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1 . A couple of journalists from Sweden had supper with us. One of them named Agneta said that she was once asked if she could spare an hour from time to time to visit people in prison. Agneta writes books and her husband is a famous movie producer named Jan Troell, so, being interested in doing new and different things, she went to the prison and had a nice visit with a man who killed three people. But --- then she went to prison to visit a man who was in there for fraud. He took out his guitar and played folk music and she never went back. 051014

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2. Wanting my Spanish professor Victor to savor the entire Maine coast experience, we took him out for a two hour sunset sail in Rockland Harbor on the Bugeye Schooner, Jenny Norman. For two endless years I was on the Coast Guard Cutter Laurel that tied up in Rockland harbor, so before I was 21 years of age I had stood at the helm of a good sized boat going into and out of Rockland harbor hundreds of times. Although it was July, I brought my snowmobile suit and sheepskin hat --- because I’d been out in Rockland harbor in July before. But this was one of those rare warm nights that you might only see once or twice a year on the coast of Maine so I could have survived nicely with only a heavy wool jacket. My friend, the famous folk singer Bob Stuart, was on board playing his banjo and playing his guitar and singing songs of hi ho lift the sails my hearties. And although I listened to Bob Stuart singing songs having to do with life along our coast for two solid hours, not once did he lift his voice in testimony to the redolent bait trucks of Maine. How much more Maine ambiance could you get than a parked bait truck 200 feet upwind from your daughter’s wedding? Please. Whether you are the poet laureate or not --- you can write poetry. Send me a poem about bait trucks. I will pass it along to Bob Stuart so he can set it to music. Imagine, if you will, this scene. You’re out on the Bugeye Schooner, the Jenny Norman, and Bob Stuart is roundly applauded for his song about bait trucks. An intriguing person you’ve just met on board smiles into your eyes and says, “That was wonderful. Have you ever heard it before?” Then, you can nonchalantly give a Mr. Belvedere-like shrug of your shoulders and say, “I wrote it.” 060721

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4. I was out in my barn very purposefully sawing a half inch stick in two with a very dull handsaw when a car drove in the yard. A woman got out of the car and went inside to do woman business and the man, whom I had never seen before, walked over to see what I was doing in the barn. He watched for a few seconds and I was just about to compliment him for being strong enough to simply stand and watch without helping, when both of his hands shot out. We have talked about this before. It takes a unique individual --- it takes a powerful man who is secure within himself ---- to stand back and watch a neighbor engaged in some intricate operation without feeling obligated to elbow him aside and show him that you can do it better. Does this happen on all levels of society? Does Dr. Jones look over a colleague’s shoulder in the operating room and say, “Perhaps you should remove all of those little metal clamps before sewing up the chest cavity.” I don’t know. I’m humble@humblefarmer.com and you can tell me about the last time it happened to you. Please don’t confuse this with that other situation where you are standing in your friend’s kitchen and ask for a drink of water and they say, “You’ve got to let that water run a while before it gets cold.”

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5. What a thing Hunter S. Thompson was. One of my friends, who is a very clever writer in Portland, says a lot of good things about me on her web page. Listen to what she says. “Do you know the Humble Farmer? … He's on Maine Public Radio Fridays at 7 p.m. and he's brilliant. No description of mine will do his show justice, but I'll give it a go…. It's as if Hunter S. Thompson has taken over the airwaves for an hour every week.” Yes, I’m like you. I wondered who this Hunter S. Thompson was, too, so I Googled him. My word. You’ll have to Google him yourself. All I’m going to say is that when Hunter S. Thompson ran for sheriff, his opponent had a crew cut. And, of course, Hunter S. Thompson did what you or I would do if we were running for sheriff against a man who sported a crew cut. Hunter S. Thompson shaved his head so he could refer to him as, “My long haired opponent.”

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6. This might not be for you if you have never read a science fiction book, but I’m going to throw it in here anyway because I think Mel Brooks would like it. If you were writing science fiction that entailed space travel, would you have the courage to create a planet called Scarsdale and name your protagonist Peter Smith? If you could ever get your tale published, imagine the reaction Peter Smith from Scarsdale would have on an experienced reader of science fiction who is familiar with the space travel formula. The space ship touches down, the hatch releases blue vapors as it slowly slides open, and then, the slowly emerging figure moves down the ramp, arms outstretched. Of course, at this point the reader expects the visitor to say, “My name is Zar-El and I come from Kalgar.

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7. Jim sent me a few web sites where I was able to read up on the use of surveillance cameras in a Maine High school. Listen to this: “While [the principal] said at the board meeting that he is sensitive to the intrusive nature of cameras, he sees them as a matter of safety, whether officials are grappling with unwelcome visitors arriving on campus, parking lot situations or evacuation procedures.” What do you think? Is this proposed use of cameras in the toilets going a bit too far? 060324

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8. Is there anything more exhausting for a three year old child than spending a weekend with a loving and indulgent grandmother? Here’s the poor little kid, all tucked in, as Mimi reads a bedtime story. And every time the little eyes close there a loving tug on the child’s sleeve and a “Wake up. Don’t you want to hear what happened to Peter Rabbit?”

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9. Children repeat what they hear. If you talk Dutch or Swedish to a three year old child, the child will reply in Dutch or Swedish. Children raised by wolves howl and have an inexplicable interest in fire hydrants. That two and three year old children have the seemingly impossible ability to reproduce not just the phonemic but also the phonetic components of even the world’s most difficult language is proven every time a child speaks French. Mais wee, mis onfont. If I had a child, I would, in my conversations with that child, employ esoteric linguistic constructs obviously weighted with the approbation of the academic community. My child would, as Pogo so ably parroted, go forth into the world inebriated by the exuberance of his own verbosity. Dr. Olga has done this, as evinced by her letter which says, “Humble-- All the kids at church had to write Mother's Day hearts saying how people showed their love to them. All the kids said their mothers loved them by hugging them or taking care of them or giving them presents, and Emma's heart said her mother showed her love by not being deliberately obtuse.

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10. Shed no tears for me when I tell you that I could never afford to have children. Marsha’s oldest granddaughter visited us for a weekend so I was able to realize the same 3-year old grandchild benefits at a fraction of the cost. And, for the first time in my life I was able to aid in the development of a young, receptive mind. Take, for example, teaching a little one to name the body parts on a stuffed moose. This is the --- nose. This is the --- mouth. These are the ---- eyes. This is an ---- ant-ler. So this other one must be an --- uncle-er. And then there is the mess generated by water colors and play dough. Do you know what happens when you get too old for play dough? You’ll read Aristotle. 060421

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11. There are times when I would go along with an educated guess and there are times when an educated guess is probably no more than hooey. Can we possibly know what men were thinking 30,000 years ago when they painted wooly mammoths on cave walls? What do you think? One authority writes, “The probability is that the leading cave artists were great men who gave themselves airs.” Would you not suspect that this was written by a person who was at one time snubbed by an artist? I live in a town that is infested with artists, and from what I’ve heard and seen artists are no snobbier than house painters or plumbers. And --- should an artist produce his or her impression of me on canvas, there is no way you can get me to believe that they have captured my soul. The most impressive painting an artist ever did of me was one in which he left me out. After he’d done the pencil sketches he said he’d got to thinking about it and realized that the final picture was better without me. Did you know that anthropologists no longer think that cave painters believed their pictures brought them luck in the hunt? It seems that superstition was introduced thousands of years later when it was used quite effectively to squeeze money out of people. Now --- you and I have read in many places that artists often have affairs with their models. But do not professors have affairs with their students and do not people who work in stores or offices hold hands behind the water cooler? And even if you are not an artist, how many times have you invited some innocent and unsuspecting young thing into your home, ostensibly to view your art collection? OK. I think I’ve done a pretty good job defending my artist friends. They are really no more devious than you or I. But just so you can come to your own conclusion, what do you suppose could have been on this Spanish painter’s mind some 15,000 years ago?: Quote “Some of these works are photographed but the camera gives a poor idea of their nature and quality. Some are difficult to see anyway: the best part of Altamira has to be studied lying down.” 060519

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12. Listen closely, and you will learn how not to grill meat. When I asked my computer guru what he liked, he said porterhouse steak. Marsha went to the market, and when she came home, after ensuring a comfortable retirement for two ranchers in Montana, I went into my storage shed and dug out a gas grill. It had rusted out and broke in two when I picked it up so I threw it aside and dug out another gas grill. Two small school desks were on top of it so I brought one of them into the house for the grandchildren. Do you find surprises in your storage shed if you only look in there once a year? Carpenter ants had invaded our fir tree friend, John Longwood, and there was a 10 inch pile of fine sawdust between his legs. Anyway, I dragged the grill up to the driveway, hooked up a gas bottle and touched her off. Bad plan. First you take it all apart and clean out generations of little smiling mouse skulls and everything else that has collected and been left behind. And even after taking the grill apart, washing it out and putting it back together --- well, be prepared for a unique experience when you warm up those little volcanic rocks in your grill after they have soaked in mouse urine for 12 years. Then, leaving nothing to chance, I emailed my friend Nick Diller in Great Barrington, Massachusetts to find out how to use a grill. Griller Diller, as he is called, is one of the world’s leading experts on grilling everything but hardened criminals, and he sent me 123 pages of his book, asking for nothing in return but a Norbert Twichell T shirt. Yes. Griller Diller sent me comprehensive directions on how to use a grill, but --- nowhere did I read that the dripping juice would catch on fire --- so I followed the directions and stood there like a nummy and watched the meat burn to a crisp. 060512

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13. Last week I played a tune called Get Your Kicks on Route 66. Later, I saw on my playlist, that I had written down 77. If you will keep that firmly in mind, please know that before 8 AM I had taken off the front storm door and put it on sawhorses in the barn so Marsha could scrape and paint it. My wife is a Type A who is genetically disposed to be ripping and tearing every minute of the day. One of her great regrets in life is that she can’t vacuum and scrape paint at the same time and if you ever saw this beautiful woman raising a cloud of dust you would think I had carried off one of the Stepford Wives. You should know that, besides being good with her hands, my wife Marsha can also think. Listen. I brought home four trees from Fedco, --- and, by the way, that Fedco is one slick operation. I parked by the door and was in and out of there in a wink. --- Two of the trees were cherry trees that I got for my friend, Booger Boy Davis and two were plums I got for myself. Before I planted the trees I got for myself, I put the Boy’s 2 cherry trees in a five gallon bucket of water. You know, so they wouldn’t dry out while I was working in the hot sun. After I planted my plum trees, I took his cherry trees down to his house so I could plant them for him --- and I had to do that because he wasn’t going to be home for two weeks. I dug a hole in the ground and I reached for the first cherry tree --- but, the cherry tree had turned into a plum tree. When I read the little plastic name tag on the Boy’s tree, it said, Stanley Plum. And so did the other one. So I went home and called him up and said, “Hey Boy, would you just as soon have plum trees?” And he said that he didn’t like plums and he wanted cherries. So. Here I had already planted the Boy’s two cherry trees in my back yard and I didn’t want to dig them up again so I explained to Marsha what had happened. And what do you suppose Marsha said? “Why don’t you leave those cherries right there in our back yard, and simply change those little plastic name tags?”

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14. Have you ever seen a ghost? Have you ever seen a stone statue cry? I have seen something that fits in the same category and I am going to tell you about it now. This is not something I would say in a room crowded with strangers, because it would immediately destroy my credibility. But I can tell you what I saw out on the highway yesterday because you have listened to me for years and you know, that however improbable my story, it is the truth. Listen to this. Yesterday, out on the highway, I saw a Volvo station wagon with no ski racks. 060519

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15. Perhaps you have been to Egypt and have seen, with your own eyes, the pyramids. My wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, has seen Stonehenge. You would be a unique individual, indeed, if you have seen the stone heads on Easter Island. I have seen the Parthenon and I have steered the Coast Guard Buoy Tender Laurel through the Cape Cod Canal. The Great Pyramid of Giza, the Cape Cod Canal, Stonehenge, the moai on Easter Island, the Parthenon. Now, can you tell me what these five things have in common? Are they not all excellent examples of what intelligent young people can accomplish when not distracted by TV or video games?

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16. Even I have heard of the book called, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. We are told that it is a Practical Guide for Improving Communication and Getting What You Want in Your Relationships. My wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, and I are living proof that two people can live together and get everything that we want without waging war. Because women are the weaker sex it is up to the man of the house to create and nurture this peaceful environment. Yesterday, for example, before Marsha came home I went outside and coiled up the water hose and put it on the well curb and coiled up the driveway bell hose and put that on the doorstep. I took out her lawnmower and filled it with gas and had it standing at the ready by the door. And when she came home at four o’clock she didn’t even come in the house for her earplugs. She had a grateful smile on her face and she had that lawnmower going when I went out there and begged her to stop long enough to protect her ears. Any man willing to follow my example can live in a happy home, free from unkind words and strife. All you have to do is never find fault with anything she does, agree with her no matter what she says, and get used to not being able to do anything right. Why engage in this senseless battle of the sexes when it is so much easier to sign an unconditional surrender?

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17. You know how I operate. I’ll ask you a few questions about one thing or another or even drop an occasional comment about some topic that I hope will interest you. But --- from time to time you hear me pass along a quote that is either so hilarious or unique that it obviates the need for further commentary. If you are ready, I will read from the Britannica Junior Encyclopedia, Volume 11 under New Mexico and on page 103. “The Pueblo Indians live in villages and still farm the land which was granted them by the Spanish kings.”

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18. My doctor, Doctor Hall, told me to walk a mile a day --- you know – to give my heart and lungs a workout -- but with slogging through the swamp in boots stringing cow fence and cutting bushes and pushing the lawn mower I don’t have time to do it. You know that old folks are supposed to make time to exercise, our hearts are supposed to be pounding so that we are panting every day. My thesis is that if we were properly motivated, all this would come to pass. So --- listen to my story --- listen to my tale. Brad Terry and Matthew Fogg recently played a concert at the beautiful historic Opera House at Boothbay Harbor. I was telling funny stories there in between their sets, and if you were there you know that they put on a great show. You can see pictures of it on my web page. Foggy is a driver. They were playing the kind of tunes with a nice bounce I play for you on my radio program. You know what I mean. They make you want to get up and dance. I was minding my business up at the back of the hall when a willowy wisp of a girl young enough to be my granddaughter asked me if I’d like to dance. So I danced with a professional dancer to some pretty up tunes. You should understand that I dance in the style of the 1930’s --- I never learned how to jitterbug or do the twist --- and before we finished the first number my tottering frame was soaked with sweat and I was gasping for breath. I don’t dance very often so I hadn’t realized --- until then --- that one of the good things about dancing when you’re over 70 is that it’s not like dancing when you’re 20. If you are an old man, you might recall that when you were 20 --- when you were dancing --- it was impossible to actually think about dancing. We were perhaps the first generation that actually got innovative with duct tape. But when you’re dancing with a young girl when you’re 70, your mind is completely focused on sucking your gut back in against your spine and remembering to whisper “Sorry” when you step on her toes. Well, over the course of two hours I slipped into my Patrick Swazee mode four or five times – Foggy and Brad were driving so you felt like dancing -- and at the end of the evening when I finally came back to earth, my first reaction was, “Robert Skoglund, you are an old fool.” That was my knee jerk reaction, which of course was so, so wrong. Because --- and you tell me if I’m right --- if every man over 65 would dance for one hour – 7 nights a week --- with a girl young enough to be his granddaughter --- his cardiovascular system would be the envy of the high priest at Shangri La, and within 30 years the overload of 100 year old men would clean out Social Security.

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19. Have you ever seen men whom you might think have nothing going for them who are married to attractive, intelligent, industrious women? If you asked whatever got them together in the first place, she might say, “He makes me laugh.” Unfortunately for many men, they run out of material. Movies, books and plays have been written about wives who are still able to evoke a painful smile the 38th time they hear their husband tell one of his shopworn stories. My hat goes off to any woman who can laugh at her husband’s old jokes, and any husband who can come up with quality new material has my admiration. You know that I am not one to boast or brag, but I have the ability to make my wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, laugh any time, any place. And I am not talking here about a chuckle but a wholesome, honest laugh that would make Jack Benny proud. To employ the vernacular --- I can crack her up. You know I have no secrets from you and you know that I am now going to tell you how I do it. Any man is welcome to follow my example, as long as he uses his own wife and chalks up a mental thanks to me each time. Ready to write this down? I gently seize Marsha by the shoulders, I gaze deeply and lovingly into her eyes, and then, having captured her attention as it were, I say with a deep and mellifluous voice, “My dear, please remember that I am the boss in this house.”

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20. Remember how they used to tar the roads in the good old days? A truck would back up to a machine and dump the gravel or tar into it and the machine would press it into the road. A friend of mine who drove one of those trucks was on his way to a grange meeting when his wife said, “Admit it. You’re lost. I don’t know how you can be lost. You drove every bit of this road when you helped tar it last summer.” And he said, “That’s true, but you want to remember that I was always backing up.”

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21. You know that I want to put my land into conservation so it cannot be broken up into house lots by my heirs. Houses are going in on three sides of my 82 acres on the ocean. Can you imagine what will happen if I succeed in preserving my woods and fields? In 100 years my farm will be just like Central Park in New York City. In 100 years my farm might be the only place in St. George, Maine where you can get mugged. 060714

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23. While I was in the Atlanta airport, I chanced to see on the front page of a NY Times that swabbing out someone’s mouth to get a DNA sample has been ruled unusual search and seizure. Ordinarily, I’d say that they could swab out my mouth any time they want, because I don’t mind if they poke around in my mouth. But --- I’m going to oppose this mouth searching business, because --- if they find they can legally poke around in your mouth, and they don’t find anything, it don’t take much imagination to figure out where they’ll be looking next.

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24. Did you hear that airlines lose 10,000 bags a day? Would it surprise you to learn that the airlines have never lost one of my bags? It is not because I have relatives in high places. Let me tell you my secret that you may never, ever lose another bag. --- Although I am not a road warrior, I might have gone to Europe 20 or so times and I take to the air several times a year in this country. But --- the airlines have never lost one of my bags --- because --- for years I traveled with one ratty little green cloth knapsack with the top held on with two safety pins and I never let it out of my sight. Yes. It is possible to spend 30 days on European trains and go from Greece to Africa to Finland and carry everything you need for those 30 days on your back and in a little cloth bag which you can stuff under the seat. For years, I did this every time I went to Europe. Because --- the first time I went to Europe I went on a freighter called the Mormacpride and I carried two huge suitcases. Anyone who has hitchhiked through Europe carrying two fifty pound suitcases soon learns that there is a better way to travel and that you can wear the same pants and jacket for 30 days. So the next time I went abroad I carried no more than would comfortably fit into a tiny green knapsack. Of course my wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, won’t permit me to travel like that now, but I did it for years without discomfort and enjoyed the convenience. And here’s how even married men married to Type A women can profit by my example. Never say a word when she jams your bag --- or even two bags --- full. But --- when you drive into the parking lot at the airport, unpack everything and leave the things you know you won’t need, like an extra pair of pants or two extra shirts, in your truck. Carry just one little bag with one change of underwear onto the plane and don’t let it out of your sight.

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25. I told my brother Jim that Fred Nutter talked about the 2 hour wait you get on certain days when you want to renew your driver’s license or register your car. You might know that my brother Jim has the ability to come up with common sense answers to problems that baffle experts. Listen. My brother told me to write Matt Dunlap, the Secretary of State, and suggest that he install an EZ pass lane in the registration offices, where, by paying an extra $2 you could walk right through. 060512

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26. While looking through Dateline’s webpage, this is what I read. I quote without permission: “The earliest known ancestors of modern humans might have reproduced with early chimpanzees to create a hybrid species, a new genetic analysis suggests. …Scientists can't say how long the hybridization carried on, but the final speciation occurred around 5.3 million years ago, possibly because the two species' genetic codes were too different to mix, or because the animals were simply physically unappealing to each other.” Wow. Would this not also indicate that back then they didn’t drink alcohol?

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27. You’ve heard this before, but it is so true that you’re going to hear it again. They do not make things like they used to. Nothing seems to last anymore. No matter what you buy, it seems that before you get it out of the wrapping paper it becomes obsolete or wears out or breaks down or runs down so you have to buy another one. If there is an item that is an exception to this rule, it is my wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, who seems to grow tougher and more dependable with each passing year. But the purpose of my present commentary is not, as you probably thought, to boast and brag about my wife, but to rant and rave about things that do wear out before they should. Case in point. The 6 volt battery in my Model T. You know the car I’m talking about. It’s a good dependable car and you’d have to admit that it’s given me good value when you consider that I paid $10 for it in 1951. Anyway, I recently bought a brand new battery from my friend Steve Corson in Rockland, but last summer I couldn’t get it to hold a charge. I had to crank the engine to get it going, so this week I took the used battery back and got the regular junk value for it when I traded it in on a new one. I was careful with that battery so there is no reason it should not hold a charge. You know, in winters I took it out of the car and left it on a board in my friend’s heated garage. I’ve been good to that battery but it didn’t seem to make any difference. But --- the one I just bought is guaranteed to last 30 months so you better believe I’m going to hang onto that warranty paper this time. The young man in the store carried the new battery out to my car for me and when he picked up the one I was trading in, he looked at the numbers on it and said, “Wow. Most batteries won’t last over 4 years but you bought this one here in 1999.”

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28. Alison called us on her cell phone. Alison is Marsha’s oldest daughter. Alison called us to say she was supposed to pick up something for her mother at the mall but had forgotten what it was. Wouldn’t Alison make a good husband? 060602

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29. If you were in Tenants Harbor to enjoy the St. George Memorial Day parade, you saw me between the fire engines and the sheriff’s car in my 1919 Model T station wagon. There are not many 1919 Model T station wagons around that are painted white and that have 7 foot signs on each side that say The humble Farmer in 18 inch red letters. I felt somewhat conspicuous driving it because it is very old. But then I got to thinking that in 1951 I used to feel somewhat conspicuous driving it because it was very old. I am going to tell you what happened when I arrived at the road block in Tenants Harbor and was stopped by a fireman road block guard on my way to that parade. But first. Do you suppose anyone ever actually said, “You can’t get there from here?” Do you suppose that a motorist from Boston ever stopped at Hall’s Market, screwed down the window of his car and asked, “How do you get to Rockland?” --- to have the character on the steps say, “My brother takes me.” Do you suppose a Massachusetts driver ever asked, “Can I take this road to Rockland?” to be told, “Far’s I’m concerned you can.” Or after looking at the lobster trap strapped to the roof, “Might just as well, looks like you’ve got just about everything else.” Or, “Where’s this road go?” “Don’t go nowhere. Stays right there.” Do people think before they ask these questions? Now, let’s go back to Tenants Harbor where traffic is being diverted because the people in St. George are getting ready for their annual celebration parade. I am in my 1919 white Model T truck, banners flying in the wind. I slowly approach the road block. The gentleman in charge puts up his hand for me to stop. He approaches, looks up and me, and asks, “Are you in the parade?” 060602

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30. Yesterday I put up a staging so my wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, can scrape and paint the house. I do not mention this to boast and brag about what a thoughtful helpmate I am but to enrich your marriage by suggesting to you that a truly creative husband can manifest his love in many unique and wonderful ways.

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33. Do you ever listen to that radio program where you call in with a problem about your car and the experts tell you that all will be well if you replace the heat deflector on the exhaust manifold or put sawdust in the rear end? Here’s a question you might like to ask: “When I turn on the switch in my pickup truck, what is that whining sound that comes out of the dashboard?” “It’s probably The humble Farmer. If you can stand it for an hour, it will go away.”

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34. Tammy Willy just put together a nice little book containing old picture post cards of the town of St. George, and twenty or so of us were out at Historical Meeting the other night unloading and recording the memories evoked by the pictures. We talked about how the ways of thinking about things and doing things had changed since we were kids. I have changed the names but the stories are true. One man said, “I was driving behind Sam’s garbage truck one day when I noticed that the paper in the back was on fire. I flagged him down and told him that there was a fire in the back of his truck. So Sam pulled the lever and dumped the whole business right there in the middle of the road.” I said, “That reminds me. Years ago I was going by Mack’s house when I saw him lying dead on his lawn. I went up to John’s house and called the town office for help and they put it out on the scanner. I went back down and stood by Mack’s body for thirty or forty minutes but nobody showed up so I went back to John’s house and called the town office again. I said, ‘What’s the hold up? Mack is dead on his front lawn.’ They said that when Sam heard on the scanner that Mack was dead, he called them up and said to ignore my call because Mack wasn’t dead, he was only drunk.” You know, even though we were there and saw these things and recorded them on video, in another 50 years nobody is going to believe it. 060623

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36. A man came up to me at the Common Ground Fair and said that his name was Harold Mosher and that 28 or so years ago he used to work with me in the Navigator Motel in Rockland for our good friend, the late, great Paul Devine. And Harold asked me if I could remember working with him and I said that I couldn’t. And I said to Harold, “How in the world, after 28 years, can you remember me?” And Harold said, “You used to hang your underwear out to dry in the lobby.”

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37. For years my neighbor Jimmy Parker built boats with the Dennison boys and anyone who has built wooden boats on the coast of Maine with a man named Dennison has bathed in the font of wisdom. I have seen Jimmy Parker take a pile of oak planks and turn it into a --- I don’t know --- a 30 -- 40 foot boat? --- right in his front yard. I stopped in to see Jimmy today because I’d just picked up an oak plank on the dump and I wanted him to have it. After giving it a professional once-over, he said, “It’s a good thing that the road to the dump goes two ways.” And while I had his attention I showed him the pine boards that I’d picked up at the same time by knocking apart a large pine shelf that might have just come out of the Port Clyde general store and I told him I was going to use them to build shelves in the little shed where I store my gardening tools and cow fence posts. But Jimmy said something that made me change my mind and now I don’t think I will build those shelves. Right now that building is so full that you can’t get in the door. And Jimmy very astutely pointed out that if I built shelves and put everything away, it would create a very inviting huge empty space on the floor and unless I changed my way of thinking and doing things it wouldn’t be long before I’d cart home more junk to fill up that space and I’d need even more shelves. You can see that I’d be in the same situation as a state that builds more prisons. Even before your friends in the construction business who built the prison have time to contribute to your next campaign, you discover that there is a waiting line to get in and you need yet another prison. I’m humble@humblefarmer.com and if you can explain why nature abhors an empty space, I’d like to hear from you.

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38. You might know that I was the emcee at what might have been the first and last puffin calling contest in Rockland. You read about it in the papers. There were prizes for the winners. If you want to know what a puffin sounds like, Google puffin sounds. A puffin sounds like someone starting a chain saw. My lifetime friend, relative and good neighbor, the late Willard Hilt was raised in lighthouses. His father, Frank Hilt, was a light house keeper at Portland Head Light and several other places, and Willard got to hear puffins --- it might have been out on Egg Rock. And a few years ago Willard was dredged up as an authority on puffins because he had lived with them. And one sunny day Willard was invited to board a boat full of Audubon people and selected friends who were going out to some island where a colony of these small birds had been established and because he was the only person who had actually lived with them, it was expected that when she hove to he would deliver a lecture. And it came to pass that they hove-to and all eyes turned on Willard who said naught. And the woman in charge approached Willard and whispered in his ear that it was time for him to speak. And Willard took a deep breath and said, “Yup, them’s puffins.”

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39. You’ve heard people say it: “I’m losing my grip.” Of course you are more likely to hear someone say, “He’s losing his grip,” because people don’t want to admit that they are losing their grip. Radio friend George, who graduated from Potsdam the same time I was flunking out, sent me this: “The older you become, the more you need to exercise. … men squeezed a machine that measured the force that they could exert. They lost 20 percent of their grip strength in seven years. The older they were, the more they lost. Those who lost the most height or weight,… and those who took in the most caffeine had greater losses of strength. … No explanation was offered for the association of caffeine with loss of muscle strength.” I can remember years ago hearing my friend Julian saying, “Yup, a cup of coffee and a cigarette will get you where you want to go --- as long as you aren’t going too far.” 060630

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40. A fellow who improves web pages just called me from Buffalo New York to tell me that my web page wasn’t turning up on the search engines. If he hadn’t called me, I would believe him. 060714

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41. Here’s a response to that recent letter I read about the doctor who cuts off parts of your feet so you can squeeze them into pointy so-called fashionable shoes. Martha says, “No wonder alien space ships don’t want to land here.’ 060721

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42. When I meet you for the first time, I will talk a lot. I will unload my life history on you and tell you about my neighbors, past and present, for a possible 7 generations. Of course, if that was all I did, I would soon be out of business, because I count on you to say things that I can write in my book and pass along. In other words, I do talk a lot when I first meet you, but if you were to hang in there long enough you’d discover that without even knowing it our roles would be reversed. --- Much like the roles of the psychiatrist and the patient in my favorite movie, What About Bob? Before long you would be babbling and I would be asking you to slow down so I could get your exact words into my little notebook. My initial exuberance is no more than priming to a pump which I hope and expect will gush forth, expounding and elaborating on your life’s experiences. Sometimes the role reversal takes me by surprise and without my engineering. Listen closely. Ginny and David were sitting at our breakfast table and someone mentioned fishing. I said that the last time I went fishing was in 1942. I have not done it since because all you do is stand on slippery rocks with a smelt pole in your hand. And Ginny said, “And you have to be quiet.”

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43. When I came out in the dooryard, my wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, who was standing by the rider mower, said, “I didn’t hit anything. It just stopped. I didn’t hit anything.” My brother helped me tow the mower up to the garage, I lifted it up with the chain fall, took out the rear end, took the rear end apart, took one axel over to my machinist friend in Warren who drilled a hole in the end, tapped it and put in a screw and washer rig to hold the gear on the end. I put it all back together. Took it apart because I didn’t put it together right the first time. Called my lawnmower repair man guru and found out how to do it right and put it together again. Now it’s all set to be bolted back into the mower. But first I want to write up instructions on how to do it and paste those instructions on my web page. What a great benefit that will be to the next guy whose wife says, “It just stopped, I didn’t hit anything.” Of course people who repair machinery on a regular basis don’t need the important instructions I’m about to impart to you now. Because mechanics of all kinds, whether they fix lawnmowers or chainsaws or cars know what a true professional does after he has tightened up the last bolt and presented his work to the customer. If you have ever worked in a garage or repair shop you already know the last thing a good mechanic does. He hides all the left over parts. 060728

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44. We no longer have funerals. Back in the good old days, my ancestors would put the deceased on a boat and then take turns ravishing his slave girl before throwing her aboard and setting the whole business on fire. Even I can remember when people wore black ties and veils to funerals. You remember that Sarah Orne Jewett, who lived and wrote for a while here in St. George, described funerals and what people talked about when they were sitting up all night with a person who had died. I can remember hearing about two of my neighbors who were sitting up with a man who died, and when one of the watchers went out of the room for a minute, the other fellow lit his pipe and stuck it in the dead man’s mouth. You can imagine when the first man came back in the room it about scared him to death. But nowadays we attend a service to celebrate the life of so and so. I’m an old man I do not understand this --- we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of - thing. I don’t know who started celebrating lives or where it came from, although if you can tell me I’d like to know. I don’t want anybody celebrating when I die. I want a good old fashioned funeral with wailing and gnashing of teeth and rending of garments. Of course, I hope that there will be old fashioned music and funny stories at my funeral. But no celebrating. I want Hoggy, my oil delivery man, to stand up at my funeral and say, with tears streaming down both cheeks, “When Robert Skoglund died he still owed me $900 for a tank of fuel oil.” 060728

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45. Quantum Mechanics. You might have heard me whisper quantum mechanics at the end of a show or somewhere in between. I say quantum mechanics because I know that a topic so dear to your heart would get you excited about my program without your really knowing why, much as the 1/500th of a second spots of popcorn on the movie screen were supposed to make people want to rush out and buy a box of popcorn. Which obviously brings up the relationship between zero percent fat free milk and black holes. Would it not be an adventure to hear what Stephen Hawking has to say about fat free milk? Would you be surprised to learn that according to the strange world of quantum mechanics it is theoretically possible to have minus 15 percent fat free milk? If you have ever overdrawn your checking account you know that minus figures do have a place in the real world and that Stephen Hawking would tell you that minus 15 percent fat free milk is theoretically possible. The thing that I can’t bring myself to picture in my mind, however, is the look on the faces of Stan Bennett’s cows when they are producing it.

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46. My friend Rich says that some people who buy lottery tickets don’t have a firm grasp on what you can do with $30,000,000. Rich says some TV reporter interviewed a man who bought a lottery ticket. Of course the reporter asked him what he’d do if he won 30 million dollars. And the fellow said he’d pay off his house mortgage. Think about this. If it took 30 million dollars to pay off your house mortgage, would you be in that socio-economic class of people who buy lottery tickets at a gas station? 060707

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47. If your young grandchildren ever visit you, you will understand what I am about to say. Although I was never able to attain that point of self sufficiency or affluence that is a moral prerequisite to bringing a child into the world, I married a widow with two children. And now, they, in turn, have preschool children who brighten our dreary days with an occasional visit. So, if small grandchildren come to visit at your house you know what that means --- especially if they are rough with their toys. Two or 300 dollars worth of expensive rubber ducks and plastic toys are going to have to come out of your bathtub and be hidden away in a safe place --- before they arrive.

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48. You’ve heard me say this before, but because it warrants your attention, I’m going to say it again. Small children need their sleep. I also need my sleep, but for some reason I too often wake up at 5 am. And very often when I get up at 5 am, I see Marsha’s grandchildren, ages one to three, who are already racing wildly around the house, closely followed by a bleary eyed mother. You know that I could never afford to have children, but if I had, I want you to know that if I ever had children, I would have let them sleep in until a decent hour. 060804

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50. One of my neighbors came up to me at the annual Blueberry Cove lobster feast fundraiser last week and told me how good I looked. Do you like to have people tell you how good you look? Is this not another way of saying that you don’t look any worse than you did the last time they saw you? Is not the implication that they are amazed? “Hi Robert. My, but you look good.” Is there any reason I should not look good? You probably know that I am in a remarkable state of preservation for a 70-year-old man. I have always had the posture of a cave dweller and even 50 years ago had you dressed me in a wooly mammoth skin, and photographed me slouching along with a club over my shoulder --- you know, and dragging a woman by the hair, you could have sold pictures of the tableau to a museum for display. I am genetically predisposed to slouch. So even when I was 20 I had the posture of a very old man, and I haven’t changed. And when you are not an attractive man when you are 20, you couldn’t get any worse by the time you’re 70, so relatively speaking, your friends probably think you look good. If you are ready to take notes, I will pass along to you the secret for not looking any worse at 70 than you did at 20. #1. I did not smoke, which, as every woman knows, causes wrinkles. #2. I avoid the sun and wear a long sleeved shirt and hat and long pants when I’m out in the sun. Every woman knows that sun on the face causes wrinkles. And finally, the most important anti-aging secret of all --- the reason I do not stagger about with eyes that stare vacantly off into space and a haggard drooping nether lip ---#3. I could never afford to have children. 060811

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51. A woman came up to me at the Common Ground fair and asked where she could get a cup of coffee. I said, “You must be new here.”

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52. Many people at the Common Ground Fair told me that they enjoyed listening to The humble Farmer radio program in their cars. For one or two friends this voice was the first voice they heard when driving into Maine for the first time and they wondered if everybody up here talked like this. Many told me that this show helped them with their Friday night drive between work and home. At least one couple said that when they heard my radio program they decided that Maine was where they wanted to live. One man told me that listening to my calm and peaceful voice once saved him when he was stuck in his car in a snow storm. Of course, it would be nice to have all these things from you in writing, so people couldn’t accuse me of making them up myself, but for now I have to settle for hearing it from you one-on-one once a year at the Common Ground Fair. Listen to this. David said that he thinks of the humble as a unit of measure. That is, how far you can drive from the time my show starts until it stops. I would guess that one humble is about from Kittery to Freeport, or from Augusta to Trap Corner, now that the bridge is out on 129. The humble can also be how much lawn you can mow during one show, how many papers you can correct, how many birdhouses you can make or how many pies you can bake. I’m humble@humblefarmer.com What can you accomplish in one humble?

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53. You’ve heard me say that it doesn’t bother me a bit when someone drops by unannounced for dinner or supper. After all, what is the big deal? The way my wife cooks, although she’d deny it, there is always enough for two more. After her daughter’s wedding banquet, everybody in the family thawed and ate American chop suey for the next two years. Even as I speak there are the remnants of two or three complete meals in the refrigerator --- enough to feed 6 or more people--- something that would be unheard of in the home of a bachelor. Dig it out and throw it in the micro when company comes. And on top of that there are cans of soup in the cellar way and boxes of cereal. I would rather open a can of soup or eat cereal than eat an expensive $10 meal in the best restaurant in the world --- unless you count the crabmeat rolls at Perry’s gas station in Stockton Springs or hot turkey sandwiches at Moody’s Diner. Anyway, my wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, feels she has to prepare a great meal with special desert for guests. I don’t. I was talking with my third cousin Egon Alexandersson in Falkenburg about this a couple of weeks ago and he said that his father and mother had the same situation in their home. His mother made a big fuss any time anyone would come to visit, but his father Thure didn’t think it was necessary. Thure had a saying that enabled him to be a great host who was always glad to welcome guests and I’m going to copy it out and paste it over the door to our dining room. Dar finns vatnet I kranen --- There is water in the faucet. 060929

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54. I have it on good authority from Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, that one of her scrabble buddies has been offered $25,000 if she will lose 25 pounds. Her husband earns a lot of money and he has run out of ways to spend it. Sixteen ounces to the pound times 25 pounds is 400 ounces. Marsha’s friend has 90 days to lose these 400 ounces. Because I am a compulsive quantitative person who had to do the math, I can tell you that my hand calculator says that this already willowy wisp of a woman has to lose 4.44444444 ounces every day. She will earn $277.777777 every day that she manages to lose 4.4444444 ounces. That is $1944.44 every week that she loses 31 ounces or about 2 pounds. You know about diet and nutrition. My question to you is: can it be done, how can it be done, and would you do it? You know about calories and proper nutrition and I will pass along your suggestions. Remember the movie Super Size Me? We now know that anyone willing to subject themselves to a month of nutrients at McDonald’s can gain 25 or so pounds, but I have always been of the impression that weight goes on easier than it comes off. Do, do get back to me on this one. I’m humble@humblefarmer.com And, by the way, last night I saw the subject of our study reach over and eat one of Marsha’s sugar coated ginger snap cookies. Do the math on that for me. What do you figure that one ginger snap cookie cost her? --- It was a good sized ginger snap cookie right slathered with sugar. Not those pitiful wimpy little things that she made for me to give to you at the Common Ground Fair. We must ask ourselves if such programs can backfire. When you pay someone to change their behavior, do you always get the intended result? You certainly realize that if this woman does lose 25 pounds, places that her husband cherishes dearly might waste away and never be seen again. And even worse, if she does achieve his desired emaciated skeletal proportions, there is always the danger that she will receive a job offer to read the news for Matt Louer on the Today Show.

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55. Good People who don’t know me well sometimes accuse me of being creative. They say that I make up things just to have something to tell you about. But you know that I do not have to make up things. You know that for years I have carried a tablet and two pens in a pocket which I have had attached to my right pant leg and that whenever I hear or see something I think might enrich your life, I whip out my pen and tablet and write it down that I may pass it along to you. When I came home from the town meeting, my wife Marsha, The Almost Perfect Woman, was playing cribbage with her beautiful daughter. I walked into the room and said, “I’m going to hug the most beautiful woman in this room.” And I leaned over and hugged my wife. Then I went out in the kitchen and puttered around, and when I came back into the room I said. “Now I’m going to kiss the most beautiful cheek in this room.” And, without even looking up from her cards, my wife Marsha, the Almost Perfect Woman, leaned to one side and lifted it off the chair. 061013

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56. We have a young house guest named Victor and we are very pleased. Victor is from Barcelona. You know, you are taking a chance when you send your kid off to a far away land. If you had a teenager, would you put him on a plane to Kemiarvi or Bombay or Lagos to be raised by just anybody for 30 days? Probably not, so you can understand that I am very proud that Victor’s father, Sergio, placed his trust in me. And this morning, when I was setting up the air conditioner in the guest room for the only three days that it will be needed this summer, I got to wondering --- why me? What qualities do I posses that made two loving parents in Spain send Victor way over here? I knew it wasn’t because I let Victor drive my old car or because I let him work with me in the dooryard or in the barn or down in the cellar. And it certainly wasn’t because I have a remarkable collection of Garner. Of course you already know the answer, but for me it was a hard and thorny question. Victor’s parents sent him over here to me so Victor could learn to speak proper English. 060728

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