By David K. Shipler
I bumped
into L.J. Hopkins outside the post office yesterday, and he was beaming as I’ve
never seen him. He’s always an affable guy, but the smile now glows. With the
help of a variety of dedicated folks from many walks of life, from lobstermen
to legislators to lawyers, he has won and brought victory to everyone in two
small island communities off the coast of Maine.
This report of the happy ending to
the story comes in response to far-flung readers who, despite having no
personal connection to this tale, asked to learn the ultimate outcome after I
described the problem last June. It is partly David and Goliath, partly a case
study on how to move a gargantuan bureaucracy that doesn’t give a wit about the
little guy.
Six months
ago, the US Postal Service decided that a convenient arrangement was no longer
permissible. For nearly thirty years, L. J. had been carrying the mail for the
adjacent islands of Swan’s Island and Frenchboro, along with UPS and FedEx
packages, prescription medicines and engine parts that islanders needed, and groceries
for the island’s only store. His mother had done the same thing for decades
before him.
Every morning, L.J. drove his white
van, loaded up with essentials, onto the state-run ferry on the mainland, got
off on Swan’s, delivered his goods, and took an afternoon ferry home. The stuff
destined for Frenchboro then got put into a seaworthy lobster boat owned by the
Swan’s Island storekeeper, Brian Krafjack, who would make the run across open
water to Frenchboro, weather be damned.
This lifeline is no small matter. It helps to
make the islands viable, keeps them inhabited at a time when the temptations of
mainland life play on the imaginations of the younger generations. Swan’s
Island has 332 year-round residents, Frenchboro, 61. L.J.’s service has helped islanders
who struggle financially avoid some of the steep ferry fares they’d have to pay
to spend most of a day going off for medicine or parts.
