One day in 1939 a woman named Betsy James was thoughtful enough to introduce her neighbor, Anna Christina Olson, to an artist whose family owned a home in Cushing, Maine. That’s according to records from the Museum of Modern Art, home to a little egg tempera painting titled “Christina’s World” — one of the most recognizable images in the history of American art.

That artist was (if you haven’t guessed) Andrew Wyeth. He became close friends with the Olson family, and over the years created more than 300 drawings and paintings of them and their property. Impressed by Christina’s determined persona — a neuromuscular disorder kept her from walking — he used the thinnest of brushes to capture fine details of the expansive field between her and the Olson home, untraditionally painting her from behind to not only share the property from her perspective, but to illustrate the immense distance she needed to crawl. In 1949, MOMA purchased his opus and catapulted Wyeth to iconic fame. The rest is literally art history.

But there’s plenty more to the story than that. Fast forward to 2026: The Andrew Wyeth Foundation for American Art has just donated that very field, known as Olson Field Preserve, to the Georges River Land Trust for conservation. It will now be open year-round and free to the public for recreation, offering everything from walking paths and swimming to paddling, and when low tide allows, access to the abutting island with its osprey and plentiful tide pools. Meanwhile, free interactive art performances by local artists are also planned throughout the summer. All of the above comes with a parking area shared with The Olson House (currently closed for renovations), which has been owned since 1991 by the Farnsworth Art Museum.

The field and nearby island are now under permanent conservation with the Georges River Land Trust, which will protect wildlife habitat and ensure community access, as well as preserve the historic landscape depicted in Andrew Wyeth’s painting, “Christina’s World.” (Photo courtesy of Georges River Land Trust)

But there’s one crucial player whose role made all of this possible: Betsy, who eventually became Betsy Wyeth.

A year after she introduced Andrew to Christina, and he began work on his masterpiece, Andrew and Betsy fell in love and married. And while it was 55-year-old Christina whom he depicted in the masterpiece, it was in fact 26-year-old Betsy who posed as the model for it. For much of his career, Betsy also served as her husband’s business manager. And it was even she who suggested the name for the painting, to make it clear that it was a psychological portrait, rather than simply a physical depiction or a landscape.

Furthermore, it was she who, years later, bought the field before leaving it to the Wyeth Foundation when she died in 2020. “It’s important to note when Betsy bought the property in the ’90s that it was intentionally preserved,” said Laura West, executive director of the Wyeth Foundation for American Art. “This is another representation of what Midcoast Maine meant to the family.”

In addition to accessing free recreation and nature on the site that inspired one of the state’s greatest artworks, visitors to the preserve will also experience the immersive and ongoing creation of yet more Maine art.

The field and nearby island are now under permanent conservation with the Georges River Land Trust, which will protect wildlife habitat and ensure community access, as well as preserve the historic landscape depicted in Andrew Wyeth’s painting, “Christina’s World.” (Photo courtesy of Georges River Land Trust)

Throughout the summer, beginning with an opening reception in June and a closing event on Aug. 22, Cushing resident and alumni of Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture Lihua Lei Farley will direct performances and installations. Maeve Cosgrove, community engagement manager at Georges River Land Trust, is particularly enthusiastic about one family-friendly event. “The project is called SEEDS and it plays off the idea that the St. George River is a life-giving source,” she says. “We’re working with local fourth graders who will write letters to the river and use organic sculptures in an event that will be a moment to draw kids and families closer to nature.”

It’s just that type of creative programming that creates a new future for the land, said West. “The Land Trust is really going to activate the site, which is something we at the foundation couldn’t do as the owners,” she said. “The board of the foundation is very thoughtful about this legacy and who is the best to carry it on. We think of it ourselves as stewards of the legacy, not the land. Which is exactly why it makes the most sense that we work with them.”

A quick glance back at more history underscores the value of leaning into partners’ expertise.

After “Christina’s World” first became an enormous sensation, it was widely parodied in the ’60s in advertising and other popular messaging to symbolize nearly any kind of out-of-reach goal. When Olson died in 1968, a collector of Wyeth’s work purchased the property and turned the home into a Wyeth museum in 1971, which promptly attracted such a deluge of zealous tourists that exasperated local residents complained. The place was shuttered within a year. In 1995 it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and in 2000 reopened as part of the Farnsworth Art Museum.

So then, is the Georges River Land Trust worried about a repeat of that misbehavior on the 16-acre preserve now?

“Honestly, any time we conserve a property, that concern comes up,” said Cosgrove. “What I’ll say it that we have a really good partner in The Farnsworth Museum — they’re very used to dealing with crowds.”

She also has a solid sense of the historic context, and points out that the preserve is for locals and visitors alike. “Maine is changing as it gets more crowds. But at this point, we’re very much in the business of wanting people to appreciate nature and art, so we’re saying, ‘Come on down.’ ”

Alexandra Hall is a longtime New England lifestyle writer who lives in Maine.

Olson Field Preserve is located off Hathorne Point Road, Cushing. For more, go to georgesriver.org/olson-field-preserve.

You’d think a predator in our own backyard — no matter how far-flung his victims — would be a wake-up call to lawmakers to tackle the growing problem of online sexual exploitation of children. Well, think again.

Sure, Gavin’s wide-ranging national and international exploits made him a natural for federal prosecution. But the mere fact that the Massachusetts State Police received 23,000 reports about child exploitation in 2025 via the CyberTipline — a 77 percent increase over the previous year — would surely indicate the problem is growing right under our noses.

And yet Massachusetts remains an outlier among other states in adapting its own laws to deal with the sexual exploitation and abuse of children generally and its newest manifestation — the proliferation of internet exploitation whether on the so-called dark web or social media outlets.

Massachusetts, for example, remains one of only five states in the nation that has failed to criminalize AI-generated or computer-edited materials involving the sexual exploitation of children.

According to the advocacy group EnoughAbuse.org, half of those laws approved in other states were passed during the 2024-25 legislative cycle. Massachusetts did pass a bill in 2024 to criminalize “deep-fake nudes,” the group noted on its website, but it was not specifically to protect children, nor has anyone been prosecuted under it, according to the website.

And while lawmakers on Beacon Hill have advanced — although not yet passed — legislation to prohibit the use of AI-generated “deep fakes” in election ads and materials, they have not made a similar effort to confront their use to exploit children, whose only “crime” might have been to post a photo on the web that could then be manipulated or “nudified” via AI.

Assistant US Attorney Luke Goldworm, the prosecutor in the Gavin case, told the Globe the exploitation is very real.

“They’re not dots and pixels, ones and zeros,” Goldworm said. “They’re someone’s daughter, granddaughter, sister, niece, and friend. And these crimes steal their innocence. It robs them of the safety all children should feel in their own home.”

The most obvious way to close that gaping loophole in Massachusetts law, advocates say, would be to update the state’s child pornography law.

Today predators are using every available avenue to reach children — including those ubiquitous game boxes. One of Gavin’s victims — the one whose father helped investigators make the case against the Brookline teacher — was a 12-year-old Tennessee girl Gavin managed to find via her Microsoft Xbox.

Meanwhile, states continue to play whack-a-mole with social media companies like Meta and tech giants like Apple, demanding more safety controls to protect children. Apple is now also facing a suit by West Virginia’s attorney general for allegedly knowingly allowing its iCloud storage platform to host illicit images of children. The suit charges that “Rather than implement industry-standard detection tools used by its peers, Apple repeatedly shirked their responsibility to protect children under the guise of user privacy.”

Meanwhile, as predators get ever more savvy about using technology to exploit and victimize children, Massachusetts remains behind the curve even on the simple stuff.

Legislation aimed at mandating education about child sexual abuse prevention for students and school personnel continues to languish. So too enhanced screening for those seeking to work in school systems. And while there’s no evidence that Gavin exploited those in his immediate orbit or that any of his employers knew of his illegal activities, there’s also no reason for Massachusetts not to approve legislation to prevent “passing the trash,” as it’s known — where one school system knowingly passes along those employees guilty of sexual misconduct to another school system.

All of those concepts are included in an omnibus bill, which also would close the age-of-consent loophole that has allowed the sexual exploitation of 16- to 18-year-olds by adults in positions of authority, like teachers, coaches, or counselors. The latter concept has been approved by 39 other states.

But that legislation has been languishing in the House Ways and Means Committee since September.

Sure, tech companies need to do more to protect children. Parents, often bewildered by the technology that seems to be second nature to their children, need to be more vigilant. But there is simply no excuse for Massachusetts lawmakers to ignore legislation that would educate children about the dangers of online sexual abuse and criminalize the conduct of predators in their midst and those who would enable them.

Editorials represent the views of the Boston Globe Editorial Board. Follow us @GlobeOpinion.

When people think of New Hampshire, they usually think of granite, mountains, old white
churches, town greens and long winters. When I think of New Hampshire, I think of our people. I think of the feeling of growing up somewhere where history is not locked away behind museum glass. I think about the feeling of growing up somewhere that teaches you who you are before you are old enough to realize it.

I spent almost my entire childhood in Concord. Every important version of myself exists somewhere in this city. The awkward middle schooler wandering Main Street after school beneath strings of glowing lights. The nervous freshman trying to figure out who he wanted to become. The kid at the Concord Community Music School performing at recitals, hands shaking before walking onstage, discovering that playing guitar could make life feel bigger, brighter and more meaningful.

I think about early mornings rowing on the Merrimack with Concord Crew, the river covered in fog while the oars cut clean lines through the water. Some mornings the river felt silver and still; other mornings the current churned dark beneath us after rain. Watching the seasons change from the water taught me how slowly life transforms without you noticing. Green summer banks fading into fiery October trees, then bare branches outlined against cold winter skies.

The older I get, the more I realize how lucky I was to grow up in a place like Concord. It is not loud about what it offers you. Instead, it gives you something more lasting: community. A kind of closeness that settles into you over time until it becomes part of the way you move through the world.

Some of my strongest memories are simple ones. Walking downtown at sunset when the brick buildings glowed orange in the summer light. The smell of old wood, clay and paint inside Kimball Jenkins after shaping it into a small cup with my hands. Hearing music drift down the halls at the music school before a recital, notes echoing softly through the worn staircases. Sitting outside during Market Days while the streets filled with food vendors, kids running around with lion and fairy face paint, and musicians playing songs that bounced between the old buildings late into the evening air.

There is something deeply comforting about a city that respects its own history. Concord has always felt alive with memory to me. The old houses, white church steeples and worn wooden floors in certain buildings remind you that generations of people have passed through before you. It feels like people here understand that preserving history is care. They protect what matters because they believe future generations deserve to experience it too.

I think that shaped me more than I realized at the time.

New Hampshire taught me to slow down enough to notice things. The sound of leaves moving in the woods by my house. Snow falling silently outside during the winter, making the entire world pause for a moment. Long walks downtown where you somehow always recognized someone. Even the “between places” mattered: the trails, forests, rivers and back roads that reminded you the world was larger than your own worries.

As a senior in high school, I’m getting ready to leave for Dartmouth College this fall, and it doesn’t feel like I’m stepping away from home so much as moving deeper into it. I chose Dartmouth because it’s still rooted in the same landscape that shaped me. The woods, the cold rivers, the long winters and the quiet sense of space that feels so distinctly New Hampshire. Growing up in Concord, so many of the people I met, families at the YMCA, volunteers at the planetarium, friends of friends, teachers and mentors, seemed to have some connection back to Dartmouth, as if it were part of the state’s shared geography rather than something separate from it. Because of that, it already felt present in my life long before I applied. Leaving for Hanover feels like a continuation: not like leaving home, but like walking along the same trails I’ve always known, just farther into the trees.

Concord gave me my first experiences with art, music, friendship, independence and becoming part of something larger than myself. It gave me room to grow while still making me feel supported. It taught me that community is built through ordinary moments repeated over time until they become the foundation of who you are.

To me, New Hampshire means roots. It means history that still breathes. It means creativity, kindness, old buildings, deep winters, rivers at sunrise, summer festivals and long walks through the woods. Most of all, it means home.

Vaibhav Rastogi is a senior a Brady Bishop High School. He lives in Concord.