“First Person” shares the stories of people who make a life here, in their words. Conversations are edited for clarity and length.
Family and friends gathered in early July to celebrate the 80th birthday of West Harpswell resident Marolyn Bibber, who has dedicated a half-century to serving her family and community as a mother, lobsterwoman, Girl Scout leader, swimming instructor, and advanced emergency medical technician with Harpswell Neck’s volunteer fire and rescue service.
When you’re younger, you figure you’re going to do this job and live that way for the rest of your life, but you don’t. I grew up in the suburbs of Silver Springs, Maryland. My father was an electrical engineer who designed guided missile systems for the Navy, and I went to college and taught elementary school. I never would have imagined that I would move to Maine, marry a fisherman and haul lobster traps. But that’s what I did.
I came to Harpswell 50 years ago, when I was 30. I had left my first husband; it was a bad situation. My older sister, Dr. Barbara D’Onofrio, had moved to Maine to practice as a veterinarian. She told me she didn’t want to talk to me again until I was on her back porch. So I showed up on her back porch. It was my first time in Maine; I came in winter, ill dressed and ill prepared.
Barbara met a fisherman, Dain Allen (of Allen’s Seafood). Dain would take his dog into her clinic, and through him I met my future husband. Bobby Bibber was a lobsterman, very gentle and very smart; he could build anything. Once I took him to Washington, D.C., and he couldn’t wait to get back here. He was awake all night with all the noise, the traffic and the sirens. He said, “Where’s the water?” I took him to the Potomac River and he said, “That’s the water?”
Bobby built us a house on Harpswell Neck with a home on top and lobster tanks below. He was able to catch a few blue lobsters and those went on display in the tank. He added other marine life, including dogfish sharks, sturgeon and scallops. When people would come to buy lobsters, we’d show them the critters. Scallops are kind of fun; you take them out and people want to get close and look at them. Then they squirt!
We had two children together, Cynthia and Heather. Their bedrooms looked out at the bait coolers, so they got to watch the guys loading redfish into the barrels, where I had the job of salting them. I taught the girls to swim and we took them on the boat with us. They’d ride in the bait barrels and go swimming off the back. Bobby and I were always working, so the children pretty much took care of themselves — swimming, playing in the mud flats, riding their bicycles down the hill to the company Bobby co-founded, Interstate Lobster.
We lost a couple of Harpswell fishermen to drowning because they hadn’t learned to swim. It’s terrible when a fisherman can’t swim. Some people started a swim program for Harpswell kids and I taught in it for 26 years. They started at Potts Point. Can you imagine learning to swim at Potts Point? Seaweed, critters and cold. But then the program moved to the indoor pool at Bowdoin College, which was wonderful. Every Friday morning, we’d take a busload of kids. West Harpswell had two kids try out for the Olympics. I feel good about helping the young people learn; you don’t have to be an Olympian. Just be able to enjoy the water and save yourself.
I also helped with Girl Scouts. One day, when we were doing an event at the Elijah Kellogg Church, another adult had an asthma attack and became unconscious. I knew CPR and, today, the lady’s still with us. One of the other parents was Joyce Thomas, who was rescue chief of Harpswell Neck Fire and Rescue. She told me, “Since you were able to do that, why don’t you come help us?” My backing skills leave a lot to be desired, so rather than becoming an ambulance driver, I trained to be an EMT.
That was in 1999 and I’ve been doing it ever since. Sometimes you can make a difference, and sometimes you can’t. But it’s a good feeling at the end of the day; you did what you could. My fellow responders are really the salt of the Earth; they’re like family.
Most of the time, once you take someone to the hospital, the story ends for us. Unless they talk to us, we don’t know the outcome. One time a grandmother wanted me to look at her grandson, who had fallen out of a pickup truck on his head. I suspected a brain injury and took him to the hospital in Brunswick. They LifeFlighted him to Maine Medical Center in Portland. He was bleeding inside the brain, but he recovered and he’s fishing now.
My husband lobstered until about the very end. Bobby died almost three years ago and I miss him terribly. If I got a rescue call in the middle of the night, he’d get up, turn the car on, shovel the snow and get me out. He wouldn’t just plow me out; he’d plow for the ambulance at the scene. I think some people call during snowstorms just so they can get plowed out.
I just celebrated my 80th birthday, but I am going to continue to serve. It means I get out of the house, you know? I have a purpose in life. I have something to do, something to learn; we’re constantly taking classes to keep up with the medicine. But we need more volunteers. It’s a great way to meet your neighbors, and to help. Plus, it saves you money on your tax bill. If you want lower taxes, volunteer.
