With summer here, many people are returning to familiar places with deep generational roots, surrounded by memories and family heirlooms. Summer traditions are in full swing: children jumping into the ocean from heights that terrify older eyes, community concerts and plays, good books, tidal pools, croquet, and lobster bakes.
These traditions are powerful, and my family, too, has its own history and rituals. I generally appreciate tradition. I also recognize the privilege of having a history to tell and living in a community that honors its place on this earth and the moments that mark time.
In communities like ours, where tradition runs deep, conversations often center on what has changed since last summer: a new house nearby, the closing of our general store, a beloved landmark tree lost in a storm, or the yews stripped by hungry deer over the winter. These changes become part of our history, stitched into the fabric of our coastal place: “Remember, that was the winter the storms wiped out the town landing,” or “that was the year our brakes gave out and the truck ended up in the drink.”
In places where tradition rules, innovation must muscle its way in. Tradition is anchored in the past—in repetition, predictability, and remembrance. Innovation, by contrast, can feel unsettling. It can arrive at tradition’s door like an unwelcome party guest: brash, unmoored, unruly, and even threatening.
Yet tradition and innovation have long lived side by side along the coast of Maine. Even as we celebrate our coastal heritage and praise “the way life should be,” with its associations of simplicity, dependability, and ease, we often overlook the essential role innovation has always played in daily life.
That is why Island Institute’s vision statement places innovation at the center: “Maine’s island and coastal communities thrive in a rapidly changing world, leading as models of innovation.” This spirit drives our community investments and our belief that people in small island and coastal communities can do big things, even when they do not think of themselves as innovators.
Consider Caden Blackwood, a sternman from Stonington with a welding side business. Now in his young 20s, he used a workforce grant from Island Institute to buy welding equipment that allowed him to fabricate a multi-pronged grapple to help lobstermen retrieve lost gear. I doubt he spent much time wondering whether his adaptation would appear in national innovation statistics.
The same is true of Willy Leathers and Erin Oransky of Maine Ocean Farms, an aquaculture business in South Freeport. They are advancing innovation with Maine’s—and the country’s—first fully electric aquaculture workboat. Poetically named Heron, the one-of-a-kind vessel supports a heritage industry and shows what can happen when local funding, local partners like Island Institute, and big dreams come together.
Our marine innovation grants have also supported Cranberry Oysters, led by Lauren Simmons Gray and her team of women sea farmers. With Island Institute grants, they invested in technologies to flip oyster cages more efficiently and build a fully solar-powered oyster barge. These process improvements have helped them grow, create jobs, and win well-deserved state and national recognition for their sustainable and groundbreaking work.
Tradition and innovation are deeply connected: the innovation we support draws strength from tradition, and the traditions we value endure because of innovation. In these examples, and across our work, we invest in ingenuity and the people closest to the problems—and therefore closest to the solutions—because it’s the best way we know of to secure an enduring, vibrant, and prosperous marine economy.
That’s why, when we host the party, innovation is always invited.
Kim Hamilton is president of Island Institute, publisher of The Working Waterfront. She may be contacted at khamilton@islandinstitute.org.
