Aloha!

Hi everyone, greetings from the wild eastern frontier (Maine)!

Imagine a place without the following: Squirrels, skunks, raccoons, banks, year round restaurants, traffic lights, official street names, grocery stores, speed limits, laws (for the most part) and single 20-something females.3 weeks ago, I became an introduced species to this place, a small island 3 miles off the coast of Maine. Out of a year round population of 91, I am the ONLY single 20-something female on this island. In simpler terms: 16 to 1 ratio- the 1 being me and the 16 being a fleet of strapping young Lobstermen. This simple ratio will probably provide the fuel for my future emails, so beware.

The only place on the island that accepts money (cash/check/barter) is the town store, which currently has a sign on the door that states: "October Hours- By chance." If you do happen to make it to the store while it is open, you can purchase milk, beer and chips. Really, the store is just a cover for a gossip factory. If my ears tingled every time someone was talking about me, they would be flapping back and forth like a pair of wings. That's what happens when you are the new kid to a community of 85 people. The following statements are real: "Oh you must be Eliza- you really do have nice teeth" (uh, thanks- braces) or "Hi Eliza, I'm so and so, they said you looked young…how old are you?" (I'm 24) "Oh, have you met my Grandson?"

My first friends on the island consisted of 2 women in their late 70's and a woman with a cracked skull, all of whom I met in Church. To digress a bit, the church service here is nothing like I've ever experienced before. The preacher, an ancient theologian from the mainland, comes on the second and last Sundays of each month (because he has other heathen islands to save) and often when waiting for him to get there, other people step in to fill the time. Last Sunday a man named Ashley Bryan, a famous children's book writer/illustrator and local of the island, led the 20 person congregation in singing Black American slave spirituals to the tunes of a wooden recorder.That does NOT happen in the south (where I'm from) Later, the preacher invited one of the island locals to engage in a debate sermon- where they just argued back and forth the book of Philippians. Apparently, the preacher caught word that his church was no longer religious enough for the man, so he challenged him to a duel. I found myself taking a side- It was like watching a holy boxing match.

Anyways, back to my new friends. The two older women, Floriana and Ethel, are the co-matriarchs of the island and I spend most of my time with them. Comparatively speaking, Floriana is the angel on my right shoulder and Ethel is the devil on my left. Ethel, with her thick Mainer accent, has lived on the island her entire life. She talks trash, swears like a sailor, and is undoubtedly the best cook on the island. Floriana is her complete opposite. When a child was recently asked who the nicest person in the world was- he said Floriana. She's the mother of 6 children, all of whom have done a good job populating the island (5 grandsons my age). Elizabeth is the woman with a cracked skull. She was the first person I met on the island and within the first 5 minutes of conversation, she tells me that at 9 months, her parents dropped her on her head-resulting in a fractured skull. Periodically, she has small seizures resulting in a mid sentence pause. It's annoying to remind her constantly of what we were talking about, yet it is very entertaining. Oh, she's an EMT on the island-God help us.

-Eliza (the youngin' with the nice teeth)