Rumford Maine

This town just grows on ya The way life should be

Dot Sanchas

I remember awakening on Christmas morning,
wandering to our shabby Christmas tree,
wondering if there would be anything for me.
I had seen no gifts, wrapping paper, or bows.
Nothing about my seventh Christmas season
had been bright or cheerful that I recall.

A knock on the door resulted in puzzled glances,
wonder shared between mother and father.
The big door was slowly pulled open by dad.
There stood the infamous man in the red suit
carrying a large bag of brightly wrapped gifts.
Behind Santa was a lady with a big box of food.

I must confess I do not remember her as a person,
but as a vague bright light with a halo of white hair.
A friendly, cheerful smile and a kind word were given,
along with a toy and warm mittens for each of us.
Mother cried at such a windfall in a lean year,
assuring we gave a thank you and hugs in return.

Dot Sanchas, the lady who brought Santa Claus
to our poor house when I was seven died on 28 October.
She was buried far away in my old hometown,
so I did not make it to her funeral to say goodbye.
Instead I thanked The Lord for this beautiful lady
who has meant light and hope to so many.

Dorothy, you gave my family so much more
than a sack full of wrapped toys long ago.
You gave us the fruit of human kindness,
nurtured in your loving, Christian heart.
You taught me that the season is for giving,
just as God gave his only Son that others may live.

For those of you who still carry the torch
Ms. Sanchas lit, I thank you and praise you.
Remember there is always human need and poverty.
Thank you for keeping her dream of giving alive.
May God bless and watch over you
as you help others on Christmas and every day.

My Hometown

"I'd sit on his lap, steer as we drove through town
He'd tousle my hair and say son take a good look around
This is your hometown, this is your hometown
This is your hometown, this is your hometown"
-Bruce Springsteen My Hometown

Paul Bunyan moved across the street
into an Information Booth so neat.
He stands guard, mighty axe in hands
best lumberjack in the northern lands.
Nearby is a tribute to Edward Muskee,
our hometown politician, you see.
This is my hometown.

Down on Hancock, bulldozer, backhoe
and dump trucks have traffic going slow
as they widen the narrow street,
bringing fresh pavement and concrete.
This road brought me to high school,
six of my brothers and sisters too.
This is my hometown.

The old Ralph Clark sign fades each day,
one day I fear it will just go away.
I would like renewal for the three story brick,
and not tearing down an empty building, sick.
Down on Waldo and Falmouth the kids still play,
at St A&J the faithful still gather to pray.
This is my hometown.

Down at Glover's, they did my oil for free,
shook hands, cast a doubtful look at the debris
that was in the bottom of the drain pan,
"If we can't fix your engine, no one can."
I remember thinking on that hot summer day,
Thank God good people and small towns never go away.
This is my hometown.

Down in the Swift River they still swim,
pools by sun spotted rocks, filled to the brim.
I was tempted to give into the stream's lure
remembering clear water so cold and pure,
but I drove on, remembering the books with me.
I read on a park bench behind the public library.
This is my hometown.

The evening breeze came slowly sneaking along,
so I walked across Memorial Bridge, whistling a song.
The Androscoggin River tumbled far below.
(Makes me happy now that it is clean y'know.)
Up and down Exchange Street I walked,
past the lot where dad sold produce and talked.
This is my hometown.

I miss my home town. Can't wait to get back home...

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here ya go Rumfid!!! Spread the word!!

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go here http://www.myspace.com/mainerap an VOTE 4 WICKED SYNDICATE in the polls!

I lived in Mexico my whole life, but I love Rumford just as much. ;)

A book from a Rumford kid:

http://www.amazon.com/Awash-Words-Lou-Marin/dp/1424179696/ref=sr_1_1/105-1500255-0185219?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1182307352&sr=8-1

-Lou Marin

rumfid yeaahhhhhhh whoop whoop