I took a day trip to Cumberland Island and stood in front of a burned out house. http://www.nps.gov/cuis/planyourvisit/placestogo.htm. It was the home of Thomas and Lucy Carnegie. The land was a gift from her husband after she learned about Catherine Greene, another woman (wife to General Nathaniel Greene, right hand to General Washington) who lived on this island after the American Revolutionary War and built a home she named Dungeness. Lucy had a vision–to make herself a home on the very plot of land where Catherine had made hers.
Both homes were called Dungeness, both were mansions in their day, but it was perhaps more than that to these women. It was a hearty and hardy place to raise chidren. Both women lived privaledged lives and both women experienced heartache. They could have stayed in their posh New York or Washington lives and cavorted with the wealthy and important peers of their day. Instead, they chose an island. Their connections continue–both husbands died in their forties and each of these women were left to run a plantation and build new lives.
Cumberland was (and is) a hard and harsh environment in some respects, but fertile. Both women found inner strength to hone this wilderness and thrive. Perhaps they wanted what most women want–to find what lies within–to find if they truly have the goods to go on, to grow in character and resolve and see what they’re capable of if given the chance. Ironically, fire claimed both homes. Only a shell remains, and if I’ve ever seen anything that resembled a haunted house, it is here. Relentless vines crawl up and over the bricks. An iron gate guards the steps where lizards and skinks slither away. Dragonflies swarm and the languid air carries bird calls. Feral horses chomp in the flat fields where slaves once gathered crops and sang their weary songs.
I stand at these gates and wonder, could I make here? Could I go to bed each night, run my hand over the cool sheet and let my tired bones sink into the mattress–alone. Could I find the resolve to make a life, continue my legacy, be responsible for the good of my days and my wealth to influence future generations–and still choose to live a simple life–on and island? I’d like to think so.
The living and then writing of MOTHERING MOTHER taught me much about myself. I still have a lot to learn.
Strong women are like strong coffee. They soak deep in your bones, nourish and comfort…and refuse to grow bitter no matter what life gives–or takes from them.
That’s what strong women do.
