I came to Maine by accident twice. My first visit was in 1963 with two hometown friends from our small town in central Pennsylvania. We traveled in a two-door 1961 Plymouth Valiant. John was considering the priesthood and wanted to visit Saint-Anne-de-Beaupre' cathedral in Quebec. John invited his friend Mike and they asked me to join them.

At age 14 I'd never been away from my family but figured the trip would make a good subject for English class essay, “What'd you do last summer?” It would be a good subject. Turned out I got a C+, with lots of red in the margins. Still lots of red on my reports!

Maine was pretty much a drive through state on our trip. We did make a few stops but were bound for Canada, come hell or high water. The “slant six” Valiant hummed right along.

Then, in 1975, after five years of big public school teaching in the city, I came to Maine again to help Phyllis A. Ogg Washington open “Treasure Island” for the season. The day after I arrived, I called the superintendent of schools and resigned my teaching job and never went back.

“Night Train at Wiscasset Station” was the first book I purchased in Maine, at Bookland. It was written by Lew Dietz with photography by Kosti Ruohomaa with a forward by Andrew Wyeth. I didn't photograph much at that time but had a keen interest and some experience from an early age in black and white, with no particular intent.

The Ruohomaa images fascinated me. I didn't know his work but something about his photos seemed familiar. I was reminded of people I'd known and worked with in the coal fields, on farms and in the woods. His photos were honest, frank and uncomplicated like the people and places I had known. Little did I know that Kosti was a very famous Black Star photographer. He lived in Rockland. There was no doubt about Kosti's affection for his subjects perfectly conveyed through his strong black and white images.

Black and white has always been my most valued preference — it’s what I grew up on in Time, LIFE and LOOK magazines. As technology intervenes, for me, black and white is the keeper of the holy grail, the archives of our history and the going away parts of Maine.

One of the comments about “Night Train at Wiscasset Station” shared by the then (1977) editor-in-chief of Down East magazine, D.W. Kuhnert, states, “No one was more aware than Kosti Ruohomaa that he was documenting a world that was passing.” I can feel that now too as I sort back through old files of 45 years. Much has changed and many old friends are gone.

We live along the tracks of time and the train has left the station. In my short stretch here, Maine has become a different place with new and different people. I'm no Kosti Ruohomaa, but much of what I have known is gone too.