Each week, I summarize the latest economic news from Maine, and each week, I can hear my poor editor’s sigh of despair from clear across the state.
“Why can’t he ever find anything positive to write about,” she thinks. (That mind-reading course I took is really paying off. I get great quotes without bothering to conduct interviews – not to mention the lower phone bills.) “Surely he could find some numbers that went up this past week instead of down.”
Cabin fever no longer applies. The helplessness of spring is different from claustrophobia. We can open the door -- après vous — and plunge into the great outdoors. But what do we plan to do when we get there?
It was 10 degrees outside when I took the dogs for a walk this morning. The wind was gusting up to 25 miles per hour. The front yard is still ice-covered, and what ground is exposed is frozen harder than an AIG executive’s heart. But my official Down East calendar says the vernal equinox occurred on March 20, heralding the arrival of spring.
The sun does has some heat to it. The snowbanks have shrunk a little. And they’re playing baseball in, of all places, Orono.
Big doings on the education front!
Living in a very small town -- ours has a population of 2,133, according to the ever-vigilant town office — your life tends to fall into a certain dependable rhythm. This is not the same as a rut, or even a groove. Such images are altogether too flat.
The question came up again recently. From time to time I am asked just how we, the several dozen who spend the winter on Matinicus Island, would manage should we need to confront a disaster, such as a flood, fire, tsunami, ice storm, outbreak of avian influenza, Y2K-style computer failure, etc.