I married Isis on the fifth day of May
But I could not hold on to her very long
So I cut off my hair and I rode straight away
For the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong.
I was thinking about turquoise I was thinking about gold
I was thinking about diamonds and the world's biggest necklace
As we rode through the canyons through the devilish cold
I was thinking about Isis how she thought I was so reckless.
Haven't seen real metal trash cans in forever. Sure a few skinny jeans wearing retro Hipster wanna be cats here and there will rock a pair of "vintage" trash cans just to be cool. But they never really use them. They sit on the porch looking cool. Announcing to the world their retro-ness and uber coolness. But not these. These smell like yesterdays dreams. Like whiskey breakfasts and boiled cabbage. These are used. Every day. Not to be cool. But because they work. Winter after winter. They do the trick. Rugged. Real.
Condemned. Neglected. Boarded up. Dismissed. Written off. Take the loss. Collect the insurance. Pass go. Walk on. Left behind but not forgotten. Where we come from. Where we've been. But not where we're going. Then again.
Originally constructed in 1874 at the end of a 5-mile spur, the Grand Trunk Depot had fallen into decay after four decades of abandonment. It was known to locals as Little Ellis Island for the huge number of French-Canadian immigrants that came to the promise of America through its doors. Between 1840 and 1930 almost 1 million Quebecois nationals migrated to the United States in search of work. The Grand Trunk Railway Company of Canada played a huge role in shifting the populace south and eventually west. Over 80% of the French-Canadians who settled in the twin cities came through the Grand Trunk. It is seldom that a cultural identity can be traced back to a single building. A single humble brick building that ties together the identities of an entire urban area.
"I, Perepol, of lawful
age testify and say that the Indian name of the river was Pejepscook
from Quabacook, what is now called Merrymeeting Bay, up as far
as Amitgonpontook, what the English call Harrises falls, and
all the river from Harrises falls up was called Ammoscongon and
the largest falls on the river was above Rockamecook about twelve
miles, and those falls have got three pitches, and there is no
other falls on the river like them and the Indians used to catch
the most Salmon at the foot of them falls, and the Indians used
to say when they went down the river from Rockamecook and when
they got down over the falls by Harrises they say now come Pejepscook."
From the late 1700's, families of the free Baptist community,
predominantly farmer's and cattleman, met in homes and schools in the
South Auburn, Danville, Poland, and Minot communities. Due to its close proximity to the majority of the congregation, the farmhouses and school around Marston's Corner were often selected as a meeting place. After a disagreement within the congregation (rumoured to stem from arguments as to whether or not Adam and Eve had belly buttons...), the congregation split and went their separate ways.
Captain John Penley-- gentleman farmer, prestigious landowner, maverick cattleman, respected legislator, and father of 18 (yes, eighteen!)-- donated a quaint riverfront lot for the establishment of a meeting place for the Danville and South Auburn area free Baptists. Completed in 1833 the small church was christened and its doors opened for service. Three other churches in the surrounding farm communities joined together for the first service at the new church. The church was used regularly for just over one year. Since 1835 it has only been used once a year for an annual meeting of the Penley family and other interested parties.
The historical record is quiet as to whether or not the term "free Baptist" specifically refers to "free from ever going to church more than once a year" Baptist. One, of course, can hypothesize....