05/03/2025
My handsome , talented , wonderful brother Chase wrote this…🙏🏻
“The Thirteenth Year”
By William Chase Hall
“For nearly twelve years, I’ve kept politics out of my business. My secondhand shop, Epoch, has always been a space where everyone is welcome, Democrats, Republicans, independents, and those who avoid politics altogether. I’ve done this not out of fear, but out of respect. Respect for the human stories behind every customer. Respect for the shared experience of discovering a beautiful object, an old record, a forgotten jacket, a chair that fits just right. That kind of magic, I believed, didn’t need to be clouded by the chaos of red and blue.
But now, as I face what may be my final season in business, I feel a truth rising in me like a tide. And it’s time to speak it.
Because of President Trump’s trade and tariff policies, especially those targeting Canada and Mexico, the fragile ecosystem that sustains coastal towns like mine has been thrown off balance. Here in Maine, we don’t just welcome Canadian tourists, we rely on them. They cross the border, eat in our diners, wander into our shops, and fall in love with our rocky beaches. They support hundreds of small businesses like mine, not just in summer but well into the shoulder seasons. Their absence, triggered by harsh policies and economic retaliation, is felt like a cold wind through empty storefronts.
And if they don’t come this summer, if the tourists don’t return in the numbers we count on, then I don’t think Epoch will make it to its thirteenth year. Halloween night, 2025, will mark twelve years in business. It may be my last.
This is not about political rivalry or finger-pointing. This is about survival. I am not a wealthy man. I am a single father, a shopkeeper, a lover of old things and second chances. I built this store by hand, with more heart than money. And I have made it work through hard winters, rising rent, inflation, and unexpected expenses. But I can’t outrun policy decisions made hundreds of miles away by people who have never stepped foot on Main Street in Belfast, Maine.
I can’t help but wonder, is this what they wanted? Did they want to crush the small towns and shops that depend on international goodwill? Did they want to silence the artists, curators, and caretakers of history who line the cobbled streets with their handmade signs and welcoming eyes?
I don’t want to believe that. I can’t believe that half the human population would intentionally want to see people like me lose everything.
But the reality is there, in black and white. And it’s walking through my door, not as policy, but as silence. As missing footsteps. As vanished dollars. As worry that keeps me up at night.
I’ve always tried to meet the world with love and curiosity. I’ve always believed that a shop can be more than a shop, it can be a place of story, of connection, of warmth. I still believe that.
But belief doesn’t pay the bills.
So I write this not in anger, but in sorrow. In honesty. In the hope that someone, somewhere, hears me. Not just for me, but for every small-town dreamer wondering how to make it one more season. For every shopkeeper wiping the dust off a shelf no one has touched in weeks. For every artist, every gardener, every collector trying to stitch together a life out of passion and thrift.
I hope I’ll see a thirteenth year. But if I don’t, let it be known that I spoke my truth before the door closed.”
With love and hope,
Chase
