A Pocketful of Passage

10.Change

September brought change. The air turned cool. Crisp winds whipped Lake Superior into frothy whitecaps. Daddy and Mr. Lane cut lots of wood for the cookstove and stacked it in the basement. Mama made me recite my multiplication tables every day, and Jo had to work on addition and subtraction problems. We took turns spelling words while we washed the dishes. Every afternoon we sat at the kitchen table, pencils in hand, and toiled over the workbooks provided in the book boxes. Change 62 01฀Campbell฀text.indd฀฀฀62 12/8/06฀฀฀1:53:47฀PM “You must be ready for school when we go to the mainland,” Mama said. Usually we left Passage Island in mid-September and went to Duluth, Minnesota, or Copper Harbor, Michigan, for the winter. I liked winter in Copper Harbor best. This village at the tip of Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula was a tiny, friendly community of families whose lives were tied to the lake. They fished, made and repaired boats, and rented cabins to summer visitors. Their weatherworn homes and shops reminded me of Tobin Harbor. In Copper Harbor Daddy helped build boats and repair engines . He was a jack-of-all-trades and seemed to find work easily. Although my mother, brother, sister, and I left Passage Island each September, Daddy had to stay behind. The Great Lakes keepers assigned to remote, offshore lights remained at their stations until the end of the shipping season in early December. When ice blocked the shipping channels and the freighters returned to their winter berths, the men “laid up” the stations to make them ready for winter. Daddy and Mr. Lane stored the lighthouse boat and the rowboats in a small boathouse. They drained the boiler in the fog signal and emptied the fuel from the gasoline engines and diesel generators that powered their equipment. They put up storm shutters on all the windows to protect the buildings and the precious lens in the tower. With their work done, they awaited a tugboat that picked them up when weather permitted. Change 63 01฀Campbell฀text.indd฀฀฀63 12/8/06฀฀฀1:53:47฀PM “I don’t want to go to school!” I thought as I chewed the end of my pencil. Although I enjoyed learning, children in school called me the dumb lighthouse kid. I was a chatterbox and forgot to raise my hand before speaking. I also had a tough time making friends because we started the school year a bit late, left early, and then disappeared for the summer. While I did well enough in the subjects I learned in the workbooks, I lagged behind in other classes. The thought of entering a stuffy classroom with boys and girls I didn’t know made my tummy hurt. Besides, I loved living on the island. So you cannot imagine how I felt the evening when Mama and Daddy told us we were leaving Passage Island forever. “In the spring we’re going to a different lighthouse on the mainland,” Daddy explained. “We’ll still live by the water , but we’ll be able to drive to town.” “You can ride bicycles and roller skate, play with other children, and make real friends. There are stores and a nice school nearby!” Mama added happily. I couldn’t believe what they were saying! Not come back to Passage? Leave my playhouse rocks and secret lookout on the cliff? Never see Pete and Laura again? Never sit in my very own window seat? “But—but what about Passage?” I stumbled over the words. “Who will take care of this light?” “A new assistant keeper will move here,” Daddy said. “But this is our light,” I insisted. “I want to stay here! A Pocketful of Passage 64 01฀Campbell฀text.indd฀฀฀64 12/8/06฀฀฀1:53:47฀PM I want to come back here so we can take care of Passage Island! This is our lighthouse!” “Annie,” Daddy said gently, “you mustn’t worry about Passage. The Coast Guard takes care of all the lights. It’s time for our family to move to a better place.” Better? What could be better than our beautiful island? But I was nine years old. I did not understand how difficult it had been for Mama to care for three growing children on a tiny island so far from towns with doctors, real stores, churches, and...