Islanded in a Pandemic

Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • August 3, 2020

In the life of each of us . . . there is a place remote and islanded, and given to endless regret or secret happiness; we are each the uncompanioned hermit and recluse of an hour or a day; we understand our fellows of the cell to whatever age of history they may belong.


– Sarah Orne Jewett, The Country of the Pointed Firs


The above quote is from my favorite book – which I have written about before – The Country of the Pointed Firs . I try and read this book every summer. The quote has never really struck me before until now. In light of COVID-19, it sat with me and I read it several times over. It is in reference to Joanna Todd – a young woman who banishes herself to live alone on a thirty-acre desolate island that is sleeping not far from the shore of the coast of Maine near the fictional Dunnet Landing.


Jewett wrote several books of short stories that were published before this Firs and I like to think that Maria may have read at least one of them since these first stories were published starting at least a decade before Maria’s death. Jewett spoke of nature in a way that Maria would have appreciated. While Maria was an astronomer and mathematician, she was also a naturalist as I have noted before, and daily nature walks were a part of her life. She noted what was blooming, the challenges of an insect she came across, and she even named wild animals that lived around the Vassar College Observatory.


But in light of where we all find ourselves right now – and over the past four months or so – it’s a prison to some extent. Even those who revel in being alone find themselves struggling – not all for there are some who find being completely alone and away from people a positive thing for whatever reason they have. For example, some children have detested “zoom school” while others have reveled in it and found it a new avenue for better learning than what they found in the classroom – alone, focused, quiet, or what-have-you. The pandemic has, to some extent, made hermits of us, recluses. For some, they feel as if they are in a cell bound by the four walls of their home – even if they can go out into a yard or down the street to briefly buy groceries. The whole “stay at home” has made them feel isolated, compressed, shackled, claustrophobic. It has left us alone in some cases with our feelings and emotions – more deeply than when one is running from place to place. Everyone has a different feeling but the idea of a prison, a cell, being remote, being “islanded” has become more apparent or more of a feeling for many.


JNLF

Recent Posts

By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • November 2, 2026
Early October is a time to make something I love – applesauce. It’s one of my favorite things. Ironically, when I was a baby, I did not like it. But because I ate very little – and my Mother was worried because I was such a skinny baby (not anymore!) – my Other Nana (great grandmother) made a lot of applesauce because my Mother said I ate it. I did not – but my Mother could not tell her Nana (grandmother) that and disappoint her. So, I think my parents ate a lot of applesauce back in the early 1970s. I sort of dread making it though – which is silly because it’s very easy and I always forget that until I am making it. You only have to core and slice the apples – you leave on the peels. That is what gives the applesauce – which uses McIntosh apples (my fave!) – its pink color. And with some lemon and then some sugar – you’ve got the best tasting applesauce. And it smells so good while it’s cooking! It is also freezable so once cool – it goes into winter hibernation to be brought out for specific sorts of meals. Putting food by – as Lydia Coleman Mitchell once did for her family of 12! I was a bit late this year, but over the weekend of October 24, apples were cooking on my stove resulting in the first applesauce accompanied meal of the fall and winter season. JNLF
By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • October 26, 2026
I grew up, quite literally, with hot water radiators in a Colonial Revival from the 1920s.  There was a huge boiler in the basement that chugged and blew hot belching air. It took up one whole area of the basement and I avoided it. I could hang over on the stairs and stare at its flames at the bottom. It scared me. It not only kept the basement very warm but also very dry. While the house had been built in an area that began to slope at our property, between the furnace and the clever drainage system installed by the builders of the house in the 1920s, our basement was always dry. My mother, the queen of rebates (this is the 1970s and 1980s), had her “rebate and coupon table” right in front of this furnace. I remember it always glowed – and I would not doubt that it still had some asbestos around some of its pipes. Maybe another reason I stayed away – perhaps I was warned away at an early age not just because I could burn myself! One of my fondest memories of this house was the clang and hiss of the heaters in the winter. It made me feel instantly cozy, as if I was wrapped in a nice warm quilt. If I was in bed at night and it was snowing, all the more warmth and cozy feeling. It was comforting and a sound and feel I still associate with snow and winter. The street light and the snow falling, spiraling down in that pinkish gold of the light – and the hoped for snow day to come! Forced air systems just don’t do the same thing. And, they suck all the moisture out of the house to boot! They do keep a house quite warm though – but still not the same – and I miss that humidity as do my plants. I reflect back on the hot water radiators – those old cast iron loopy radiators with the valve and perhaps a radiator box to cover them – as it if they kept me super warm. They didn’t. We kept our house at 63F – a lesson I still follow – and it was a big old Colonial-style house so it could be drafty. One reason we had a Franklin stove in our family room and quilts for nighttime television watching! So many times over the course of a winter, I think of that house where I spent about twenty years of my life, and remember the, “Bang, Clang, Hiss!” of the radiators and the coziness they projected. And while, it wasn’t always warm, it was a lot warmer that the Mitchell House would have been in February! JNLF
By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • October 19, 2026
October 1. {1857} No place that I have yet seen in Europe has interested me like Abbotsford; no palace has held such royalty. I sat down in the chair which Sir Walter Scott had occupied, and I almost felt his presence; his power I had known nearly all my life . . . . It was rather a sad visit as all such visits must be . . . I had half a mind to sit down and cry, perhaps because the “wizard” was dead, perhaps because I was a little homesick. This date marked the anniversary of Maria Mitchell’s comet discovery on October 1, 1847. At least one of Scott’s books exists in Maria’s personal library today – and I am sure there were more – handed about among family members, as well as available at the Nantucket Atheneum. This was truly an experience and education for Maria – touring through Europe. It was also the first time she had even been away from home for any length of time. She was entering into her third month away from her family and Nantucket – it must not have been easy. Keep in mind – no easy communication – letters only, do not forget. At least a voice at the other end of a phone line can help a bit when one is homesick. (Yeah, no, I’m not a Facetime/Skype kind of girl. I do “live” in the 19 th century!) JNLF
Show More