The First

When we moved to Islesboro in August of 2009 we were entertained by the islanders' general opinion that this is the 'real world'. We were mainlanders for a lifetime and convinced, as most mainlanders are, that this was far from the real world...at least three and a half miles over the bay, if not much more to what we knew of civilization. Now that we are on our second calendar year and have found ourselves in the community, we are of some of the same persuasion. One year is hardly enough in Maine to claim much, but one year has taught us many things about island life and ourselves. When the winter population is less than four hundred, when the ferry only runs seven times a day, when the two stores on the island close at 5:30 and 6:00PM, life is different. Our kids can ride their bikes, safely. Uninterrupted family life begins when the kids come home from school. Anything you don't have, you don't need. Ama*zon Pri*me becomes a serious good deal. You can and will borrow a cup of something or other from your neighbor. You know everyone that drives by in their car and everyone waves because they know you. Moreover, everyone knows your kids. That basically means that everyone acknowledges each other. If some child slips by on their bike without a helmet, a neighbor will remind them. If the kids leave the light on in the back seat of the car, someone will call. If you need help, there is an island of community. That's the biggest and the most significant difference. Anyone can understand those words but few in the old 'real world' can identify with the experience. The obvious stuff...the natural beauty, the breathtaking colors of the sky, the water, and the coastline, even the rugged, downed evergreen tangles that are typical of the hikes around the island constantly confront our consciousness with what we call, "more than." So much that you just can't take it all in. So much, day after day, that it fills your sense of life. But not even this powerful beauty is as startlingly impressive as the sustained underlying decision on the part of most of the people that you live around to be real community. To matter. To allow you to matter. Trips to the mainland for groceries or new boots are fast because of the ferry but they are also accompanied by the strangest pull to get back to the island, like the band that keeps you is stretched and uncomfortable.