Monday, February 28, 2005

The dormers of Mt. Pleasant Guest House.

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Taylor Hill, looking south to the creeks.

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The Benevolent Brotherhood.

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The Methodist Church looking out across the salinas.

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St. John's Door. Going out this door for the last time is not good.

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The Governor's Dormer. Do you see the "eye"?

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The old mill at Dunscomb Point.

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A ruined home in the North District.

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The windows of the Paymaster's Office, looking out over the salinas.

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The seaside veranda windows of The White House.

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A bedroom window at The White House, looking north up island.

Copyright Fresno Chile Pepper Co 2005

Our Intrepid Reporter Returns!

It’s been a month or so that I’ve been home, then gone again to enjoy the colder climes of Utah.

Re-emersion into polite US society (so to speak) is not an easy task at my age. Or any age, or anybody for that matter, as the dog will attest to. He still thinks he should have dinner at 3 pm and want I a cocktail at 2 pm.(PST).

I have neglected my writing duties, but it should be excusable since I cannot report first hand on the Salt Cay lifestyle, going’s on and social life. Plus most people have been on Salt Cay but for me–so who cares except a few people like myself bitter with jealousy....well, anyway.

I understand it has been a very busy social season and the tourists are there in force...marvelous. I know we’re rented quite well. Porter’s been sending emails advertising crab races, art auctions, etc...

Debbie is beyond busy and her emails are missing more letters from the alphabet than usual. She doesn’t know it, appreciate it with her lifestyle, but she hasinvented the SCD text messaging dictionary without thinking about it. AT&T and Cingular, eat your hearts out. Some people are naturals at this stuff. Me, I just call, why bother pressing those stupid keys that make no sense?

Many homeowners have been on island..and some still remain. Property prices are going through the roof apparently–if you can find a piece of property or a roof to go through.

Whales are playing off the walls of the island.

The weather’s been there and no one is beautiful...just kidding Jimmy. Apparently this winter has been a winter for the islands. Spring has finally arrived with suddenly hot weather as I hear tell.

I have no idea what critters are doing what. But I do know that this next trip I am armed to the teeth to combat those little rat’s that fly around with their mouths open waiting to bite my tender white skin and poison me. Sand fleas, my mortal enemy. It is war! I will win and not itch the night away.

I was pleased to hear that my prints of Ladies of Salt Cay were auctioned off one evening and garnered $550.00 for the library. But then a plastic framed picture of Havana in lithograph took $300 so what does that say? Just when you get full of yourself....

I have been working on my Belonger portraits and intend to do a DVD of all of them when everyone has posed for me. I also hope to start an oral history project on video when I return to visit in June. It really got me thinking.
After some time to contemplate my essay on Windows, I finally feel ready to present it. Think about it for a moment. If Windows Could Speak: The History of Salt Cay. I hope you enjoy it and would appreciate your thoughts on the windows and what they are saying.

If Windows Could Speak....


They would speak the history of Salt Cay


I was looking up at a bedroom window at the White House one day, shooting pictures of this venerable old home and the now defunct Paymaster’s office next door.

As I stood there, I thought: How many women have looked out this window and wondered where their men were? How many children have been born in that bedroom? This house? How many people took their last breath there as well? What joys, sorrows, rumors, affairs of the heart have been observed from this window? What futures have been made and ruined in the eyes of this window?

I thought of the Paymaster’s office next door--now fallen, Taylor Hill and it’s mysteries, the Dunscomb Point Mill windows, Government House, the Mt. Pleasant and its history, as well as many other ruins on island of lesser distinction or flair.

What if a window could tell the history that it has seen? What if they could speak somehow? Would not that be one of the most enlightening history lessons of our island or the world for that matter? Unfortunately, windows cannot speak their history or that of what they have witnessed. We can only imagine, research and record and let our minds wander.

I mentioned the idea to Rosalie Harriot once and my grand idea of how the Harriott women must have waited for their men to come home from sea. It must have worried them so. She laughed and said "Oh, no one waited for their man looking out the window. The men looked out the windows of the House to watch the island and the workers. That’s why there are windows all around the second floor".

And the veranda? Well, that is where the evening’s entertainment was. Who was visiting who; who went to church and who didn’t; who was dating who...nothing got past the White House veranda for an evening’s entertainment.

But every time I look at those windows of the White House, and the storms that come through, the ships that wallow in the waves, the sinking of something as simple as a barge...I cannot help but think at least one woman stood at those windows and prayed her husband or son came home alive and well.

The windows of the islanders are more problematic. Their men went for months. The young island women worked the ships that passed in a most honorable way..crewing because they needed crew and the men were gone. Their history is a little more clouded than the White House’s.

Then we have the Governor’s House. Bryan Sheedy, who’s story telling I love dearly, perpetuated a story that prostitutes lived in the Governor’s House and looked out the second floor windows waiting for the ships to come in. Rosalie Harriot dispelled this quite clearly as far as I am concerned. But the lore of the story still continues. Did they?

St. John’s Church, with it’s graveyard against the sea wall, the doors to the graveyard waiting to take you to your final resting place. The old caulked windows rimmed in red and covered with red shutters...a most magnificent place. It is a place that welcomed me in September when Hurricane Frances made me so afraid for all my friends on island. I came, I went, I saw, I took, and I gave little in return, if at all. Yet they welcomed me and made me feel at peace with my emotions.

There is the Benevolent Brotherhood with it’s silent bass drum, flag, a young Queen’s picture and signs of hope, peace and prosperity. And, then, there are the two coffins awaiting occupants in back. I passed that place a hundred times, if not once, without stopping to see what it was all about. Now I can’t pass it without stopping and taking a new picture or just drinking the history in.

Then Taylor Hill...what was it? Who looked out those windows and why, when?

Our history is so important, we need to preserve it in photographs, scans of existing photos, oral history projects, stories and writings. This is true whether it is Salt Cay or our own family and home town.

I cannot take enough pictures of Salt Cay to satisfy my imagination, curiosity and desire to preserve this graceful place in the sun.

If windows could speak, what would these windows say? Please, write me and let me know.
Michele@saltcay.us