MEMORIES OF MAINE
Dear Friends and Family, Old and New, Near and Far:
Once again I'm communing with you from a distant place. it's a little dot on the eastern coast of the country, Deer Isle in Maine. Twelve miles long and six miles wide, with no stop lights or bill boards, Deer Isle has attracted a plethora of creative people. Photographers, potters, weavers and writers pursue and exhibit their craft in galleries or studios with a view of the sea. Some are even famous, like Katherine Lasky who has written over 100 books, including the Guardian series, an Arthurian tale about owls. They've now been made into a film, The Guardians of Ga'Hool, which premiered 3 weeks ago. Deer Isle is also home to numerous lobstermen who help make Stonington the highest grossing port in Maine. Another writer, Linda Greenlaw, who lives on nearby Isle au Haut, details life at sea as a swordfisherman in her book, The Hungry Ocean. After reading it, and seeing the lobstermen haul their traps, I will never again take for granted the seafood on my plate. Our dinner is the result of their grueling and sometimes dangerous work.
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 Among my favorite places on Deer Isle is Nervous Nellie's Jams and Jellies where at least 30 kinds of jams and chutneys are made and sold, accompanied by whimsical figures of roosters or the owl and the pussycat.
This unique attraction which nourishes both the eye and the palate was ingeniously created by Ann and Peter Beerits. Having been a long-time user of recyclables in my own work, I'm always inspired when I step into Peter's sculptural wonderland.
Off in the woods is a compound of knights recreating the story of the Fisher King. Other small
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dwellings include a juke joint and an old fashioned country store, each filled with the appropriate inhabitants made of wood, old tin, stove parts, gas cans or rakes. Read more about them or order some jam for your toast here.
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MOVING ON....AGAIN
I must confess that the essence of Deer Isle has seeped into my blood. I'm continually enchanted by sudden views of the sea as I swerve around bends in the road. The seductive landscape changes daily, even hourly. Coves empty with the outgoing tide and textured mudflats remain; long-haired seaweed drapes over rocks encrusted with tiny mussels. Sandbars emerge which allow access to nearby islands, so the lure of being out and hiking over the rocks is a constant temptation.
 Fortunately, I found an ideal place to write on the deck at the Inn on the Harbor which fulfills my visual soul. How's this for an outdoor office? There's also an espresso bar featuring specialty ice cream and homemade cookies lovingly made by Glen Gray. I highly recommend a visit if you come to Deer Isle. You'll be greeted by the ebullient owner Christina Shipps or her manager, Vicki Hardie. Click here for more details.
Through cosmic coincidence I was invited by Barbara Hattemer to participate in the Deer Isle Writers' Groups; one meets every Tuesday morning, and the other gathers twice monthly in the evening. Besides being talented and thoughtful writers and poets, they are also astute critics and vigilant grammarians. An errant comma will never escape the eagle eye of Mickey Jacoba, former English professor at Purdue University back in Indiana. Both my visit and my writing have been enriched by their inspiring company.
Like many creative people, I am blessed with the support of "patrons" and generous friends, and thanks to the hospitality of Ginger Lester and her informal B & B, I've had a welcome place to call home. Ginger owns The Lester Gallery in Deer Isle village which features the evocative landscape photography of former resident, Terrell Lester. If you can't come see it in person, you can order or view it online.
 I'll close with one of Deer Isle's stunning sunsets, which will linger in my memory as I drive toward the Midwest.
As always, take care of your special selves, live creatively, cherish those near and dear, and make your dreams a reality.
Elena Hiatt Houlihan
Moving Images
PS: Please note change in email address below. The comcast email is no longer valid. And feel free to forward to anyone who might be interested.
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NOTE: You may be a close friend or relative, someone who's genuinely interested in the continuing saga of my book, a teacher or student I've worked with, an editor I'm trying to impress, a perfect stranger I met briefly on the night bus to Palenque, or had an intense conversation with on the beach at Playa del Carmen, even a temporary tango partner. Perhaps you've forgotten me, but I have not forgotten you! Since I'm NOT making any promises to make you RICH, BRILLIANT or FAMOUS in 5 easy steps (not yet anyway), if my stories and observations don't enliven your day, then hit UNSUBSCRIBE. If you've been forwarded this newsletter, please click below to subscribe. Merci mille fois! Y muchas gracias!
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MUSE BRIEFS:
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So, I've been nomadic for 3 1/2 months after leaving Indianapolis on July 10, if you can call leapfrogging from friend to friend nomadic. "And where do you live?" my new friends on Deer Isle ask. I can only say, "I used to have a house and studio in Pittsburgh," or "I'm headed back to Indiana to help out with family." After that the adventure will unfold, following a visit to my son's in Houston to establish an address. It turns out that insurance and credit card companies are uneasy with wanderers. Apparently not having a street address suggests erratic character despite paying one's bills. I remember one insurance company asking "And where is your car garaged????" "Nowhere," was not a place they could issue a policy for.
So currently my van contains suitcases with clothes for both wintery and tropical climes, fancy heels and swirly skirts for tango, a printer, books, laptop and cables, office supplies, assorted gourmet condiments such as blueberry balsamic vinegar or Hot Tomato Chutney from Nervous Nellie's (bland food must be remediated wherever encountered!), cameras, and files related to my book. And I can announce that it is still TOO MUCH STUFF!
It's amazing how much we do not need. I think I'll shove a few things into my storage unit in Pittsburgh, which now holds only my art, a few books and artifacts, and then maybe start throwing stuff into Salvation Army or Goodwill stores as I drive by. I have to remind myself that I traveled in South America for 6 months with only one suitcase and a rolling backpack, and survived quite well.
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ON A SERIOUS NOTE
Our mother, who is 95, has been suffering from the aftermath of shingles and has been weakened by the experience. True to form she accosted the Social Director of her assisted living facility and announced that they should photograph her with swollen and inflamed face and include it in the newsletter so the other residents would be stirred into getting the preventative vaccine. They did not take her suggestion, and she declared that it was a conspiracy to preserve their pristine image.
So, Mom, I'm presenting your case. All of us who endured the speckles of chicken pox as a kid, still carry the virus lodged in our system. Later, it can emerge without warning, causing itchy rash, swelling, and painful seizures along neural pathways. If at all possible, get the vaccine to avoid future misery. I've now been advised that homeopathy does work, though I'm not familiar with the remedies, and we're happy to report that Mom's condition has been relieved by numerous acupuncture treatments. Apparently in China, no one's case becomes this severe because they start acupuncture at the onset of symptoms.
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