Watch “Tater Raisin’ Folk” on MPBN Tv

“Tater Raisin’ Folk” will appear on MPBN TV Nov. 16 Monday at 10 pm and again on Nov. 21 Saturday at 11 pm. It tells the story of potato farming in Aroostook County today.

Also, read about it in the Portland’s Maine Sunday Telegram.

Maine PBS TV Screening “The Coming Of The Swedes”

Maine PBS is once again screening “The Coming Of The Swedes,” a film made by Brenda Nasberg Jepson and her students at Caribou Tech Center. It goes out on Saturday, the 26th of September at 11am. It tells the story of how Maine’s Swedish Colony, where we live, was settled and how it has evolved to this day. Hope friends in Maine have the chance to tune in!

Volunteers needed

“On this Wednesday, and maybe Thursday and Friday, too (July 8, 9, 10) we’ll be doing some cleaning at the Clase House in New Sweden.  If you don’t mind getting dirty, stop by – we’ll be starting at 8.00am.  Things need to be done both outside and inside.  For outside jobs (bring your own tools), there’s pruning, trimming, hauling brush, picking up debris, etc.  For indoor jobs, there’s a lot of stuff (shredded paper, soggy ceiling tiles, wall coverings, etc. on the first floor; raccoon poop and paper on the second floor) that needs to be shoveled into trash bags and put into the trash truck (Scott Landeen will be renting us his truck and we need to fill it!  The truck will be there by 11.00am on Wednesday).  Please bring a shovel (I’ll supply some heavy trash bags) or other tools you might find useful.  If you’re going to be working inside on the first floor you’ll need a dust mask (I’ll bring a few) and clothing that you don’t mind getting filthy.  If you’re going to work upstairs you’ll want a respirator and protective clothing (need to supply your own).”

Message from New Sweden Historical Society President Deb

Strangers in the Box

Mary B. posted this piece at AncestorTracking.

Strangers in the Box

Thanks to Robert Ragan of the Treasure Maps newsletter for including this piece:

Strangers in the Box

Come, look with me inside this drawer,
In this box I’ve often seen,
At the pictures, black and white,
Faces proud, still, serene.

I wish I knew the people,
These strangers in the box,
Their names and all their memories
Are lost among my socks.

I wonder what their lives were like.
How did they spend their days?
What about their special times?
I’ll never know their ways.

If only someone had taken time
To tell who, what, where, when,
These faces of my heritage
Would come to life again.

Could this become the fate
Of the pictures we take today?
The faces and the memories
Someday to be tossed away?

Make time to save your pictures,
Seize the opportunity when it knocks,
Or someday you and yours could be
The strangers in the box.

Copyright 1997 by Pamela A. Harazim. All Rights Reserved.
May be used in unchanged form for non-commercial
purposes if accompanied by this copyright message.

Swede Dreams Are Made of This

The Swede Life is written by a young midwife from Florida living in Sweden for almost a year with her two young children and husband. Very nice to read about what life is like for them and great pictures too.

A Swedish American in Sweden: A Different Life

I am having great luck in finding blogs about Sweden. Here is another of interest.  It tells of a young family living in Sweden. The father of the family was born in Sweden and raised in the US.

The blog is written by Nathan Hegedus, a Boston Globe correspondent, who wrote this article “When it’s light, Swedes swarm for the solstice“ on June 19, 2005.

Valkommen, Dalalope

Here’s an interesting look at Lindsborg, Kansas and all things Swedish. Dala horses, move over! (This link was posted on a fellow blogger’s site.)

New Blog

I started a new photo blog which is where I’ve been spending my time lately learning about photoshop. The last couple days were pretty frustrating as I struggled to understand about masking and layers. The self-portrait is a kind of transition piece where I relied on erasing in the old version of photoshop and then tried using masks in the newer version.

I have three different books about photoshop that I have been perusing. None match exactly the version I have on my computer which adds somewhat to the frustration level. I am  mostly teaching myself what to do.

Indian River

There is something about taking a picture with a window of an old building as part of the photograph. It gives me a way to look into the past, quite literally if I am on the outside looking inside the room. The door may be locked but I can still get in through the window.

Churches, in particular very old wooden churches, hold together an imagined group of people from the past. They are not dressed as church-goers of today dress. They are not the sinners of modern culture. The old spirits are sweet and sincere, unbending in their quest to do what is best for their families, and work themselves til death or old age stops them in their tracks.

Looking in the window and looking out the window are ways to connect the present to the past. Bits of light from the day slip into the past. A soft glow is a reminder to the living.

September on the Coast

Fall is turning into my favorite season. The crowds, both big and small, are practically gone. The air has changed. The light is softer. Sound travels cleanly through the air. It is a great time to venture into unfamiliar territory.

My recent retirement has been a great motivator to get out to travel in September. It doesn’t hurt my feelings at all to drive by a high school and see all the teacher’s cars parked in the front and know that inside things are going on in a familiar and predictable way. It seems a shame that the brillant fall colors just starting will not be seen by any of those kids or teachers, but, oh well, it is at last my turn to learn to enjoy the scenery after 29 years of prison.

Meandering down route 1 from Madawaska Lake in the County to Baring (the old name was Woodland, not to be confused with the official Woodland located in Aroostook County) turns out to be shorter and much more enjoyable than I remember when headed back home after previous vacations. Knowing a cottage in South Addison is waiting and ready for our arrival takes off the pressure of finding a place to stay the night. The cottage is complete with a kitchen stocked with cooking supplies which means we will be able to cook for ourselves, in my mind far exceeding the offerings of any restaurant.

Immediately after navigating down the peninsula to the village of South Addison (thank goodness the new GPS arrived in the mail the day before), it’s time for a quick dash to the beach in front of the cottage. The path is made of crushed blue mussel shells that crackle beneath my sneakers. The air has that fresh fish smell. The tide is low. Two pairs of diggers are knee-deep in the muck digging for, shall we say, clams. (It could be worms but clams is more romantic.) The sun slowly sinks behind the causeway across Eastern Bay at Cape Split. The after-glow lasts more than an hour, silhouetting the island in the middle of the bay as well as one particularly twiggy tree just at the edge of the little meadow in front of the cottage.

What could be any nicer?