Each month, Down East editors select our favorite response to “Where in Maine?” Here is our favorite letter from December’s photo.
When I was growing up in Houlton in the ’50s and ’60s, school recessed for two or three weeks in the fall so young people could help harvest the potato crop. My friends and I would call local farms and ask if we could hire onto a picking crew. The farmers would drive to town, stop at each house, and blow the horn. We came running, lunchbox and water jugs under our arms. It was so cold at 6 A.M. in September and October, we’d have our winter jackets on. Our little brown flannel gloves were not much protection against the frozen dirt. We learned about hard work but had fun too. After college, I moved down east, where I have lived for 50 years. One of my four children lives right outside of Houlton. I get to revisit my hometown occasionally and reminisce about my growing-up days.