Another North Haven summer has come, and more or less gone. Most of our friends have departed for points south or west. All but a few boats at the Casino have been stored for the winter.
At the time of writing, I am physically, if not emotionally, prepared to begin my 20th year at North Haven Community School.
While the weather in September and even early October often stays summery and golden, and the vegetable garden makes its most impressive showing into early autumn, the most notable seasonal shift we experience on North Haven is in the number of human beings on our little rock.
I absolutely thrive on social interaction. The summer throngs are essential to my well-being.
Like a murmuration of starlings, summer residents and visitors descend and ascend, seemingly en masse. Those of us who enjoy year-round habitation croak like the ravens who also spend the winter here: Get out of the middle of the road! Walk against traffic! Bike in single file! Let us order some pizza too!
Yes, we kvetch. Myself included, especially on my third lap through town looking for a parking space. But the truth is that I am an extrovert, and I absolutely thrive on social interaction. The summer throngs are essential to my well-being.
One of my favorite summer activities is to bring a book to town, get an iced coffee at Waterman’s, and park myself somewhere busy. The tables in the Waterman’s courtyard are nice, and this summer I spent quite a bit of time at the Casino dock waiting for Penrose to come back from a sailing adventure.
In the event that nobody stops by to chat I have my book and my coffee for entertainment, but my real motive is to invite the small talk, connection, and occasional opportunity that comes from making myself available in this way. It rarely disappoints.
Although I have sworn off working in the summer (the production of the play Matilda notwithstanding), I did find myself working at the Turner Farm stand a few days last summer and took a last-minute shift at the brunch cash register at the end of this season.
The location and coworkers (and cows) can’t be beat, but it’s also a handy way to put myself in front of a healthy slice of the population. The micro-interactions of ringing up someone’s brunch order are just about enough, but the longer conversations that happen as the pace of service slows are even better. The staff meal after, a mix of old friends and newer ones, was an unexpected bonus.
Most of my closest friends live here all year, of course, but summer changes the nature of our interactions. Many of us are teachers, with summers “off,” but that usually just means our schedules become less regular.
We might swim at 6 a.m., then say goodbye as many head off to become chefs, cleaners, or farmers. The rhythm of our parenting changes, with kids occupied at camp or sailing during the day and time for leisurely adult lunches or frantic curriculum planning sessions while they’re gone.
We might suddenly notice that friends we see every day from September to June seemingly vanish for the summer.
But the broadening of our friend group in the summer season doesn’t make our year-round friends any less precious, and they’re the ones we most often meet at Calderwood for pizza or at the beach for a cookout. Maintaining our connections despite the shifts in schedule is essential—once we blink and summer is over, it’s up to us non-migratory birds to fill each other’s social cups.
Courtney Naliboff lives, teaches, writes, and plays music on North Haven. She may be contacted at Courtney.Naliboff@gmail.com.
