Our visit to Maine led us to Portland’s Wadsworth Longfellow House, the home of poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow until he left to teach at Bowdoin College.
The home has been painstakingly restored by the Maine Historical Society whose headquarters are located next door. Our very knowledgeable and enthusiastic docent is a member of the society. The home had been donated to the society by Longfellow’s daughter, Ann, who died in 1902. Most of the furnishings are original, and those reproductions such as wallpaper, carpeting, floor coverings, and curtains have been carefully reproduced based on notes, letter, and remaining artifacts.
There are quite a few pieces that really catch the interest as well as the imagination. The house belonged to Longfellow’s grandfather who served with George Washington during the Revolutionary War. In the house are three important examples of his high regard for Washington. The first is an engraving of Washington on horseback; the second is a pitcher decorated with Washington’s portrait and regarded as such a treasure that it was used only at Christmas; the third is an engraving of Washington ascending to heaven. These three artifacts tell an entire story of a man’s feelings.
Some of the furnishings were brought up from Longfellow’s home in Cambridge when he was a professor at Harvard. Included in this group are his Chickering piano and his flute. The poet, famous for “Song of Hiawatha,” “The Children’s Hour,” “Paul Revere’s Ride,” and other familiar poems, was also an accomplished musician.
I learned quite a bit about Longfellow, so highly regarded that a plaque honoring him has a place in Westminster Abbey’s Poet’s Corner, a place where I’ve stood in awe at the great men and women represented in that shrine.
On the walls of the house hang pictures of the older Longfellow, the one we’re familiar—a stern man sporting a long, flowing white beard. What I didn’t know was the tragic story behind that beard.
Longfellow’s second wife used wax to seal envelopes filled with locks of her children’s hair. As she did this one day, her dress caught fire, and though Longfellow tried to smother the flames, she was so severely burned she died the following day. He did not escape unscathed. His neck and face were also burned to such an extent that shaving became almost impossible, hence the flowing beard. And the constant reminder.
Pulling out my dusty and taped copy of Longfellow’s poetry that I inherited from my father, I’ll undoubtedly enjoy the time spent with him even more because of this visit. If you’re in Portland, perhaps taking the ferry to Canada or enjoying a visit to this state, make sure you take some time to visit Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s home.
We have no trouble going into the ocean which is a rather chilly 68°, but what the heck. It’s so hot on the beach. The water is refreshing. Some of us get tossed around a bit including me. Getting out of the water is a lot more difficult. The strong undertow keeps knocking me over and I get slammed around and tossed head over heels under the waves a few times. But I don't get hurt, and I find the experience more embarrassing than frightening. There is a man, however, who emerges with a chest scraped and raw. He was beaten down by the waves and pulled by their power across the pebbly bottom. Still, fighting the waves is part of the fun of the beach, and we do it enthusiastically. 
Other beachgoers are loving it. Some dig in the sand and build their own “levees” to hold back the flood. We’ve become used to seeing levees fail, and these do, allowing the ocean to sweep across the beach to form lakes and gullies wherever a declivity exists. That’s fun too, and the children splash or ride their boogie boards on these shallow ponds.
Leaving the beach around 5 PM each day, we four head to the rooftop spa and deck of our hotel, and we watch from on high the futile attempts to stem the tide. The water gets rougher and rougher and floods the entire stretch of sand. 
Rehoboth Beach is a beautiful city established in 1873 specifically as a resort. Over the years it has been popular to different demographics, and the result is a comfortable mix of people looking for a peaceful beach, good restaurants, interesting shops and an “olde tyme” feeling. If that’s what you’re looking for, you’ll find it all here. 
The main street is great. You walk past the big gazebo where you hear big band sounds on Saturday night. A trolley runs to other beaches in the area. Shops line the streets. One interesting aspect is that many shops have several outlets. There are several Grotto Pizzas (we didn’t try them) and Thrashers French Fries—a long-time staple. These french fries, vinegary and salty, are sold only at Rehoboth Beach. We tried them—Rob and I shared a $4.00 medium bucket. It’s huge. And nice. The repetition of outlets cuts down on the lines, and that’s pretty good on a hot day at the beach when you’re yearning for a nibble. 
I had to pop into Gidgets Gadjets to buy my sister a present. It hearkens back to our childhood and one of her favorite puppet characters. Of course I stopped in Del Sol but not before we watched a street chess game. 
Back on the boardwalk the atmosphere changes at the gazebo. Walk in one direction and you stroll past restaurants and hotels. The boardwalk is lined with benches just right for people watching. What is notable is that Rehobeth Beach is not lined with bars as so many other beaches are. If you’re into a louder scene, you have to move to beaches south of Rehoboth.
