Snippets

04/15/2009

Regarding The Polar Bear Plunge

Filed under: Snippets - Stories about Maine people — mainewarmers @ 9:45 pm

polar-bear-plunge-feb-2009-copy

The Maine island where we spend part of our summers is a place where kids are free to roam, ride bicycles, climb trees, run about in boats, rebel and of course get into trouble. It’s better than Disneyland.

Years ago, when the summer population on the island was smaller than today, everyone laughed at or tolerated the pranks kids pulled. As the population grew, Islanders saw the need for more constructive activities for all ages. They turned their attention to raising money to build a recreation center. Today that center, mostly funded by private donations, is a central meeting place with a gym, swimming pool, meeting rooms, and a large kitchen.

A recent fundraising activity included a Polar Bear Plunge with several volunteers jumping into the Atlantic Ocean in February. When asked if I would donate a Polar Bear to the person who raised the most money for the event, I had mixed feelings. I was told by a cardiologist that people who jump into cold water in the middle of winter put their hearts at risk. Atrial defibrillation is an abnormal beating of the heart that can occur in young people whose systems are shocked by the frigid temperature of the ocean.

I wanted to support the Recreation Center and the people who work so hard to maintain it, but I did not want to encourage risky behavior. In appreciation for the people on the island and for all of the great times and stories, I decided that Maine Warmers should give a Polar Bear to each person who took the plunge. Then if they needed medical care afterwards, at least they would have a Maine Warmer to help them get well. polarbear

A Devil’s Fiddle

Filed under: Snippets - Stories about Maine people — mainewarmers @ 9:27 pm

 

celloMost summer evenings on the island, a group of teens gather at the central store then head off on foot, bike, or car to a designated beach until curfew. After telling stories and hanging about, someone comes up with a great idea for a prank to pull. Most of the pranks are harmless and the Islanders laugh and joke about them.

A notorious one is called playing the Devil’s Fiddle. It requires very little equipment or skill — just violin rosin, a spool of black Aunt Lydia’s carpet thread, a small nail, and the ability to not get caught. The thread is tied securely to the nail which is then wedged under a clapboard (wooden siding pronounced clabbahd) on a house. The person backs away from the house letting the thread out until he or she is out of sight — either behind shrubs or far enough away to make an escape. The person runs the hunk of rosin back and forth along the taught thread, playing it like a bow on a fiddle. The sound inside the house is subtle but noticeable — like the mild vibration of a worn kitchen appliance. Because everyone on the island knows about the Devil’s Fiddle, the element of the unknown has rendered it unexciting.

Many decades ago a group of teens heard about the arrival of a new family of four who had rented a house on the island for a week. Someone said the man of the house was older and not in very good shape. So half a dozen young yahoos, with no harm intended, piled into a jeep, approached the house with headlights off, and parked just out of sight. They stood quietly under the cover of darkness as one approached the house and placed the nail under a clabbahd. He held onto the spool of thread and let out a long line, joining his friends on the road.

He played the “fiddle,” and his friends watched as the cellar lights in the house came on. They muffled laughs as they watched a flashlight beam flit across windows. Lights on the second floor went on. Soon flashlight beams in the attic were visible. Then the fiddler played “Shave ‘n a Haircut.” The front door opened, and a very athletic and angry man appeared in the door way. He stepped outside into the line of thread, grabbed hold of it, and shined the flashlight at the kids now laughing loudly in the road. The fiddler pulled, trying to get the thread and nail back, but finally dropped it and ran with the angry man close behind. They all scrambled to the jeep, running alongside the moving vehicle, grabbing hold, and jumping in as the driver stepped on the gas. The man was the last to grab onto the back of the jeep but couldn’t hold on. In the darkness they saw the flashlight beam behind them making circles low in the road and went home with a bad feeling.

The next day the man, bandaged but not seriously hurt, packed up his family and left the island. A deputy sheriff visited the homes of the most likely suspects. For decades after, there was never a trace of rosin or Aunt Lydia’s carpet thread to be found on the island.

***

Betsy Hanscom writes a monthly email newsletter for those people who have signed up to receive it. Subscribers’ names are included in a monthly drawing for a free Maine Warmer. Snippets is a feature story in the newsletter which also includes a sale item available to subscribers and their friends and is not open to the general public. To sign up go to the Maine Warmers’ Web site.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.