Brendalee Baughman
This very special town of Marblehead was not on my radar until I was in the middle of a midlife crisis on a search to find a new place to call home. But, wait, I had been here once before during another transformative time in my life — when I went searching for a minister to baptize me in the ocean. I am not religious in the traditional sense and never belonged to a corporate church, but I found myself, and my religion, right here in Marblehead, MA.
My boyfriend helps men in the throes of recovering from drug and alcohol addiction. We often talk about the underlying pinnings of addiction and what we humans can do to cover up the missing pieces of our life puzzle. I used to watch a show called “ A Place to Call Home.” I think I was drawn to the title more than anything; the show itself was a bit dramatic and bordered on the darker side of humanity, bearing no image to the lovely I longed for.
After many years of searching, I have learned that perhaps the point is not just to arrive home but to let all that is not home teach us something about ourselves and our place in the world. My mother died of cigarette and alcohol addiction, but after all of the skeletons were removed from the closet, underneath it all, I realized that what she really died of was a broken heart. She never really found her place to call ‘home.’
Sometimes it takes a big calamity in our lives to point us in a new direction. For me, it was a lung collapse and a tragic miscarriage. There was no one to blame, really, except my own faulty vision. Frank Sinatra sang about doing it his way. Well, there is no right or wrong way, but there is a way that takes into consideration not just us but others. As we are searching for ourselves, for our own place to call ‘home’, may we take more than ourselves into consideration. We can honor and respect even our neighbors, and I believe this is going to matter more than we can imagine as the days unfold.
I once heard a story of a man who worshipped his garden and all things landscaping. He was out there manicuring, clipping and making it perfect, come rain or shine. When he died and went to the other side, he thought his dreams had all come true, for he was standing in the midst of the most beautiful, green grass, freshly cut and manicured just the way he liked it. But as he looked around him, not another living soul was anywhere to be seen. Enter the nightmare.
The town of Marblehead has a money matter. It is plentiful and blessed. The median household income is $165,859 according to statistics. The beauty quotient is outstanding. If you have not been out for a walk along the ocean this week to take in the salty air and stunning views, you are missing out. It is not an exaggeration to say that I truly learned to fall in love with my life right here in Marblehead (swimming at Fort Sewall to be exact).
Non-compliance with federal standards, however, tells me why senior and family low-income housing is in the state that it is in. The funds recently lost were allocated to more than housing! Projects that affect the overall quality of town living have been compromised. The town that I call ‘home’ could use some surgery — the plastic kind, but also the kind that changes hearts. The ugly truth, internally speaking, is that Marblehead is not immune to drug and alcohol abuse. A teen from Salem told me that while the cheaper drugs are more common where she lives, Marblehead teens are experimenting with the more expensive drugs like cocaine. Many are depressed and forlorn, turning to drugs and alcohol and the 6 digits are only funding the escape.
For those of us who are blessed to call Marblehead home, we cannot let fear keep us from embracing the kind of change that changes us for the better, inside & out. Besides, the private sector is merging with the public and together they will be better. Seniors, who account for roughly 23% of the population, should have immediate access to affordable, clean & decent housing, if needed. My friend, who lived in Marblehead for over 40 years and served the community with her hands (literally) and heart, had to leave town; when she left, she took a part of my ‘home’ with her. She had served this community faithfully and yet there was not a place to call ‘home’ for her when her body could no longer support the profession she served us with. She was the only woman who had begun to heal the mother part of my broken heart.
Marblehead is my ‘home’ for better or worse, but it will not be ’til death do us part.’ I will leave here after my daughter graduates high school to help my boyfriend with his vision for a new beginning for people with drug and alcohol addiction. Much like the folks at the Winn Corporation, I have a vision for something more — not just for the privileged but for those of less fortune. There were but a few moms to show up for the recent meeting with folks planning on reinventing low-income housing for families and seniors. These meetings will take place about every six months until the real moving begins. Let’s make Marblehead a standout community — not because of median or per capita income but because money is not the matter: people matter.
I came up from the freezing salty waters at Devereux Beach, expecting something more. All religious ritual aside, there is a letting go of former ways that no longer serve us or anyone else. If we let our hearts soften, our vision will expand, and without a vision we will perish. Marblehead can stand out as a genuine community and when it does, a real community dance will take place where no one is left out of the invitation. In our quest for independence, we can forget that we are not islands unto ourselves. We are interconnected and we are each one part of a whole.
Brendalee Baughman is a Marblehead resident.
