Part 1 - How We Got Here
Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted to live where “things were happening.” It’s a tale as old as time, a young person grows up in the suburbs of a town or city that once had historical significance and feels bored growing up around it. They get a taste for broader horizons from outside sources; usually by hearing about how great cities can be to live in and wind up getting a taste for it by visiting with their parents. Wowed by its bustling energy, its sights, and its attractions, ultimately getting suckered into the “glamour” of big-city living.
For some, the glamour wears off after a handful of years and as you grow older, you learn that “living in the city” really means “living for the city.” This has become especially true now with rising rents, utilities, and the incredibly high cost of property ownership in urban environments. So where does one go when they learn being where “things are happening” isn’t always worthwhile? If you’re anything like me, you compromise and opt to live near where things are happening; maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to settle there!
In my case, it was the North Shore of Massachusetts: a suburban city sprawl extending from the edge of the Greater Boston Metropolitan area to the edge of New Hampshire. I grew up there, and thought I wanted to leave it behind in my young adulthood, but found myself drawn back for its thirty-minute proximity (on a good day) to the city of Boston. It was also where my wife and I slowly discovered we could never settle there. While we enjoyed living in the area, we’d move into apartments only to outgrow them in two years' time or flee from either the landlords or neighbors residing there. When we were able to consider property ownership, we’d quickly discover it was way out of our price range (especially in the areas that were considered cheap) and outbid when a cost-effective option came onto the market.
We still enjoyed the area despite these hardships. We had friends in nearby towns, attractions bound to cities were making their way out into the suburbs and if you wanted to explore or enjoy green spaces they were all within a short driving distance. Until the spring of twenty-twenty occurred and COVID-19 took away all that we took for granted and enjoyed away from us. It took six months of quarantine, avoiding people and public venues, the loss of businesses and public events, and the cycle of working at home and trying to stay entertained there to realize something: an area we once liked and wanted to be a part of felt stale, all paths had been tread and there was nothing new left to experience.
As the staleness set in, a wanderlust took hold of my wife’s mind. When we both were unemployed, she found herself visiting the Belgrade Lakes region of Maine with a friend and was taken with the area: a slice of small-town life akin to Winter River, Connecticut from Tim Burton’s Beetlejuice, but surrounded by lakes and near two cities. Since she had to apply for jobs, she found a noteworthy marketing position in the area on a job board and decided to apply for it. As the summer was winding down and fall was setting in, she drove us both up there, knowing it was something that I had to see for myself.
As we made our way up to Central Maine and I noticed she was driving us out to what felt like a remote location. I was horrified and shocked that she wanted to live in the middle of nowhere. I even began asking questions like where the nearest grocery store was and whether or not a library actually existed there. Once we got out of the car and settled into our room at the local inn, went for a walk in the town, had dinner at the Village Inn & Tavern, and settled down for the evening the mood had changed. I realized that living in a place like this could be a possibility–I could learn to become comfortable and operate here without many qualms. By the fall of twenty-twenty, we were living in Maine and nearly two years later have had many eye-opening experiences worth thinking about and sharing with you.
Part 2 - Masshole to Maineiac
One major discovery, which was always in the back of my mind, was that I wasn’t willing to acknowledge that I felt mentally unhealthy in Massachusetts. I’ll admit right here and now that I’m still not as healthy as I would like to be. This is a process of learning, adapting, and utilizing coping mechanisms with the aid of a professional, but I do feel that my change of scenery has a lot to do with it.
When I think about Massachusetts in retrospect, it’s a very interesting state with some unique qualities: it has a deep and very rich history, a cultivated image of being a hub of progress and culture, but it is ultimately stymied by old-world stuffiness. I’m aware that there are many places that have similar vibes and that society as a whole is like this, but it has to be noted that there’s a vibe to living your day-to-day life in Massachusetts. Personally, I often felt like I was in constant competition against imaginary adversaries in all aspects of my life and this bred some unhealthy traits. I frequently felt like a crazed, jealous and competitive maniac with many more unlikeable qualities. When you feel like this every day, it’s no wonder we’ve earned the affectionate moniker of Masshole.
By moving to Maine and becoming a stranger, my wife and I allowed ourselves to experience a new culture and environment, let it take root inside of us, and retire our old personas for something different. The cultural experience of living in Maine is very different from what you’d think, especially if your vision of the state is colored by stereotypes and the works of Stephen King!
For one thing, the people are a diverse mix of expatriates from other states seeking something different and generational ruralites who keep to themselves, are honest about their intentions, and don’t appear too interested in judging you. In fact, most of my interactions with strangers in Maine have been positive and very helpful in acclimating to the area. Since moving here, I’ve found it very easy to strike up conversations with strangers, whether that’s the local librarian, a business owner, or a random person on the street, someone will generally take interest in you, help you get your lay of the land and even teach you something about the area. There’s also a great deal of kindness: when we first bought our house and moved in, our neighbor across the road came over and asked if we’d like to have our garden patches rototilled. Even the drivers are kinder, as they are often less likely to tailgate, instead choosing to pass you if you’re going too slow.
As a state of mind and being, it’s rather infectious and before long I found myself self-reflecting. Moving away from the hustle and bustle of the suburban and urban sprawls to a more easy-going and casual environment gave me a moment to breathe and consider who I’ve been and where it’s gotten me. (It also helped that my boss noted that the air about myself wasn’t common at all with what Mainers were used to). I’m not 100% proud of the person that I have been and I’m not beholden to continue being that same person, nor is it sustainable for my own happiness.
Does this make me a Maineiac? Maybe. There is a debate about what makes a Mainer. For most, you have to be born and raised in Maine to earn that moniker. Others claim that you need to have ancestral roots going back about three generations. If anything, I am considered “from away” due to being an out-of-state expatriate. However, I’m still allowed to appreciate and appropriate the vibe and customs of where I reside and if it results in a chance to become the person I’d like to be, I welcome that chance.
Part 3 - The Verdant Sprawl
It goes without saying that your environment has an effect on you and those around you; Mainers are clearly no strangers to this concept. A few months back I was getting to know one of my co-workers, who had lived all of her life in Maine, and we talked about the differences between where we grew up. To illustrate this, I brought up Google Maps, typed in the North Shore region on my workstation, and zoomed out on a satellite map to showcase its proximity to Boston. When she saw how much grey was occupying the map, her eyes lit up and exclaimed: “Good god!” in surprise.
From an aerial view, the sprawl of urban and suburban cities and towns appears as a massive, discolored grey blob while green spaces pepper its interior and surrounds the exterior. From the ground, it feels as if every square inch of space is occupied by other people, structures, and objects, and in retrospect, it looks overwhelming.
There’s certainly nothing wrong with places like this existing. Living in places with large populations does have its advantages, which I took advantage of and enjoyed while they lasted. However, these places can become frustrating for some. I would find myself getting angry at the strangers and the traffic they generated, how long traveling could take, questioning from time to time whether or not the air I was breathing was clean, and even taking for granted the scenery that surrounded me, including the change in the seasons that transforms the area.
How does Maine compare? A verdant sprawl, with ample space between people and their properties (excluding Augusta, Waterville, and Portland), and in between, is a diverse landscape of trees, hills, mountains, lakes, rivers, and plains. You can take your time driving for miles and note how the sheer amount of flora and fauna outnumber developed land and its occupants. These landscapes offer something unique to look upon and no matter how times you see them, it provides a refreshing spectacle that you never grow tired of. Even a change in the weather or the season transforms the area and offers something new to appreciate: like a dense rolling fog having different levels of coverage, an amazing foliage season in the fall, or dense snow topping cedars and covering all that is green in a vast and pristine white sheet.
Part 4 - Living For The Present & Saving For The Future
Massachusetts, as a state, is known for many things: the beginnings of the Revolutionary War, the first metropolitan subway system (though it recently made headlines for catching on fire), the nation's first library, foods like the Boston Cream Pie, baked beans, clam chowder, the breeding of the Boston Terrier, our sports teams, universities and museums, and last, but not least, our “affectionate” and infamous moniker: Taxachusetts.
We’ve earned that moniker for more than our tax rates. Massachusetts is considered one of the most expensive states to live in, and that can feel like a burden at times. My wife and I are a (mostly) fiscally responsible duo, but to live on the North Shore meant that our rent was higher than most mortgages and utilities felt like a guessing game dependent on the fluctuating costs of electricity and gas heat. To add insult to injury, once my paychecks were divvied up there would often only be $50 left to save. While we were able to have fun, we could have done more if we had the money to do so.
Meanwhile, in Maine, there’s a sense of freedom in terms of how far a paycheck can truly go. Outside of gasoline and groceries, which still cost the same as anywhere else, so many of our vital expenses that were costly in Massachusetts are a fraction of the cost. As for the real estate market, my wife and I could afford a nice house, swap out our rent costs for a reasonable mortgage, settle down and take advantage of all the benefits that come with it: we can truly control the appearance of our home, have control over our heating sources to keep our home comfortable and we have finally been able to start a family of our very own. While it does come with its own responsibilities and projects, I wouldn’t trade this agency for anything in the world.
Not only that, we can both look forward to the future by saving towards it. We have plans for our infant daughter’s future, potential vacations, and eventual home improvements which we can actively save for. We’re also enjoying ourselves in our day-to-day moments, which has helped us to stay grounded and focused on what we want to achieve for ourselves and pursue it; like improving ourselves.
Part 5 - You Can Never Go Home Again
As I mentioned at the beginning, my wife and I have been living in Central Maine for two years and after such a time it can be hard to return to your old stomping grounds. We’ve visited our friends a few times and in April 2022, we went to the North Shore to pick up some special items we ordered from a local establishment. We noticed an immediate difference in the area once we crossed over the state line: traffic patterns were frustrating, roads were poorly planned and implemented and there was an intensity in the air that we just weren’t used to anymore. Even with establishments re-opening and trying to return to normalcy in what was believed to be the tail-end of the pandemic, I wasn’t missing as much of it as I thought. What once felt like home to me just turned into a place you could live and visit, much like the city of Boston to the south.
What I experienced was a strong indicator that I was at a different point in my life and I’m clearly the better for it. It took a very radical change to get here and I have wondered if I’d recommend a change like this to anyone. My answer is: maybe. I’m not in the market to offer life advice to anyone, but if you can find a place to be happy take a hold of it and see where it takes you.
If you enjoyed this piece, please follow Brenton Barnes on Twitter @brentonsquared.