“You’re a doll!” I told Myrtle McKenna.

“Well, yes, I am a doll, ain’t I?” the Rumford Historical Society archivist countered.

Myrtle called me back yesterday to tell me who Guy F. Hosmer was. He came to Rumford Falls from Rhode Island in 1916. He served as assistant engineer at the mill for the rest of his life, which wasn’t very long: Hosmer died in 1928 at the tender age of 50.

Like many other newcomers, Mr. Hosmer, who never married, lived at the Mechanics Institute (Greater Rumford Community Center). He was a civic leader and, at his death, honored by selectmen in a proclamation in the town report. It spoke of his compassion and off his work in the public interest. His impact lasted. Ten years after his death, when Work Progress Administration workers shaped the town’s fabled athletic complex, it was dedicated to Guy Hosmer.

Could he have imagined how the former Bisbee Farm – acquired, no doubt, by Waldo Pettingill for Chisholm’s power plant – would look today? What a spread!

In perfect November weather, we walked our permanently-a-pup along the trail at Hosmer Field last Sunday. I blush as I write that this was the first time we’d taken that walk. It is simply beautiful, with turns that bring you to the banks of the Swift and glimpses of the tennis and basketball courts. Two picnic areas. A relic from ancient days: a small tower, with stairs to the top level. We couldn’t figure out what purpose it once served. Would make a good platform for sighting deer.

The trail, opened for public use in 1992, is maybe half a mile end to end. It is very clean.

There are two “Dog Pot” dispensers – thanks for cleaning up after your dog; www.dogpot.com. The trail is paved and broad.

Very little traffic. A couple of kids were skateboarding on the basketball court hardtop. Bruce Farrin was hustling along away from town. We met a blond Pekinese named Scooter, a speed walker with ski poles, and one runner.

Why did we walk the Hosmer Field trail this particular November Sunday, Veterans Day? In part to celebrate my return from the land of the undead flu ghouls. In part, too, to tread the hallowed ground of The Falcons.

Fair-weather sports fan that we are, the challenges and trials of Mountain Valley’s football team didn’t sink in till their unpleasant loss to the Capers several weeks ago. The after-game behavior of the victors and their fans then was a lesson in sportsmanship and, no doubt, a powerful motivator for last Saturday’s game.

Hannaford customers here got news of the win Saturday before the boys could get out of the locker room. “Attention Hannaford customers. The Mountain Valley Falcons defeated the Capers 10 to zero this afternoon.” A cheer went up in every aisle. On the early news, a Falcon player spoke graciously of the opposition. In the sports section of the Sun Journal the next day, however, the tone was rather different. Kalle Oakes – a vivid and entertaining writer – compared the two teams: “…burbs vs. boonies, Chevies vs. Saabs….” and the Falcons’ coach called the team mill town rats. But they’re Falcons. They don’t scuttle. They soar.

Linda Farr Macgregor lives with her husband, Jim, in Rumford. She is a freelance writer and author of Rumford Stories. Contact her: [email protected]