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It is possible, to get up very early in the morning in Deer
Isle, Maine – middle of the night is more like it – and drive the hour and a
half to Bangor International Airport in the dark, and after a series of
flights, find yourself somewhere in the middle of the day in the middle of the
continent, not far from another major airport, but not close to anything at all
that would make you feel … somewhere. Certainly very far from the nearest
ocean. The lack of somewhere-ness is as strong an attribute to the place as its
features: the highways and concrete buildings containing the things people need
to live: shelter, food, stuff- all of these offerings wrapped into the same
shell- the same shape and color scheme as anywhere else you might find them in
North America. And it might occur to you that once upon a time, having returned
to the US from a couple of years abroad, you thought maybe I could get a job at that airport and live in one of those…
units. Lots of people do it, how bad can it be?
How bad can it be? Most of the people there are obviously
more affluent than we are. The highways are packed with new cars, and former
farmland sprouts new house after new house, connected by networks of fresh
black asphalt. There’s tasteful landscaping- little trees and shrubs rising
from tiny islands of artificially-colored bark mulch and acres upon acres of
freshly-sodded lawn. There are schools and parks (and lots of big,
warehouse-like churches) and mile after mile of strip malls containing things
you can buy and even things you can do- movies, nail salons, and well-
shopping. There are the schools and other municipal buildings for recreation.
And of course there’s stuff on TV, and here I’m just taking a wild guess, but
there’s probably a huge television in most of these living units, a TV like the
one in the motel room that seems inclined to show me ‘reality’ shows about
‘real’ people out in the rest of the world somewhere doing ‘real’ things. You
know, real things like pawn shops and storage units full of stuff that you can
buy and sell.
Okay, I’m intrigued by the show about treehouses. Heck, I’m
intrigued by it all, especially when it’s after midnight in a motel room and
I’m wondering about all this stuff I’m missing. And it will occur to me that
our life could have been much different had we made a few different choices
along the way. Even the choice, right now, to be here in Maine in January
instead of someplace south, someplace warmer.
But I’m sitting next to a fire (a
fire that I built with birch bark and junk mail and logs that I split into
splintery strips- not a picture of one on a screen or even a propane flame
created with the push of a button) and out the window I see a grey, blustery
day, waves breaking over the ledge in the mouth of the cove, and wintery clouds
drifting through Eggemoggin Reach. It is freakin’ gorgeous.
We’re here only because of someone’s kindness, because the
choices we’ve made have economically limited our options, given us not much
money and little security… the lack of security and its corresponding lack of
commitment which enabled us to hunker-down here, hoping our savings from summer
work tides us over until the next summer while we pursue our personal
occupations. But we’re here, and with any luck we’ll go for a paddle this
afternoon.
Well, we didn't get out for a paddle that particular afternoon. The wind picked-up, and then the snow and ice followed. Trees blew down, power went out... in other words, it started to really feel like winter. That's when you start watching the forecast even more carefully for those little windows of opportunity, which came over the past couple of days. It's still a little cooler than we would like, but it's a treat to get out at all, and of course, there's nothing like a little travel to more populated and less oceanic parts of the continent to help us appreciate the backyard.
Every moment out there is precious. I think we'll be staying put for awhile.
4 comments:
Michael, both you and Rebecca know how to make the best of this winter, whether kindling a warm, wood-fired stove, or paddling the environs of Deer Isle.
Heck-- the two of you know how to make the best out of life!
Dick Barnes
That looks cold!
This is wonderful and quite informative blog I have learnt so many things from here. John
I always like your posts. The combination of what you do, how you do it, the photography, your writing style and especially your perspective is awesome. Thanks for continuing to share!
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