Frank Taylor, at left, of Fairfield, and his friend, John, of Waterville, ride their bikes every day to the RiverWalk at Head of Falls in Waterville, where they discuss everything under the sun. Here, they enjoy Monday’s 50-degree temperatures on the first day of April. Amy Calder/Morning Sentinel
For Frank Taylor and his friend, John, friendship is everything.
The two meet every day in downtown Waterville, no matter the weather. Frank rides his 27-speed bicycle from his home in Fairfield, and John bikes from his city home on Silver Street, less than a mile away.
At 72, Frank said there’s nothing better than having someone you can talk to and trust.
“John and I have been friends for actually a short period of time, but I feel closer to him than anybody I’ve known in the past,” he said. “I probably can understand John more than most people because he’s been through a lot, as I have.”
John, 70, is a quiet man whose tanned face bears a gentle smile. He declined to give his last name, saying he is a private person (“I don’t talk much about my life”). But he feels the same way about Frank.
“He’s somebody I trust. A good friend.”
I met Frank and John Monday on the RiverWalk at Head of Falls, where they sat at a picnic table overlooking the Kennebec River. It was 50 degrees and sunny.
The pair met about three years ago on The Concourse downtown. They had something in common — they both had been biking all their lives.
“I love riding my bicycle,” John said. “I have to do it. I have crippling arthritis.”
Frank Taylor, at left, of Fairfield, and his friend, John, of Waterville, ride their bikes every day to the RiverWalk at Head of Falls in Waterville, where they discuss everything under the sun. Here, they enjoy Monday’s 50-degree temperatures on the first day of April. Amy Calder/Morning Sentinel
A Vietnam veteran, Frank was diagnosed many years ago with complex post-traumatic stress disorder which he developed while serving in the war. It was so bad that when he came out of the service, he couldn’t deal with life and lived in the woods with his dog for 15 years, he said.
“Her name was Misty. She was a white Akita. We played hide-and-go-seek. She walked on the sidewalk and I walked in the street. She was a lady. She knew what to do. She died when she was 18 years old.”
Years after Vietnam, he served in the U.S. Army National Guard and was in the active reserves. Riding a bike has been good for him, both mentally and physically, he said.
“I never had a lot of friends. I’ve been all over the world and I’ve seen a lot of hatred, I’ve seen a lot of bad, I’ve seen a lot of death.”
Frank, who sports a white beard, has a shock of white hair and wears a black POW-MIA cap, said he grew up on the waterfront in Portland, the youngest of six boys.
“That was the main strip for all the wild and crazy bars and strip joints. I made it 56 days in the eighth grade and I got caught with a gun and got thrown out of school.”
As a child, he earned a lot of money shining shoes for sailors who arrived on ships.
“Being around the waterfront, I sold candy, darts. I had more money than you can imagine. I made more money than my father made. On the strip, there was a hotel. My dad was maintenance supervisor and night desk clerk. My mom, she was head chambermaid and head cook. I ran the streets.”
One of his brothers died shortly after birth, he said. Another brother was riding double on a bicycle with a third brother and they were struck by a tractor trailer truck. He was killed instantly and the brother who survived spent four years in the hospital, according to Frank. In 1992, he hanged himself.
“He had spent 45 years in jail. He was a gangster. I’ve got one brother — I think he’s still alive. My oldest brother died of a brain aneurysm.”
Frank spent many years in the town of Norway on a farm he bought and where he raised pigs, chickens, turkeys, beef cows and other animals, he said. He moved to Philadelphia for a while and owned a business where he did carpentry. For 14 years, he lived in a house in Waterville with other veterans before moving to Fairfield.
He and John talked about bike safety and the importance of taking it easy.
“Don’t try to do things fast,” Frank said. “If you stay slow at everything and keep your mind occupied on your surroundings, you get a lot of pleasure from it. It’s a life saver — it really is.”
They reflected on what’s important, in the fourth quarter of their lives when so many people their age are dropping off. Live every day, they said.
“We’ve all got a number,” John said. “We aren’t going to live forever. You just try to enjoy it.”
Amy Calder has been a Morning Sentinel reporter 35 years. Her columns appear here Saturdays. She is the author of the book, “Comfort is an Old Barn,” a collection of her curated columns, published in 2023 by Islandport Press. She may be reached at acalder@centralmaine.com. For previous Reporting Aside columns, go to centralmaine.com
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