On a recent dreary Sunday I was strolling through Macy's in Bangor when I heard someone call my name and looked up to see Lucille, my supervisor when I worked for the legislature’s Joint Standing Committee on Public Utilities in 1981. Although I worked at the State House for only six months, Lucille (who lives in Augusta, but had spent the morning at Hollywood Slots) saved me more than once when my impertinence got me into deep trouble with important legislators.
I’ve seen her no more than three times since I left the legislature, yet here we were 28 years later chatting about children (hers and mine), grandchildren (mine), people we knew from those early years in Augusta, volunteer activities, and our work.
Encounters like this are common in Maine. We’re not separated by six degrees -- it's more like six minutes. Many of us who came to Maine as adults have stayed. Many natives (like Lucille) remain. Through the years our networks grow as we move to a new job, new house, or new town. But those early relationships don't disappear; rather, our circles just get bigger. And because our bonds, familiarity, and connections are so deep, we are uniquely positioned to work well together in building strong communities.
While familiarity should make it easy to shape change, some argue it also makes it more difficult for folks "from away" to feel included and welcome. We all want our communities to be culturally rich. We know that diversity contributes to high quality of life. How can we embrace familiarity and difference at the same time so our communities remain vibrant?