My Portland Connections

Even though I grew up in Yarmouth and lived there until I married, I also have as strong a connection to Portland, Maine. I was born in Portland and had my tonsils out in a hospital there when I was eight yrs. old. I finished the last two years of college at the University of Maine at Portland-Gorham (POGO) or USM as it is now called. I met my husband in Portland and started my first career in Portland at the Portland Public Library's Jane L. Burbank Branch on Pleasant Ave. I remained at PPL for ten years, leaving after the first birthday of my daughter, who was also born in Portland.

My family has connections to Portland. My Great Grandfather owned a house on Valley St. across from the stairway which descended from the top of the Western Promenade to the Valley St. sidewalk. My mother grew up in Westbrook, but after she graduated from Westbrook High School, she moved into her grandfather's house which now belonged to her father.

At different times during my school years, I traveled to Portland to visit my grandparents, to shop, go to the movies and to visit Hays Drugstore to enjoy an ice cream soda, just as Noah and Annie did. At one time my father's brother-in-law owned the Puritan Diner in Portland on Congress St. where my father helped out when he was younger. The summer after I finished my first year of high school, I volunteered at a medical laboratory on Pleasant Ave. just up the street from the Burbank Branch Library. At that time in my life, I thought I wanted to have a career in medical research.

Portland, Maine is probably my all-time favorite city. It is varied in its people, varied in its food, varied in its educational and religious institutions and has managed to respect its history. I love that city.

Murder Is Always Evil, Why Drinkwater?

Deanes Island came straight from my imagination. Casco Bay, where it lies (supposedly) among the cluster of islands that comprise the Casco Bay Islands off the coast of Maine, is a beautiful spot year round. When I lived in Yarmouth, Maine and drove to my place of work in Portland, I very seldom lost sight of the water. I used to love that drive.

Noah Drinkwater and his family lived on Deanes Island for many years. He and his sister were born there, probably at home, since they would have been born a few years after my mother was born in 1920. My mother was also born at home. Noah is two years younger than Annie, who always looked after her little brother.

My mother's father was a Drinkwater, the son of a Portland, Maine sea captain, who sailed all over the world. I wish I had stories of his to relate, but I don't remember hearing any. I think a disconnect of some sort must have occurred between my grandfather and his father to cause the silence between them. My mother grew up poor, and my grandfather spent most of his working life in local mills. He managed to support his family, but just barely. When his father died, he left his Portland house to my grandfather and my Uncle Edgar. We spent many Sunday afternoons visiting my Baba and Maimie Drinkwater. We Davis kids loved his house and managed most of the time to stay out of trouble. Once every other visit or so, we ventured into the formal living room where the good furnishings were. When that happened, we were soon confronted by our grandfather who told us to go outside and play. Sometimes we would visit on Saturday evenings and watch the TV show"The Creaking Door, that is, our parents and grandparents watched while we played outside on the porch.

When my grandfather got too old to stay in his home, my father converted a shed next to the kitchen into a bedroom and sitting area for him. He stayed with us for several years during which time he would visit his other children who lived in different parts of the country. He eventually needed more care than my mother could provide and he moved into a Yarmouth nursing home. He didn't stay there long because he wanted to move back with his family. One day my mother got a call from the nursing home telling her my grandfather had become unruly, and could no longer stay there. It seems he had talked his roommate into escaping with him and they were on their way to the door when a nurse spotted them. I laugh every time I think of my 90+ grandfather and his confederate plotting their escape and almost succeeding.

Background for the Deanes Island Mysteries series

Noah Drinkwater, a young man in his 20's or 30's was born on Deanes Island in Casco Bay, near the City of Portland, Maine. He is the Chief of Police of Fairhaven, the only town on Deanes Island. His sister, Annie, is a teacher in the Fairhaven school system.

Deanes Island is an imaginary island with imaginary people. It's near enough to the mainland for a bridge to have been built connecting the Island with Portland. The people who live in Fairhaven are happy with their lives and would prefer to have nothing change. Even the yearly visits by  summer people haven't upset their equilibrium. Some of these visitors come from as far away as Massachusetts, New York and Canada and always have plenty of money to spend. The locals look forward to earning a little extra money by performing odd jobs for the tourists. Over the years they have achieved a happy balance.

Noah and Annie love living and working on Deanes Island and also hope nothing changes. Noah is a quiet and thoughtful man who is liked and respected by the townspeople. Isaac, his Assistant Chief, is also well-thought of in town, especially by people who see him out and about. He's friendly and talkative and usually leaves people smiling. The other member of the Police Department is Aaron Towle, who works only part-time but is always available if needed.

Into this idyllic scene comes the murder of a well-liked resident whose family helped to settle the Island. No one who knew him can understand why he was killed, and his family is shocked. Noah and Isaac must try to solve the mystery of this man's death before all Hell breaks loose and someone else is murdered.

Never Stop Daydreaming

I've always enjoyed having conversations in my head, but it's not the same as hearing voices in my head. Oh, no. I dream up conversations I could have had with people I know, and these conversations always turn out much better than any real conversations I did have. Or, I go over real conversations I've had that didn't turn out very well, and recreate the entire conversation. The recreated conversation becomes one in which my words and thoughts are so sparkling  everyone can't help but admire my accomplishments. I used to think I was the only one who dreamed up entire conversations. Now, I imagine most people do the same thing.

After beginning my first book, I found the words just flowed out from my mind to the computer screen. I was surprised and wondered why the process of creation happened so easily. It wasn't until I was about half way through my first book, I realized I had been practicing writing stories in my head for most of my life. Who would have thought my daydreams would be a prelude to the story I created out of nothing?

The moral for everyone to learn from is this, daydreaming is good for all of us.

Casco Bay Islands

I grew up on a hill overlooking the mouth of the Royal River in Yarmouth. The whole area was our playground. When I started writing, I set my story on an imaginary island in Casco Bay across from the city of Portland, Maine. It's a small island called Deanes Island and is connected to the mainland by a bridge.

In my first book, Murder Is Always Evil, I write about a company looking for land on which to build a power plant. It never happened on my island but it did happen on a real Casco Bay island called Cousins Island. This occurred sometime in the 1950's and a bridge was built from the island to Yarmouth to facilitate the building of the plant. Before I was married and still living at home in Yarmouth, I would drive to Cousins Island on my days off and spend time at the beach. It was beautiful and peaceful and I can understand why Noah, the main character of my books, liked to go to the beach to relax and enjoy the calming effect of the waves.

My first job was at a branch of Portland Public Library. The Children's Librarian of the main branch on Congress St., Mrs. Rowe, lived on Peaks Island, another Casco Bay island, and traveled back and forth to work on the ferry. I could never imagine how she did it. During my first year or two, when we used to have a crazy schedule at my Branch, I spent a half day a week in the PPL Children's Department. I enjoyed it, and I learned enough to carry back to my Branch, and put to good use. I preferred my Branch however, because we served all ages from cradle to grave, and we often received requests from grieving relatives for books showing best ways to cope with death.

I'm hoping in my second book, the Mayor will be convinced to find a way to have a PPL Branch on my Island. If he does, I will make good use of it.