Henry Wright had returned from a trip he had taken to Portland to see his daughter. He had been there a week and it was driving him almost crazy to be away from South Lubec that long.

   “Anything important happened to you while you were in the big city?” Clarence asked him. 

  “Nope, nothing important happened but I did learn a good lesson from my son-in-law. 

   My grandson came home from the movies one Saturday afternoon and he was all out of breath and sweating like a stuck pig. It took him about ten minutes to catch his breath and once he did he said to his parents, 
   “You can’t imagine how smart a son you have. Today, after the movies, I ran home behind a bus and I saved us ten cents." That made sense to me but after thinking about it for a couple minutes his father walked over to him and hit him in the head so hard it knocked him clean off the chair he was sitting on. 
 

“Boy,” he said to his son, “you’re about as smart as a latch on a toilet door. Next time don't run home behind a bus and save ten cents. Run home behind a taxi and save three dollars."

  That son-in-law of mine sure has a good head for figures,” Mr. Wright said as he went back to his peg whittling. 

  I remember one night Mr. Wright had made a statement about a politician that somebody else didn’t agree with. A little discussion started and pretty soon it was a big discussion. A couple older men yelling at each other and all the other regulars just sitting back and listening was an unusual sight for someone my age. The discussion grew to such a pitch I feared someone might go home with a black eye, but good Maineiacs always seem to have a way to avoid fisticuffs. 

   After each person thought he had made his point they settled down. Of course, a real good Maineiac will always try to get in the last word, so when Mr. Wright went silent his opponent said, 
   “Henry Wright, if anyone ever calls you “half right” consider it to be a compliment.