The Trust in My Life by Shirley Bradbury

For all but the first two years of our 32 years together the Trust has just been “there”, a given in our daily lives, a part of the very essence of who my husband is and has become. His devotion to the community in which he lived and had grown up could be evidenced even before he became a part of the organization. For instance, our first activity together involved gathering sea glass from the shore of Vaughn’s Island.

We’d wade out at low tide and spend hours bent over, picking the tiny colored jewels from the rocks. Tom was a master at it, his focus and single-mindedness evident even then. He could spot the smallest shards of cobalt or green where I could see nothing but stones. The waves, the gulls, and the heady scent of the mud flats easily distracted me. But I did my share and we filled several jugs and bottles, which Tom made into lamps. Thus began the accumulation of “our” possessions. A more high maintenance woman would have balked at hour upon hour of silence, pawing through small stones searching for bits of polished refuse. But I was enraptured by this handsome, muscular (yes—in those days very blond) young man who seemed so sure in his sense of place and pride of heritage. I suppose my being of a nuclear family transplanted to Maine “from away”, albeit at age three, made this a very attractive quality. He had an inner drive and sense of purpose, which was undirected then but very present and compelling. In my youth and naiveté I would surely have followed him straight into the sea without hesitation had he asked that of me. I have since developed more independent responses to his many creative proposals for my time.

On my February break from school I thought that I would surprise Tom with a weekday visit. He was at work, so to occupy myself I went out to Vaughn’s Island and proceeded to relive some of our finest moments. Satisfied that I’d filled the deep pockets of my parka with treasures even he would be impressed with, I turned to go back to the house. To my horror, the channel was half filled with rushing water. Raised inland, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of living by the ocean--never be ignorant of the tide! Not wanting to freeze out there for twelve more hours, and not having a way to even let him know I was there in those pre-cell phone days, I did the only thing I could think of, ditch the contents of my pockets and lunge in. Half way across I was sure that I’d have heart failure, and I quickly realized the danger inherent of hypothermia when I could no longer feel my legs moving. Sheer humiliation at my own stupidity powered me onward and I did make it out, gasping, numb and as scarlet as a cooked lobster. Never was I to doubt again the power of the ocean. And I still cringe when I think about the likelihood of a couple of natives sitting in their kitchen windows watching the antics of such a “gol-danged fool.” I’m sure Tom later married me so as to have a hand in protecting me from myself! But that’s another story!

Eventually we did decide to get married, after a whopping three-week engagement. Our reception was held outside at the head of Cape Porpoise harbor, and our wedding pictures were very candid. One was shot with the lighthouse and harbor in the background. As my lovely white shoes sank in the mud I thought briefly that this probably wasn’t standard, but what the heck, it was going to make a great

photo. I had no idea that this indeed would become the very backdrop to our life together. At the time we had other plans, both having trained for careers that had little to do with how we eventually chose to live.

When Tom’s parents bought the Pinkham buildings at the head of the harbor in order to create a gift shop and local museum, one of the first things Tom did was to take a small room and turn it into a dandy office. Of course, he had no “official” business as yet. I was impressed with the fact that he just thought he needed it—what for would take care of itself. There was an understanding between us that there was a purpose, which I now consider to be his “calling”. That in time revealed itself as the work of the Kennebunkport Conservation Trust. It evolved slowly and rarely did either of us think of it as anything other than a part time project, though, on occasion, I did refer to it as his magnificent obsession. We could not have known in the beginning what would come of it. I think it’s an example of what happens when a person is guided by inner direction and passion, and lets life unfold in the manner that it should. People get into so much trouble when they force things to be what they are not by nature.

This is not to say that it was easy. What things that are important ever are? There were sleepless nights when he had committed to a big project with no idea where the money would come from. And there wereresentments on my part that the Trust was worse than “another woman.” I’ve joked that Tom won’t be at my funeral if it conflicts with a Trust event. Our daughter was nervous that her Dad would turn her wedding into a fundraising event. He had said for years that the girls should take advantage of the annual Phillip H. Matthews Lobster bake. Friends and family are already there, the food is great, the music is wonderful, and there are fireworks and a perfect afternoon lull where a wedding could fit in. I think he was kidding but the girls were never sure.

It took years for me to realize that we were a genuine team, that he likely could not accomplish so much without my efforts and understanding on the home front. In 1996, Tom was nominated and recognized by the Cato Foundation and the Land Trust Alliance as the leading citizen conservationist in America. We

attended the awards ceremony in Vermont. In the rush after his presentation I was immediately surrounded with well-wishers and spouses of other deeply involved individuals in the land conservation movement. I was astounded for they were recognizing me, just for being his partner! I was overwhelmed with emotion as I heard for the first time that other people understood what it means to be married to someone with an all consuming passion such as land preservation. It may well have been the only time that I have been choked up and speechless.

Still, the solid feeling that the work he believes in is good and correct propels us ever forward. There is little time for second-guessing. Tom is one of those people who is just in the right place at the right time, and is smart enough to recognize it. He forever looks confidently to the future, believing in his heart that preserving the special places of his childhood is something of consequence both for those of today and for all who will follow.

For those who may not have noticed over the years, Tom habitually signs off on Trust newsletters with the phrase, “Together we can make a difference. Together we can do great things.” I love this, and I take it very personally.     Shirley Bradbury (April, 2007)

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