My mother would sit watching soap operas while I played with trucks or hollered at my brothers and sisters, while I was still in diapers, bouncing off the walls of the house. She often fed me ravioli for lunch, heating it up on the stove and putting it in a dish. I played with it more than I ate it, like a typical youngster.
- Marshfield firefighters fundraise for urgent cancer prevention gear
- Stone Soup Cafe lost to fire on 9/11, firefighters honor the fallen
- Legislative session edges to finale, prison alive on back burner
- Oldest field recordings in world bring Passamaquoddy language, history to life
- Indian Day Celebration to be held this weekend at Indian Township
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