If you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting a person I choose to call a character, you’ve missed out on some of the best things in life. Perhaps you have met one and run scared in the opposite direction. A character is someone unique, a “oner” they have been called. They are people with a different take on life, someone with a varied past.

All too often we are mired in the moment, striving to make a buck, worrying about what a neighbor might be doing to reduce your property values. I would suppose in lots of ways, we could say the world has gotten far too serious. I fear we are so far into ourselves that when the last of life’s true characters are gone, all that will be left are a few tales to tell from those who want to remember.

Last evening my wife and I went out to a nearby diner and had a bite to eat and decided, after satiated, we needed a ride in the country (it’s all relative you know). We found ourselves taking in some scenes as we slowly bumped along the Grover Hill Road eventually landing in Mason Township. For those who don’t know, Maine still has several “unorganized townships”. These are areas where there is no official town government to steal your property rights away and tell you what you can’t do with your land, etc. But don’t get too excited. The state is eager to step up to the plate and assume that role.

We took a drive up one side of the Pleasant River, past the old Mason Township School House, which now looks like it has been converted to someone’s residence. We didn’t go far and turned around. We later crossed a one lane bridge over the same river and turned left onto the King’s Highway.

I struggled trying to remember who lived where and where the old (now new, old) Grover Farm sat. It had been several years since I had been up that way. I did recall and shared with my wife a time perhaps as long as 25 years ago, that I traveled up the dead end King’s Highway to a wood lot owned then by Robert Swain of Andover. I had gotten permission to go on his lot and clean up tree tops for firewood. Mr. Swain had sent a logger in there with horses to selectively harvest some of his timber. When this is done, back then, the tops of the trees are cut off and left laying in the forest. This provided a great way for people like me to get my winter’s supply of firewood, providing I could find a willing landowner.

What I recall most of going up there is that I was warned that in the last house on the end of the road, a man lived who claimed to be a caretaker of the property. It was a charming piece of property, nestled at the foot of the White Mountains, near or bordering directly on National Forest land.

The land may have been charming but the man living there surely wasn’t. On my first trip out with a pick-up truck full of cut and split firewood, I was greeted with the hollow end of a twelve gauge shotgun. The old recluse sprung from the bushes and stood between me and my truck and my destination. I had options but none I considered under the circumstances.

It took some time to talk him into believing I was there by permission and he let me go. I told him I would be returning in an hour or so. He didn’t bother me again.

As we plugged along the Highway, we took notice of several places where the road had some washouts from all the heavy rain we have been having. As we pitched over a rise, we came upon a man and his dog. As we passed him, I waved and told my wife I thought that was Richard Grover, one of the many members of the Grover family that fills this area of Mason with years of history.

We went a few hundred yards further and turned around, knowing the road would dead end shortly. When we returned, we stopped to chat with Mr. Grover and his dog Snuffy.

I have known to some degree a few of the Grovers over the years and it can be said that most, if not all, the Grovers fall into the category of being “characters”. Richard is no exception.

While living in Florida, my wife and I visit the website of the local weekly newspaper here in Bethel. If you visit that page, look to the right under the column of “Town News”. Scroll down a bit and click on the link for “Mason”. Richard has a weekly article there. For some you’ll enjoy it. For others, you are certainly missing out.

When my son and I began opening up our websites, one of them being Maine Outdoors Today, I was looking for great Maine writings to include. I wanted to get Richard’s articles republished but had some difficulty with copyrights, so I left it alone.

However, Richard remembered I had inquired about his writing and he commenced to tell me that after his father passes, he was sure to have some very interesting stories to tell. It seems that the elder Grover doesn’t care too much to have his stories spread around.

Although I hesitate to show my eagerness to hear the stories as it would mean the passing of a good man, it is important that his stories be told and passed down. I can only hope that somehow I can be a part of that.

As we reluctantly left Richard and Snuffy to battle the black flies and mosquitoes by themselves, I said to my wife, “What’s going to happen when all the characters are gone from this life?”

After a brief discussion, we both sat in silence for a bit and headed our vehicle back toward camp, somehow feeling a bit saddened, knowing that one of life’s greatest thrills might someday be only tall tales.

Tom Remington