Fran Pelletier is a rare and wonderful storyteller. He grew up in Milford, Maine, in the 1930s, confessed to all seven sins at his first confession (thinking you had to), proudly wore a "Lindbergh" suit Mama sewed from puce and orange wool (assuring him that aviators needed to be colorful), read aloud to his French-speaking grandfather at the local train station after school, learned about chewing tobacco the hard way, played an unfortunate role in the derailment and subsequent sinking of a Maine Central handcar, and generally thrived in the bosom of his extended Franco-American family. Dogs, trout, and pigs put in appearances; a spectacular mill fire lights the skies; death claims young friends; and Fran learns about life.

Pelletier remembers the details in a series of stories that beg to be read aloud and shared. Authentically small-town America, yet spiced by his French-Canadian heritage, these stories will resonate in communities throughout New England.

After graduating from the University of Maine, Pelletier had a career in the chemical coating business but his avocation has always been literature and words. He lives in New Harbor, Maine.