Nostalgia for the past is personal and unique. For David Beaucage, it’s that corner in time that spanned from the end of the 1970s to perhaps the first half of the 1980s. They were the waning years of Sylvania in Waldoboro. And the last years of the old Sproul Block, too. But memory is fickle. It lands on some things and flits away from others. With fifty or so years behind him, these are the memories of David Beaucage.
Moved here from Boston when I was a baby. We lived on Pine Street, down by the shipyards. My father, David Beaucage, was a clamdigger, and my mother Grethel worked. Helped people with their taxes. She did Head Start, too. I went to Friendship School down here, over to Miller, then A.D. Gray, and then Medomak.
Waldoboro is my hometown. I like the people. Have friends. Everybody knows me. Lived my whole life here.
I had a lot of dreams. Wanted to be a drummer. I’d have been a good drummer. But I never read music. I’m self-taught. That’s how drummers learned. Self-taught.
I listened to classic rock with headphones and played along with drummers like John Bonham, Led Zepplin, Tommy Lee, and Tony Aldridge. They are my favorites.
On Pine Street there was this kid, Dennis Doyle. He was older than me, and went to Medomak High. He was like me, always playing drums with the headphones on. If I heard him, I’d go up there and watch . We never played together. I was never in a band, either. Just played to the music. That’s how I learned.
Growing up, I also did odd jobs but never dug clams. I mowed lawns, shoveled people out, raked blueberries.
I also played Babe Ruth baseball, and Rodney Genthner was my coach. Clyde Sukeforth was my uncle, something a lot of people don’t believe. He even took me on a ballplayer scouting trip.
I also went to Jerry Remy baseball camp, down in Boston. Made a lot of friends there. Even met some Red Sox. Played baseball with some of them. Had my hat signed. But I lost the hat.
After high school, I worked. For the State of Maine. Cleaning out after high-end stores, when they closed. Worked all night long. That was tough, hard work. Worked at Hannaford’s, too.
Back then, when I was little, the grocery used to be Sampson’s. And in town, there were all these businesses that we used to go to…the Five ‘n Dime, Clark’s Drugstore, Fessenden’s…the old Sproul Block also had businesses. Bear Hill Grocery used to be where the hardware store is now, and there was a hotdog stand across the street.
I used to bowl down at DePatsy’s. Would see everybody I knew there. I was pretty good. Even won a trophy. I have a picture of me holding it with the other kids at high school.
Nick was something else. I liked him a lot. He held the record there. Bowled 500. I have a funny story. One time Nick broke his leg and couldn’t move much. But he wanted to bowl, and I was bowling. So we bowled together, with him just standing straight up, in one place. I was bowling pretty well, too, but he beat me. And bowling without moving, just standing straight up.
Alice, Nick’s wife, bowled, also. Great bowler. My mother bowled in the women’s league. Played bingo down by the American Legion. And sometimes she played poker, too. She was good. She liked to do that stuff. She had a lot of friends. She was smart. She died nine years ago.
After high school and maybe before, I would go every night to Nick’s bar. They had DJs such as Stan the Man, and a juke box, and bands. Every weekend it would be packed. That was where we’d hang out. I saw a lot of stuff. But it’s things I can’t say.
Waldoboro was busy back then. Right down this block, Dr. Flanagan worked. Used to be my dentist. But he passed away. There’s a chair in memory of him down by the water.
There’s another chair for Roger Feltis. Knew him, too. Knew all of them — Dean Feltis and Lester, too, who I see once in a while. I know the Reeds. David Reed, he lobsters, but he doesn’t like lobster. I know the Priors, I’m friends with them – Gregory Prior and all of them. We all went to school.
But a lot have passed. Chris Nichols. Richard Chapman…well, he had an accident. Stanley Tewksberry. Corey Winchenbach. And others over the years.
A lot of things went on back then, forty years ago. The eighties came, and we partied. The Day twins lived in the old Sproul Block. They were born there. Richard and Robert Day. They passed. Their mother passed, too. She used to babysit me. Lived over with the trailer park that is beside Miller.
We bring up the past and it’s the bad stuff. But there was lots of good, too. I remember them building this place, the new Sproul Block. I saw them level the old one, and when they started on the new one, I’d ride my bike to town to watch them work. The new building opened in 1984.
I’ve lived here seven or so years — after my mother died and after we sold the house on Pine Street. But I still do what I did as a kid. I listen to music on headphones and drum. I listen all the time. I listen to Classic Rock, to WBLM and YouTube. No rap. No country. And no WTOS which is heavy metal. Too much speed metal for me now.
I don’t drive anymore. I walk. I get rides. My brother helps me out sometimes. Basically, it’s from here to across the street and down the block. I can’t walk very far any more.
It’s my back. My spine. I’m in pain every day. It’s chronic. And it will be with me until they do this procedure that I’ve been waiting for. Got diagnosed four years ago.
I deal with the pain because it’s what I’m used to. But I don’t show it. I don’t talk about it. I act normal. I smile. I don’t complain.
But when you’re in this kind of pain, you have no appetite. You don’t feel like eating. I’ve lost a lot of weight. Weigh 127 pounds now. My normal weight is 150.
That gives me other health problems, like depression. I keep hoping for the surgery. It’s supposed to last two hours, and I’ll be out the same day. It should relieve the pain for quite a while. I’ll be happier. Won’t be down so much all the time. Will get my appetite back and do more activities like I used to do. I’d just like everyday life without pain.
People tell me my problems are because I’m not eating. It’s the other way around, but they don’t understand that. They think I’m faking this crap.
I hate it when people compare themselves to me. And they do it all the time. Saying things like, “I got back problems, too.” They think their problems are the same as mine. Sometimes they’ll say, “It seems like you’re doing fine to me, walking around.” Even people don’t have any health problems at all say that stuff. What can I do?
I want to tell them that everybody’s different. It’s crazy. I can barely walk anymore. They don’t get that. They don’t take that into account.
So, this is what I’d say to people: judge yourself before you judge someone else. And let’s bring some more business to town, too.
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