There are two kinds of people in Lisbon Falls, Maine, and its surrounding area: those who know Gerry Hobart and those who will know Gerry Hobart.
Gerry Hobart is my grandfather, and the following two stories about him merely serve as illustrations to my first point.
When I was approximately seven years old, as I seem to be whenever I attempt to recall an early childhood memory, I was at the local Food City (the old gray one that had sloping and humped floors, which was torn down also when I was approximately seven) with my mother. A kindly woman engaged me in conversation at the check-out line while my mother kept a watchful eye. She asked me what my favorite subject was in school and other such questions you ask a child. She remarked to me, but mostly to my mom, that we looked familiar. My mom shared her name…
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