Even as a young kid, I was skeptical of Disney movies.
Sure, I loved dressing up in princess costumes with my cousins. I was sure that one day I would have a library as magnificent as the one in Beauty and the Beast. I had no problem believing that animals could talk or that my toys come alive when I’m not looking.
But the idea that some knight in shining armor would come riding in on a white horse to save the day? I never bought that. I like doing things on my own.
When I first moved out to Isle au Haut I maintained my “I can do everything myself, I don’t want to bother anyone” mentality.
For example, I would walk 2-plus miles from the dock to my house with bags full of groceries after having gone shopping on the mainland. I didn’t want to bother anyone for a ride.
Even when people would pull up beside me on the road and offer a lift, I’d just smile and say, “Oh! It’s okay! I need the exercise! But thank you!”
Last week I overheard a conversation that one island resident had with the four boys in our one-room schoolhouse. They were talking about community service.
The man insisted, “You should help people not because it’s required, not because the school is making you. You should help people because it’s the right thing to do. We all help each other survive out here. You can’t do it alone.”
Something in the way he phrased that struck me. I thought about Tracy coming by my house and helping me fix my flat tire, about the group of men who got together to bank up the snow around people’s homes to help prevent pipes from freezing.
I remembered that time Brenda dropped off homemade chicken noodle soup when she heard I had the flu.
Being neighborly isn’t to keep up appearances, or to be perceived as a “good citizen.” It’s because island living is hard. If you’re out here, it’s because you want to be. This isn’t somewhere people just end up. It means something to you to have this wonderful (at times dysfunctional) group of people living out on this giant rock 7 miles off the coast. If you’re out here, you’re willing to help in whatever way you can to keep this community alive.
As the story goes, a few years ago a new teacher came to the island. She sent home emergency contact forms for the students to bring home to their parents. When she was going through the filled out forms a few days later, she noticed that one parent had written “anyone on the island” as who to contact. Confused, the teacher called the parent. The parent explained, “If there’s an emergency and you can’t reach me, I trust anyone out here to make the best decision possible for my child.”
I was rubbing my hands together for warmth this morning as I walked back to my house from the dock. I heard Bill pull up beside me and ask if I wanted a ride up the hill. I threw the door open and hopped in. As it turns out, I’m surrounded by knights in shining armor. Who’d have thought?
Megan Wibberly is an Island Fellow through AmeriCorps and the Island Institute.