Dear Maine,

I realize this isn’t the best way to start a love letter, but I always wanted to leave you. As an MTV-watching, TRL-obsessed student at Wells Junior High School, I wanted to move to New York City and be a part of the excitement. In eighth grade I took the bus to Boston alone for the first time, eager to prove I could be a “city kid.” When the Amtrak Downeaster added service in Wells, I must’ve taken that train 20 times in its first few years of operation.

I am writing to you to admit I was wrong. When I released my first album, I was still living in Boston. I mailed some of the CDs to people I thought were important, who could help my music get heard. That is to say, I mailed them all to Maine. I mailed Preposterously Dank to the station that raised me, 94.3 WCYY in Portland. I mailed them to the now-deceased hip-hop station Red Hot 95.9 WRED. I didn’t know any big record label executives or national DJs. All I knew was Maine.

Within two years, those CDs I had mailed from Boston to Maine led to relationships, almost all of which I maintain 12 years later. And I think that’s really what Maine is about for me: the people. I love Square Pond and Ogunquit Beach and Flo’s Hot Dogs and Congdon’s Doughnuts and Bissell Brothers beer. But, really, I love the people who make those places and things special.