I was born into a family of storytellers.

At any family gathering, my grandparents, parents, uncles and aunts all told stories about our family, neighbors and fellow islanders. And the stories were eagerly listened to no matter how many times they were told.

There seemed to be no end to the tales of heroism, happiness and days of plenty, or tragedy and despair surrounding our Deer Isle community’s history of fishing and farming, sailing and granite quarrying and working in the woods and kitchens.

Stories richly colorful in description, thick in plot and sprinkled with humor were staples of our after-dinner entertainment. Many cold evenings were spent next to my grandparents’ wood stoves listening to local folklore. One tale always led to another. Everyone had stories.

So I guess it shouldn’t be any great surprise that I, too, have become a storyteller, albeit a visual one, depending more on images and less on words.

Where my grandparents once used rich wording to describe an event, I use a photograph or two to capture a moment, convey emotions and set a scene for our readers.

As a contemporary storyteller, I can only hope that some of my stories are as rich, interesting and lasting as those passed down by my family.

I am so appreciative to all the Mainers who allow us into their daily lives to tell their stories so others in the community can share their daily challenges and joys.