Lawreston
En-Route
http://knox.villagesoup.com/news/story/a-s-fales-son-closing-its-doors/414212
The little town of Cushing, ME is, collectively, in tears with the sudden death of John Fales. At 61, 6 years younger than I who lived less than a mile away, John carried on the tradition. It's a town and surrounding towns' emotional earthquake. If ever a town could have a First Family, FALES is it in Cushing. I've known three of the six generations: John Richard, Richard Irving, and Irving Augustas. My father knew one back from there; and my grandfather knew the next one back.
The little store, the longest continued family-owned operation in Maine, is where my Dad bought cigarettes at $3.35 a carton; and my first Harley Davidson would fill at 22.9 cents per gallon of gasoline. Where else might one see the latest Andrew Wyeth painting propped up on the ice cream freezer: one of Alvaro "Gramp" Olson(brother of "Christina"), and hear locals comment,"Ayuh, looks jus' like 'im."
I took pictures at the 180th birthday party; and until I was routed off the roof -- "safety concerns" -- by the fire department whose ladder a friend had "swiped" off the side of the department's tanker, more photos of John's Life Celebration. As far as the eyes could see, cars were parked on both sides of the road. How fortunate I, having gone back home on Memorial Day weekend to tend to the family plots, that I had stopped at the store to see John. And now he's gone and so will be the nucleus where my father was the official Keeper of the Coffee Urn for the breakfast club at the store after Dad retired. RIP John; I just don't know what to say.
The little town of Cushing, ME is, collectively, in tears with the sudden death of John Fales. At 61, 6 years younger than I who lived less than a mile away, John carried on the tradition. It's a town and surrounding towns' emotional earthquake. If ever a town could have a First Family, FALES is it in Cushing. I've known three of the six generations: John Richard, Richard Irving, and Irving Augustas. My father knew one back from there; and my grandfather knew the next one back.
The little store, the longest continued family-owned operation in Maine, is where my Dad bought cigarettes at $3.35 a carton; and my first Harley Davidson would fill at 22.9 cents per gallon of gasoline. Where else might one see the latest Andrew Wyeth painting propped up on the ice cream freezer: one of Alvaro "Gramp" Olson(brother of "Christina"), and hear locals comment,"Ayuh, looks jus' like 'im."
I took pictures at the 180th birthday party; and until I was routed off the roof -- "safety concerns" -- by the fire department whose ladder a friend had "swiped" off the side of the department's tanker, more photos of John's Life Celebration. As far as the eyes could see, cars were parked on both sides of the road. How fortunate I, having gone back home on Memorial Day weekend to tend to the family plots, that I had stopped at the store to see John. And now he's gone and so will be the nucleus where my father was the official Keeper of the Coffee Urn for the breakfast club at the store after Dad retired. RIP John; I just don't know what to say.
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