"The
Essay" ©Margaret Black
August 9, 1996
GOD'S COUNTRY
Children have their little side benefits. One of which is the opportunity to meet and, if you are very lucky, form friendships with the parents of their peers. Such was our delight when our daughter graduated from the University of Florida and we met the parents of her roommate of five years. Meeting such a lovely couple was a gift in itself, but then to be invited to their vacation home on Chebeague Island in Maine was an unexpected and quite pleasurable bonus.
There are of course more places on this earth that can be described as "God's Country" than I am even aware of. Vancouver Island British Columbia, the Florida swamplands, California Beaches, the lush rainforests of South America name only a few. But as I sat looking out of the bay window of the Buxbaum old but gracious home, looking out onto the icy waters of Casco Bay, admiring the multitude of indigenous wild flowers, and drinking in the solitude of it all, I can surely say that this pristine spot is well deserving of the honored title of "God's Country."
The trip in was one like I have never had before. You can't bring a car on the island. So here is a little bit of how the directions went, "take the Maine turnpike to exit 10, turn left after the toll, follow several winding roads, make a few turns at strategic locations such a the corner store, and wind up at a parking lot. There you lose your grasp on civilization and take the blue bus!" The blue bus is an old converted school bus with a few rows of seats removed from the rear to form the cargo bay. Being a few minutes late, as most newcomers will do, made the old bus driver a little grumpy, but he dutifully helped us load our belongings and we were on our way. The bus took us on a half hour ride along even more winding country roads and then did what no school bus should ever do! The driver stopped the bus, made a sharp turn, then began to back down a very steep embankment that led to the ferry dock! I was quite sure that he was crazy and we were going to wind up getting to Chebeague by swimming. Seeing the terror in our faces improved the bus driver's disposition immensely and hence he expertly came to a stop at the ferry dock. We off-loaded our belongings onto the pier and awaited the island ferry. The ferry arrived right on time and, once loaded, set on its way. We traveled past Cousins and Little John islands and settled in at the Chebeague dock. There we managed our final movement of what we now knew was way too much stuff! We also quickly made the realization that there was not a taxi or public bus system in sight and we may have to hoof it to the Buxbaum house! But the island hospitality became evident as Bob's brother Don (who happens to be the ferry boat captain) loaded us into the back of his pick-up truck along with other vacationing family members and deposited us directly at the Buxbaum vacation home. The short ride to the east end of the island quickly revealed the beauty and serenity of Chebeague.
Situated on the east end of the island and with the most fabulous view of Casco Bay and surrounding Calendar Islands, the Buxbaum home is a mixture of modern and antique that warms the heart immediately upon entry. It boasts four bedrooms and two full baths, a large eat-in kitchen, a spacious family room with a fire place, a small but comfortable TV room, a large screened patio, and neat front porch that quickly became my favorite place. Almost every room has large windows or sliding glass doors with a beautiful view of Casco Bay. Built in the early 1900's its exterior is made of cedar shakes that have grayed with time, steep peaks in the roof, wildflower and primrose landscaping, and has the most wonderful outdoor shower with a stone rock floor. The shower became my second favorite place as I discovered the truly seductive allure of showering in the outdoors. More windows and wall openings have been added to modernize the look but many of the original features have been left intact such as the copper plumbing. The water pump and old plumbing that clangs and groans every time you use any water adds to the flavor of the house and reminded me that most of us take the simplest things like quiet plumbing for granted.
The Buxbaums are gracious hosts to be sure but its not every invite that includes a rusted, 1974 red Ford pick-up truck with a very questionable clutch. During our first trip in the aptly named, Maroon Marauder, I fully expected Fred Flinstone to show up at any moment to elaborate on the details of barefoot starting and heel-to-ground brakes. Gasoline operated vehicles are a luxury on the island and their presence is not a well publicized fact. But if you know the right barge owner (Bob Buxbaum's brother Don - who is also the ferry captain, fireman, island banker, President of the local Elvis fan club, and sometimes 50 cent tour guide – I've even heard that if you are desperate he can pull a tooth!) a homeowner can get a vehicle onto the island.
Riding in the red rusted, gonna-throw-out-the-clutch-at-any-moment, pick-up truck immediately made us locals. Recognition and hand-waving by every passerby was evidence of that. We felt obligated to wave back, but it took a while to find the window handle which sat up on the dash apart from its rightful mechanical place. It sat there almost snickering while watching my husband search for a way to turn down the window so he could return the greetings of the friendly islanders. I haven't figured out yet if they really are friendly or if it is just another example of New England dry humor which would get the biggest kick out of knowing how uncomfortable it makes a city person to wave at a complete stranger. As if the friendliness and recognition wasn't enough, there was the immediate "taxi-status" that we attained by operating a motorized vehicle that gave us our in with the locals.
Taxi-status elevates you to a level of trust and dependence that has long since been abandoned by anyone in the city. People trust people here and will accept a ride to Ed's grocery, the island library, or especially to the ferry dock without hesitation. Vehicle make, model, year, or value has absolutely nothing to do with acceptance. Once we got used to the waving it really wasn't so bad and we decided that people truly are friendly and open on Chebeague.
Now when you're in Rome you must do what the Romans do. So to do what the Chebeaguers do would mean going out in your boat for a day trip or doing some lobstrin' (fishing for lobster). Since we didn't have a boat here, the next best thing was to go to the "butt-yahrd" (boat-yard) to explore and hopefully meet a real live lobsterman. I have always been fascinated by a marina with its cornucopia of colorful, rusted, and oversized objects that have some useful maritime purpose but are very mysterious to a non-boater. The exploration was as much fun as ever, but the high point of the day was meeting Mr. Bob Dyer, a real live lobsterman. Local folks were surprised when we recounted our meeting with Mr. Dyer. They say he is not usually talkative with strangers. But much to our delight a couple of questions somehow incited Mr. Dyer to share some of his life story which included lobstering at the early age of 11, having his own "butt" (boat) and lobster business by 13, plowing snow for the city for more than 50 yrs, and presently running the boat yard. His appearance was not disappointing to my mind's eye and brought to life every detail I've ever seen in an artistic rendering of a fisherman. The leathered skin, callused hands, and long, bold eyebrows, are badges of honor for a hard-working fisherman's life. And each detail of Mr. Dyer's appearance and personality was delightfully intensified by his strong "down east" New England accent. Almost like another language, we had to listen carefully to understand what he meant, but it was well worth the effort.
Although it is small, Chebeague does have one of everything; the Chebeague Inn - a historical inn open in the summer for vacationers, a grocery store, a beauty parlor, a small country club with a 9 hole golf course and a tennis court, a gift shop, a post office, a boat yard, etc. Much to our chagrin (it seemed somehow too city-ish), there is even one taxicab. But what cannot be counted are the multitude of wildflowers, historical points of interest, walking paths just begging for exploration and several miles of beach loaded with mussels for the harvesting. A couple of innovative hors d'oeuvre recipes made with the plentiful mussels freshly picked from the beach sealed our place on the accepted guest list. Chebeague can easily be described as the perfect island getaway for those who are looking for a taste of real "down east" New England island living.
The finishing touches to our trip included a rock climbing trip at Deer Point where the rock cliffs look like weather beaten wood lined with granite and a boat tour around the Calendar Islands that gave us a peak at a large group of Harbor Seals sunning on Basket Ridge. Needless to say, a trip to Chebeague Island is a trip to solitude, beauty, and friendly people that I would repeat many times. I praise the Lord daily for my children. But now I have one more reason to thank him and my children for the opportunity to meet Sue and Bob Buxbaum who shared their piece of heaven with us in "God's Country."