Seacoast History Blog #129 
November 1, 2011

TWO NEW PHOTOS ADDED

My neighbor has been working in his garage for months. He always has some wild idea in production. The ideas move through his brain like groceries on a conveyor belt at the check-out counter. There’s no stopping them. If he’s working on one project, he’s dreaming about six more. Making stuff relaxes him, he says, and he needs to relax, because all that thinking is exhausting. My neighbor’s name is Ed, and almost two months ago I stopped by his garage to see what his brain was turning out. He was making a giant paper mache hand.  (Continued below)

I admit, not once in my life has it occurred to me to make a giant hand. Maybe I was out sick that day in school. This one was three or four feet tall, from the bottom of its tightly clenched fist to the tip of the upturned thumb. Ed was patiently layering on strip after strip of wet gluey newspaper.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Whattaya mean?” Ed said as if the question was absurd. “It’s a hand.”

“Is there another one?” I asked. Again the shocked look.

“Of course, there’s another one,” he said, refusing to give an inch.

“What’s it for? “I asked.

“It goes with the head,” Ed said.

“What head?” I asked.

“The giant head,” Ed explained. “It’s not done yet.”

Over the next few weeks Ed worked on the giant head and the giant hands. When the head was done, he spent another week or more making an olive wreath to adorn the giant head. He methodically crafted each leaf and each olive, then assembled them onto a round metal frame and placed the frame on the giant head.

“What’s it mean?” I asked as the project neared conclusion.

“I’m not sure,” Ed said. “What do you think it means?”

Ed was arranging for half a dozen people to carry the giant figure in the annual Portsmouth Halloween parade. They conducted their close-order drill in preparation for a mile-long march through the city streets, but with no fixed purpose.

“I guess it represents optimism,” I said.

“Okay,” Ed said, kicking around the concept. “What else?”

I don’t think my neighbor ever got the idea fully fleshed out. He was too busy working out the logistics, and before we knew, it was Halloween. Ed’s crew ran a practice drill up and down the driveway and around the block. They created a last-minute backpack-style harness for the lead man. They rigged up a toga from a bedsheet.

An hour before the parade I saw Ed walking his dog Milo past our house.

“Why aren’t you running around getting the Ed Head ready?” I asked more nervous than he.

“I’m the manager,” Ed said. “Someone has to run things.”

So apparently it works. Ed was as cool as a cucumber, his mind already dozens of projects into the future. You couldn’t miss the giant puppet as it bobbed through Market Square to the pounding drums and brass bands. Thousands turned out with half of the city watching the other half parade by in their wild inventive costumes.

“Look at that big head!” a woman behind me in the crowd shouted.

“What’s it mean?” her boyfriend shouted back.

“I dunno,” she said. “Thumbs-up to something, I guess.”

“Cool,” her boyfriend said.

Copyright © 2011 by J. Dennis Robinson. All rights reserved.

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Photos by J. Dennis Robinson, Maryellen Burke,
Mary Jo Brown & David Murray