The long Memorial Day weekend will usher in summer and with it, the return of blue herons, black flies and vacationers. Maine’s population will swell like a bloated cow. And with so many strangers around, it’ll be hard to distinguish between thee and me.

That’s when we should call to mind all those sayings passed around during the winter months we Mainers were left alone, those daffy definitions stating exactly what Mainers are all about.

The origins of these are unknown, but they’ve been sent like chain letters to forward to other friends.

For example, you know you’re from Maine if: You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked. And you use a down comforter in the summer.

You know you’re from Maine when you owe more money on your snowmobile than on your car. Or when you know the four seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and construction.

Mainers prefer driving in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow. “Vacation” means going to Bangor for the weekend, and our idea of a traffic jam is 10 cars waiting to pass a tractor on the highway. You know you’re from Maine if you think of the major food groups as moose meat, beer, fish and berries. Or you carry jumper cables in your car and your girlfriend knows how to use them.

You measure distance in hours, and you own only three spices: salt, pepper and ketchup. You know you’re from Maine when you attend a formal event in your best clothes, finest jewelry and your Bean boots. You think the first day of hunting season is a national holiday.

Computer terms mean altogether different things to us Mainers. Such as: hard drive – getting home in the winter; browser – a problem deer in the garden; modem – what we did to the weeds growing in the driveway; and logon – make the wood stove hotter.

You know you’re from Maine if you think a screen saver is duct tape for the torn window screen, or the main frame is what holds the house up. A Web site is what’s found in the corners of high ceilings, and a cursor is, of course, someone who swears.

As for surviving chilly temperatures, Mainers are known to be hearty. At 50 degrees, Californians shiver while Mainers sunbathe; at 40 degrees, Italian cars won’t start, but folks in Maine drive with the windows down. At 20 degrees, Floridians wear coats, gloves and wooly hats. Mainers throw on a sweatshirt, and at 15 degrees, people in Maine have the last cookout before it gets cold.

That’s when the trunk of your car can double as a deep freeze.

You know you’re from Maine when you understand all these jokes. You know you’re from away when you don’t.