Two weekends ago I took the ferry to Vinalhaven, an island off the coast of Rockland. Posted next to the ticket window was an FBI watch list reading, "On May 26, Director Mueller and Attorney General Ashcroft held a press conference to call renewed attention to seven individuals believed to pose a real and present danger to US interests around the world?perhaps especially this summer and fall, a time of high profile public events that may well serve as a lightening rod to terrorist attacks."
Once on board I decided to introduce myself to a few of my fellow passengers. Fred, who drove a green 1964 Mac truck, was eager to talk. He'd lived on the island for four years and transported gravel and other materials over from the mainland. He said I should try to get to the other side of the island, assuring me proudly, "I don't hitch hike normally, but here, it's totally safe."
On the ride back I met Maggie and her daughter Robin from Massachusetts. They'd spent the day trying to trace their family history. Dyer, one of the original families to settle the island in 1785, was Maggie's maiden name; her father had always said their ancestors came from Vinalhaven but the records had been destroyed in a fire. Maggie had spent the morning knocking on all the doors of houses with the name "Dyer" on the mailbox, one man, she said, "didn't even get off the couch, just called for me to come on in?I mean he didn't know who I was, I could have been a robber."
Was this a false sense of security, just a na?ve vestige of the world of September 10? Ought they to ignore the warning that their little island might well serve as a lightening rod for terrorist attacks? Would their quaint sense of trust prove fatal one unsuspecting day? I decided the most accurate assessment would undoubtedly come from the captain.
A bit uneasy about my notebook, Dan, forty-one, responded laconically to my little barrage of preliminary questions. "I was born here." Feeling very acutely my want of journalistic tact, I awkwardly asked if he ever worried about terrorists. "No," he said.
I explained about the watch list (the first I'd ever seen). Nodding, he pointed to a black semi-sphere in the corner of the cabin?a brand new surveillance camera?and explained wryly, "we're part of Homeland Security whether we like it or not."
Dan went on to tell me how they couldn't get the newspaper the way they used to. "The guy used to just leave a satchel on the dock for us to pick up?can't do that anymore, there might be a bomb in it." He looked at me sidelong to make sure I caught his sarcasm, and then added with a laugh, "I leave my keys in my truck?I figure someone might want to borrow it."