Harvesting kindness and a big old lobstah
Editor’s Note: We were saddened to hear of columnist Guy Woodworth’s passing (see obituary in this edition). He submitted his final column this past week and we run it in his honor.
This past Wednesday was payday and bill paying day in our home. We took the neighbor lady to town with us and on the way home I remembered that our neighbor wasn’t from “The County,” so I asked if she had ever actually watched a harvest operation in progress. She said she hadn’t, so we went up the road a bit to where I had seen bulk trucks going to the field that morning.
Well, when we got to the field road I saw the harvester coming out towards the road. Visiting that operation was a flop.
So in the field next to the road, broccoli was being harvested. I stopped and was explaining the way it was done when I looked at a tractor and cart with some full pallets of filled boxes on it. One of the workers on the cart was holding a box and giving the universal signal asking if we would like it. I gave him a thumbs up and pulled ahead a bit. He jumped off the cart with the full box in his hand and passed it to my wife and said “free” with a huge smile on his face. We thanked him, and as we drove off I waved to the crew. To a person, they all waved back.
This evening, as I was thinking about the goodness in some people, I remember when there was a time when goodness to others was the rule and not the exception. As we come to the end of harvest and then to Thanksgiving, let’s once again, if only for the season, be kind to a stranger. I know I will.
Lobstah Fishin’ with Mickey
I know most of us oldstahs have heard Paul Hahvey’s “The Rest of the Stahry,” so heah is the rest of last column’s stahry.
Mickey came off the deck about a foot and landed in a big, slimy, slithery pile of bait. I was laughin’ the hahdest I have laughed in months, and when Mickey got his feet undah him and got up, I went into anothah fit of guffaws. This earned me anothah glare.
I asked Mick, I says, “Hey Mick, go clean the bait off of ya so we can use it in the pots, ’cause you won’t fit in ’em.”
When Mick came back on deck, I asked him to stay away from my windward side, because even though I don’t mind the smell of the bait it ain’t my favorite aroma eithah. I sweah Mickey has pahfected the aht of glarin’.
We managed to pull all 50 pots, which filled the tank and gave us three 18-gallon totes full besides, and we did it with only one minah mishap. Wouldn’t ya know, a big smaht bull lobstah grabbed the tip end of Mickey’s pointah fingah on his right hand.
Well, we have a two-burnah galley stove in the main cabin. I didn’t know it til that bull bit Mick’s fingah, but he had a big kettle on the boil. Well, he took that big ole lobstah and took him in the cabin and came out without him.
He looked at his watch and said, “Skippah, in about 20 minutes let’s drop anchah and have a bite to eat.”
I said, “Sounds good.”
We cleaned the deck and sortin’ table and dropped anchah.
Check the next column for lunch.
Guy Woodworth, a Presque Isle native now living in Limestone, is a 1973 graduate of Presque Isle High School and a four-year Navy veteran. He and his wife Theresa have two grown sons and five grandchildren. He may be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.