Lobster Teriyaki and Other Feats of Culture - Day 5

Year in and year out the Saturday of Patten Pioneer Days is the grand finale and wraps up the week's events.  On Saturday there are not one, but two major highlights bring about the fitting conclusion - the parade down Main Street, and the Beanhole Dinner at the Lumberman's Museum.  Variety is the spice of life, and given that in Northerm Maine's idea of "spice" salt and pepper, you can well imagine the role that variety plays in these parts.  If you have been to a Main Street Parade, you have been to all Main Street Parades.  If you have been to a Beanhole Dinner, you have been to every Beanhole Dinner.  And we have been to several:

Like this one...

And this one...

That's not to say they aren't a whole lot of fun - we enjoy them tremendously.  But you're not likely to come away with a mind-blowing experience of novelty and creativeness.  There is comfort in consistency.

Generally the hardest part of the day is starting it.

Wait for it!  Wait for it!

Let the festivities begin!

Not quite sure what to make of northen Maine culture...

Old school!

Am I the only one who finds this disturbing?

We always sit at the park right near the Pentecostal Church.

Then on to lunch at the museum.

The beans cooking in the bean holes.

The same band as always...
but they were in front of a different shed this year!

My Dad is the eternal bean server.

We got our plates and went and sat at the same picnic table we always sat at.  At the other end of the table were two older gentlemen were talking quietly; I took no notice of them at first.  About midway through our meal, however, I noticed Stacy slide over a few inches closer to the gentlemen.  And then a little closer still.  Then she simply turned to them and said, "Gentlemen, can you tell me what language you are speaking?"

I was horrified, assuming immediately that she simply had been unable to parce the Maine brogue that can get fairly thick "up hee-ya."

"We were speaking French," one of the men replied, much to my relief.  "We are originally from Quebec."

At that point, with her usual ability to drew self-revelation from the most tight-lipped of crabs, Stacy began to acquire the entire life stories of the two gentlemen, and most of their extented families.  I sat there in silence, eatting my red hotdog.

How many dozen pictures have we
gotten on this tree over the years?

Nate is the eternal target.

Ready...  Aim...

Fire!

This lady made wonderful wood-lathed things.  We got an
ice cream scoop with a beautifully turned handle,
and the kids got sweet little wooden tops.

The late afternoon was suitably lazy.  L even went so far as to drag the blowup matress out into the warm sunshine for her nap. 

 And so passed our final day in Patten.  Our vacation would continue, but the scenery would change dramatically.