Will Pratt

Will Pratt, the son of a mechanic and waitress at Moody’s, is Assistant Director of Public Works in Waldoboro.  In that role, he checks our roads and bridges, keeps the trucks readied, and maintains the town’s recreational facilities and parks.  And he’s young by Waldoboro standards, especially as a newly elected Town Selectman. Will sees the many parts of Waldoboro.  After high school, he lobstered for several years and clammed for another four.  He loves this river.  But he’s left it for a farm in North Waldoboro that’s not quite self-sufficient, but almost.  And if this isn’t enough, he’s a husband and the father of two daughters, for whom he always makes time to read to.

Some of the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets are at Pitcher’s Cove.  I’d see them driving in and out of Harlan Creamer’s to board the Michelle Anne, and I’d tell myself, that’s where I’m getting married. And about ten years later, I did.

I like to stand here and think about all the generations, both native and European, who settled, lived, and died here.  Raising families as I am doing now.  The river was the road and the force of all commerce then. 

It was always the biggest employer in this town.  Today it’s Waldoboro’s biggest employer with over 150 guys clamming the shores.  You have to be self-sufficient because things happen.  Once I found myself up to my shoulders in the mud.  I’d stepped in a honey pot.  I was alone.  But I knew not to fight it.  I put my arms out and leaned forward.  I spread out my weight and slowly clawed out.  I was lucky.   To make a living you have to be hard-working.  January is when the rivers freeze up, the price is low and the open mud, scarce.  Your fingers and toes get so cold you can’t feel them.  But you keep working because you have a family at home.  You have to be tough.  No matter what the weather, you’re always racing against the tide and sometimes it’s two tides. These are the qualities I think define the people of Waldoboro.

But growing up here had its magic.  When I was three, I rode an elephant.  In Waldoboro!  Afterwards I thought it couldn’t have been in town.  But the circus had set up tents in the AD Gray parking lot.  It really happened that one year.

And then there was Main Street with the 5&10 store and candies and toys for a kid like me.  And a barber shop with buzzing clippers and old men in their chairs and the smell of aftershaves.  Waldoboro even had summer outdoor dances at the corner of Main with local bands.  I used to go as a kid and then before they stopped, with my wife.  She thought it was the neatest thing.

I always wanted to be an archaeologist or historian.  In the flats I’d look for arrowheads and artifacts.  Once I found a fragment of an old clay pipe from the settlers.  And I’ve picked up a few flints… nothing of big.  Mostly I gobbled up everything I could learn about the early settlers and before.  I read like crazy.  Borrowed books from my grandfather, friends, and the library.  I talked with local historians like Jean Lawrence and Bill Maxwell.

My grandfather Francis Cross was the vice principal at Medomak Valley High School.  Of anyone, he influenced me the most.  He grew up way north.  His dad was a lumberjack.  But food was scarce. They made do by picking over the harvested crops at local farms.  My grandfather changed his fate.  He studied and earned a scholarship to University of Maine at Orono.  Days were for classes and labs, and nights were for working at the Pepsi Bottling Plant and squeezing in studies. He got a degree in biology. 

Coming from the north, and then here in Waldoboro, he got to know all kinds of people.  He respected them.  My grandfather believed in listening, hearing all sides.  But he didn’t like excuses.  “You make your own choices,” he’d say.  On the other hand, he was always there for others. “If you can help somebody, you should,” he told me.  I’ve never forgotten that.

I had a period of several years of what I’d call serious depression, maybe when I was maybe 18 or 20.  It affected me deeply.  I made lot of bad decisions.  I’d get close to people, but then they disappointed me, and I’d shut them out.  And at work, if someone criticized me, I’d quit or walk off the job – instead of building on it. 

And then one day, I was reading about Roman history and I stumbled on Marcus Aurelius.  He ruled over an empire that spanned countries and continents.  But he stayed calm, even with that responsibility and power.  I wondered how he did it, and I kept studying him.  I read about his philosophy: “Think of yourself as dead.  You have lived your life.  Now take what’s left and live it properly.” 

Did I want to go to my deathbed living my life this way?  It spurred me to become involved in the town.  I used it to become a better husband and father.  I changed.

I don’t agree with everything in Stoicism.  I could never be unemotional about a sick child.  But it’s helped me make decisions rationally, not emotionally.  To hear both sides of the argument without prejudice.  There’s a heart to Stoicism and these days that is what I’m living by.  As Seneca wrote: “Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness.”  My grandfather would have agreed.