ISLAND RAISED
I wonder if you boys and girls, or if all of us realize that we were lucky to have been born and raised on an island….If anyone ever starts to pity you or if you ever think about feeling sorry for yourself because you live on an island, just forget it. You are much better off than perhaps you know.
Marian Brown, NHHS Class of 1907, Reflecting in the alumni report of the 1931 yearbook
Marian Brown, NHHS Class of 1907, Reflecting in the alumni report of the 1931 yearbook
Annual coastal cleanup, North Haven, 2019
Whether they readily admit it or not, people care deeply about North Haven. Despite the challenges of living miles out to sea, people hold fast to this place, continually working hard to keep North Haven alive for generations to come. In a small, remote community, kids become aware of the interdependence that exists here, with a reliance on the land, the sea, and all those who call this place home.
There is an interdependence. Whether you like someone or not, you get along with them because there may come a day you need them or they need you. So you learn tolerance. You learn to get along.
Bobby Brown, Aging on an Island, a film by Pullstart Pictures, 2016
On North Haven, kids are raised on the freedom to explore the woods, fields, swamps, and beaches, returning home just in time for supper. On North Haven, kids become attuned to the tides, wind, and weather as the rhythms of nature affect livelihoods and travel to and from the island. On North Haven, kids learn that community members take the time to say hello as they meet on the road, at the store, on the ferry, and in the tiny post office.
Traditionally, there have been skills and knowledge only learned by spending time with older generations -- where to fish for mackerel, herring, or lobsters, how to navigate through the fog, how to stack wood and tend a fire, how to knit nets, when to plant a garden or preserve food for winter, and how to clean, create, repair, and build so many, many things. Even in the age of the internet, these skills are still passed down through the generations, with young people learning alongside family members, neighbors, and community elders. While kids on North Haven may grow up without many of the opportunities available on the mainland, they experience a way of life that is rare in many places.
There is an interdependence. Whether you like someone or not, you get along with them because there may come a day you need them or they need you. So you learn tolerance. You learn to get along.
Bobby Brown, Aging on an Island, a film by Pullstart Pictures, 2016
On North Haven, kids are raised on the freedom to explore the woods, fields, swamps, and beaches, returning home just in time for supper. On North Haven, kids become attuned to the tides, wind, and weather as the rhythms of nature affect livelihoods and travel to and from the island. On North Haven, kids learn that community members take the time to say hello as they meet on the road, at the store, on the ferry, and in the tiny post office.
Traditionally, there have been skills and knowledge only learned by spending time with older generations -- where to fish for mackerel, herring, or lobsters, how to navigate through the fog, how to stack wood and tend a fire, how to knit nets, when to plant a garden or preserve food for winter, and how to clean, create, repair, and build so many, many things. Even in the age of the internet, these skills are still passed down through the generations, with young people learning alongside family members, neighbors, and community elders. While kids on North Haven may grow up without many of the opportunities available on the mainland, they experience a way of life that is rare in many places.
Photograph courtesy of Peter Ralston
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As I sit on my porch I hear the sounds of early night.
It’s about quarter of seven, and I can hear the woodcock over in the field
beeping and fluttering in the air.
I can hear the seagulls over on the bar.
I can hear the ducks quacking down in the pond.
I can hear a stream running down by the road.
I can hear a flock of geese fly over, honking in the dark.
I can hear Paul Waterman going up the stretch out by the barn.
I can hear the wire on the poles down by the road.
I hear the fog horn out on Goose Rock.
I hear the bell out on the back side of Stimson’s Island.
If I want to and if I’m real quiet, I can hear just about whatever I want.
Paul Hopkins, age 14, Schooling In Isolated Communities, 1978
It’s about quarter of seven, and I can hear the woodcock over in the field
beeping and fluttering in the air.
I can hear the seagulls over on the bar.
I can hear the ducks quacking down in the pond.
I can hear a stream running down by the road.
I can hear a flock of geese fly over, honking in the dark.
I can hear Paul Waterman going up the stretch out by the barn.
I can hear the wire on the poles down by the road.
I hear the fog horn out on Goose Rock.
I hear the bell out on the back side of Stimson’s Island.
If I want to and if I’m real quiet, I can hear just about whatever I want.
Paul Hopkins, age 14, Schooling In Isolated Communities, 1978