As we sat down with our mishmash of leftovers for our last night in Maine, I was only peripherally aware of the single, older gentleman loitering about the campground lobster pot. With the threat of a tropical storm stymying our plans, I was more than preoccupied with the how and when we going to get back to New York. (Spoiler alert: I made Grace get up at 2am. She was thrilled. Fear not – we’re still on speaking terms and hey we made it back across the LI Sound on a ferry. Win-win if you ask me.) Also, any extra mental reserves were spent dreamily reminiscing of our day’s activities.
Inspired by our surroundings and a slow morning, Grace and I had spent the afternoon lazily paddling from one island to another, which dot along the inner coastal Atlantic. It was one of those days when you know in the moment it is something to be treasured. While we never ventured too far from our launch, we spent much of the day by ourselves save for an island with an old quarry at it’s heart. In true New Yorker fashion we managed to meet a couple of newlywed Brooklynites. We discussed the surprises encounters that occur when one ventures away from the concrete jungle while snacking and sunbathing on the boulders that made up the shorefront. After parting ways with our new friends and a much regretted dip in some fresh water, we continued on, stopping at the next public island which just do happened to have a little beach that was protected from the intermittent winds which helped make up for the previous stop’s poor decision-making. As we continued to weave around the marine isles, the only other creatures to be seen were the occasional otter and a multitude of waterfowl and shorebirds. We returned to the campground as the sun began to sink behind the ancient pines, adding some pink and orange hues to the evening sky to help ease us back to reality.
By the time the responsibilities of kayak-returning and human/dog-cleaning were finished, any reinvigoration from an afternoon of island exploration had been mostly re-focused on the aforementioned extenuating circumstances of our trip’s end. We set up our array of snacks and munched away while I did my best to coral Charles the Feminist why planning our return trip home. I did not anticipate that I would soon be involved in a lengthy conversation with the fellow over by the lobster pot.
There were certain aspects of this gentleman I noticed right away -probably a familiar thought to anyone who finds themselves as single, young-ish ladies – he was older, presumably my parents’ age, did not have a wedding ring on, and seemed to be by himself. Again, in the purely judgmental sense, not someone I would have pursued a conversation with. Not because this equates to an individual being creepy (he was not) but because the threat of it is there and most of the time I simply don’t want to deal with it. Despite of or perhaps more likely due to my various distractions, we eased into the standard interaction of where are you from and what do you do. However the discussion quickly veered off from formalities and I found myself seated across the way from a very angry individual. Not at me, mind you, but at the universe it seemed that had allowed such atrocities in his life to occur. The issue at the heart of this surprised me. From his outward proclamations, it would appear that all of this pent up emotion was centered on inadequate pay for his profession, interspersed with vitriol regarding the current administration, a certain ‘crooked’ politician, and a variety of sexist and/or racist comments.
The catch here though was he genuinely trying to be understood and from what I gathered he was a nice guy. I understand the notion of ‘good intentions don’t matter’ and I am guilty of harboring such sentiments but in this moment his intentions were of the utmost importance - if only because it enabled me to be open to a change in perspective. While my initial internal reaction was to focus on weaknesses in his argument in order to take it apart piece by piece (thanks for those genes, Dad), instead I simply listened. I’m not entirely sure why either. It’s not as though I have some super human power of patience and/or compassion. Maybe I was still reveling in our dreamy adventure, or I was influenced by the still and weight of the evening sea air, or maybe even I was just too tired to argue after a few long days with pre-dawn risings. Whatever the reason, it was a fortunate reaction. There would have been no benefit from behaving in a confrontational manner. Oftentimes people just want to be heard and I forget this because being a person myself, I want to tell my story. I want my experiences to be validated, for my thoughts to matter. I want to be known without being exposed. How rare is it though that I grant that opportunity to the people that I meet. As the conversation lingered on, he recalled episodes of profound sadness and it was in those moments that his particular worldview began to have some context. He felt letdown by society - that his hard work and perseverance were for naught. After all he had overcome, where was the fulfillment of his American dream? I became preoccupied with the root of his pain rather than focusing on its symptoms and by doing so I ended up just feeling sympathetic.
It wasn’t all tales of disappointments and despair. When the topic ever so lightly shifted, every so often a smile would flash across his face such as when describing his love of navigating the Maine coastal waters by kayak or recounting a time of childhood impishness where he grew up in the Midwest. He spoke with emotion as he shared the pride he felt at finally accomplishing his professional goals. And he even managed to express some hope at what the future may hold, if only to return to Stonington the following summer. Ultimately, behind the tirade and misplaced advice was a person venturing through life and just trying to make sense of it all.
post script:
i by no means think i had a perfect response to this encounter but it did get me thinking quite a bit throughout the weeks that follow. how often do i hear someone say something i disagree with or at worse find offense in and instead of rejecting the words, i reject the person. i think there is a balance in all of this but a personal life lesson nonetheless. yay for adulting.
notes:
we stayed at the old quarry campground and absolutely loved it. there are limited campsites available so i would recommend reserving a spot sooner than later. given our last minute plans, we stayed in an overflow site which happened to be a waterfront patch of grass on the owner’s front yard. it was lovely, especially for a first time camper. we also rented our kayak from them and found the staff to be incredibly helpful with planning the perfect afternoon excursion. oh and if you are going to get lobster, buy it there – it goes straight from the sea to the pot.
i still dream of returning for a backpacking adventure at the nearby isle au haut. thus far it’s been my favorite spot in acadia national park.
don’t be like us and drive to maine for a three day weekend. make it at minimum a five day adventure and congratulate yourself for taking the time to sleep during your vacation.