I was deep into REM sleep, discovering new levels, and I slipped into one of my favorite levels: “Time Travel!” I wish this would happen more often during my naps. On this trip, I returned to when I was 17 years old. My family planned to visit relatives of my brother Larry’s wife, the “Johnsons,” who lived on Bailey Island, Maine. This is the most easterly point of the United States. The island is in the Atlantic Ocean, and the family earns their living catching Lobsters!
As a 17-year-old, the opportunity to work for a couple of weeks as a lobster fisherman was a memory pinnacle at that age. My family was lodged in a cabin on the main property owned by the Johnsons. It was small but comfortable, plain, with no nick-nacks, but clean.
The first evening we went up to the house for a lobster boil. The main house was modest; the ambiance included a slight fishy odor. We all gathered in a substantial farmhouse-style kitchen that could have held 20 people. I looked in the coolers, and there were many greenish-looking lobsters. There were two huge pots of boiling water. The third pot was full of different kinds of fish, crab, potatoes, and spices.
Mrs. Johnson held up the lobsters and then dropped them into the boiling pots. As the Lobsters hit the water, I heard a high-pitched noise that sounded like screaming! Instantly I felt concerned and sorry for the lobsters.
I asked the cooks, “Did I just hear the lobsters scream?” they replied that no, I did not. That the noise I heard was just air escaping from their lungs!
I remember turning my head much like the infamous RCA dog that twists his head at the victrola speaker. (google it, youngsters). The sound did not last long, and as we sat down and began cracking into the lobster claws, dipping the sweet meat into the melted butter, and placing it into our mouths, the memory of the “air escaping from their lungs” sound quickly was replaced by the succulent flavor of the lobster meat in my mouth.
Then came pipe smoking and story time. I did not smoke or like being in a room full of smoke, but I loved the stories. My favorite was when Mr. Johnson told the tale of an October morning, he was out on his lobster boat 20 miles offshore, and he heard a bubbling noise, when suddenly, a submarine surfaced a few feet from his ship. When he recognized the markings, it was a Russian Sub. He went into his pilot house, retrieved his shotgun, pulled the trigger of both barrels aimed at the sub, and with colorful language, told them to shove off! Fortunately, there was no reprisal from the sub.
The following morning my brother and I boarded his boat, and we headed out to check the traps. The Ocean is an olfactory explosion of smells! On the way, the Captain, Mr. Johnson, grabbed a hook on a line, baited it, and threw it into the Ocean; he caught and pulled in a mackerel. He proceeded to cut a hunk of flesh off the mackerel and ate it raw!
I had not eaten Sushi at that time of my life, so I took a pass on eating the piece he offered me. I didn’t think that would sit well on my stomach as we rolled up and down on the ocean waves. At that moment, he reminded me of “Quint” Robert Shaw’s depiction of the crusty shark killer!
I learned that lobstering was a tricky business. We left the dock early at 5 a.m. and worked all day manually pulling up traps, carefully taking the lobsters out, and putting wood pegs in the claws so you would not get bit. We returned to the dock at 7. Captain said he did a short day for us, city kids.
We made it back to his home. He walked into his house and sat down in his rocker chair without changing his boots or clothes. That is where the fishy odor in his house came from, I guessed.
After a wonderful time filled with days of working and eating 2-3 lobster & crab dinners, it was time to leave. The memories of that time have stayed with me over the years and were brought to the surface by my time-traveling nap!
“Remember, every day is a gift! Some are just a little more fun to open than others. – © Joel M. Vernier 07/9/2022 Author of: “The Guinea Pig In The Freezer.” joelmvernier@aol.com
