Day Exploring-Boba and Bánh Mì

One

For a year, I wrote a monthly feature for the Lewiston Sun-Journal. It was called Explore. I’d spend a day in a Maine community and write about the place and the people who lived there. I’m not sure if they’re still online or not but I have some of them posted on my writing site. I especially liked this one on Wilton. The places became sources to write something more than the usual “town in the news” hack pieces. At least that was always my goal.

A bonus of these assignments was getting to work with a stellar editor in Mark Mogensen. Most local dailies don’t pay freelancers enough and I was forced to take my writing elsewhere. It was my Sun-Journal piece on Biddeford that led me to believe I could pitch it to a bigger paper. I did and my more involved feature landed on the pages of the Boston Globe nearly three years ago.

The practice I developed back then: spending the better part of a day in a particular place informed this post. As I was out and about in Lewiston last Friday, the thought of doing something like this on a semi-regular basis held some appeal. We shall see.

My initial thought was to go into detail and provide some personal history about me and Lewiston. Like being a seven-year-old second grader with a teacher who was overly demanding about my penmanship. It was 1969 and teachers had way more leeway in how they marshaled their young troops back then.

In the case of Mrs. D, it meant imposing her iron will on a young boy who was hyper and with no interest in mastering cursive writing. She died in 2006. I remember seeing her obituary and not feeling sad at all.

My Franco-American grandmother lived in Lewiston. My family visited her nearly every Sunday. My aunt who never married lived with her.

Immigrants like my grandmother were proud of their city. Her Catholic faith was important and a central element for her and most francophones and fellow French-Canadian settlers in Lewiston. If there is any doubt about the role of the Church in French-Canadian life in Lewiston, St. Peter and Paul Basilica, which sits like a sentry overlooking Lewiston (and neighboring Auburn) should tell you that religion was important to them. They made sure to leave a memorial to their faith. Funding for the church came from thousands of small donations given by Lewiston residents, especially the Franco-American community.

There is a lot more history about the Basilica I could cover, but I’m not really interested in doing so. Other family members have mined that vein if people are interested. Continue reading

Savoir-faire

I would never try to usurp or upstage my sister’s quest to be the French-speaking sibling in my family of origin. I’m happy to concede that status to her.

One interesting fallout from her interest in Francophone culture is that I’ve started noticing (paying attention?) to how often French words, or derivatives of the language, pepper our own. Take for instance my recent obsession with the band Pavement, detailed three weeks ago here at the JBE, and their song, Embassy Row. I mean, is there a more clever mid-90s slacker songwriter than Stephen Malkmus? Literate, witty, and if you pay attention, you pick up interesting tidbits, including a French word, or two.

The debonair Stephen Malkmus.

The debonaire Stephen Malkmus.

Continue reading