We lost three little ones to miscarriage, a stillbirth at seven months, and a preemie named Amy who lived 49 days. When others might have lapsed into months or even years of grieving that their bodies had let them down so badly, my wife took charge and lined us up for special trips to Chile and Guatemala. You can ask our two adopted sons what kind of mother she turned out to be. 

With all this AI stuff going on, why can’t they program a car to honk when it sees you walking by? Nothing blaring, just a nice sweet little beep. 

Reporters call on near-obsessive curiosity, love of travel, and the sheer pleasure of interacting with fascinating people in sports, politics, science, engineering, education, religion, you name it.

For me, it doesn’t get better than finding common ground with a baseball nut or a blues fan or a fellow vet.

In our little town of Mechanic Falls, I’ve recently been to three funeral home viewings and a retirement party for longtime Public Works Director Scott Penney. Each one brought us together in a way I never witnessed while living in the suburbs and larger cities.

Mom was the truth in our household. She always knew what to say, and never let us forget that her loving and patient wisdom could address any foolishness three teenage boys came up with.