Finding the way home: Lindsey Gallagher writes about Shelter Island
Most mornings these days, after a morning run, Lindsey Gallagher will settle in at a desk to write in a studio apartment in Flagstaff, Ariz.
A graduate school student at Northern Arizona University, for the next few hours Lindsey will be far away from the southwestern landscape with views of the San Francisco Peaks mountain range, and be transported to a small east coast Island surrounded by saltwater, with wetlands, creeks and bays.
The 2018 Shelter Island High School graduate, they (Lindsey identifies as non-binary and uses they/them pronouns) were named Salutatorian among graduates, a four-year staffer and editor for two years of the school newspaper, The Inlet, and a star athlete on the cross country and track teams.
Like many young Islanders, and those growing up in small towns anywhere, Lindsey felt a pull to get away from the familiar and on to something new and completely different. “I was really excited at the end of high school to go away,” Lindsey said. “Away from New York State, and even away from the east coast.”
Arizona was a perfect fit, and when they graduated with a degree in English two years ago from the University of Montana, a decision was made to go to Northern Arizona and study for a master’s in fine arts in the discipline of creative writing, which teaches students to organize material and tell a compelling story, among other skills.
Lindsey explained that the creative writing curriculum includes nonfiction, which can be essays, social commentary, historical writing and memoirs. Each student is required to produce an 80 page work as a thesis, but the page count can go much higher.
The inspiration to write about Shelter Island was in a course taught by Navajo poet and professor, Sherwin Bitsui, who was speaking on the concept of “home,” in all of the manifestations of the word. “I was also inspired by a piece of prose, a selection of ‘From the Glittering World’ by Irvin Morris,” Lindsey said. “I didn’t realize until I left how much I love Shelter Island, and how much it gave me. I wanted to piece together the history of my family and the Island.”
Lindsey mentioned a specific excerpt of the book, where Mr. Morris is describing his own homeland: “I have seen these landmarks every morning of my life, whether or not I am actually home. These mountains and formations are as real and as alive for me as are the stories that animate them. Better than anything else, they tell me who I am.”
The three sentences struck them, and turned thoughts to the Island. “It made me reflect on my own unique perspective on my home of Shelter Island,” Lindsey said. “It made me want to capture what the Island means to me. And my sense of who I am.”
Lindsey has also drawn inspiration from other books, two memoirs in particular, “The Yellow House,” by Sarah M. Broom, and “In the Dream House,” by Carmen Maria Machado.
A hunt was embarked for information on the house in Silver Beach where Lindsey grew up with their father Bryan, mother Christine, sister Emma, and grandparents Laura and Artie Nelsen (nicknamed Cadle and Pip, respectively), and, for a while, their great-grandmother, Florence Collins. After contacting the Reporter and then the Shelter Island Historical Society, Lindsey discovered a large newspaper ad in the paper from years ago for the place they grew up.
All Islanders have an origin story, from the Hareleggers to those who arrive from elsewhere, and will tell you a story of discovery and enchantment. Lindsey’s grandparents were the explorers who decided to stay, sailing on their boat into Coecles harbor in 1975 (see Lindsey’s account below) when Lindsey’s mother was 5. They came for a long weekend, and then kept returning, finally buying the Silver Beach property in 1994.
One of the real rewards of the project is researching and writing about the house and property with the work turning into a love letter to family, and Shelter Island. And, Lindsey said, it will be more than a master’s thesis. “The project won’t stop after I’m finished with the thesis. It will go on. I have so much more research to do.”
Like all wise writers, Lindsey is cautious about projections. For example, when asked if they are talking about a book in the works, would only say, “I just think it will continue in some form.”
Coming back home, Lindsey has noticed something about the place where they grew up that had always been taken for granted. “We’re surrounded by water. Water is comforting to me. Water is home.”
A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY
BY LINDSEY GALLAGHER | CONTRIBUTOR
On a summer day in 1975 a 27-foot Concorde, the Adagio, with the name painted in black script on the stern, motored past the sandy peninsula of Reel Point and entered Coecles Harbor.
The boat was captained by my 33-year-old grandpa, Pip. Without a hat, his hair should’ve blown sideways, but it remained still, well-kept, thanks to copious amounts of gel. Pip wore an old T-shirt, baggy cargo shorts that stopped before the knee, and brown boat shoes, peeling from the sole.
My 30-year-old grandma, Cadle, sat next to him, holding close one of their girls, my Aunt Sharon, who was just three. Cadle’s curly red-brown hair was covered under a hat and she wore a simple T-shirt and shorts, an outfit she was O.K.. getting grease, salt, and possibly the girl’s food on.
Behind Pip, my Aunt Laura and my mom Christine, 7 and 5, sat on a folding chair, looking out to the water. Upon entering, the blue water of the harbor glistened in the sunlight. The land to the left opened with the greenery and umbrella-less beaches of Mashomack Preserve. In the curve of the point, moorings bobbed in the water, some tethered to boats.
The Adagio continued past the peninsula’s tips, veering west toward Cedar Island Cove, created by the long curve of undeveloped land that was Mashomack. Pip steered the boat toward the anchorage field where others were already enjoying the quiet on the water, sitting on decks with drinks in hand, interrupted only by the engines of passing vessels and the splash of a swimmer’s body hitting the water.
Forty-eight years later, Cadle recalls the moment to me: “I don’t think I will ever forget when we pulled into Coecles Harbor on the boat. It was just so stunningly beautiful, you know with Mashomack, that Grandpa and I were immediately in love.” Already, it was decided they would return.
The first time Pip heard of the island was on a boat. He was driving the then newly purchased Adagio west from Mattituck to Mastic Beach, where the family lived. As Pip passed the island, he wondered aloud “what is that beautiful place?” The friend who joined him for the voyage gave him the name. Pip held onto it.
Later that spring, the name came up again when Pip was doing an electrical job on a dock in Mastic. Pip and a passerby on the dock had gotten to talking about the island nestled between the two forks of eastern Long Island.
“If you go to the island, you’ve got to go to Coecles Harbor,” the man told Pip.
So the family did.
After entering Cedar Island Cove that summer day, Pip found an open area of water, putting some distance between him and the other boaters. Cadle handed Sharon to Laura and climbed up and along the side of the boat to the bow where she dropped the anchor. Within a few minutes, they were secured into the sand. Pip cut the engine. They had arrived at Shelter Island.
