Billy Timid

With no more than a pocketful of change and a burning curiosity to explore the world beyond the small island, Billy packed a knapsack and set out on foot for the ferry. He crossed early, alone save for a car full of whale watchers on their way home and Cap barely noticed him. He was a slightly built boy of fifteen, usually compliant and shy, and short for his age, and had struggled with an unspoken of restlessness his whole life - island life, which so satisfied and reassured his family and friends, nagged at him. He had been born with the wanderlust and it called to him constantly, seductive and filled with the promise of things he had only heard about - orange groves and passenger trains, skyscrapers and circus animals - he wanted to see it all and though young and naive, he was a determined and moderately clever young boy with a winning smile and an anxious heart. He cringed at his nickname, Billy Timid, and longed to shed it.

He began as a dishwasher, sleeping in an abandoned bait shack, eating leftovers and saving every hard earned nickel. He worked through the hard winter and after several months moved on, taller, thinner but just as restless as ever. He signed on as a cabin boy on The Princess Helene and for a year made the daily crossings between Digby and St. John, attending to tourists and travelers with easy precision and never losing sight of his goal. After one crossing, he simply slipped off and out of sight into the streets of St. John, a harsh and grimy city with a cold heart. He kept moving that very night. He had no passport or birth certificate but crossing the border those days was no great challenge - a folded up twenty dollar bill and a sincere look easily convinced a customs official to look away for a moment - and just like that he was in Maine at the height of apple picking season. When the orchards were depleted he discovered a simple truth of life on the road - an itinerant dishwasher never has to look long for work - and from diner to cafe to roadside stand, he made his way down the east coast to Jacksonville, to Gainesville, through the orange groves and skyscrapers and finally to Daytona, the winter headquarters of the circus. After a year or two and one all too brief winter on The Keys, he caught a train back to Maine, hitched back up the coast to Bar Harbor and boarded ship for the trip home. His travels and his dreams were complete and though he had little more in his pocket than when he started and still carried the battered old knapsack, he was content and ready to come home. He had followed his wanderlust full circle and the island welcomed him with open arms - a wanderer home with tales of cities and grand adventures, of the people he had met along the way, all the secrets of freedom, the good and the bad blended into a tapestry, told and re-told, each telling a little grander, a little more magical.

For most of the island, youth was given but once and worked away or spent like a handful of change at a penny arcade. Billy's was invested and paid interest for years - it showed us that dreams can see the light of day and become real, that living can be more than hard work and gray hair, that memories can stay with you and be recalled as needed. It showed us that courage and curiosity go hand in hand and, that in the overall scheme of things, stepping up is easier than being afraid. No one called him Billy Timid anymore.