Paul Stufflebeam loves his freedom, his job and his favorite pastime. His eyes widen, his voice gains volume and his speech accelerates when he’s asked about them.

So the Lewiston man puts his money where his mouth is, morphing those interests into an activity helping people who don’t have those luxuries.

That’s why he taught female prisoners how to hand-tie fishing flies and slip them into glass balls, sold them to Wal-Mart as Christmas ornaments and is donating the proceeds to a fund that helps families of deployed military personnel.

And you thought your ceramic elves and macram snowmen were unique.

“It’s not about the money, for me,” Stufflebeam said. “If you’ve got something good and do it the right way, the money will come.”

Stufflebeam could use the cash. When he launched Megaflies of Maine three years ago, he juggled the upstart business with a 9-to-5 life.

Now, crafting these lures has become his career year-round. He says that thanks to Mainers’ loyalty to Maine-made outdoor products, it’s becoming lucrative. Enough, even, that he can afford to think about doing something for the greater good.

So his entrepreneurial spirit triggered a quirky chain of thinking: What if an outdoorsy family with spring fever could hook one of my lures on their Christmas tree? What if my assembly line weren’t limited to me, myself and I? Where could I find a captive, eager audience? And who could use my help over the holidays?

Brainstorm

His brainstorm arrived one day as he drove past the Maine Correctional Center in South Windham.

“I stopped by the side of the road and thought to myself that I bet they’d be grateful to have somebody come in and offer them a distraction,” Stufflebeam said.

Ten women took Stufflebeam’s class, which was the equivalent of volunteering for full-time work. Stufflebeam commuted to the center for eight months, making three visits per week to teach inmates the craft and oversee the production of his festive flies.

Stufflebeam’s students worked five seven-hour days, as they often do in the prison garment, upholstery and wood shops for a small wage. He said their smiles were contagious.

“The looks on faces were worth every minute I put in. You know, I couldn’t imagine being behind the same walls every day, never going anywhere or doing anything new,” Stufflebeam said. “They were so grateful to have somebody come in. And it gave them skills they’ll need when they get back out in the world. Discipline. Responsibility. What a work environment is like.”

Using the flair he learned when he was “old enough to sit around a fly-tying table and not injure myself,” Stufflebeam said, he took some of his early creations to Wal-Mart and asked a supervisor to compare it to similar fishing products made overseas.

In 19 Wal-Marts around New England

Wal-Mart liked what it saw. Stufflebeam now is an authorized vendor to 19 of the chain stores in Maine and New Hampshire.

“It always struck me that they never sold any hand-tied flies,” Stufflebeam said. “But of course we all still walked down the aisle and looked. I think that quality is important to people in Maine. What’s a guy in Africa know about a gray ghost’?”, he asked, naming one of the popular flies.

Stufflebeam believes most local Wal-Marts are charging between $4 and $5 for his homemade slice of holiday spirit. He said the fly ornaments are available in Auburn, Farmington, Oxford and Mexico.

He’s signing over the check from the ornaments to a rainy-day fund operated by Camp Keyes, the Maine Army National Guard headquarters in Augusta.

That fund helps families connected with every armed service branch pay their utility bills and meet other basic needs while their loved ones are deployed.

For Stufflebeam, who served a four-year Navy hitch aboard the aircraft carrier Kittyhawk in the 1970s, the end result of this project reflects everything that’s important to him.

“I served my country then, and we need to be a team now,” Stufflebeam said. “It all starts with one person.”

Preferably, a person with passion, compassion and a cool idea.

Kalle Oakes is the Sun Journal’s columnist. His e-mail is [email protected].