On our way out East, stopped by a friend’s place in Southern Maine. We’ve been buddies since college and was good to reconnect. It’s soothing to the spirit to be with people you’ve shared multiple life stages with. People you’ve gone over the waterfall of youth with and made it down and through the other side.
After we offloaded in the basement, Andy gave a tour of the property while our kids became fast friends doing whatever it is kids do. Was pleasantly surprised to discover he had a thriving garden now and was raising egg-laying hens in the backyard. The thing was, his family was not living in a rural area. This was a suburban community, with neighbors all around, not the kind of place you’d expect livestock.
He explained that Maine had passed a Right to Food amendment to the state constitution so he was allowed to grow whatever food he wanted on his family’s land.
That evening he cooked a remarkable meal with locally caught seafood, and fresh vegetables that all the kids wolfed down before going off to do whatever it is kids do. Andy and I talked into the night, reminiscing and forecasting, and enjoying the present, too.
As chance would have it, when we said our goodbyes the next morning we headed out to film with Billy Bob Faulkingham, one of the key people who led the passing of the amendment that allowed Andy and his family to raise the eggs we ate for breakfast.
Winter Harbor is a working-class town full of lobstermen and their families. The kind of place that makes sure the tanks at Red Lobster are never empty. It’s across the bay from Bar Harbor, a hopping tourist destination full of people visiting Acadia National Park.
Arriving a bit after noon, we were quite hungry. Billy Bob was out on the ocean lobster-fishing and would be for hours. Lucky for us, the Winter Harbor Lobster Co-op is located right on the docks. They sold us a couple lobsters for dirt cheap, and even said they would steam them for us. But they didn’t have butter, so while the lobsters were turning from blackish to red, we drove a few blocks to the town’s grocery store where we bought butter, a couple lemons, salt and some homemade rock cod jerky in little plastic baggies.
By the time we got back, the lobsters were done. A friendly lobsterman stuffed them into a couple sturdy clear plastic bags and handed them over. With no seating area inside we scooted up a steep short hill and sat down on picnic tables overlooking the harbor. Unsure how to melt the hard butter we improvised by ripping off chunks and dropping them into the steaming bag with the lobster. The natural broth from the animal mixed with the butter and morphed through the shell. We feasted. The food was beyond good. It was the kind of meal the kids will remember into adulthood. The kind of meal that will inspire future family road trips.
After a leisurely lunch full of gratitude for the lobstermen and our good fortune, we split up. Abe and Maya got screen time in the car while I got the camera out and started filming.
The dock has the timeworn quality of spendthrift efficiency. A place where generations have chosen precisely where every piece of equipment goes, so everything has a comfortable worn-in spot. People moved in and out of frame caring little about the camera.
Billy Bob showed up a couple hours before dark and was kind enough to take us out into the bay. It was the first time any of us had ever been on a lobster boat and it was beautiful beyond description. The sun was slowly descending into the mountains as the boat maneuvered to the spots with the traps. They pulled up the rope, opened the tiny doors on the traps, and threw the lobsters into holding bins.
The boatride was magical but it wasn’t all fun and games. Billy Bob shared that the lobstermen of Maine are being inundated with regulations. He showed us a required tracker on his boat that allows government officials to know where he goes all day. And at the end of a long day’s work, he’s forced to fill out exhaustive forms. These regulations have pushed many families out of the lobster business. It was for this reason Billy Bob decided to run for the state legislature.
He got elected on his first try.
Shortly upon arrival in Augusta, Billy Bob, a lifelong Republican, teamed up with Craig Hickman, a lifelong Democrat, and Heather Retberg, a dairy farmer who was being threatened to be shut down for selling raw milk.
They put differences aside.
It was time to unknowingly spark a statewide food freedom movement.
best thoughts,
Graham
p.s. The short introductory portrait to Billy Bob at the top of this page is a rough scene from our upcoming documentary The Right to Food. (Shout out to Jasmin for editing the scene) It is one of the free films Leave It Better provides each month to our community. If you value this kind of writing and documentary filmmaking- become a paid subscriber.
p.p.s. Thanks to each of you who gives us five bucks a month (or more) so we can grow.
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