Mom and I headed to the market in Fort Kent for a couple of items to round out her lunch plans. While standing in line at the deli, mom said hello to the woman standing beside us, then introduced her as dad’s oncology nurse, Brenda. Even though dad’s treatment hospital is one and a half hours away, there we all were, at Paradis on a Sunday afternoon. To Brenda and mom, this meeting did not feel out of place. Nothing is ten minutes away here. All of that aside, it was a pleasure to put a face with the name I’ve heard so much about over the last five years.
To our right, a fully uniformed Fort Kent police officer ladled soup from the self-serve pot. I’d thought that he resembled my cousin Tim (a state police officer who works about ninety miles south of here), but didn’t feel it worth mentioning. Mom on the other hand, she saw the resemblance too, only she thought it worth mentioning.
“Excuse me, do you happen to know Tim Saucier?”
“Yes ma'am, as a matter of fact I do.”
“You look a lot like him.”
The officer smiled. “I am told that often; he’s a good guy.”
Past the officer, a burly man who smiled easily and seemed to know everyone. A woman of his acquaintance asked if he was spending much time in the shop these days, to which he replied that he is not, most of his time is spent in the woods. “Good, that’s where your heart is.” He agreed. His cart was filled with brightly frosted cakes and cookies, indicating a young person’s birthday. He shared that his daughter’s birthday party was that day and he was about to pick up a dozen pink balloons for the family to decorate with. There was an eye roll and some exaggerated words about how ridiculous he’s about to look walking around the store with a bunch of pink balloons.
Leaving the deli, it didn’t take long for mom to trail behind. When I stopped to look back for her, she was standing next to another person’s cart, not budging. After a few moments the cart’s person returned and mom pointed to the wallet resting in the seat: “You’re so trusting!” The woman smiled but you could tell not trusting wasn’t something she’d considered. After all, this is Fort Kent, Maine. But mom? You can take the girl out of Brooklyn, but you can’t take Brooklyn out of the girl.
We wove through the remaining aisles as mom checked items from her list, and I kept an eye on the logger with a bouquet of pink balloons. He was sure to tell each person he passed that these frilly things were not his, that he was sent to pick them up for his daughter’s party, and that he was very concerned about his manhood. Each encounter offered a big smile as he explained himself, and a quick roll of the eyes as he pointed to the pink bouquet. After a few minutes I began to sense his fixation had little to do with machismo, and much to do with being a proud father in love with a little girl who is growing up too fast.