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YiUBVFCKadfHTIr (12/17/2012)
A FISHER SAVED MY LIFE! After my mother's death in 1987 I was very drsseeped. I had lost faith in myself and in life and ended up farming my 2 teenage kids out to friends and going homeless myself. Home, as it were, became the woods of Phippsburg, Maine, where I pitched a tent and furnished it with a cot, a lantern and a camping stove. I kept my clothes in plastic bags. Well, I had been there through the summer and fall, and now it was late November. It was getting very cold and icy rains were falling hard. In fact, I was woken up about midnight one night and the rain was coming down so hard I thought it would flatten the tent. I thought I'd better get up and check the tent poles. So I flung my foot over the side of my cot and, to my utter shock, it plunged into frigid water about half way up my calf! So I yanked it back and grabbed my flashlight. When I swept the inside of the tent with the beam I saw a strange site all of my plastic bags of clothes were floating here and there. The tent was filling with water! I burst into tears and probably added another few inches of water to the flood. But incredibly despite how awful things were, the next day I STILL couldn't bring myself to rent an apartment even though I had $10,000 in the bank! That's how messed up I was. It was going to take something even worse to motivate me. Here's what finally levered me out of my emotional morass: it was the middle of the night, just a few nights later Thanksgiving eve I recall and I was jerked awake by the most god-awful sound. It sounded like a women being murdered and shrieking in the most utter agony! Could it really be that? But then I remembered that there was a local legend about The Phippsburg Shrieker, which was described as a yeti-like monster. And that scared me even more! In any case, it sounded so close that I thought for sure it whether it was a murderer or a monster was going to rip my tent open and kill me! I lay wide awake and shaking, huddled in my sleeping bag, clutching my open jack knife, all night. But that did it. I had finally had enough. So when, the dawn eventually broke an eternity later I took a cautious peek outside, and seeing that the coast was clear, I dove into action: broke camp; threw my gear in my truck; barreled to the nearby town of Bath and rented the first place I looked at which was a half of a duplex on Elm Street. Then I got my stuff out of storage and my kids from friends and we moved in. The place was a dump (but with good-bones ) and my kids dubbed it The Nightmare on Elm Street. But I was so happy to be inside where it was warm and dry, and to have my children with me again that I didn't care. And besides, I love to do extreme make-overs. (This turned out to be very extreme but worth it.) So, on the wings of my new found gratitude and abundance attitude I #1 turned the dump into into a palace, #2 started a new successful business, and #3 transformed my nightmare life into a dream. However, it wasn't until the following June, when I went back to Phippsburg for my birthday celebration, that I discovered exactly what it was that I had heard that terrifying night the November before. My family and I were seated in Spinney's restaurant ordering a lobster dinner and looking out at the sunset over the water. While we were waiting for our meal to come I got talking with some folks at the next table. They were local people I knew slightly. And in the course of conversation I shared the story of my encounter with the Phippsburg Shrieker. As I wrapped it up, I noticed the family exchanging knowing glances and grins. Then, after hemming and hawing a bit the father explained, Ayuh, we git rid of a lot of folks-from-away with thet monst-ah myth. But since you ahn't from too-o-o far away, I'll let you in on the truth. The Shriek-ah is really just a FISH-AH. Ayuh, ayuh, ayuh. Well, we all had a good laugh about that and ever since I have loved fishers, because if it hadn't been for The Phippsburg Shrieker they'd have probably have found my frozen body in that tent come spring.

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