In my bedroom closet in Maine, jammed between Happy Meal Inspector Gadgets, mini-skateboards, and homemade Benjamin Franklin puppets, sits a poetry book titled “The ABCs of Maine.” Its author is me, circa 1998, and its concept is simple: each letter of the alphabet begins a Maine-related word. For example: A is for Appalachian Trail.

In it are activities like watching Chickadees (Maine state bird), tracking scat (Maine animal poop), and cutting zucchini (Maine produce). All the poems, however, have something other than Maine in common. See if you can guess what it is.

"H stands for hunting, getting those deer; those darn hunters don't even care!"

"I stands for ice, during a bad storm; it sure isn't very darn warm."

Can't see the poem, but I bet it started with "R stands for racoon" and had the word "darn" in it.

"T stands for tree. You may think trees are in every state; ??? but those states were discovered too late!"

"I pas dere first, Arnold."

Can you guess the theme?

(I’ll give you a hint… it has something to do with the type of boy I told my family, at age 4 or 5, I liked best.)

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