An Island of Many Homes

The island, a home at the end of a road. When society impoverishes those who cannot follow the social standards of success, the “end-of-the-roaders” make their home away from the eyes of society. These are the people that live dollar-to-dollar day by day, economically stagnant within poverty. On the island, these are the people who heat their houses with their ovens; they pay for utilities and food by striking deals of cheap servitude out of desperation. If they are lucky enough to own a vehicle, it is found on the side of the road more often than rolling down it. You will find them paying for their cup of coffee with a smile and a promise to pay next time, rather than the spare change not to be found in their pockets. They are the lobsterman’s sternmen, the hotel’s dishwashers, the shops cardboard stackers, doing the dirty jobs that nobody pays enough for. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, the “end-of-the-roaders” have nowhere else to go other than their decaying house sitting next to a million dollar estate. Yet, they hide themselves in plain sight, shoulder to shoulder with wealthy vacationers and successful businessmen. There is no ghetto, no fence, no economic enforcement separating the impoverished and the wealthy, yet the segregation of social class persists not through physical means but through the ignorance supported by society.

The island, a home to a social image. It is no longer a place to hide, a place to work, a place of emotion, or a place of aesthetic value. When houses are bought and sold for more money than the net worth of the island’s working class, it becomes something of a social phenomenon. The houses are vacant throughout most of the year, but everyone knows who owns them. The names turn up in conversations at the side of the road, rumors spread throughout coffee shops, and amongst the artists staying at hotels. The names of the wealthy become mythological icons rather than the people they belong to. These “icons” can call upon their servants, the lower echelons of society, with ease, to do whatever they desire. During the limited time that the “icons” show their faces on the island, they are seen participating in social life like anyone else. However, it is them that start the conversations, the gatherings, the parties, in order to maintain a social image. The wealthy are the ones who have built and maintained the hegemonic social hierarchy dictating social class. They possess the luxury to breach and build social barriers between the social classes they control. People are in awe at their wealthy presence, but only because these “icons” have valued the lower social classes as less.

The island, a home to aesthetic pleasure. Every tourist destination comes with a demographic of people that visit for the exotic scenery. There is always more than meets the eye, except to the people who can afford to only look at the surface of a place. The culture, the people, and the essence of the place are ignored by the vacationers who can afford just the aesthetic value of the island. These are the people that the working class serves because the nicer the workers look, the more willing the “aesthetic vacationers” will empty their pockets. Perhaps these people will invest emotionally in the island, but for now they might as well vacation elsewhere. The island might as well be a painting, and the people with it are objects to be used to enhance their experience. The “aesthetic vacationers” walk down the road as if everything will get out of their way. Society has given these people almost anything they could ask for and so they do not question the position of their social class. The island is their resort, a place to take a break from the “real world”; a place that can be rented, bought, and even sold. However, they come and go, these people do not stay long because the place holds no more value than their next vacation destination.

The island, a home to tradition. Those lucky enough to move away and discover better opportunities are bounded by a tradition to return to the island’s rocky shores. They are family, friends, and simple tourist alike, but they always have and always will find their way back to the island. While these “traditionalists” are of the working class elsewhere, the island is the one luxury they might be able to afford. Maybe they have managed to earn a little more than the island’s working class, but they the humblest of vacationers, understanding the hard work at hand to make their stay comfortable. The “traditionalist” blend amongst social classes, balancing on the image of their social class and their need to connect with the island. They are found amongst the wealthy at wine and cheese parties, amongst the vacationers talking over cups of coffee, and amongst workers loading the ferries. A social contract limits them to the interactions they have with the different social classes. The workers see them as more successful, lucky that their last hand brought them fortune; while the wealthy see that beyond the island, the “traditionalists” are just successful servants.

The island, a home to economic opportunity. The working class, the ones who have been dealt an unlucky hand at a high stakes game of societal poker, take all work that is decent enough to make ends meet. Society has not rejected these people, instead the working class has come to the island to find financial opportunities; of which there are many. They are behind the counter, waiting, serving on those with money enough to afford the services. The better the bluff the larger the pot; they smile up to the wealthier social classes pretending to be content to receive a bigger reward. It is a broad spectrum of people that work on the island for their wealth, hoping to be dealt a better hand. These are the restaurant and hotel workers, the fishermen, the luggage transporters, the landscapers, the caretakers, the carpenters, the knick knack snack shop employees, the entrepreneurs and business owners; all making the most of the wealthy exploitative vacationers, who step off the ferry to enjoy their time away from society’s eyes. Ironically, it is the people of wealth that bring social stigma that binds the working class. These are the people that stress, sweat, and sometimes bleed for their way of life. There is no point to move away because it is the same anywhere else for the working class. They smile and serve, knowing that in the end they are being cheated of their freedom, but they know it is the only way to sustain their way of life.

An island to many, but a home to few. People come, and people go, seeking to separate themselves from the “real” world. However, it is not the world they need to separate from. It is the social isolation, carried with them, that people are trying to escape.