might help. Nope, it doesn’t. Could also be my Midwestern accent. Yeah. No hiding that among the “r’s” that sound like “aaaahhhhh”. Parker’s name is pronounced “Paaaahhhhhkkkaaahhhh.” Makes me smile.
One of the charms that I’ve noticed while I’ve been here. The staff knows everyone by first name. Small town. I don’t even know if there’s a downtown area here. I know Houlton, the big city about 15 miles north, has 3 stoplights.
Marketing doesn’t matter here. Branding doesn’t matter either from what I can tell. It seems it’s all about clean living (though the alcohol does flow freely), hard working and a much slower pace. I find myself feeling that things move at snails pace from what I’m used to. It’s probably good for me to slow down though and TRY to relax. That relaxing thing is so hard for me. Don’t think I’ve actually been fully relaxed in about 6 years. Hmmpppfff. Maybe that’s why I’m tired.
Anyway. Do they just not care about marketing up here? Is it not needed? There isn’t a lot up here so if you’re a restaurant like the Brookside, the closest restaurant is about 15-20 minutes away. Probably no real need to crush them. If your food is good, you stay open. If not, you don’t. It’s probably that easy. What limited clientele up here would spend their hard earned money on sub-standard fare? It’s word-of-mouth up here. No real need for advertising. The Houlton Pioneer (local newspaper) publishes once a week and the Bangor Daily comes from a town that is still 2 hours away. Word-of-mouth is what it is up here. And really, is there any better form of advertising? Nothing drives traffic like a personal endorsement. Here it’s the Brookside’s homemade pie’s. Strawberry rhubarb, graham cracker, chocolate graham cracker, mincemeat, raspberry, blueberry, apple, and chocolate cream. Lot’s of pie’s and you can bet I’ll be having a few slices. I love gettin’ me some pie!!
Anyway, some random thoughts from the Brookside in Northern Maine. Ayuh! 