My family hails from New England and the coast is populated with small quaint towns that are known for their individualism (and sometimes downright contrariness). A young New York City reporter was out to do a feature story on such towns and was scouring the country side and coast line for an angle. He finally came upon an elderly gentleman rocking in his Adirondack on the front porch of his seaside home in Maine. The young reporter introduced himself and explained his purpose for intruding. He asked if the old gent would be amenable to an interview, to which the response was a curt "Ayeh". Most of the interview followed a similar theme. The reporter asked if the man had lived there all his life and the answer was an equally brief and pointed " not yeyit". The reporter could see that the interview was rapidly loosing steam and was desperate to salvage something of his journey. He finally asked if he could speak to the lady of the house; to which the reply was "fraid naught". So the reporter asked the obvious "why not" and the dam finally broke. The old Mainer thought for a minute and began to speak. "She's daid these four yeahs now", he replied. The reported expressed his condolences and quietly asked how she had passed. And the story unfolded. "Weell" the Mainer replied. "It was Octoba, and we went out on the boat for lobsta". It was wicked foggy out that morning and as I said, it was wicked foggy. Ol' Jen, she wanted to turn back but I reckoned we could keep goin a spell and we did. But it was wicked foggy and soon enough we was in the soup. We couldn't get a bearin and we was adrift in that wicked fog. I mean it was wicked foggy. We would a been just fine but theah was a nasty swell beginning to come up." What happened, asked the reporter as the old man seemed to loose steam. "Well, like I said it was wicked foggy and Ol' Jen was leaning over the side to see what she could see.. and she fell ovah." "Oh my", exclaimed the reporter. "How horrible. What did you do?" "Well" said the old lobsterman, "I called out fo her, and I must a searched for houas, but it was wicked foggy and twern't no use, she was gone. So I called the Coast Guard and they stahted to search and finally I was low on fuel and had to put in to port and go home." The reporter was thoroughly enthralled by this point and finally asked, "Did they ever find her?" "Ayep" replied the old gentleman. "About 3 days layta, the Constable came by and knocked on the screen porch and said, 'Well Tom, we finally found her, she was bound up in some old net and covered wit lobsta.' "He asked me what I wanted to do and I thought a mite...Well Jim, I says, keep the lobsta and re-set her"
