Lobstermen are Hot

The New Yorker arrived in the mail yesterday and I settled down to read it last night and discovered a huge article by Alec Wilkinson about a Maine lobsterman named Ted Ames. It’s a terrific article about one of the toughest, scrappiest guys I’ve ever heard of. At 68 he is still lobstering and is also an expert on cod with a Masters degree in some marine environment discipline. This guy’s story is enough to make darn near anyone feel like a complete wimp.

Ted grew up in Vinalhaven, Maine and, after military service and college, returned to the area. On a nasty winter night he hit a patch of black ice and wound up breaking his neck and other body parts. He still managed to get to a neighbor’s house and knock on the door. Next thing he knew he was in a hospital being told he would never walk again. He didn’t believe it and refused to give in. Obviously, since he is lobstering still, he proved the doctors were wrong.

It’s quite a story! Read it if you get the chance.

Obviously I like lobstermen. And I know a few more things about that business than your average woman from the Allegheny Highlands ought to. What struck me about the article, other than its interesting subject, was that a lengthy article about a lobsterman should just happen to show up in The New Yorker of all places at this time. Not only is it coincidental to the publication of Mark’s book, but another Gloucester lobsterman, Peter Prybot has just released his book about lobstering. His is more of a picture book, filled with photos, and some interesting opinions about how lobsters behave.

As I’ve said before I’m intrigued by synchronicity. Jung’s concept of “coincidences” that are far from coincidental still baffle me but that doesn’t mean I don’t love thinking about them. What’s up with lobstermen? How did they suddenly get so hot?

Mark has been having a lot of fun since his book came out. People are coming up to him and he is selling as many books out of his truck as they are in the bookstores. (There is a slight supply problem — he can’t seem to get delivery as fast as he is going through them. I tell him this is a problem all writers should have.) He told me the other day “I have a groupie.” I told him that would happen. “Yeah,” he says, “but it’s a guy.” Oh. Well.... excuse me if I chuckle.

The guy apparently read the book and found God. He carries it around with him and tries to engage Mark in worshipful conversation every chance he gets. Most people aren’t quite THAT enamored. The guys want to talk about authentic experiences. The women make flattering remarks about the size of his arms. He seems to be coping with both. I wonder if Prybot has these problems.

Well, Americans have always had a fascination with the rugged individualist and, if I’ve learned anything from Mark, it is that there are few professions jam-packed full of rugged individualists than lobstering. That’s an encouraging thought. I’m glad people are fascinated by these guys. For one thing, it sells books but, more importantly to me, it means there is at least a glimmer of hope that the masses are not sinking into mindless, consumer-driven conformity.

I was down at the fish pier last night watching the guys fish for stripers. One guy landed a big one and everyone had to go over and check it out. That guy was thrilled — he and his family will get a few meals from the sea and he’ll get plenty of stories. I like thinking about that.

Buy The New Yorker and read about Ted Ames — and, if you haven’t, buy Mark’s book. These guys are characters — and lobstermen. The world needs more of ‘em.

Thanks for reading.