Island kindness: a kind soul on a small island off the coast of Maine

In this world of hustle and bustle, it is rare to meet someone whose kindness stands out so brightly that it leaves a lasting mark on all who encounter them.

Quick background: My father was born and raised on a small island off the coast of Maine, and I spent all my summers there with my grandparents until I was in college. It was, and still is, a very special place. One of my boyhood friends was Phil. We were pals through all those years. Unlike most island boys, Phil did not take up lobstering; he worked with his dad, who was a house carpenter and all-around handyman. Later in life, in addition to building houses himself, Phil ran a wine store, built and ran the only motel on the island, led a popular men’s vocal ensemble, Phil ‘n The Blanks, and served many years as a town selectman. He also wrote a weekly column for the local town newsletter. His musings on island life and lore were witty, sometimes sarcastic, and always gave a glimpse into island life. He signed off with T.O. – The Observer.

Island life is in many ways simpler than living on the mainland and largely unaffected by the distractions of city living. The community, about 1200 winter residents (around 4500 in the summer), is tight-knit and everyone knows each other. Mainers can be stand-offish to strangers or folks “from away.” Not Phil. Phil was generous, friendly, and compassionate.

Phil’s kindness was legendary. He was the sort of person who would drop everything to help a neighbor in need. Whether it was mending a broken window, checking up on an ailing islander, or simply offering a listening ear, Phil was always there. His generosity was not limited to material things; he gave his time and attention freely. Sometimes, his willingness to help meant sacrificing his own plans or comfort, but Phil never complained. He truly believed that kindness was its own reward.

In the face of what seems to be the current focus on bad news, Phil organized a local “Make America Kind Again” movement. He had signs made with nothing but a big red heart on a white background. He gave them to friends and gave them away at the local gatherings. When we visited the island last summer, they were everywhere! When he ran out, he ordered more. We brought a few back to Amelia Island to give to friends, including our friend Peggie Weeks.

Phil’s life serves as a powerful reminder of the impact that kindness can have, even in the most secluded corners of the world. Though his story is rooted on a small island off the coast of Maine, the lessons he taught and the generosity he shared are universal. Phil was, quite simply, kind to a fault — and the world is better for it.

Postscript:

Back on the mainland, we visited the gallery of a well-known local photographer. At the checkout counter, my wife, Teen, commented on the basket full of “Make America Kind” buttons. “How much?” she asked. “They’re free — take as many as you like — we have lots.” If you run into her, ask for one — she has plenty.

Kindness: one heart, one button, one smile at a time.

If you have a story you'd like to share here in the Fernandina Observer — about a neighbor or friend or stranger or business that showed kindness, or about kindness and compassion in general — please contact Peggie Weeks at pegweeks@gmail.com