I grew up in Camden... And in my heart, I am still a kid, climbing Mt. Battie with a peanut butter sandwich wrapped in wax paper in my pocket. I always stop for a drink from a small spring, bubbling fresh clean water. Many years later I came in first in a survival exercise at Bucky Fuller's World Game in California because I knew I could safely drink from it as this part of New England had no life-threatening strain of bacteria. The summer I was 10 I showed up at the wharf at 4:30 AM every morning as the Lobster men were gathered around a radio listening to the weather report from Nova Scotia to Block island. It was 2 weeks before Albert and Cole invited me on board. Lobster-men took their sons, not the daughter of a CPA. Two summers of 6 weeks of good memories of a thick white mug of hot chocolate and stories of the biggest lobsters that got away. My sneaker on a wet deck holding down a claw while I pegged the other ended in my screech as the biggest catch of the summer went over the side. They forgave me with their laughter and a band-aid. I still have the scar!

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