From Away

There are only two places, Here, this Maine island, and Away.  There is a big and obvious difference between those who live Here and those who live Away.  There is no less a distinction between those who live Here and who the rest of us acknowledge are really from Here and those who live Here but who the rest of us know full well are really from Away.  Each of us is firmly cast one way or the other.  We are either from Here or, to one degree or another, we are from Away.  These distinctions, some subtle some less so, are laboriously learned and clear to most of us, certainly those who have been here a couple of generations or more.   The understanding of newcomers is, for a while, muddied.  A lady who moves Here from Boston in June is still from Away in September.  Simple enough.  The following year, however, she thinks she’s from Here.  We all know she’s from Away.   At some point she may settle down and send some kids through school and before you know it she starts thinking she’s from Here again, until she succumbs to the temptation to speak up at a school board meeting and discovers she’s still from Away. 

A person can’t become from Here but can, however, become from Away and such a stigma is for keeps.  There is no redemption, no getting back on the wagon.  Away happens.  Like many unhappy circumstances, though, being from Away can be improved upon.  A person from Away could, for example, marry one of us; and some have, with no more noble purpose than to better their situation, or to improve our quality of life.  Either maneuver can be dicey.

Rooftop Roberts had rather an extreme view of himself as a ladies man.  There was, after all, just so much of him to go around and so many lonely and unfulfilled women.  He sat at the bar watching nearly every Red Sox game and singing the virtues of the particular male enhancement product that sponsors so many of those games.  His fellow Sox fans, men and women, during one of Rooftop’s enthusiastic endorsements called his and everyone else’s attention to the disclaimer at the end of each ad that describes the possible—and, in some cases, probable—side effects.  Among them, blindness and this they found more troubling than any of the others which include loss of memory, confusion, an irregular heartbeat, internal bleeding, an upset tummy and a  determined—but by now simply bothersome—appendage lasting more than three days.  They subsequently and memorably posted an alert around town cautioning that Rooftop, whose passion and bravado were common knowledge, in hopes of making as many women happy as possible, had over-indulged.  The warning advised that everyone steer clear of him cautioning that he was suffering from the aforementioned sustained condition, was having trouble staying upright (if not up), that his balance had been compromised, his spasms of arrhythmia were imparting an unmistakable urgency, he’d forgotten where he is or what he is supposed to do or with whom, was blind but he nonetheless aroused and eager at the prospect.  As much mileage was gained from this imaginative prank as any I can recall.