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THE DREADED QUESTIONS REDUX
BY DANIEL W. DRAKE ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
Recently, a friend, who is going through her papers in preparation for the sale of her house, came across a printed excerpt from Maria Mitchell's diaries entitled "Journal of the Hard Winter." It recounts how, in 1857, the harbor was frozen over for a month, and it tells of both the frustrations of the 30 days of true island fever without mail or newspapers or fresh food and the small joys of poetry "jams" (not Maria's word), having enough provisions (nonetheless), enough firewood ("There are old houses enough to burn." - a sign of the times!) and learning to play whist.
On this sunny Tuesday morning, your columnist overslept and could not rouse himself to creativity. Sensing that leaving the stand-in editor in the lurch would not be the right thing to do, your columnist's wife suggested picking up on the Maria Mitchell theme and reprising a column about our winters on Nantucket as our summer visitors start to return. So, with slight editing, here is the column from Sept. 1, 2004.
The dreaded questions erupt from the lips of partners in conversation even before "How are you?" or "Isn't it gorgeous weather?" They are Pavlovian responses delivered in a tone of incredulity, eyes wide and mouth agape.
The questions come from visitors to Nantucket, from old friends who have lost touch with reality and from strangers met in some faraway place. They enter into virtually every conversation with people one has not talked to recently, even though the questioner may have asked others as many times as a Gallup pollster.
The questions are: "You mean you live in Nantucket all year around?" invariably followed by "What do you do in the winter?"
They cannot be escaped, nor, unfortunately, can they be ignored lest the questioners' worst suspicions be confirmed. And sometimes, the second question is repeated after a brief time lapse, because the A) questioner is testing to see whether you can remember the answer you gave the first time, B) whether you will indeed start to blabber or C) because he or she doesn't like - or believe - the first response
For the most part, the answer is simple. Yes, we do live in Nantucket year around. And, yes, believe it or not, our behavior patterns very much follow those of people who spend the winters in Weston or New Canaan or Bernardsville. And - to immediately address the third question that everyone is thinking but doesn't usually ask - no, most of us, probably in a number proportionate to the good residents of the aforementioned towns, do not swap spouses or live-ins, or engage in other nefarious or felonious activities.
What we do, perhaps more than our counterparts elsewhere, is enjoy the place where we live. We revel in its beauty, in its contrasts, in its solitude and in its people. There is little that comes close to the joy of a walk on the beach at Christmas, or watching the old squaws in January, trekking Sanford Farm in February, or smelling the first hint of spring on the bluff at Sankaty during an early March golf game. From the isolation of Coskata, through the beckoning warmth of town, to the vistas of Eel Point, there are so many places to explore and enjoy.
Most of us work, if not for remuneration, then for psychic reward. From the building trades, to the scallopers, from the shopkeepers to the town workers, from the teachers to the innkeepers, there is always much to do for the present as well as for the upcoming season. Some of us work to get a newspaper out each week.
Hundreds of people devote countless hours to insuring the viability and effectiveness of the island's voluntary organizations.
We do things we cannot do in the summer. We go to stores we didn't visit in the season because we were too busy. We paint; we knit; we make furniture or repair things; we take classes.
We enjoy community theater and concerts. A group faithfully goes to the movies every Sunday afternoon. If we need more of a culture fix, we will go to Boston. For a shopping addict, there are many routes to satisfaction. We are distracted by politics and governmental maneuverings, and spend most of the nights of one week in April immersed in Town Meeting.
We get together with our "winter friends" and relax and have time to enjoy each other. We may go out for a cozy dinner at one of the spots that stay open throughout the year. Admittedly, we do tell stories about the summer folk, but it's all in good fun. Of course, like everyone, everywhere, a bit of gossip is exchanged.
Some of us partake of the delights, or shared misery, of the local watering holes. These places are bright and usually cheerful oases, as they are in most towns. And, yes some of us may imbibe a bit more than we should, and hammer our thumbs the next morning, but it is not a local preoccupation any more than it is in other places.
Some of us take a few weeks - or months - off in the winter and head for warmer climates or other jobs in other communities. We are always glad to be home again.
Nantucketers are commuters, but we have it in perspective. We don't have to deal with train schedules or interstates, and if we plan carefully, we can miss the 10 minutes of morning and evening rush hour by the high school.
In sum, we are grandparents, parents, singles and schoolchildren. We breathe and eat and sleep. Occasionally, if we have time, we even watch television or a video.
Take our word for it, we year 'rounders are pretty much normal people living normal winter lives. There is no secret. We sincerely hope you will never ask again. Better still, we hope we won't have to answer. But be forewarned, if our mental health is questioned, we have the ability to react swiftly and with utter ruthlessness. Caveat emptor, as it were.
In the early 21st century, the authorities won't let us burn old houses. We are not frozen in as long as occurred 150 years ago, and if we were, we might not handle it with the same equanimity as Maria Mitchell implies of her day, given the different pace and expectations of today's world.
Nonetheless, I believe we would retain our sense of humor, as did Maria when she said "the subject which I have drawn for the next poem is 'Sunrise' about which I know very little." That is, if no one asks us "How do you
survive the winter?" I
The "Lighthouse Keeper" reflects the views of the author and does not necessarily represent the editorial position of The Nantucket Independent. Comments are welcome and may be sent to drake@nantucketindependent. com.
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