Words by Greg Elder | Photo by Nicole Wolf
Twenty years ago, I arrived in Maine carrying pieces of three different lives. I grew up and started a family in Minnesota, then spent formative years in the Pacific Northwest, surrounded by mountains and water. When I came east for a job, I expected Maine to be a chapter. I did not expect it to become home.
I moved here a few months ahead of my family so our kids could finish the school year in Seattle. In those first weeks, I set out to figure out where we might put down roots. After work, I would drive to a different town, find a Little League field, and sit alone in the bleachers listening to the conversations around me. It sounds unusual, but it told me everything I needed to know. I could hear the values in those voices: modesty, humor, practicality, kindness. I knew almost immediately that Mainers were my kind of people, and when school let out, my family moved here sight unseen.
Maine has a way of cutting through the noise. Nothing here pretends to be easier than it is. The winters are honest. The coastline is untamed. The woods seem endless. People here do not spend much time telling you who they are—they show you. They get up early. They fix what is broken. They look out for their neighbors. And when something does not work, they do not complain endlessly, they roll up their sleeves and get to it.
Coming from the Midwest, I recognized that sensibility right away. Maine and Minnesota are different places, but they share a respect for effort, humility, and self-reliance. Over time, I have come to admire Mainers more than I can fully express. There is a quiet pride here, a seriousness about doing your part, and a belief that progress should be earned. Maine is not slow. It is deliberate. It values substance over flash, commitment over convenience, and building something sturdy enough to stand up to a nor’easter.
My connection to Maine deepened through time outdoors. Some of my clearest memories here are not tied to meetings or milestones, but to time with my family in the places that make this state so extraordinary: an early morning run in untouched, knee-deep powder at Saddleback with my daughter, a summer hike up Mt. Katahdin with my son, mornings on the water, long rides on rural roads, and the unmistakable mix of salt air and balsam. Maine reminds you that nature is not something to occasionally visit. Here, it becomes part of everyday life. The seasons mark time in a way that teaches patience, gratitude, and perspective.
That understanding of Maine has shaped the way I think about leadership, community, and work. I came here because of L.L.Bean, and over the years I have come to appreciate just how deeply the company reflects the state itself. It was built on practicality, durability, and a belief that life is better when experienced outdoors. In many ways, the character of Maine and the character of L.L.Bean are inseparable: authentic, dependable, and hardworking.
But what truly transformed Maine from a destination into home has been the life my family built here. Our children grew up with Maine summers and snowy driveways, campfires, lakes, and small-town traditions. Some of our closest friendships were formed here too, relationships built not through convenience but through trust, shared experience, and community. Maine still values connection. Neighbors help neighbors. Friends show up. Character always shows.
When I think about what Maine means to me now, it is difficult to separate the landscape from the people. The rocky coastline, the tall pines, and the cold Atlantic are inseparable from the character of those who live beside them. Maine has taught me that fulfillment rarely comes from excess or speed. It comes from purpose, relationships, meaningful work, and connection to something larger than yourself. I moved here 20 years ago thinking I was changing geography.
What I did not realize was that Maine would change me.