The 'Hood

The South End. A transitional neighborhood. Up and coming. The other side of the tracks. My new neighborhood. Realtors and newspaper reporters told me to look here when I was searching for a house. From early in my search I knew I wanted to be here. Not for its investment value, which was predicted to rise. Prices here, like most places, have gone down a little since I bought two years ago. The houses were pretty much all built between 1860-1890. Back when building actually had some substance to it. So even here, on the working class side of town, the houses have a lot of character........and characters. Not too many years ago, when the sardine factory was more than a fading memory, and the odor was barely waning, you could snatch up these houses for under $50,000. Then in came MBNA. Cleaned up the waterfront, built the boardwalk, started renovating some of the grander houses down by the waterfront and built their new spiffy 60,000 or more sq ft building. They also pumped millions of dollars into the community, helping to expand the already fine Farnsworth Gallery and Museum, and downtown Rockland. A salty and seamy seaport started to look kind of charming. MBNA offered jobs too - where you didn't have to get your hands dirty or smell like fish. Folks started following their lead, and investing in Rockland. Galleries and bookstores and coffee shops popped up. Restaurants where you could get some decent wine and upscale dining.

When I lived in the midcoast 33 years ago, there seemed to be only two reasons to go to Rockland. First, the Farnsworth, which was already a class act place. Second was the dime store, a Ben Franklin I believe. It was so retro in 1976 that it was like walking into an antique store in the making. I loved it. It's long gone, and nothing quite like it remains.

Although MBNA pulled out of the midcoast and left a lot of people unemployed and reeling, Rockland somehow maintained its upswing. Folks had to be a little more creative to hang on and pay taxes here, but I think that really helped build a more interesting community. Who wants to live next to a bunch of bank processing workers anyway? People who stumble into Rockland now pretty much just see it as a very culturally cool and scenically well located hub in the glorious midcoast of Maine. From my little house on the south end I can easily walk to all of it - the harbor, the incredible art theater, the Farnsworth, great restaurants, coffee shops, bookstores, a fine fresh fish market, and some of the last working waterfront on the huge coast of Maine.

But the south end is funky, a splattering of old and relocated new like myself. By oral report, there used to be a lot of fighting in these streets, a few genuine flop houses for the seamen, and some pretty rowdy bars frequented by burly bikers. If you look closely, you can still see plenty of remnants. Some of the families who worked in that sardine factory and never really were quite employable by MBNA and aftereffects era are still here, hanging on to old houses that haven't seen renovations in near 100 years. They might share those houses with a few generations of working or not working poor. Though the neighborhood is by and large quiet, their loud voices sometimes resonate. I swear the ocean breezes can carry sound better than some other places. Sometimes it seems they blow from both the past and the present. You have to have an open mind and a sense of humor some days.

I'd like to tell a few stories about people I've encountered in the 'hood. I'm a little leery, because I'm not sure they would like the light I shed on them if they happened to stumble onto this blog. And who am I anyway, but a newcomer 'from away.' There's surely nothing generic about any of them. The loudest award, as well as most folks crammed into one small space, goes to the Hatfields. (Do you think I'd be foolish enough to tell you their real name?) The kids being bred into this clan are some of the hooligans I've talked about. They're actually good kids - like all kids basically are - who have weathered some pretty tough shakes, and go looking for attention wherever they can find it. They live far enough away to mostly ignore, and I tend to head the other way on my walks if they are spilling over onto the street. There are a LOT of single women living in the 'hood. That was kind of a surprise. Survival of the stronger sex, perhaps. But also several like myself that just up and moved here. Go figure. There's a southern belle renovating a farmhouse, some artists, a hardened feminist, a social worker. My house was actually owned for 40 years by the sister of one of my neighbors. She ran a beauty salon in my living room. Maybe that's why I hear a lot of interesting echoes, or why so many women find their way here. Most of my neighbors I haven't met yet, so I start to make up stories about them when I go on my walks or bike rides. There are a lot of dogs, and a lot of fences. I'm hopeful that there will also be some interesting men. You'll notice no triple digits on the addresses, so it's all kind of close in. The melting pot of such a unique place can't be described in a season or a day. Likely the stories real and imagined will unfold over the revolving seasons ahead.