International Travelers
”The purpose of life is to live it” - Eleanor Roosevelt
Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/Eyg2S1MKpdiNndEd9
October 9th, 2023- Acadia Day 3
The roads were painted with autumnal palettes. When the wind kicked up, the colors were sent into spiraling shower of crimson and gold leaves onto the black strip of pavement. The crisp blue sheet of the sky was neatly smoothed and tucked into the corners. Frankly, it was a perfect morning to be in Canada. We crossed the Canadian border into a tiny town that could have been transplanted from Ohio. The downtown was comprised of sleepy storefronts that had looked the same since 1940. A teenage boy with 1980s hair pedaled his bike down a cracked sidewalk, hockey stick balanced across the handlebars. It was a very Canadian thing to see. We ventured into the small stores, hoping to pick up a Canadian keepsake. We found “Sorry, We’re Closed” signs instead. We were baffled. It was Monday morning, for heaven’s sakes. Where on earth was everyone? After we had passed two or three “Happy Thanksgiving” signs, it finally clicked. It was Canadian Thanksgiving!
Knowing now that our Canadian keepsake venture was fruitless, we headed out of town. Almost immediately, the streets dwindled into gravel roads across a vast countryside. A flock of turkeys crossed in front of us, an ironic sight on Canada’s Thanksgiving. Tyler honked the horn, bewildering the turkeys. They had undoubtedly never seen a goose quite as big as our honking car! They sprinted down the road, putting distance between themselves, us, and the Thanksgiving-celebrating town behind us. Smart turkeys.
The scenery was picturesque. We crossed a wide river through a covered bridge. When we stopped to snap some photos of the bridge, a bald eagle swooped low over the glittering water’s surface. Several roads over, a neat white schoolhouse quietly sat unoccupied. We peered in the windows. Tables wrapped in blue tablecloths suggested a recent gathering. A prim portrait of the Queen gazed at us from the wall. Out back, an outhouse politely stood against a woods. Even the outhouse was scenic!
We could have probably spent all afternoon just wandering through Canada, but we had an agenda to stick to. Reluctantly, we left behind the leaf-strewn gravel roads in exchange for a hulking concrete Border Crossing building. Crossing international borders intrigued me. Borders are mostly a human construct, after all, and so are the laws governing them. Have humans always been this serious about borders? I decided I wanted a video of the moment we crossed back into the United States. I opened the skylight and stuck my phone out. It was go time.
Up ahead us, a Border Patrol agent was circling cars with her dog. We assumed she was searching for drugs. I took a short video clip of this, mostly because her dog was neat. The dog had lean, taut muscles under a tawny coat. Its dark muzzle concealed sharp teeth, I was sure. The Border Patrol agent glanced our way, then did a double take. I guessed she had never seen anyone stick their phone out of a skylight. I guess it was sort of weird. She made eye contact with me through the windshield. Her brows furrowed. With a sharp motion, she sliced her finger across her throat. Turn it off, she was saying. Then she marched towards us, scary dog in tow.
Uh oh.
I gulped, shut off my phone, and closed the skylight. She marched right over to my window and motioned for me to roll it down.
“Get rid of that. You can’t take photos or videos here,” she barked. “Delete it right now. I want to see it.”
Turns out that photos in ports of entry have been illegal since 9/11. It’s a security measure, she explained to us. She watched me delete the video from my phone, and then, for good measure, I deleted it from my “Deleted” folder too. I wasn’t about to tangle with any of that. She was scary and so was her dog. Lesson learned!
After we safely crossed the border without further incident, we headed for our next destination: Campobello Island. Located just over the border from Maine, Campobello Island was historically a place where wealthy families spent their summers. Franklin D. Roosevelt’s family was one of the notable ones. They were so well-known on the island, in fact, that their family summer cottage has now been transformed into the Roosevelt-Campobello International Park, the only national park shared by two nations. The international park is regarded as an important symbol of the cooperation that can exist between countries. It also pays homage to both Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, who remain beloved icons on the island. During the “Tea with Eleanor” program, we sipped tea and learned about the wonderful First Lady. She, if perhaps more than Franklin, was truly adored on the island. She was known for her tea parties, much like the one we attended, where everyone was made to feel welcome. We learned about how she overcame struggle and served as a leader for her entire life. It was nothing short of inspirational.
We toured their summer cottage next, marveling at the size and beauty of the home. As with any good historical site, the cottage maintains the decor of the Roosevelt era. The toys of the Roosevelt children are scattered in their bedrooms. Franklin’s hat and newspaper still sit in front of a bay window, right where he left them. Bathed in the light of glass lanterns, you can almost hear the laughter of children, the clatter of dishes in the kitchen, a dog barking. Places where happy memories are made always hold onto fragments of those memories. In the Roosevelt Cottage, there are many happy fragments.
The sun was nearing the horizon as we finally left the cottage, so we found ourselves a lighthouse for a Canadian sunset. It remains one of my favorite sunsets we’ve ever seen. Under a heavy bank of clouds, the sunlight was molten gold. It stretched across the water, setting quiet fishing boats into stark silhouettes. Seagulls flapped across the gleaming sky. A swimming seal sent ripples quietly splashing into the rocky shore. The lighthouse, white with a crimson door, looked over it all, painted soft yellow in the waning light. As the day turned to night, a small town across the water slowly lit up. One by one, streetlights and kitchen lights and stoplights cast their glow across the bay. It wasn’t hard to see why the Roosevelts were drawn to Campobello Island. After just a day, I was too.
I kept finding my thoughts returning to Eleanor that night. Was it possible for everyone to make an impact like she had? I seriously doubt that my home will ever be turned into a museum for tea parties, but could I be remembered with the same fondness that we remember Eleanor? Nobody is perfect. Everyone, even Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, have their flaws. Despite this, there are some people who rise above history. The good they did outweighs the flaws they had. I haven’t quite figured out how they did it, but here’s to making a mark.
The world needs more Eleanors, after all.
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