Find out what makes Maine "the way life should be."
Discover why people seek out the Maine way of life for a short trip, a whole season, or a lifetime.
Do you have a story to tell about your Maine experience? Share what it means to you to live in or visit Maine. Be a part of the online Maine community and express what makes Maine such a special place. Submit your story about What Maine Means to You online.
By Carolyn Hill Rogers
May 23, 2008
Despite living "in exile" in CT (a lovely state) for almost 50 years, Maine remains the "home" of my heart.
It's highly annoying to be considered "from away" in my beloved home state! Even today, crossing the bridge from NH to Kittery is uplifting and exciting--I'm back where I'm spiritually refreshed and feel rooted. All of the previously reasons submitted resonate with me too--the natural beauty of the state--the strong sense in Maine of being unique-- but I'll add that growing up in Bangor in a (supposedly) simpler era, provided opportunities that are so different from what our kids experience today. We were free to go almost anywhere on our bikes, with the proviso, "be home when the street lights go on", as the main rule to follow. Intoxicating freedom was given to us, just to be a child! In playing with friends, we worked things out--no parents overseeing every move; no fear of litigation limiting spontaneity; no being chained to rude cell phones ringing inappropriately; no invisible chain to high technology. Just by biking around town, using our imaginations, and free-form game playing, we negotiated and got along with each other without too much trouble. Those life lessons stood us in good stead as preparation for the grown-up world. I took for granted that by walking to school, church, friends' homes, you would unconsciously really absorb the details of architecture, gardens, local small businesses, natural landscape--the components that make up a small city like Bangor, as it was then. Those memories are with me today, and I delight in revisiting old favorite places, and at the same time wonder "what were they thinking", when for example, the beautiful railroad station was torn down for "urban renewal". So many landmarks gone--but remembered with pleasure and affection. Thankfully, the Penobscot River is improved and accessible. It's a priceless natural resource for the city. Bangor is much larger now, and no doubt, many changes are improvements. However, I will always be grateful that I knew a different place. I know that some of that ambiance is still around in Maine. Hallelujah
By Monika Riney
May 21, 2008
It was March of 1992, mud season at its mucky best. We'd driven north from the crowded city where we lived. North of Bangor we pulled off I-95, and I peered through the mist at towering spruce as we bounced along the winding narrow road hitting frost heaves every few yards. On the right was the Penobscot, broken free of ice, rushing to tell the news of spring. On the left, I saw, instead of strip malls, more trees behind trees Sarah Orne Jewett's land. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: I leaned out the window inhaling deeply, "This is the forest primeval," I called singsong to the spruce and pine. My husband smiled and rolled his eyes. I sat back down in my seat. "I'm home," I said quietly. "I'm finally home."
By Jonathon Hinote
November 1, 2007
Maine, the one simple word sums it up. The way life should be is a phrase in this case means everything to me. I was 15 when I moved to Maine for a short period of time during the fall and winter. I am now 16 and living back in Alabama. I wanted to get away from all the city life in West Palm and get away from the old people I knew in Alabama because it was a bore. I moved to Maine thinking oh isn't this great cold, snowy, sickening weather. But the moment that first snowflake fell I was like a child on Christmas day getting presents from millions of people. Now that I sit back and think and dream of moving to Maine everyday, I consistently remember going to Boothbay and Landsend along with all the beautiful harbors. I never thought that one state would have so much nature and everything in it. Since the moment I took my first breath of the Maine atmosphere I knew there was a change it was fresh and clean, not polluted. You could see the stars for once. I miss the ice fishing and snowboarding and the friendly people. I love Maine and now consider it my home and I hope and pray it never changes! I LOVE THE STATE OF MAINE ~THE WAY LIFE SHOULD BE~
By Scott DeMoranville
October 8, 2007
Not just what it means to me but it is part of me! Born 20 miles North of Cape Cod my dad met a Mainer who lived in our home town in 1971, in 1972 I came to his camp on Tunk Lake in May of 1972 for the first time, we fished for brook trout days and set around the fire nights listening to stories from the past (wow it was awesome). On our way home that first year I began to cry and my dad said whats wrong, being five years old it was hard to put into words the way I was feeling but my reply was this "I love this state it's my home" a lot of chuckles came from my reply over the years. My dad and I came back year after year and stayed at the camp with Henry (the Mainer) and I always said that I was going to live here as soon as I could. Somewhere around 1987 Henry and his wife moved back to Harrington Maine since he had retired as a corrections officer, in 1992 I lost my dad to cancer and the night before he died he mustered all his strength and said to me "don't wait 'til it's to late to move to Maine like I did, you get there boy", in 1994 I was here and tickled to be. After moving here my life stress declined, my wife and I noted many nights that we were in bed before 8:00 pm because it was so peaceful. In 1999 after eleven years of trying and several years after we had given up hope my son was born, then in 1992 I was blessed with a daughter. So I guess Maine to me is my everything, anything besides my wife that has happened good to me is because of Maine.
By Pamela Morrill Lewis
September 28, 2007
As I go back in time, thinking of what my homeland means to me and who I am these days, I was raised by the river that we fished in. I picked the best strawberries that a mouth could ever hope to taste. I picked blueberries when the bears didn't get them first. I learned to swim in that river along with my friends. We carried our water from the town pump. My momma cooked on a wood stove. She made homemade yeast bread or rolls. What I wouldn't give to taste that homemade bread. Daddy worked hard in the woods or shoveling snow, anything a poor man could to keep us feed. In the summer we went to the coast. We had clams, lobster and oysters. I love how where ever you go in Maine people wave at you and are friendly. I think the friendliest people live there. I moved away as a child but I will never forget my roots, my family or our wonderfully poor life. We all are part of our past and mine is in the heartland of MAINE. May anyone that goes there love her.
By Mike Howes
August 8, 2007
It's hard to get an appreciation for a state like Maine having grown up here until one leaves and lives someplace else for a time. Only then is it truly possible to know what a wonderful treasure our state is and why we, as Mainers, need to preserve it for the future.
My fondest memories growing up were the two weeks every summer spent at a campground right on Popham Beach, arguably Maine's prettiest ocean beach. Those who live here know the campground I speak of and those who have stayed there know the wonders of spending their nights so close to the ocean. There is nothing in the world like the sound of waves crashing on the beach to lull a young child to sleep after having played in the sand and frolicked in the cold Atlantic all day. The simplicity of the ocean and beach and all the wonderments there is in such stark contrast to todays over stimulated world. Back then cell phones and lap tops didn't exist and a day playing at the beach was just that; a day playing at the beach. No work, no studying, no stress; other than making sure the gulls didn't steal your ham and cheese sandwich when you weren't looking.
My parents were the ones responsible for instilling a love for our coast in me, even though we lived well inland, and I still cherish it today. Now it's my turn to take my children there and show them all the fun that can be had with nothing more than a pail and shovel. I show them how to look for the sand dollars as the tide is getting ready to turn back around, and how to jump into the waves right before they break and come crashing over their heads. We build sand castles with elaborate moats and watch as the incoming tide wipes the beach clean like a giant Etch-a-Sketch. As I watch them play in the sand I realize this is what it's all about and this is the best it will ever be. This is the age of innocence that people talk about, both for them and for me.
As Mainers I hope we all continue to appreciate the treasure that is the Maine coast more and stop selling it off slowly for the easy money. There is nothing I wish for more than my own children having the opportunity to show their kids the wonders of a place like Popham Beach and to be able to tell them to appreciate it as I have and those before me have.
Appreciating what we have. Thats what being a Mainer means to me.
I LOVE MAINE!
By EMILY WRIGHT
June 1, 2007
For years I dreamed of going to Maine. I admit it. I wanted to visit towns like the fictitious Cabot Cove, with local shops and harbors filled with fishing boats. To my delight, I found that and more.
Towns with one or two stop lights, if any, white steepled churches, and local shops that close at six hinted of a simpler time. Even Augusta, with its grand state capitol overlooking the Kennebec River, had a small town atmosphere.
When I think of Maine, I think of lobster, moose, and lighthouses. My daughter took me to the local lobster pound for a whole lobster and steamers, served on picnic tables. In Portland I feasted on a lobster roll, and couldn't miss the lobster stew in Hallowell, my favorite. No carrots and potatoes in this stew, just chunks of fresh lobster meat.
As we strolled through Vaughn Woods in Hallowell. We felt like we were hundreds of miles from civilization, yet we were close enough to enjoy freshly made cookies from the local bakery.
I love moose and it's always my quest to see them. Moosehead Lake and Baxter State Park are great places to see moose, but I got a close-up view of moose, George and Juniper, the proud new parents of a baby moose at the Maine Wildlife Park outside Gray. The park also has lots of wild birds and animals, including brown and black bears.
On my way to the Pemaquid Point Lighthouse, one of Maine's sixty-plus, I watched geese fly over Damariscotta's Great Salt Bay, a perfect photo opt. Damariscotta is a great place to stay awhile. At Pemaquid I climbed on massive layers of granite, careful not to be swept away by the ocean's unpredictable grasp. Peering from below, the statuesque lighthouse resembled a king sitting on his throne.
In Lubec, my husband took my picture in front of the sign which read "Easternmost Town In The US." Then we headed to Acadia National Park and Bar Harbor. (Baa Haaba as Mainers say. No "R's." It's part of their charm.) The views from the top of Cadillac Mountain were spectacular. The waves crashing against the rocks at Thunderhole, a blow hole, sounded like a sonic boom.
A favorite spot was 100-year-old, Historic Pittston Farm, northeast of Rockwood. With lots of warm hospitality, buffet meals were served amidst mounted game like moose, bear, and ducks. Only one phone, no cells, and no tv. Just crisp clean air and night skies lit only by the stars.
I mustn't forget fall. Every turn was picturesque, and Moosehead Lake reflected brilliant displays of red, green, and gold.
Lastly, I have to mention, Maine brought me pure joy. My grandson was born in Augusta last October.
I LOVE MAINE!
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