Working Waterfront

Out of my lane—pinch-hitting as art teacher

As I settle into middle age, I find I can enjoy a sense of easy competency in most of the things I do. After 18 years of teaching and directing plays, I no longer fret over every detail, but can plan more generally and pivot and problem-solve as needed. I… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Building community by starting small

The music blasting from the preschool alternated between the Islands and Mamma Mia! soundtracks. The cast of Little Women, our fall show, sang along as they got into costume, makeup, and hair in the Waterman’s preschool, our de facto green room. There were 13 of them, plus a handful of… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

What keeps this teacher on the job

The number 18 has a certain significance in Jewish numerology. The letters used in writing the Hebrew word chai—life—are assigned the numbers ten and eight. Monetary donations and gifts are often given in multiples of 18, and 18 is associated with life and luck. This is the 18th year we’ve… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Ticked off at a nasty arthropod

My infection came in the form of 24-hour bouts of low fever and severe joint pain that left me barely able to walk. SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Growth, fear, and ferry line anxiety

By the time you read this, it’ll be pretty close to October, or as some people call it, spooky season. Fear and anxiety are part of my day-to-day life, so I tend to say “no thank you” to recreational fear. Those fears gave way to anxiety around air travel and… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

A sense of place

For the second half of July, I, a 41-year-old woman, mother, and teacher, went on tour with my band. Bait Bag, which I've written about before, is comprised of me (bass and vocals), Fiona Robins (guitar and vocals), and Claire Donnelly, formerly of the Island Institute (drums and shouting). We've… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Strawberries, peas, and corn

When I was a child in Central Maine, summer meant rowing my inflatable dinghy around Silver Lake, eating macaroni salad with green olives on the screened-in porch, and reading for hours in the swing chair. The scent of hawkweed, daisies, and Timothy grass radiated from the side of the road… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Caught by COVID, help in escaping

After two years, two months, and some number of days that I’m too tired to count, I finally caught COVID. Or maybe it caught me. Either way, I’m writing this from bed. I had identified a ten-day window in my schedule where it would be somewhat less inconvenient to be… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

It’s the people

After 17 years on North Haven, some elements of life have achieved a pleasant predictability. After the first heavy spring rain, the peepers will begin their insistent shrieking from vernal pools and roadside bogs. Dandelions and violets will be the first to bloom, followed by strawberry blossoms, thickest in the… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

How can I keep from singing?

A while ago, I joked to someone online that my pandemic memoir would be titled The Year Without Singing. Although nobody has asked me to write a pandemic memoir (yet!), it occurred to me in the moment that the directives prohibiting singing, or restricting it to 16 feet apart, outdoors,… SEE MORE