Looking out at the budding leaves and the boats in the harbor (sorry, couldn’t help rubbing it in), there’s a summer feel in the air. Sue Wheaton tackled my lawn a couple days ago, shaking her weed-whacker in the air and warning me to stay out of her way.
Like many coastal Maine communities, Swan’s Island transforms in the warmer months. Ferry lines lengthen, beaches fill and out-of-state license plates make my own New York car blend in a little.
There are as many island opinions on this as there are islanders—some hate the crowds and fuss, some love the excitement and seeing old and new friends, and some are just too busy working to care much.
There’s a long tradition of “summer people” out here, though the nature of vacationing has shifted. Originally, people didn’t drive way the heck up here to rent a place for a week or so. If you came out, it was for the long haul. “Teachers and preachers” had summers free and their families made up the bulk of the early summer residents.
Since they were around for months at a time and Swan’s Island isn’t exactly packed with theme parks and all-night discos, these families fell into the swing of island living. They went to potlucks and church events, their kids made local friends, and all in all they just became part of the community.
It’s a little different now, since people just plain don’t have enough time to become part of things. If you’ve only got a one or two week vacation, how can you form the same connections?
There are plenty of exceptions, including the long-time summer people who have retired to make their year-round home here. There’s no doubt that seasonal residents have and continue to make many contributions to Swan’s Island.
In the early 1900s the Lees and the Boones came to Swan’s Island from Maryland. The original families and their descendants have been spending summers here ever since. According to Sally Lee, a third generation summer person, they had some memorable times.
Sally told me about her father Tyson Lee and godfather Teen Boone coming home late from a party on the mainland. They made it into a weir and somehow sank the boat. She heard screaming.
“I was probably 5 or 6 or something, and I remember my mother getting a flashlight and running down. And she told me when she got down, there was my godfather, in a dinghy, in a tuxedo, rowing into shore. And all he said to her was ‘Save Tyson.’ And stuff like that was not always happening, but, you know, pretty regularly happening.”
Between cocktail parties, houses catching on fire and tuxedo-clad men in sinking boats, the early summer crowd must have been as good as a sitcom.
It took a unique type of person to choose Swan’s Island as their vacation home. Many came out before there was electricity, indoor plumbing or ferry access. It was an adventure.
Sally explained why she keeps coming back.
“My mom told me that when she first came to this house, almost everything was painted brown. And she said, ‘You know, someone must have had a gallon of brown paint. And so that’s what they painted everything.’ And that’s kind of fun—figuring it out. I like that idea that if you’re making something and you don’t have [the ingredients] you have to change the recipe.
“I mean, I know it’s really quaint because I come from New York where you can get everything. The other day I made a pie, an apple pie. I went and picked the apples and then I made the pie. And then I took it to the church lunch. And it just, you know, made me feel good. I know it’s completely stupid, and an illusion of something. But that’s just it.”
There’s that indefinable thing that draws people out here—whether for vacations or for the rest of their lives. You can get natural beauty in plenty of places, but out here there are deeper connections to people and memories. Everyone’s got a reason to keep coming back.
Kaitlin Webber is an Island Fellow on Swan’s Island through AmeriCorps and the Island Institute.