This year I went back to the Hog Island Audubon Camp (as it is known these days) as a kitchen volunteer. One of the last times I had been there, I served on the staff for the first time as instructor for the Nature Literature and Journaling session. We only attracted a handful of takers the two years it was offered, so it was axed. I have been active in Friends of Hog Island for a time, too, so whenever I’ve been to this mystical Muscongus Bay destination, I’ve worn a variety of hats.
My volunteer work started last Sunday about 8 am after an abbreviated breakfast. As I recall, the four girls at the table were going on about relationships and men. We fellows weren’t doing too well in the skirmish, when finally all the ladies laughed, realizing I had been sitting there quietly, meditating over my empty cereal bowl, not trying to defend any heinous male behavior.
First, we half-dozen valiant volunteers had five buildings to clean and about forty bedrooms to set up. Rooms were swept, potties swished, showers wiped down, and towels and sheets laid out on every bed. We were pretty busy for four hours or so. By then we grabbed a quick lunch and made final readiness to welcome new campers that afternoon.
This session was composed of Audubon chapter leaders and various national staff from across the country. I was especially pleased to see Heather Starck and her daughter Ayla on the registration list. I worked with Heather while serving on the Audubon Ohio board. She was AO’s education person, spending much of her time coordinating the beginnings of The Grange Insurance Audubon Center in urban Columbus. About a year after that job was successfully completed, National asked her to be the executive director of Audubon North Carolina. Hard worker. Good kids. Both of ‘em.
After everybody arrived on the mainland and were transported across the narrows to the float tied up to the Queen Mary lab, I spent my volunteer hours primarily in the kitchen. Janii Laberge is the chef in charge again this summer, and it was a privilege to serve with him. As I told him, each meal he prepares is a work of art. The coming together of each course entails a two-hour dance performed relentlessly three times a day.
Even though we freebie workers wanted to be there, we were always aware of doing something stupid that would cause a rebuke from the maestro. At least I felt that way. In the end, I’d have to say my fears were unfounded. Sure, there was some correction through the week, but it was always good natured, even if tinged with a bit of disbelief in his voice. I spent most of my time keeping the dirty pots and pans moving through the sink, though I did get to cut and present some chicken breasts, work on the breakfast fruit salad, and stack clean plates just out of the Hobart. Damned hot, I might add.
Even though we freebie workers wanted to be there, we were always aware of doing something stupid that would cause a rebuke from the maestro. At least I felt that way. In the end, I’d have to say my fears were unfounded. Sure, there was some correction through the week, but it was always good natured, even if tinged with a bit of disbelief in his voice. I spent most of my time keeping the dirty pots and pans moving through the sink, though I did get to cut and present some chicken breasts, work on the breakfast fruit salad, and stack clean plates just out of the Hobart. Damned hot, I might add.
***
A couple a family things connected to Hog Island to round out this entry:
Thoughts of Dad this week: As I told Janii, Dad was 21 when World War II broke out for us. He was called into work at Frigidaire that December 7 to put in an overtime day grinding firing pins for guns the plant was making for Allied troops.
After he finished basic training in the Army Air Corps, story goes that while he was waiting for a bus to take him to further training, an officer came by asking recruits if anybody knew about butchering. Dad said he spent summers on a farm and had seen butchering plenty of times. That was enough, because next thing he knew, he found himself in the kitchen. And there he stayed for the rest of the war.
And here I was working in a commercial kitchen, perhaps not too unlike the ones Dad worked in, thinking how special it would be if I could join him in there again. I remember working with him in the school kitchen for church men’s club spaghetti dinners when I was a kid, and here I was, working to prepare food that sustained the campers going about their good work for the week. I hold feeding people well in high regard. I thought of Dad a lot.
Bird islands with boys: I have had such an amazing time at this wonderful place that I’d really like to share it with grandkids. Are you surprised? ;-)
Turns out one Family Camp session returns next summer. Many grandparents are expected with grandkids. I feel like I’d like to join ‘em. Who to take? Consideration of Alex and Noah come up right away. Don’t know if we can afford to take them both. And what about the girls? Torre and Ellie? Again, I just don’t know how they would take to such rustic accommodations.
Then there is the teen birding session. Only 16 kids join a larger group of adult birders. Director Steve Kress tells us the camaraderie this summer among the whole group was a beauty to behold. Might Alex like to do that -- solo? Might be a cool New England thing to do.
And what of taking a kid out to a rocky and rugged bird island out in the bay to count and tend recovering seabirds for a week? Wouldn’t that be beyond cool? Project Puffin is always looking for volunteers.
All of these are opportunities worthy of consideration. It is time. Cindy Lou and I and some parents need to figure this one out.
The Dressy Adventuress: Work on my book has been languishing. It’s been summer, though, with extended child care for Noah that has kept me away from getting much done on that project. Shoot, I’ve had a hard enough time getting blog entries finished.
I went to Hog Island, in part, looking for a little fire that could both get my writing enthusiasm for Mrs. Todd's book rekindled while at the same time reducing my insecurities on the project. I feel pretty good at this point. It’s time to get back to work. Wish me luck.
By the way, I have at least one more ‘Stones & Bones’ entry to write with reflections on the Sangre’s trip. More on Maine, too. Stay tuned. And thanks for reading.
Today’s elder idea: This island is so beautiful it really makes my heart ache! Why, it seems to me God's own heaven can hardly be more perfect.
journal of Mabel Loomis Todd
written on Hog Island
9 August 1924
photo: I took this one last week on Hog Island.
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