“So how long are you here for?”
I heard the question a thousand times. Day after day. I felt like I was a shortstop taking grounders. The ball never took the same hop every time, though.
Some people would ask in a sincere tone, hoping to hear I’d fallen in love with northern Maine and wanted to live there the rest of my life.
“When did you get to town? We hope you decide to stay!”
Some people understood that Presque Isle was a starter market, that TV people come and go all the time.
“How long’s your contract? Hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
Some people were resentful, mean-spirited even. They thought in some regard that I was using them, that their town was mine to judge and disdain.
“So when are you going to leave us?”
That ground ball in particular, I had the most tough time fielding. I never knew what to say. Probably because they were the most blunt, the most honest. I never knew how to respond.
I could quickly rebuff them, saying, “Oh now, come on I just got here! I’m sure I’ll be gone before that awful winter hits though… just kidding!” personally knowing full and well, that I’d much rather avoid being snowed in for six months out of the year.
I could politely reply with an honest statement, saying, “Well, I signed a two-year contract, so I’m here at least until August 2016,” knowing full and well, that I’d much rather leap at a better opportunity at a station in a higher market, should my contract allow.
Or I could come back with a very personable, “You kidding me? County life has been great! Much slower, down to earth, and less hustle and bustle than big city life. I may never leave!” knowing full and well that I never planned on staying in Northern Maine longer than my two-year commitment.
More often than not, I chose the middle ground. It seemed the most sincere.
Anytime you move more than five states away, you’re going to run into culture shock. That’s just Bruce (Hornsby).
I was 1,400 miles from my home in Chicago. The only semi-local chain retail comfort I had was Dunkin’ Donuts. There were eight stoplights in town. Snow covered the ground six months out of the year. The best pizza was the $7.99 medium special from Big Cheese.
Everyone who was optimistic enough told me, “You’re really going to like it here.”
And to tell you the truth, Aroostook County, I did.
You knocked me off my feet instantly. I arrived in late August. Just enough time to see the green before it exploded into one hundred shades of Autumn. Just as the airships from the annual Crown of Maine Balloon Festival descended, your horizon raised like a dawn I’d finally seen for the first time.
Don’t Hassle Me, I’m Local
Northern Maine is definitely where Instagram got it from
After I got past your September beauty, I got to know Northern Maine’s greatest resource: its people.
I got to know a helluva lotta good folks up in Maine. It started and ended with WAGM. The people seemed nice enough when I interviewed, but boy did I not realize they’d be the best bunch I’d ever worked with to date.
They were all different personalities. They had all arrived in Northern Maine for some reason or another. Whether they were born five farms away, five hours away, or five hundred miles away, they all shared one “County-tough” characteristic: they were there to get the job done.
The WAGM Family
That’s County folks. They’ve had a tough go around the past 20 years. After Loring Air Force Base closed, they had to deal with 1/3 of their population leaving. When the base closed, Aroostook County lost it’s heart, but not it’s soul.
From blue collar potato farmers, to humanitarian do-gooders, to the friendly medical staff, to the blueberry-pie bearing neighbors I’m talking about you, Lois.
From story-telling townies, to French-speaking Acadians, to Red Zone watching football fans, to the wide variety of people daily who would come up to tell me, “They watch me on the news every night,” and “That I do such a good job.” You have no idea how important to me those reviews were. I’m talking about you Mary.
From the aspiring young athletes, to the make-a-better-life youths, to the people committed to making sure the County remains, albeit secretly, one of the best places in America to live.
You were what made Aroostook County.
You were a portrait of Americana no artist could capture. Where else can you live in a place where you see Moose about once a month? And be a stone’s throw away from Canada? And live in a rich mix of rural, northern, proud, humble, New England, French Canadian, and Native American culture?
I’ll never forget you.
Just like I’ll never forget your bitter winter. You taught me that eight feet high snowdrifts are just minor inconveniences. You taught me to leave my wiper blades up at night, so my windshield wipers don’t freeze to my windshield in the -20° overnight temps. You taught me to always keep my head on a swivel when I’m around a hockey game. You taught me to appreciate people at face value. To get to know folks, to walk right into the open arms of a warm community in the midst of sub-zero conditions.
Signs You’re in Maine
But as I finally thawed in June (didn’t appreciate the snowfall was on May 25th), my eye began to wander. And not just from right to left scanning the road for winter-coat shedding moose. Or just out my bedroom window to see Double rainbows, the Northern Lights, the ring around the moon. I was searching for greener pastures. Or, more poignantly, brighter city lights.
I never knew full double rainbows existed until I moved to Aroostook County
I wanted to thank you for everything you gave me. Especially the chance to cover your sports. That was the most fun.
The big-man Hunter Beaulieu buzzer beating half-court heave to send Washburn and Fort Fairfield into overtime. After the game he told me, “Well, I keep begging coach to let me shoot three’s, but he won’t even let shoot ‘em in practice.”
Big Man Beaulieu Beats the Buzzer
The introduction to Maritime Junior Hockey, experienced no better than by being on the receiving end of a ‘Canadian Hello.’ Update: my leg is fine, and thanks again for letting me keep the puck.
When you’re at a hockey game, you’ve got to keep your eye on the puck
And Cody Blair’s magical end-to-end gallop to score a game winning goal in the State Soccer Playoffs. He thought my call of the play was good enough for his Senior Yearbook Quote.
Being quoted in a High School Yearbook #LifeGoals #Check
Thanks for letting me stay with you a while, Aroostook County.
Jake Berent 
Leave a comment