Hello fellow island lovers, I hope this finds you well.
As I write this, I’m far from the island, on a cat-sitting adventure I never could have imagined a year ago — one of those unexpected “offers you can’t refuse.”
The call came a few months ago: “We’ll fly you to your old home in Fort Myers. You’ll have a car. Groceries will be in the fridge.” And just like that, here I am.
My charge’s name is Skippy — my namesake, if you know, you know. He is 19 years old and needs two insulin shots a day. It has become my honor to care for him, knowing this family would never have been able to take their dream vacation without someone willing to stay behind and tend to all the little daily needs that love requires.
So far, it has been a pleasure.
Since we have sold our final lot in Florida, officially closing a long chapter of our lives, we have no more ties here except dear friends and decades of memories. And oh, the memories this place holds.
The hardest part of accepting this trip was missing Memorial Day weekend on the island — the reunions, porch visits, and the beginning energy of another summer season. I’m also missing the building of our first vegetable beds at the orchard.
But I realized something: island summers are long and full, and there will still be time for gatherings, gardening, and sunsets. Sometimes stewardship simply means saying yes where you are needed.
The vegetable beds are not being built for perfection or productivity. They are being built so our family can continue learning how to grow food together. Ever since Doug planted the first peach and apple trees, the orchard has been a place of respite, reciprocity, and connection for our family.
Now it has become our homestead.
We could not be prouder of Allisun and Jason and the work they are doing — and will continue doing — to help support the land while we navigate the next phase of building and preserving our little piece of island life.
And learning about building on the island has certainly been an education.
Nowadays, you can research yourself into complete paralysis. There is so much information, so many rules, opinions, costs, and decisions that sometimes the creative spirit and executive function both decide to take a vacation at the same time. Still, we continue learning from those who have built here, and from those who chose existing homes instead.
If any of you have island building stories to share — the triumphs, the disasters, the lessons learned — I would truly love to hear them and perhaps share them here in future Story Corners if you like.
One of my earliest memories of island building was watching Dick and Rosie Kadlec create their home many years ago. Like so many island friendships, ours began simply by walking down the street after getting off the boat on Fridays.
Dick was a Cleveland policeman. Rosie and my mom quickly became porch-visiting friends who could laugh for hours together. Back then, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, homes were often built the same way our Dairy Isle was built — with cinder blocks, determination, and a whole lot of helping hands.
Over time, Dick learned I had a deep fear of dogs after being bitten in the face as a child. Slowly and patiently, he introduced me to “the original Heidi,” his white German Shepherd, always making sure I understood she was nothing like the dog that had frightened me years before.
Decades later, my love for dogs can still be traced back to those gentle porch visits.
Having Dick and Rosie as neighbors led to years of walks, waves, and “howdies” — a greeting Dick and Jay exchanged for more than fifty years. And passed on to hundreds of neighbors through those times.
Now I find myself taking those same daily walks, greeting new neighbors while carrying memories of the old ones beside me. Sometimes, as I sit quietly in the backyard listening to the birds, I realize how many lives and stories passed through our business over the years. Those memories now feel like part of the landscape of the island itself.
That may be what this new season of island stewardship really means.
Even though we no longer have the business, we still have our island mission: to nurture connection, gratitude, reciprocity, and care for both people and place. Stewardship is not only about ownership. It is about participation. About showing up for one another. About giving back when we can. Thank you to ALL the ISLAND STEWARDS!
This Story Corner is my hope for continuing to exchange — not only sharing our memories, but inviting yours as well.
If you have stories, memories, or pieces of island history you would like to share, I would love to hear from you at islandpj419@gmail.com.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for continuing to help keep the spirit of the island community alive.
