Lindsay and Jason were married in the summer of 2007. They began looking at house plans the following winter. Influenced by the framing chisels Jason received as a wedding present, and with the purchase of a sawmill, the young couple worked on their dream of building a house from island wood. They cut trees in the winter, from all over the island, trimming the branches and dragging the logs out of the woods with a winch, and hauling them by tractor to be milled on their property. All of the bark was stripped by hand before the logs were milled. Jason laid out and cut each of the timbers in his shop, measuring many times before using power tools, hand saws and chisels. Some of the timbers had 5 or 6 cuts and some had only one or two. Once they were cut, Jason and Lindsay sanded and oiled each piece before setting it back outside. It took a long time to prepare, measure, and cut the 180 timbers that went into making the frame of their house, but by October 2010 they were ready to be assembled. Island friends gathered to help raise the walls, while more friends watched and marveled at the exact placement of holes and pegs that would hold the frame together. Lindsay has recorded their progress, including some great photographs, in her aptly titled blog, “The Hard Way Home.”
The idea of “home” has been on my mind lately. Maybe it’s from watching the new houses being built, or maybe it’s due to the time of year with the holidays coming up. I thought about home a lot when I recently spent some time away. In early November I left Islesford to stay with my best friend in Rye, New York. The day after I arrived, I took a train to the city, to meet up with more good friends, Dan and Cynthia Lief. Bruce, my lobsterman husband, (who because of his fishing schedule did not drive down with me) arrived at LaGuardia Airport at 11:30 a.m. and met up with us in Chinatown, for lunch. We were in New York for an evening fund raising event to support the Ubuntu Education Fund. Dan and Cynthia’s son, Jacob Lief, is the cofounder and president of this 11 year old organization in Port Elizabeth, South Africa, which “works with children who have been abused, orphaned, infected with or affected by HIV, and assists them over the course of many years to access higher education or employment. Clients receive an individualized plan for themselves and their families, one that aims to stabilize their households so that they can reach their full potential.”
Once at the gala, we sat in awe of the poise with which two teenage girls from Port Elizabeth stood up and addressed 650 guests in the Hammerstein Ballroom. In clear voices, with no notes to read from, they told their stories about parents who died early from HIV/AIDS. One girl became head of her household at age 11, trying to cope with raising younger siblings without any adults in the home. The other told of having to move in with a grandfather who subsequently abused her. The young women spoke of how the Ubuntu counselors had helped them find safe places to live, and to get food for their families. The girls took part in many of Ubuntu’s programs and one of them now attends a university. Thanks to Ubuntu, their success stories are lived by many other at-risk children in Port Elizabeth. At the speeches’ end there was a standing ovation for each of the girls, and people who applauded had tears in their eyes. While most of us could never imagine the hardships these children have endured, we could all relate to the need to feel safe and supported at home.
Three of the large tables in the ballroom were occupied by people with connections to the Cranberry Isles. Islands represented were, Sutton, Great Cranberry, and Islesford. Some attendees were summer residents, and some of us live in the town year round. It was a balm for me to see so many familiar faces from home. No matter how much fun I am having, if I am away from Islesford for more than a few days I get homesick. I carry an ache for my island home, as consistently as I carry my handbag. I can’t think of any other place I’ve ever lived that causes such intense longing to be back home.
One does not need to build a house here to call the island “home.” As a matter of fact, you don’t even have to live here. For families who are scattered, who travel a lot, who have kids away in school for the year, who find themselves moving to a new house or a new city; their island home is truly special. While life is whirling around them like constellations in the night sky, the island is their pole star. You can ask, in summer, where a visitor spends the rest of the year, and they might say Minneapolis, New York, Seattle, or Boston. They will then add the words, while nodding their heads, “But this is our real home. This is where we come together again.” In his poem, “Heartsick in Heaven,” Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. said, “Where we love is home. Home that our feet may leave but not our hearts.” Those of us who find a way to be here all year are pretty darn lucky. There really is no place like it.