Sometimes the tide laps the bottom step of the wooden staircase down to the beach. Sometimes it is a long teetering walk across slick rocks to reach the water. The tidal exchange here is twelve feet.  With each tide change the shore is rearranged, pebbles and shells swept up like a handful of jack’s and tossed down again.

From this vast, shifting collection I am carefully selecting the few rocks that will come home in my carry-on suitcase wrapped in dirty laundry. Once home I’ll arrange them on a windowsill, where they will become part of the personal landscape of artifacts in my home, proof that I’ve been places and done things.

I will dust them—although rarely—for the rest of my life.

Barbara, the owner of this seaside cottage, collects rocks too. On every sill and table top are smooth, egg-shaped rocks that I covet. I have not found a single rock of that smooth perfect shape. Either she collected them elsewhere, or I am looking at the record of years of low tide walks, a mute declaration of belonging.

When I was young we stayed on another rocky shore; Orient Point , Long Island. The dresser in the room I shared with my sister was thickly painted with a glossy white enamel. Its surface was where we displayed the rocks and shells we’d found, laying them out in careful rows. As the days of our vacation dwindled the rows shifted closer together.

We humans are hoarders and collectors of things, but what we are most often collecting is memory. We organize—and even dust it. But time has a growing tip, the only part that is alive and drawing breath, which is the now. Right now I’m here in Maine on a low tide morning. The water is glassy with a slow ripple. I smell coffee. Two girls sleep under blankets on the couch.

Suddenly, the wish my father were with us as he was every August before his death washes over me, a sad, uncontrolled feeling I didn’t plan to have. That’s the way it is with the now.

The now is as chaotic and frequently remade as the shingle of beach below this porch. No matter how secure we feel, in an instant the now can roll us, turning us soft-side-up. We can neither escape it nor defend ourselves against it. In contrast the past is safe, improved in memory. Even the worst that can happen is rendered harmless as it falls into the past. No more damage can be done.

The rocks I gather here to display on my windowsill at home will be markers holding a place in the onrush of time. When I pick them up to dust them this day will no longer be precise and sharp. The smell of coffee will be gone, the whirr of wings as hummingbirds come to the nectar feeder hanging from the porch roof no longer audible.

But the goodness of this week of wearing ill-fitting, ugly beach shoes along with the rest of my family, will remain, enshrined in a small collection of stones.

Here is a summer day on a rocky beach in Trenton, Maine.

I will strive to remember.

Note to self: try to make the next post funny, okay?

GOOGINS ISLAND, MAINE: AN OSPREY SANCTUARY

     OPREY SANCTUARY.

PLEASE KEEP OFF

Sign on Googins Island, Maine

     The sign was on tiny Googins Island just fifty feet offshore in Wolfe Neck Park, Freeport, Maine. My husband Monte and I were there for two reasons. First, I was walking all the mainland beaches between Lamoine Beach, Maine and Wallis Sands Beach, Portsmouth, New Hampshire. And second, this island was named after the Googins family, one of my ancestral branches (see THE GOOGINS GENEALOGICAL LINE section at the end of this post).

I could walk on the sand, but not on Googins Island

     At low tide, the area separating Googins Island from the mainland was almost like quicksand. Perhaps we would sink if we stepped onto it, I thought, as I stepped gingerly on rocks, avoiding the wet sand.

     I was disappointed that we couldn’t walk around this tiny island. I also wondered: What is an osprey? Why does it need “sanctuary?”

     As usual, I surfed the Internet. I discovered that one of the biggest natural attractions at Wolf Neck State Park is the osprey nest on adjacent Googin’s Island, viewable from the mainland.** Not knowing what to look for, I didn’t spot the nest.

     The osprey became rare as nesting bird, especially in the northern and eastern parts of United States where unsuccessful reproduction believed result of chemical pollution of waters and fishes on which Osprey preys.*

     It is considered a raptor—a bird of prey—and is listed in the biological order Falconiformes. It hunts for its food with its extremely sharp claws, excellent eyes, and powerful wings.

     The osprey, almost eagle size, measures 21-24 ½ inches long with a wingspread of 54-72 inches. Although the females and males are outwardly similar, the females are larger than the males. Adult ospreys are: very dark brown above; clear white below; breast somewhat spotted or streaked with brown; head largely white like bald eagle, but broad black mark through cheeks, side of neck; bill and claws (talons) black; eyes yellow to brown; cere pale blue; legs and feet green-white; overhead, distinguished by white underparts, narrow wings, black patch at sharp bend, or “wrist”, of wings; tail fairly long, narrowly barred…*

     It flies with slow powerful wingbeats alternated with      glide… usual call is melodious whistle, chewk-chewk-chewk or cheap-cheap-cheap,” and exudes a peculiar oily odor that permeates both its feathers and its eggshells for many years.

    Immature ospreys look like the adults, but their underparts are buffy, flecked with white.*

     That ospreys migrate isn’t due to the fact that they cannot survive the north’s cold weather—it’s that when this cold weather freezes the river, it  drives their food supply, fresh fish, so deep into the water that it is out of the osprey’s reach. Because these fish provide 99% of the osprey’s diet, its unavailability would likely cause the osprey to starve to death. To survive, the osprey migrate south to the mid-Atlantic region of the United States.

     The osprey population once experienced catastrophic decline from New Jersey to Maine, a fact that is attributed to man’s encroachment on its estuaries and seacoast nesting habitat—and to the shooting of ospreys, especially in migration.*

OSPREY Photo by Karl Geiger

     No longer an endangered species, they appear on all continents except Antarctica, building nests atop high trees or on man-made structures. Living 15-25 year years, they mate for life, only finding a second mate if they lose their partner by death. ****

     I had the opportunity to view osprey and their nesting sites in New York State in July, 2010, where I spent a hot afternoon attempting to photograph a bird that flew from its nest when as I set up my camera. To read this story, click on 

Osprey in New York’s St. Lawrence Valley

NOTE: Photo contributed by Karl Geiger, whose wildlife pictures taken around the St. Lawrence Valley in New York State decorate the rooms and office at the cabins he rents, Sunnyside of Black Lake (3298 County Rte. 6, Hammond, New York. www.blacklakeny.com/sunnyside, 315-375-6742) 

THE GOOGINS GENEALOGICAL LINE

     Patrick Googins, according to tradition, came from Ireland at an early age. A woolen weaver, he was in the service of William Pepperrell at Kittery…It is said, that through the influence of William Pepperrell, he obtained the hand of Mary, daughter of Richard Rogers, Jr., in marriage. He settled on the estate given him by Mary’s father at Pepperrellborough (now Old Orchard), where he died in 1784 at the age of 84.

     Patrick Googins and Mary Rogers had one daughter and six sons—one being Roger Googins, Sr., who married Elizabeth Welch of North Yarmouth, Maine, on November 20, 1760. They moved to Trenton, Maine, about 1768. Roger was the first town clerk of ancient Trenton, in 1790. Elizabeth died May 2, 1808. Roger died in May 6, 1830.

MARY GOOGINS & LOUIS DES ISLES

     Which brings me to Mary Googins, born April 3, 1775 in Trenton. She was the youngest of seven children, one of five daughters, born to Roger and Elizabeth Welch Googins.

     Mary’s siblings were Susanna, born 1763; Olive, 1766; Elizabeth, 1768; Margaret, 1769; Benjamin, 1772; and Roger, Jr., 1774.

     Mary wed French immigrant Louis des Isles in 1794. They are not only my ancestors, seven generations back. They are two of the protagonists in my historic romance novel ( www.intertwinedlove.wordpress.com ), set in what is now known as East Lamoine, Maine.*****

SOURCES:

*http://www.ospreys.com/osprey.htm

**http://www.linkedin.com/in/mslachance

***http://www.friendsofblackwater.org/osprey_cam_blog06/archives/000176.html

****Osprey returns to Wolfe’s Neck Woods State Park

*****The Googins Family in America by Charlotte H. Googins, 1914

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

ADDITIONAL READING:

Osprey in New York’s St. Lawrence Valley

Eliminate feral birds: A call for political action

FERAL BIRDS: THE LATEST COMMUNITY HAZARD

BLACK FLIES AND OTHER INSECTS: Then and Now

Battling squirrels at bird feeders I: to fight or join them

OBITUARY FOR BLUE BUOY (A Blue Lobster)

  RIGHTING A CIVIL WAR WRONG

A Gravestone for a Civil War Veteran

      I want to make the national news headlines.

At risk of plagiarism, the headline could read: Civil War soldier gets grave marker. Union captain’s burial site went unmarked for more than 140 years.*

Let me elaborate.

My great-great grandfather, Charles F. Walker, served in Company A, 8^th Regiment of Kansas Infantry, Leavenworth, Kansas. He enlisted August 28, 1861. He was discharged on July 11, 1864, at Ft. Leavenworth by reason of Surgeons Certificate of Disability.

Said Charles F. Walker was born in Penobscot in the State of Maine, is 25 years of age…by occupation when enrolled, a Umbrella Maker. On a surviving soldiers list it is noted that he was from Lamoine Beach, a Private with two years, ten months and fifteen days of service. It lists that he suffered from chronic diarrhea, chronic hepatitis, varicose veins and hernia.

There is much documentation for Charles F(rench) Walker. (To view his photo, click on: http://www.flickr.com/photos/beanerywriters/4124880086/)

My great-great grandfather was born in Exeter, Maine, son of Isaac and Abigail F. Holt Walker. On November 5, 1864, he married Armenia H. Des Isles in Trenton, Maine. She was a native of East Lamoine, Maine, daughter of William and Isabelle Young Des Isles; granddaughter of Louis and Mary Googins Des Isles. (Louis was a refugee from the French Revolution who found his way to Lamoine—but then, that’s another story.)

Charles and Armenia had five children—George, Nelson, Charles E., Allen Wilson and Lizzie E. Charles E. Walker died 30 August 1891.

Charles died in Lamoine in 1891. His newspaper obituary states Lamoine—Dec. 7, Mr. Charles F. Walker, aged 57 years and 3 months.

A $30.00 bill to his estate, submitted December 8, 1891 by A. W. Cushman & Co., Dr. (dealers in furniture, paints and oils, Franklin Street), was to pay for one casket, including box and robes.

Charles died financially broken. A letter from the Wm. H. H. Rice Post, No. 55, Department of Maine Grand Army of the Republic, states that Charles was a member in good standing in this Post, an honorably discharged soldier, and was at the time of his death, and had been for some time previously in destitute circumstances. Another letter, to the Treasurer of the state from the Town of Lamoine Selectmen stated enclosed you will find Bill Paid for Charles F. Walker a Soldier who died at Lamoine and was a Resident of Said Lamoine…at the time of his death he was unable to support himself and was helped by public charity.

Records, including funeral cards, lack one piece of information: WHERE IS CHARLES F. WALKER BURIED? And where is Armenia buried. No document records these facts. And no gravestone marks his—or her—resting place.

xxxxxx

     The Lamoine town records include a list of 120 Gravesites of Lamoine Veterans. There is another listing, an Unmarked Grave w/flag standard GAR Post 55. The gravesite is in the East Lamoine Cemetery.

Is this unmarked gravesite where Charles F. Walker is laid to rest?

The evidence is circumstantial. To consider it, it is important to consider where Armenia might be buried, what the nature of the East Lamoine Cemetery is.

This is a family cemetery, where Armenia’s family is laid to rest: Mary Googins, William and Isabelle Young Des Isles, and Mary Googins’ parents, grandparents. There is even an honorary gravestone for Louis Des Isles, who died in France. Is Armenia buried in the cemetery plot? Again, the evidence is circumstantial.

Armenia died in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Her son was granted permission to transport her body to East Lamoine. But the slip does not say, “East Lamoine Cemetery.” Just East Lamoine. However, it’s logical to believe it was transported to that cemetery.

Would she not have had her husband buried in that very same cemetery?

Adjacent to the group of plots where the unknown veteran is buried is the Samuel Y. Des Isles family plot. During their lifetime Charles and Samuel purchased several pieces of land together. Would it not be logical that they would also purchase family plots adjacent to each other?

The fact that Charles died in Lamoine; might have purchased cemetery plots adjacent to those of the Samuel Y. Des Isles family; that Armenia is likely to be buried in the same cemetery as the rest of her family, and that she would bury her husband, Charles, in that very same cemetery is circumstantial evidence that the couple is resting in East Lamoine Cemetery. That there is no stone placed on his gravesite was probably a result of the family’s lack of finances. That she has no stone is probably a result of her family living away from Lamoine.

However, the strongest evidence that Charles is buried in East Lamoine Cemetery is the one unknown Civil War Veteran, one among the small number of 121 veterans. And Charles, a Civil War veteran, has no known burial site. How many unknown Civil War veterans could there be in the small community of Lamoine—or its section known as East Lamoine?

I have yet to search Armenia’s pension records, nor have I thoroughly investigated Maine’s involvement in paying for half of Charles F. Walker’s funeral. These records are difficult to search unless one is doing it in person. However, they need to be explored, and I will persist.

Tonight I spoke with Richard Essenwine of Kittanning (PA), who is involved with locating Civil War veteran’s gravesites. He offered to research the G. A. R. records. Perhaps these records will provide the one detail I need to prove that East Lamoine Cemetery is the resting place of Charles and Armenia Walker. That missing piece MUST be somewhere.

My goal is to have a proper Civil War stone marking Charles F. Walker’s gravesite. Furthermore, I would like to have the stone put in place on my next visit to Lamoine.

Will this happen? I hope so. Perhaps some of my readers will have a suggestion for “how to” find the missing piece of information.

And if I succeed, it should make headlines.

After all, A soldier’s only dead when he’s forgotten.***

SOURCES:

*Civil War soldier gets graver marker. Brandon Keat, Tribune-Review. Undated article.

** Special Schedule list of Surviving Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines, and Widows, etc., S.D. 2; E. D. 154, Minor Civil Division: Maine, Page 3, Line 27Volume 154, Family 184.

***Stephen Nelson, who volunteered to handle the leftover money after Bell Township (pa) Historical Society’s 150^th birthday celebration for the town last year. “We want to make sure they are never, ever forgotten.”

ADDITIONAL READING:

119 Memorial Days: Still Seeking Civil War Veteran’s Gravesite: http://carolyncholland.wordpress.com/2011/05/30/119-memorial-days-still-seeking-civil-war-veteran%e2%80%99s-gravesite/#more-3186

OH, TO CLIMB SCHOODIC MOUNTAIN (Maine)

IN SEARCH OF THE ARABELLA: A Story of Two Boats

THE OVENS on Mt. Desert Island, Maine

POPHAM BEACH, MAINE

LOGGING IN MAINE AND ON THE PERU-BRAZILIAN BORDER

THE SPECTACULAR PENOBSCOT RIVER A Natural Wonder in Maine: Part 1

YOU MEAN THIS NEW ENGLANDER IS A WESTSYLVANIAN?

IN NEW ENGLAND, HISTORY CONFLICTS WITH PROGRESS

Founded by Paul and Teresa Cecere at their home in Hulls Cove, sons Matt and P.J. decided to move Pectic to this location just about one year ago. It’s a welcome respite on Route 3. It’s new, it’s spotless, the service is grade A+ (seriously, it’s rare to find such customer awareness, friendliness, genuine desire to assist).

Pectic’s a hybrid: combo fish and meat market, bakery and pizza shop, clam shack and lobster joint, eat in/take-out. The selections of baked goods, sandwiches, pizza, hot foods, prepared foods, soups and chowders, meats and seafood, are plentiful; and nearly everything is made in house from scratch. Although it’s mostly a to-go place, there is limited seating and there are clean, clean, clean restrooms.

For lunch, I had one of the day’s specials, a chicken quesedilla; excellent and quite filling. I’ll be stopping again en route home in a few days to pick up some prepared foods for dinner. Whether you need a quick food fix or need to pick up fresh or prepared foods for a cottage, this is a smart stop.