March 15th – The Cost of Compromise

March 15th, 1820. Maine entered the Union.

Not with fanfare. Not with fists pounding the table.

Maine came in quiet, steady—like someone you’d want standing next to you in a storm.

It had been Massachusetts once, but by then, it had carved out its own place.

Hard land. Cold water. People who worked with their hands and spoke with their silences.

She brought with her forests that built fleets, rivers that fed cities, and men who carved their names into the beams of tall ships and sent them to sea.

She was free soil. A promise, some thought, that America could still grow without blood on its hands.

At least, that’s what they told themselves.

But no one enters the Family without a favor owed.

And Maine? Maine was brought in as part of a deal.

That’s the thing about compromise.

They say it’s the foundation of peace.

But peace, in this world, is just the time between wars.

When both sides have respect, when both sides act in good faith, compromise builds something lasting.

A union. A country. A family.

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