My husband Bruce and I often take walks together in the late afternoon. It gives us time to catch up with each other and a chance to stretch our legs after work.
On one afternoon in August, Bruce went for the walk but I opted to ride my bike to the town dock to see if the UPS package I was expecting had arrived. On Islesford, this is referred to as “checking the building.”
UPS delivers packages to the Beal and Bunker truck in Northeast Harbor, where they are signed for and loaded on to the ferry. Great Cranberry packages ride on one side of the boat, Islesford packages on the other. Sounds simple, but with quadrupled populations on each island in the summer there are often many, many packages for the mailboat crew to handle in August.
Once off the boat, they all end up in a little building at the town dock on their respective islands, regardless of the street address printed on the label. These package rooms are easily filled to the brim, so it’s best to pick up your parcels on the day they arrive to make room for the next batch that will arrive tomorrow.
When I checked the building, I found my small package along with two others that were too large to manage on my bike. I rode home, got in our car and went back to the dock for the other two packages.
“Well, why didn’t you and Bruce just walk to the dock together, pick up all three packages and walk home, killing two birds with one stone while not adding to your carbon footprint?” one might ask. The answer is, “Because we planned on having an early dinner.”
It’s an August phenomenon in the Cranberry Isles that you can not travel on foot from point A to point B without seeing at least three people you know with whom you’ve not had time to catch up. Either they are leaving soon, or you’re leaving soon, or you’re both leaving soon, and this may be your only chance to see each other.
They may have an invitation for you, or you may have a message for them and neither of you has been home to check your answering machine. With no cell coverage at your house you don’t own a smart phone and they don’t have Internet service at their house causing you to miss making the modern connections with each other. These are people you really want to see, so you take the time to stop and visit.
On another afternoon Bruce went for a walk while I stayed home to fix dinner. Two hours later, when he was not yet home, I figured he had run into someone he hadn’t seen for a while. I was almost right. He had been approached by a woman running down the street toward him asking, “Are you Mr. Fernald?”
“Yes, I’m one of them,” he answered.
“But are you this one?” she questioned as she pulled a copy of Trevor Corson’s book, The Secret Life of Lobsters, from her bag. She and her husband had sailed across the Atlantic from Holland and were staying on their boat in the Islesford harbor. She was looking for Bruce to sign their book. Bruce and his new friends ended up sharing stories over a few beers at the Islesford Dock Restaurant, an opportunity he would have missed if he hadn’t stopped to talk.
There are times when it’s necessary to get from point A to point B without the interruption of a conversation. This is when having a car or truck comes in handy. You can nod and wave to your friends and get where you’re going in predictable time. A bicycle is the next best thing, allowing one to whiz by purposefully with just enough time to say an earnest, “Hey! Let’s catch up soon!”, though it is still not 100 percent effective if you think you need to avoid speaking with people.
About seven years ago, I was baking and I needed milk to complete the recipe. I had already seen all the people I cared to see for the day and I really couldn’t stand the thought of interrupting my solitude. Out of desperation, I got out a paper bag, cut holes for my eyes and my mouth and wore it. I rode to the store and back in total anonymity and record time. I removed the bag while in the store and Soos exclaimed, “I really had no idea that was you!”
I’m pleased to say I have not felt the need to use it since, but the idea lives as a successful one in my introvert tool box.
This summer I made an effort to allow extra time for people when I left my house. I still felt frazzled and overwhelmed at times, but I enjoyed my summer more than I have in a long time. It’s actually a lot more fun to laugh with a friend over the fact that it takes an hour and a half to get down the road, than it is to wear a bag over your head.
Barbara Fernald lives on Little Cranberry Island (Islesford).
