Here is the story of a long-ago wedding, or rather, of one boy’s anticipation of his sister’s wedding. It took place in October 1913 at Sagamore Farm, the elaborate demonstration dairy farm that once stood on Atlantic Highway where today the entrance to Camden Hills State Park is located. Lincolnville farmer Robert Hardy leased Sagamore for a number of years after it ceased to be a wealthy summer resident’s diversion. All the details – vases of wildflowers at every stall, the bathtub with a drain, whales spouting off the shore, the flour barrel under the back stairs, and especially the prank that peeled off the varnish – were told to me by someone in the Hardy clan, generally the grown up children of Robert and Carrie Hardy’s nine offspring. Those included Lucille Masalin and Doris Delano, both children of the bridal couple in the story, as well as Dot Santi and Swiss Hardy, children of Si.

Si Hardy woke up extra early on his sister Jennie’s wedding day. There were lots of reasons for a young boy to jump out of bed eagerly on a fall Saturday – no school being the main one, but the best thing about a wedding meant a change of routine. All but the most necessary chores would be put aside today. Of course, at Sagamore Farm the “most necessary” included feeding, mucking out and milking nearly 100 cows. Luckily, the Hardy family included enough hands and strong backs to make short work of even so huge a job.

Besides his father Robert, Si’s older brothers Carl, Herbert and Fred and their brother-in-law Frank Rolerson were generally on hand to help with chores, as well as Russ Carver, the about-to-be Hardy son-in-law. Even the little nephews, George Hardy and Bob and Frank Rolerson, pretended to help, though Si thought they got in the way.

He hurriedly dressed, stopping at the wash basin long enough to slick back his hair, swish around a mouthful of water and spit, then ran downstairs into the kitchen. Day was just breaking at the edge of the Bay, a faint lightning of the black sky at the horizon, but Si’s mother, Carrie Hardy, already had the stove hot enough for the morning’s first batch of biscuits, which she was just pulling out of the oven. “Here, take these with you,” she said to her youngest as hurried out to the barn. “Stop long enough to eat something.”

“Oh, all right,” he was halfway out the door, but he turned around and came back to where his mother was piling hot biscuits on a plate. He put the plate on the big table, along with a slab of butter and the jar of strawberry jam his mother had opened.

“Pour the milk,” she ordered, then hurried out with her mixing bowl to the flour barrel that stood under the back stairs. She was back before Si had the glasses lined up with her bowl freshly filled with flour and ready for the next batch of biscuits. In went a large hunk of white lard, spoonfuls of baking powder and salt; Carrie plunged her hands into the bowl, working the flour into the shortening. “Dump the rest of that in here,” she instructed Si as he finished filling the glasses. He emptied the pitcher into the bowl, then watched, fascinated, as the mess of flour and lard and milk turned into biscuit dough before his eyes. “Go eat while they’re hot,” she instructed. “Thought you were in such a big hurry.”

Si carried the milk glasses to the table just as the rest of them started sleepily into the kitchen, Russ first, then his brothers. Their father wouldn’t come downstairs until his sons and sons-in-law were already out in the barn. The women of the family were straggling down to the kitchen now, Fred’s wife Carrie, sisters Ina Rolerson and sixteen-year-old Hetty Hardy. Only Jennie stayed upstairs; it was bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other on their wedding morning, Hetty informed Si. The girls fell into place next to Carrie at the stove, frying slabs of salt pork, spooning out beans, bowls of oatmeal and slices of cold pie. Heaped plates were carried to the men, waiting at the table. A fresh plate of biscuits appeared, another pitcher of cold milk and cup after cup of strong coffee.

Sagamore Farm was famous for its up-to-date dairying equipment, including refrigeration for the milk. Most farms of the day cooled milk by standing the cans in a spring or down a well, but here the milk was always ice-cold and delicious. The other modern marvel Sagamore’s inhabitants enjoyed was the bathtub with its drain and plug. Even though it had to be filled with a kettle of hot water like every other bathtub it could be drained just by pulling the plug.

Si perched on his chair with its good view out the window of the Bay. The sun was just poking up out of the water as he watched, hoping to see the whales blowing. He’d only seen them do that once before, but he always looked whenever he thought of it. Sagamore Farm was built high up on a wide field that stretched clear down to the ocean in front with the Atlantic Highway cutting through the middle. From this lofty perch could be seen not only passing whales, but ships of all kinds and sizes -- tiny fishing boats with their single sails, sailing coasters that carried firewood and lime, even the occasional 4 and 5 masted ships. Increasingly, there were steamboats, often pulling coal barges up and down the Bay.  The Boston boat went by twice a day, once up and once down; Si thought the nighttime runs were the best, as the big white Camden or the Bangor, sailed by, all lit up and looking like a wedding cake, she had that much “gingerbread” on her.

The thought of a wedding cake brought Si back from his reverie. Russ was taking a good deal of ribbing on this, his wedding day, until Carrie told them all to stop fooling around and get out to the chores. “Robert will be down any minute; you don’t want to get caught lazing around.” Everyone jumped up then, and headed for the door, leaving the table a shambles of biscuit crumbs, greasy plates, sticky knives and empty milk glasses. Carrie and the girls brought over their own plates then, pushed the mess back, and sat down to eat.

Out in the barn the men got right to work, shoveling the night’s manure and bedding down the clean-out doors that opened behind the cows. The manure went into the cellar where it was later loaded into a spreader and put on the fields. Si pulled the grain cart down the aisles, measuring out each cow’s portion. He glanced guiltily around at the peeling barn walls.

The inside of the cavernous barn at Sagamore had been varnished to a shine, a feature visitors frequently remarked upon. The outer walls had small openings that led to the Swedish air shaft system, a modern method of ventilating and carrying away the moisture that built up. A series of shutters could be opened and closed to regulate the airflow. One day last summer Si, in a mischievous mood and just to see what would happen, blocked up all the openings. The next morning they came into the barn to find that the varnish had peeled overnight from the moisture! Si still shuddered when he remembered Robert Hardy’s reaction. It was a sure bet he wouldn’t ever try a stunt like that again.

A glass vase was fastened to each cow’s tie-up. When Si was younger and visitors were frequently taken on tours of the barn, the vases were kept filled with wildflowers. The little children were sent out every morning to pick great bunches of field flowers. It used to be Si’s job to empty out the vases each day and fill them with the fresh bouquets. That practice had been more or less abandoned, though, when Mr. Stearns, Sagamore’s former owner, had sold the place. Robert Hardy renewed his lease, this time from the new owner, and now could concentrate on running a profitable farm rather than on impressing summer complaints.

When all the grain was distributed, Si took his place milking. He looked over at Carl, sitting at the next cow. At 17 he was the brother nearest him in age; “race you,” Si said. Carl just nodded, and they both bent to their work. If their father came in and caught them at it he’d holler, but until then it made the time go faster. On the other side Russ, who usually joined them, seemed distracted this morning. Si wondered briefly what it felt like to be a bridegroom, but then what would change?

James Russell Carver was from Ducktrap, but had been here at Sagamore, working for Robert Hardy for two summers now. Si had once walked in on an argument between Jennie and their father that made him think there’d been some discussion about whether she could or could not marry Russ. Si liked him just fine, and was glad when Jennie had won their father over. Or maybe Russ had won him over. Si wondered what a man had to do to win a girl’s father over, especially one as stubborn as Robert Hardy.

Then he stopped thinking about it. He had a lot of years before that would concern him. And there were more important things to think about. For instance, the wedding cake the women were making at this very moment, and all the cousins, nieces and nephews coming this afternoon. It would be a good day.

 Jessica Day of Midcoast Music Together will offer the second in a series of free family music programs this Friday, February 5 at 11 a.m. at the Lincolnville Community Library. Families with children from newborn to age 5 are invited to come sing, move, shake and explore musical instruments together. Bangor Savings Bank sponsors the program, an internationally recognized early childhood program. There will be three more sessions on March 4, April 1, and May 6. Contact the Library with questions by calling 763-4343 or emailing.

Democratic Caucus

         Somehow our three sons grew up without any religious education, church attendance, or even much information on the subject of the Bible, of God, of prayer. I don’t mean to make it sound like we had no role in this; it wasn’t an oversight, but a more or less conscious decision to not have church be a part of our lives. I did feel vaguely guilty about our children; at the very least they were growing up ignorant of a big part of human history, of humanity, ignorant of the Bible stories every little child used to know. Would their ignorance of religion hamper their education? What about the moral lessons?

         We worked hard at those, the moral precepts that are the basis of every religion, the Ten Commandments I suppose you could say, the “Shalt Nots”. We tried to instill a conscience, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”, to feel gratitude. But still, the nagging thoughts persisted, that we’d neglected some important part of raising children.

And yet, like many of the people we know of our generation (war babies and boomers, most of us) we went to Sunday school and to church all through our own childhoods, me Episcopalian and Wally some weird combination of Baptist-Catholic. We were both baptized, I was confirmed, he went to church camp and was even president of the BYF (Baptist Youth Fellowship. Sometime in our teens, though, we both fell away from church attendance.

Then one Sunday, maybe 15 years ago, a friend invited me to come to church. “It’s a great way to start the week,” she said. “You won’t be sorry you went.” So, mostly to please my friend, I went with her. And have continued ever since. My intention here isn’t to convince anyone else, rather just to say that somewhere in my middle 50s, with children out of the nest and my parents gone, I found a meaningful place to spend an hour on Sunday mornings.

If you’re raising children now perhaps you’re pondering the same things. Of course, we have churches of every denomination in surrounding towns, and three right here in town: Bayshore Baptist Church at the Beach, Crossroads Community Church which meets at the school, and United Christian Church in the Center. Each offers some form of child education. I couldn’t reach anyone at Crossroads this morning, as I write, but I welcome hearing about their program and will add it next week.

This from Susan Silverio: “Children's Church' has been underway at UCC in the Center since October 2015. It begins with the Sunday morning service at 9:30 with the children being invited to the front of the church for a brief message and the lighting of the Peace Candle. Then the children and two of the teaching team proceed to the Parish Hall. While the adult service continues, the children are engaged in stories and plays and are given the opportunity to make them their own through dialog, imaginative play and artistic activities. The children share a snack, and then return to their parents before the close of the service. 

“The five-member teaching team is drawing on the curriculum of Godly Play, a well-developed approach that is deeply respectful of the child's abilities. Five families are currently participating when they are able, and more are welcome!”

Becky Richards and Carol Underhill have been running the Good News Club, an after school program held weekly at LCS, for the past 7 or 8 years. Using CEF (Child Evangelism Fellowship) materials

the women work with 6-7 children in grades K-6. Bayshore Baptist Church supports the Good News Club.

Condolences

Finally, we heard the sad news on Sunday that our neighbor, Pete Murphy had passed away quietly at Sussman House over the week-end. Sympathy to his wife and son, and to friends and family.