In denial since 2004 (when I made my first trip to the island), I've now come to realize that our future here is likely permanent. Fantasies of moving to a desert (or tropical) island aside, there are realities associated with such fantasies that are rich and rare and often inconvenient.
In all fairness, since our arrival in 2004 until only very recently, the island has always meant unpleasant administrative-type work (and lots of it) to me. Also the nature of our involvement with people seemed invasive or intrusive to me (though not at all to my husband). That's not the best way to get introduced to the island's rare beauty and unique lifestyle.
We were immersed in the cultural anomalies before we ever got a chance to assimilate in an orderly fashion (which is a post for another day). Add to that, all of our deficiencies that have kept us from enjoying the island's incredible offerings. We're not boaters, we don't fish, play golf, attend church, drink much alcohol, have a business, go mountain biking, run marathons, surf, kayak or camp out (at least not since we've been here, but after taking that inventory, it's got me wondering what's left, and what exactly do we do?).
Then there's the reality of "belonging." I moved to Laguna Beach, a town of about 25,000 residents, in 1992. It became clear that you weren't considered a "local" until you could relate to about 20 years of history living there. Because I participated in the local art festival right away, I was on a bit of a fast track, enjoyed acceptance and made friends easily in the artist community. Even so, I still understood and respected that I hadn't paid enough dues to be dubbed a local.
In the town of Avalon, with an estimated 3,500 residents, it seems you are considered FOB (fresh off the boat) for at least 20 years, according to some. Scott and I are very "closely held" in general due to his Aspergers' and should really be considered "feral kitties" anyway. But when you ask someone how long they've lived on the island, the answer is likely, "no more than anybody else, around 50 years." Game over...I was 50 when I got here.
At any rate, I found a passage in a book that sums up my personal experience as an Avalon "transient." John McPhee, author of The Crofter and the Laird, describes life on the island of Colonsay as a temporary member of its society. I replaced the town name of Colonsay with Avalon, and for me, the quote still seems to fit quite nicely:
"...(Avalon) is less like a small town than like a large lifeboat. By a scale of things that begins with cities and runs to hamlets, the island is some distance off the end. The usual frictions, gossip, and intense social espionage that characterize life in a small town are so grandly magnified on an island that they sometimes appear in surprising form, in the way that patches of skin magnified a hundred diameters may appear to be landscapes of the moon. Air and water, sea and sky, life is imploded upon the people here by the blue bottle that surrounds them. Everyone is many things to everyone else, and is encountered daily in a dozen guises. Enmeshed together, the people of the island become one another."
As much as I appreciate that quote, I have another that I love, written by Philip Wrigley Jr., specifically about Avalon. I memorized the quote, since it was written in a letter to a family friend. I had the opportunity to read it, and discussed it with the friend, who wished to keep it private until his death. Since he's now gone, I'll share it here, with the few who are possibly reading this. If you know the island at all, you know that the Wrigley family has a rich legacy on the island dating back to the 1920s, that continues to this day. I have great respect for their vision and intentions for the island, even though the battle goes on between the "Powers that Be" (Wrigley entities), the community in general and those that consider themselves "Island Royalty."
At any rate, on December 4th, 1975, on his official letterhead, he wrote, "Your big basket of lobsters arrived just the day before Thanksgiving, and it gave us all a chance to be thankful for having a friend like (you), who has been true, loyal and honest. This is more than I can say for most everybody else in Avalon, a small town with small ideas, cliques of various factions, petty jealousies and political intrigue..."
Phillip Wrigley Jr. loved the island, enjoyed its beauty and accepted its realities...I have learned...am learning...to do the same...
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