|We were all down at the Stop-n-Chat the other morning, drinking coffee and talking about this spring’s weather and how unseasonable it’s been and if it had anything to do with Al Gore and global warming.
After we'd exhausted the weather-related stuff and the mail still hadn't been sorted in the post office across the street, Ernie, a newcomer from Rhode Island, piped up and asked, "Does anyone know when Maine's most dramatic temperature change occurred – when the official temperature at the airport in Portland climbed from 32 degrees at 5 a.m. to 86 degrees at 2:30 p.m.?"
Suddenly, the store went still and everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over at Ernie, the newcomer. The clerk punching in someone's Megabucks numbers stopped punching; the Megabucks customer stopped scratching his worthless scratch tickets and started scratching himself; the woman behind the lunch counter stopped pouring coffee and listened; and the stock clerk blocking the aisle stopped stacking cans. They were all looking over at Ernie, the newcomer from Oregon. All wanted to know when such a startling 50-degree temperature shift occurred in Maine.
Poor Ernie was a quiet fella for an out-of-stater, and he suddenly became red-faced because of the sudden attention. Ernie was then forced to admit to a store full of curious clerks and customers that he had no idea when such a temperature shift occurred. He said he just heard from his neighbor Harold Leighton that such a dramatic temperature shift had occurred, but Harold couldn’t recall what year.
Well, there. When Harold Leighton's name was mentioned everyone in the store heaved a loud groan of annoyance.
“Harold Leighton told you that?” scoffed Pearly Dow.
“Yes,” said Ernie. He and Harold had been in the yard talking about weather and at some point Harold started talking about strange New England weather happenings over the years.
Pearly then told Ernie that the only thing he knows for sure is that Harold Leighton has done stranger things than New England weather could ever do and that Harold wouldn't know a weather statistic if it kicked him in his backside.
After a brief pause everyone shifted from weather talk to comments about Harold Leighton. Hollis Strout said he remembered a cold morning when Wink told another newcomer about the time when it was so cold he took a pan of boiling water outside, set it on his porch railing and the water froze so fast that the ice was still warm to the touch.
Forrest Tucker said Harold would often tell people that the mercury in his thermometer by the kitchen window often drops so low in winter that he has to go down cellar to read it.
Another local told of the time Harold told a fella from New Jersey that it would soon be shagimaw season and he should get himself a special shagimaw license and go get himself one. When the poor New Jersey fella went to the town hall to inquire about a shagimaw license, the town manager – another Leighton – made him up a fancy-looking bogus license and for days this poor fella was out in the woods cruising around every bog, tote road and lot line in the county looking to bag himself a shagimaw.
Eventually, he came upon a friendly game warden who got a chuckle out of the impressive shagimaw license but then straightened him out about the Leightons and their idea of fun. To make the poor fella feel better the warden told him he wasn't the first newcomer and probably won’t be the last one sent into the woods by the Leightons to hunt the elusive animal.
A shagimaw, by the way, is an authentic Maine mythical critter that, according to several witnesses, has two feet like a moose and two feet like a bear.
After the shagimaw story was finished, old Arthur Leighton, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, said, “It looks like Marge has finished sorting the mail.” At that point most everyone in the store got up and left.