Dad and Mom sailing on Indian Lake. 1970s.

Dad (James “Gene” Rier) and Mom (Louise Johnson Rier) loved to sail on the Sailfish. When I was small, Dad built a sailboat they both enjoyed on Indian Lake.

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Dad sailing with my brother David in the Bucks Harbor Race, 1981. This is one of my favorite photos of Dad. Now that’s a happy face!

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As kids, my brothers and I spent many hours on the Sailfish, and we continued to sail as adults.

Me sailing on Indian Lake about 2006.

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My son, Jason, sailing on the Sunfish, summer 2018.

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This year, as in other years, the Passamaquoddy Yacht Club taught children ages 10 to 17 the basics of sailing. Wonderful to see!

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Me completing the boat captain course in Rockland, Maine. 2012. Now that’s a happy face!

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Related post:

Growing Up in the 50s and 60s, We Knew How To Have Fun!

 

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Noni MacBride’s Blueberry Cake

Whenever our family visited Dr. Bob and Noni at their home in Lubec, there often was fresh blueberry cake in the kitchen this time of year. Mom made it too over the years. Now when I make this cake and the delicious smell wafts through the air, I am filled with memories. Noni’s blueberry cake recipe was published in my favorite old cookbook of Lubec recipes (1988). It’s one of my most valued cookbooks.

I made this cake for family visiting this week. There will be another before August is over.

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Of course, I alter recipes a bit for the times. I use real butter, not oleomargarine, and substitute organic sugar for white. I cook it in an 8″ x 8″ pan so it’s nice and thick, wicked moist, adjusting the cooking time.

In my family, great recipes must be handed down. I taught my grandchildren how to make this blueberry cake. This is my eldest granddaughter, Hayley, learning how to make Noni’s cake in August, 2012. She was eight. Hayley won a blue ribbon and first place in the cake section at the Machias Blueberry festival.

Hayley baking 2012.

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My grandson Odin, age six, won a blue ribbon for a two-crusted blueberry pie in 2010 and for several years afterwards. See that awesome story here.

 

 

Me and Muriel Watts

my second mother. I’ve known Muriel all my life. She and her husband Phil and their son, David, were always in my life. Phil is gone now, my Mom and Dad gone too, but my memories of our two families together are vivid.

Every summer, our families lived at Indian Lake in Whiting, Maine. We swam, we sailed, we fished, we spent hours/days boating. We started water sports on a surfboard behind the family boat. The first time Dad took me out on the surfboard, I was four or five. Soon after take off, Dad lost his grip on me and I slid between and under his legs into the water.  I remember my surprise to see Dad’s legs fly by. When David and I were eight years old, we learned to water ski. We had to keep up with my older brothers. Soon we were slalom skiing.

David and I explored the woods, tented out, and built a tree house with my brothers, David and Jimmy. It was a fine treehouse on the point, with a porch and a great view out over the lake toward the island. The Watts’ lived in the next cove over. When David and I wanted to get together, we went outside and called like loons. It was the signal that breakfast was over and it was time to hit the lake. On rainy days, there were card games and puzzles. There was no phone and no TV. It was a glorious time in our lives.

Recently I visited Muriel at Avita of Stroudwater, in Westbrook close to Portland, with David’s wife Kate. Muriel has Alzheimer’s disease but her memories of life long ago are as vivid as mine. We talked about all of our antics and fun at the lake. In the photo of us together, I was talking about the old photos of Mom and her before they were married, out on a picnic with the Border Patrol guys. She grinned and said, “We girls were trying to get away with some fun without our parents knowing!” We cracked up laughing. Precious moments.

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Mom, far left, Muriel on the right. They were picking cranberries with the Border Patrol guys some time in the late 1930s, or early 1940s.

I have so many photos of our families at Indian Lake. I shall have to pull them out of storage under my eves and scan.

But, for now, if you want to see the fun we had on Indian Lake, watch the old 8mm movies: Growing Up in the 50s and 60s, We Knew How To Have Fun!  

Happy Easter To You and Yours!

Me and Peter Rabbit many moons ago. I loved the way he liked to lay in my arms on his back. Peter loved to cuddle and he was so soft!

Of course, Easter is not about bunnies. It is a day to renew our hearts and minds and send up prayers into the universe for peace and love in this world.

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Me and my brothers. L to R. Jimmy, David and me (Sherry). I have that (red) blanket on my couch! Somehow I look less serious than Jimmy and David…

Summer Lilies

for Mom and Dad. And, my beloved niece, Jessica Marie Rier, who would have turned 42 years old this year, had she not been taken from us at age 5.

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A summer breeze blows. I pull a bit of long grass around the stones. And, think of my mother, father, and niece, and how love never ends.

Childhood Memories. Soap Box Derby 1958. Big Brother Jim Wins!

When I was growing up in Machias, Maine at the house at 24 Broadway, the soap box derby, sponsored by the Bangor Daily News, was a big deal. Hundreds of boys spent weeks building their derby cars, designed to enhance downhill speed. There were discussions among boys and fathers in neighborhoods and yards about lowering wind resistance, the best wheels.

Then one fine June day the entire Eastern Maine community traveled in throngs to the races held at “Derby Downs” in Brewer, crowds lined the road and cheered on family and friends to be first over the finish line.

A view of the race in 1966 featured classmates of mine.

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In 1958, I stood with my family and other, rather overly excited, Machias residents close to the finish line. We watched as three soap box cars sped down the hill in the championship finals. Standing in a huddled crowd, fighting to maintain my view (I was only six and not very tall), I watched Jim cross the finish line first. Everyone around me was cheering – or a more apt description is – screaming. Jim went on to win the Class A grand championship.

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The prizes were way too cool. A bicycle. Best of all, at least for me, a 14-foot aluminum boat that was a fixture of summers on Indian Lake at the family camp. That boat was our joyous transport for decades, not just for boat rides. There was endless fishing, exploration of coves and wetlands, and water sports. I learned to water ski behind that boat when I was eight. There were no other girls on the lake, just my brothers, and the boy next door, another brother David. David and I used to take boat rides down by the lake outlet beach and have contests to see who could catch the most blood suckers on our legs in the shallow water.

I diverge from the soap box derby story. It is enough to say that that prize boat led to years of good times, good memories.

The other prize for Jim was an all expenses paid trip for him and his family to Akron, Ohio for the National Soap Box Derby competition. It was my first experience on an airplane. I’m the little girl in the front of the photo with a big smile clutching a carry-on bag, in vogue for the time.

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Two reporters from the Bangor Daily News accompanied us to Ohio, pictured at the top of the photo. The man on the right, reporter Raymond Goode, sat beside me on the plane. I remember him vividly. He chatted with me during the trip, easing any fear of airplanes I might have had otherwise. He drew sketches for me and taught me how to draw a cat that I imitated for years.

Jim won his first heat in Akron but lost afterwards. It didn’t matter. It had been a most excellent adventure!

Some photos and descriptions in this post are thanks to the Paper Talks magazine.