A few months ago, I wrote about two memoirs written by Nova Scotian authors. Today, I have three more Maritimes memoirs for you – one from Nova Scotia and two from New Brunswick.

Chasing Paradise by Chris Benjamin (Pottersfield Press)

In May, 2001–just as I was welcoming my first baby into the world–Chris Benjamin set out across Canada with his thumb, a tent, and a longing for purpose; an attempt to run away from student debt, and towards something more meaningful.

I loved reading about Chris’s youthful journey across Canada and down through the United States, but have had a hard time summing it up in a satisfactory way. Do I focus on his Kerouac references? The people he meets along the way? His search for love? His need to put off settling down? His experience working on organic farms? His reflections on the state of the world? His observations of people, particularly the before and after of 9/11? His Greyhound bus trip? The turning point he comes to while locked in a jail cell in New Orleans? Or maybe the dream I had that Chris and I were riding a bicycle built for three? Yes, let’s go with the dream… Chris was in front, I was in the middle, and my younger brother was on the back. Chris drove us into the woods (even though I wondered, as we passed a Superstore, if we should stop for groceries), and when we came out the other side there was a huge dinosaur made of cookies.

Once I thought about it, I realized my dream was like Chris’s journey; we wanted to get away (from a crowded house party), so we made our escape. It was great flying through the trees, but I felt like I had to keep checking on my brother to make sure he hadn’t fallen off the back of the bike. Like a responsibility I just couldn’t shake. Like the things that follow you around no matter how far away you go.

(The giant cookie may have materialized as a result of a marathon viewing of the baking show I had with my daughter, but I like to think it symbolizes all the good things about coming home.)

Sometimes it’s not so bad coming home. Sometimes that’s when you meet the love of your life, settle down, have kids. Write books. (And eat cookies.)

…it’s only now, looking back, that I realize freedom comes more from a sense of meaning than it does from any kind of boundless mobility.

Big Al was my first encounter with what turned out to be a hitchhiking trope, the warm and generous–to his own kind at least–racist. He was the first of many men who picked me up hitchhiking, saying they wanted conversation but who really wanted to share opinions that are unacceptable… The kind of things racists say to other White people and see if they cause discomfort… I never figured out the appropriate response, in part because I felt at their mercy. Selfishly, I didn’t want to get thrown from their vehicle. Sometimes I voiced the offense I felt. Sometimes I tried in vain to convert them. Often I changed the subject.

The chores were diverse. I spent hours on a ladder washing windows… turning compost, picking berries, spreading compost, harvesting seaweed, washing dishes. But mostly I pulled weeds, roots up. The horsetail weeds surely trembled in my shadow. I was their great usurper, unearther, Armageddon in garden gloves. With vicious prejudice I pulled their little tree-like, light green frames from their underground hovel and plopped them into my bucket for compost, the vile ubiquitous garden contaminants.

The bus was never the most convenient mode and I’d come to accept that, even relish delays as valuable reading time, opportunities to listen in on conversations, peek through windows to other people’s lives, and occasionally drop a two-cent nugget of my own. But a Bizarro universe appeared in the vortex of the twin towers. It was as if a curtain had gone up, revealing a world of lurking enemies. Everybody was baffled and everything was doused with fear, revenge lust, and a f*ck-you determination to travel, spend money, and engage in as much of the excess that made America exceptional as humanly possible.

Memories on the Bounty by Janet Coulter Sanford (Nimbus Publishing)

This is a story about friendship and adventure, written about Roy Boutilier’s Bounty adventures by a long-time friend who wanted to help Roy get his memories down before they were lost to dementia.

Roy was just 19-years-old–living and working in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia–when he was “given the chance to join the crew of the newly built replica ship Bounty on her maiden voyage from Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, to Tahiti.” Roy, along with 24 other crew members from Nova Scotia, left Lunenburg in October 1960. “The ship remained in Tahiti for almost a year while MGM Studios filmed the historical drama Mutiny on the Bounty starring Marlon Brando and Trevor Howard. The celebrated movie tells the story of the ill-fated voyage of the original Bounty in 1788.”

As Janet Coulter Sanford relays Roy’s memories to the reader, she also weaves in her experience of working with Roy as his Alzheimer’s progresses, as well as how to create a book out of it all as a first-time author. You can also find good tidbits of information, like how the Bounty replica came to be, superstitions aboard ship (ex: many sailors believed that birds that attach themselves to ships carry the souls of drowned soldiers), Tahitian life in the 60s, the actors on set (Roy insists that Marlon Brando was a “gentleman”), and what became of some of Roy’s crewmates.

The book includes photos of Roy on set in Tahiti, which are a lot of fun to look at. There are also photos of Roy with the author, as well as with old friends and family. I’m struck by how happy Roy looks in all the pictures, past and present.

Roy Boutilier had an amazing adventure in his youth and I’m glad Janet took enough interest in his stories to write them down. A beautiful tribute to friendship and storytelling.

It’s not just a happy story. It’s a story about an ordinary guy who gets an extraordinary opportunity–and is forever grateful.

I Feel Your Stare by Cheryl Gillespie

Cheryl has led an interesting life. As a child she was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, which landed her in the hospital many times, causing her to get behind in school. In addition, her condition led to several surgeries on her eyes, and eventually the loss of her vision. But Cheryl was a smart, determined girl and it would take a lot more than that to stop her.

Cheryl’s parents sent her to the Halifax School for the Blind, where she went months at a time without seeing her family. As the oldest of four siblings, she couldn’t expect her parents to always be by her side. My heart hurt for the little girl who spent a lot of time lying in Montreal hospital beds and Halifax dormitories, missing her family back home in Fredericton.

After six years of attending HSB, Cheryl decided she wanted to finish her schooling at the public school so she could be at home. It was a rough go at times, but she clawed her way to graduation, and after high school, pursued a career in music.

More than anything, it was me and my Willis upright grand which defined my days with a sense of purpose. The practice of music… was rewarding for my body and soul, an escape from all my insecurities.

It was a fight to gain her independence, as landlords were wary of taking on a blind tenant, but she eventually found a good apartment and set up as a piano teacher, gaining both physical and financial independence.

“She worked twice as hard as any other student, and proved her only disability was society’s inability to deal with challenge and change.” — Cheryl’s sister, Joan

Those of you who know New Brunswick may recognize some of the places mentioned in the book: Morrell Siding, Gillespie Settlement, Grand Falls, Woodstock, and Fredericton. All of these places have played a special role in Cheryl’s life.

I Feel Your Stare is Cheryl’s second book – her first being a picture book featuring her cats, Tigger and Jasper.

The more Maritime memoirs I read, the more I am amazed at all the interesting stories and amazing people there are right here in the Maritimes.