I am propelled by days that begin on the water, days that begin with a crossing. Crossings connect news from up the bay with discussions begun a few weeks back, when we met bundled up to avoid the early July chill. These crossings and the island time that follow inform where we are all headed.
Once landed, the rhythm is unmistakable, intentional and still easy. First to the fishing co-op, then the store, and on to the home of a friend, we share news of family, fishing and fragility from one island to another. We are eager to share, to learn.
An hour later we make our way down the road, into the church basement, community hall, the Odd Fellows hall. As we enter, there are brief but enthusiastic hellos and hugs. Then a pause to observe the room, organized into the most intentional of forms, the circle.
Meetings-in-the-round shape my anticipation. This evening I am to be a part of a tradition that will convey the richness of this place to all present.
The seats fill quickly. Some have been on-island for hours, others for months, still others for four generations and for a fortunate few, for months at a time over four generations. Try saying that five times fast!
The economy is on everyone’s mind. Fishing looks bad, again. A fisherman expects “to be up to my neck in bugs and fast,” but “when they hit, they will hit hard and the price will go through the floor again.”
Another in the circle points out that the markets are a mess, “the Canadians have free trade agreement with Europe forcing American lobstermen to look to U.S. and Asian markets.”
There is hope that a more-aggressively funded Maine Lobster Promotion Council—rechristened the Maine Lobster Marketing Collaborative—could help. A scientist living on the island explains, “the stock dynamics are unsustainable,” noting 25 percent growth in landings last year.
“The green crabs are destroying our clamming,” someone says. This gets everyone’s attention and calls for a historical explanation. Two folks share what they remember.
“There were 80 clammers working the island 30 years back, now there are just a handful.”
“Well,” says another, “The bay hasn’t frozen since the early ’80s.”
“The freeze used to kill’em off.”
“It’s just like in the 1950s,” says one of the old time fishermen. “We had warm water back then. Lots of green crabs.”
From another in the circle: “If it happened 60 years back and there was still clamming, then why isn’t there clamming now?”
“Everything’s changed, the ocean’s different.”
A young person in the circle asks, “How come no one is talking about this publicly?” She gets volunteered to write a story for this newspaper. I am asked to organize a speaker to address the community on the effects of climate change in fisheries.
Other topics circulate, including tourism, high-speed broadband, anything that might help with economic diversification. The stories told become part of the community’s story, about the history and how it was different, about who was there, about who led the community through these challenges.
These are comforting stories that tell of how we made it through hard times and will again. Sharing these stories and perspectives in-the-round implies respect for one another. More so, this sharing makes clear the tremendous depth of the circle; historians, financiers, lobstermen, youthful idealists, philanthropists, hard-nosed pragmatists and everything in between.
Some share, as bearers of knowledge. Others question, because they care. Others sit quietly choosing other venues, the store, the ferry, the fishing coop, around a neighbor’s kitchen table. All have come together because they care about the future of their community.
As we leave the circle for the evening, a feeling of concern and comfort permeate, for at this meeting-in-the-round we learned that the challenges ahead are many and great, but that the culture of this place is strong and will endure.
Lest you try to identify your community from these observations, please know that this Field Notes column is an amalgam of five community discussions and many more personal discussions that I participated in during the month of July. The sharing will continue, and the circle’s strength will grow.