It was the late 1980s and I was living in Portland, Maine, as a recent transplant. I had found my permanent home in the state and was working very hard to put down roots and begin my new life and, as they say, “live the dream.” I was gainfully employed with a college teaching job and was painting in earnest and establishing my painting career as a Maine landscape artist.
I was also working on another American dream — the dream of owning a home — and began working with a realtor in Portland. To my chagrin, I quickly found out the only thing I could afford were dilapidated duplexes. I was frustrated but did not want to quit looking. So I faithfully began looking each week in the Portland Press Herald for homes that I could afford.
One week I noticed an ad for condos that were going to be auctioned in a place called Saco, Maine. My first thought was: Where the heck is Saco? So I got out my map and discovered that it was a very close 20-minute drive south of Portland. That Sunday, I jumped into my old van, drove down to Saco and discovered Saco Island. To my pleasant surprise, I liked the location and the town. Little did I know I would spend 15 and some of the happiest years of my life on that island.
The very next Saturday, I showed up at the auction in Saco with a cashier’s check and ended up buying one of the condos sight unseen. I said a prayer and hoped I had done the right thing. A month passed by, and I went to the closing, signed the paperwork, and picked up the keys to my new home. I immediately drove to Saco with a great sense of foreboding and found Unit 305.
I put my key in the door. I held my breath and entered. It was there that I found a new home with all new appliances that looked like it had never been lived in. I suddenly felt like I had won the lottery. The next month I packed up and moved to Saco to begin a new life. Dream one accomplished.
It wasn’t long after I had moved to the condo that I met my future wife, Mary, in Portland. She moved in. We married and had two children. Dreams two and three were accomplished. The condo that seemed too large in the past now suddenly felt very small. As our family had grown, my income unfortunately hadn’t.
I started looking for a new teaching job through a national publication and started to consider moving from Maine, even though Maine had become our home. Each week I continued to faithfully read the periodicals for appropriate positions and became frustrated with my findings. Then one Sunday, I picked up the paper and there in the “help wanted” section I noticed a very cryptic ad for a position at the University of New England.
I immediately applied for the position and patiently waited, hoping I would get an interview. After about a month, I was given an interview and became a finalist through the national search process. I waited another month and had given up hope when our phone rang. It was one of the deans, making me an offer for the position.
I was perplexed by the delay and asked him why he had waited so long to call. He told me that one of his horses had run off and he had spent two weeks tracking him down and bringing him home. He also said he thought I wouldn’t accept the position and would use it as a negotiating tool for a pay raise at my current position. I said that I would accept the offer. Today, I am still happily teaching at the university and have been for the last 25 years.
We began looking for a new and larger home. My wife had spent her teenage years living in the country and refused to consider country living, and I on the other hand had grown up in the city, so did not want to buy in town. We were at an impasse until one Sunday in the Press Herald, I saw a piece of land for sale. I called the real estate agent and went to look at the land, covered in 2 feet of snow, and offered to buy the property.
That evening, I went home and announced to my wife that I had bought land that was close to town, but surrounded by woods, fulfilling both of our requirements. She was shocked but went to look at the land and finally approved. That year we built our home and have had 18 wonderful years living in our home. We raised our children there, getting them through high school and college and watched as they moved away to their new adult lives. I have grown old and gray, but my wife seems to stay exactly the same.
This time of year, I am often reminded that I have a lot to be thankful for and I have lived a very blessed life. It is important for me to remember that there are no accidents in life and many things affect our life’s journey. Many things we can control and many we do not. Thanks to the Press Herald for playing such an important role in my life. It has helped in my career, homes and keeping me in Maine — all contributing to my happiness as a family man, educator and artist. I will never forget how important the Press Herald has been in my life. Cheers to the Press Herald.
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