Gilmore Hilton was born in Damariscotta but raised in Simplex Pond, a tiny town 20 miles northwest of Bangor. A conscientious student and avid reader, Gil had taught himself calculus, translated five books of Vergil’s “The Aeneid” and mastered the game of chess before his 12th birthday. His teachers encouraged his father to send his gifted progeny to Harvard, but Homer objected, “He ain’t going to no college; he’s gotta help me at the store.”

After Homer’s death, Gilmore took total control of the store but continued his studies when time allowed. About 10 of his friends gathered on the first Sunday of every month. We told jokes, lied, swore, reminisced, discussed politics, exaggerated, and talked sports. At the end of each session, the throng turned to Gilmore to summarize the day. Super Bowl Sunday was brought to the same conclusion.

“The Convener” (as we often call Gilmore) alluded to literary figures to make a point: “Cam Newton is Dares in Book V of “The Aeneid.” The pompous punk, teeming with arrogance and hubris, wanted the prize before the fight. The young pugilist said, ‘Since no one dares to face me in the ring, how long do I have to stand here? How long do I wait? Just say the word – and I’ll take the trophy and go home.’”

“Peyton Manning is the 39-year-old Entellus. Modest but confident, Entullus accepts the challenge. As Vergil writes, ‘In a blaze of fury, Entellus pummels Dares over the wide ring. Lefts and rights, doubling blows, no lull, thick and fast as hail stones pelting down from a storm cloud and rattling tin roofs.’”

As we left the store, Gilmore provided some final wisdom from President Kennedy, “When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.” Gilmore is a good man.

Morton Soule is a Latin teacher at Cape Elizabeth High School. He can be reached at mortsoule@gmail.com.