I left Mystic at 5:20 a.m. and headed for the Angle Tree Stone in North Attleboro MA. Ruth had given me excellent directions over the phone. I arrived there at 6:40 after following the wandering route through suburban Attleboro. The site is completely unmarked, and there are no references to the stone anywhere in town.
For anyone who is interested in seeing the Angle Tree Stone with Robert Studson (sic) listed, with others, for surveying the site and declaring the boundry, here are good directions:
---From the north take Rt.24 to Rt 495 to Rt 1 south into Attleboro. This is N. Washington St. In the center of town at a building marked "Pace Place" make a right onto High St. Go to the end bending right as High St does. Across from a mailbox marked #657 there is a dirt road that looks more like a driveway for the house you can see in the trees. Don't be discouraged. This is the correct road to access the monument. Drive down the dirt road for about 200 yards to a small parking area. A very short walk will bring you to a glassed in brick enclosure that houses the Angle Tree Stone.---
I was very happy to go there, but the photos I took at 7:00 in the morning did not come out well.

After breakfast at a local snack shop, it was on to Maine.
I arrived in Kennebunk at 11:00 and headed right for the Brick Store Museum at 117 Main St. Some advertising I found says, "The Brick Store's fine research library provides historical information and documentation on local homes, architecture and decorative arts, genealogy, prominent residents and events past and present. Research inquiries and library use are by appointment only." Also, "..the library contains microfilm of the local newspapers dating back to 1877..." I had called the museum from home to ask for help on locating information on my grandfather Merriman and the exact address on Park St. where he and my grandmother, Marion Parker Stetson, lived in the early 1900s.
While I was in the museum, I toured the permanent exhibit area and came upon this display of the Park Street School from 1909. My mother was only age one at that time.

The researcher had found nothing in their records, but recommended that I go to the library to ask about a woman who was putting the real estate records for the whole town on the internet. It was believed she had compiled the records up to about 1920. It turned out that this particular woman was not available, but Susan at the library became interested in my inquiry and started going through old microfisch of Kennebunk newspapers and found Dr. A. C. Merriman's obituary from 1924. She called my cell phone in the afternoon to let me know that she had continued the search after I left. Could I come in before I left for Plymouth MA the next day. They were open 10-1 on Saturday. I am amazed that a stranger would go to such trouble.

After leaving the library I went to find Park St. I had not been there since I was 12 and did not have a clear memory of what the old house looked like except that it was white with black shutters. Most homes were like that in earlier days.


Looking north from the air. Parson's Field on Park St.

Also looking north on Park St. at the intersection with Grove St.

At 2:00 I planned to go on the Atlantic Explorer Cruise billed as a "virtual scuba cruise." I quickly grabbed a burger at Mabel's Lobster Claw Restaurant on Ocean Ave and raced back to the Nonantum Resort up the road to catch the ride. I had taken Bonine for seasickness and was looking forward to seeing seals that perch on the rocks off Cape Porpoise. But the weather had other plans. We were beginning to get some chop, but the sky was still clear at sea.

About 20 minutes out, Capt. Mike Day spotted a storm on radar building up on the mainland four miles away. It was headed for Kennebunkport and was intensifying. We got back to port and I got to my car before the storm hit us. It was a real downpour with a great deal of lightening and wind. All the traffic lights were knocked out in Kennebunk and the police and firemen were called out to prevent accidents. We were all very glad not to be on the water. For a brief moment I had thought it might be fun, but that is because the Bonine works so well that I knew I would not be seasick. A pill does not protect against the real danger we were told was at hand.
Most of us were able to return the next day for a great ride.

On the way in, Mike told us about some of the security measures that are taken at what is sometimes the summer White House. For instance, there are large white bouys marking a perimiter at a specified distance from Walker Point. When "43" is here travel is restricted to outside this area. The Secret Service inspects all fishermen and captains earning a living locally before they go out to sea and then rechecks them on their return. Also, all members of the families of these men go through background checks. No one who has not been checked, including passengers, may go anywhere within the boundry. Originally the security people had wanted to restrict the area completely. But the Bushes indicated that people had to be able to earn a living, and this plan has worked out well.

Of course, not everyone realizes who the locals are in Kennebunkport. Mike told us of one of his passengers on a cruise who sat with little opera glasses staring at the shore on a trip out one morning. She never changed her position. Mike could stand it no longer and asked her, "What do you see out there?" "You're never going to believe this," she whispered. "There's a woman at that house who looks just like Barbara Bush"

That afternoon I drove around Ocean Ave to see the coastline.

An antique MG seems just right for an area that still has an old feeling to it. The car came in to the pier in Cape Porpoise as I was leaving. I went back to Kennebunk to really see the area, and returned to Kennebunkport to walk around and stop for dinner. I had a very nice veal piccata at The Port Bistro, also known as Gail's-to-Go on Union Square. I sat outside on the deck while the sun set.

I went to my motel and found that they had given my room away even though I had told them I would be checking in LATE. I had thought I would be on a boat and would then have dinner before coming back to their location. They knew this and gave the room away anyway.
I was advised to head north toward Portland and look for some place that was not filled on a weekend in August. The toll-taker at I-95 advised that I pull into a parking lot near some buildings on Rt 35 and sleep the night in the car.

I was once advised by a policeman years ago that I should go to a police station if I found myself stranded at night. The police would find a place for a woman traveling alone to sleep for the night even if it meant staying in an empty jail cell. They care about safety.

What I did find was the night manager at a hotel in Saco who knew that another unrelated hotel in South Portland had a few vacancies that night. I was rescued. I didn't get to bed until 12:30.

Photo of Park St. playground from the air found on the internet.

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