Why would a person leave a well-established Jewish community for a completely different lifestyle? Five years ago, Galia Berry and her husband, Joe, moved from Baltimore to the rural Maine woods. Galia began writing a blog – an online journal – about her new life in Maine. Here, she talks about what precipitated their move and what she’s learned.
After my mother passed away, I found a diary she kept as a freshman in college, when she was newly engaged to the young man who would become her husband. All her hopes and dreams and the inner workings of her mind were contained within those pages. It was a dimension of my mother that pleasantly shocked and delighted me, because this side of her was unknown to me. How much do we really know a person, even those close to us? They aren’t always what they seem to be, within our limited perspective. Now that I am older, there are so many questions I have for my parents and grandparents, questions that didn’t even occur to me as a young adult. And now it’s too late to ask. So I thought, I need to write, and let my grandchildren know who I am and how I think, because some day they will have questions, and I may not be here to answer them. I wanted them to know the inner me, because, whether we like it or not, our forbears are part of who we are, and many of their traits are inherited, for better or for worse.
I have always been a very independent thinker and out-of-the-box person. These are qualities that are unfortunately not always appreciated within the framework of Orthodox Jewish culture. Of course, there is no actual conflict in the Torah itself about being different or creative or independent-minded. But within our frum “culture” as it has developed in our day, there are issues. I realize that I don’t fit into this culture and, if I’m to be totally honest within myself, despite my best efforts, I have never fit in, even though I’ve been shomeres mitzvos for almost 40 years now. Trying to be someone I’m not does not bring inner peace. As Shakespeare said, “To thine own self be true.”
Unconventional Is Not Bad
I know that doing something like moving to the isolated rural Maine woods is highly unconventional, especially since I’m now in my late 50s. And yes, I took a lot of flak for it from within the Orthodox community, and even from within my own family. There were two basic reasons we made the move: First, I was emotionally and physically exhausted after dealing with elder care issues with our parents. Both my mother and mother-in-law lived with us during their last years; after they passed away, my health was shot, and the emotions of failure and guilt were so overwhelming that I felt utterly lost.
Second, I was feeling burned out from living in the frum world. It was as if my neshama’s spark was being extinguished by living here in town. I am very idealistic, and the suffering due to issues like shidduchim and chinuch and abuse and corruption within our community, along with unrealistic expectations and certain ideologies, have left me extremely disillusioned and dispirited. “Dispirited” really is the proper word. These issues left me feeling a lack of spirituality. I am very, very fortunate that I have very strong emuna (faith). I believe absolutely that our Torah is emes (Truth), that Hashem loves us and watches over us and challenges us, and that He is the Creator of our world. And I have never faltered in my love of observing mitzvos. But so much has been corrupted into “shtick.”
I don’t really label myself as Orthodox anymore; I prefer to call myself “shomeret mitzvot.” And here’s the thing: I am not the only one who feels this way! Since our move and through the blog, I have been contacted by countless individuals who are disillusioned. Some, even adults in their 50s and 60s, are no longer shomrei mitzvos at all. Others walk the walk and talk the talk, but inside they’re dying and wish they could be living differently. They no longer believe.
Honestly, that makes me want to cry! Because I know that, while it may be unconventional, and that not everyone has to live in the Maine woods to experience fulfillment, we all have choices, and in many cases we don’t need to feel “stuck,” because there are alternatives that are still “kosher.” But choices and change are very, very scary. And most people just “put up and shut up,” because they are tired and it’s easier not to take the initiative. By the way, my husband is extremely encouraging; we are true partners in this venture. We are fortunate in that he is a software developer who works from home, so location isn’t an issue employment-wise.
Compelled to Blog
A sign taped over my desk reads, “Find a place for yourself. If you embrace the line, ‘Why be normal?’ or some similar idea, maybe you are in the wrong community! Find a community where ‘normal’ is (for the most part) something you would want to be!” I don’t know who wrote that quote, but it resonates strongly with me. I thought, well, if someone just cannot bring him or herself to make that change, for whatever reason, or is curious about why I am leaving an established Jewish community and doing something so “weird” as moving to the Maine woods, maybe a blog of my new life will be of interest. And it has been, for many people.
So yes, I feel compelled to share many of our Maine experiences via my blog. I feel a little bittersweet in reporting that many people have contacted me privately, saying “I live vicariously through you.” Others are just plain curious what life is like without many basic amenities that people take for granted living in an urban environment. And then there are those who think we’re strange and have cooties but are drawn to the blog out of morbid curiosity. But I really love living in Maine! I even made a wood sign that hangs in my house that says “M’aine Olam HaBa.” Do you get the pun?
I have several dozen “subscribers,” who are automatically notified each time a new blog post comes out, so they can follow along. But tens of thousands of people from all over the world – almost 100 countries – have randomly accessed and read my various blog posts. I do not advertise, so people usually find my blog through word of mouth, or because they’ve done a google search on a specific topic that is discussed on my blog.
The blog is about experiencing life’s many facets through a different lens. Topics include glimpses into Maine culture, interesting Mainers I’ve met, energy efficiency and living off the grid, growing food, organic gardening, hiking reports, fishing, nature spots, local wildlife, survival skills, connecting spirituality with nature, and lots of outdoor photography.
What I don’t do is bash political parties or politicians whom I may find odious off the record. I don’t think I write anything particularly controversial. Although my readers know I love Israel, they won’t find posts about Middle East politics, and even though I am distressed at the state of the world today, there are more than enough “haters” throughout the internet – blogs and comments included. Additional negative input in this direction would be superfluous and a big yawn. Again, the main purpose of my blog is as a legacy for my grandchildren. The rest is just the icing on the cake.
Life in Maine
Living in Maine compels me to live consciously and conscientiously. We live completely without traffic, crime, or the stresses of daily life. We are physically active, not from working out at a gym but from hiking, maintaining our orchard, and stacking thousands of pounds of wood logs into the woodshed (our source of heat in the winter). There is no trash pickup – everything must be taken to the dump nine miles away – so we’ve really cut down on the amount of trash we create, and of course we also do composting. The supermarket is 40 minutes away, so I’ve had to become much better organized about preparing, cooking, and storing food and about creating lists, because each trip to town is a time-killer and costs me $10 in gas, so running out for a single forgotten item isn’t really an option.
Emergency services are a far cry from Hatzalah! The nearest hospital is about 35 minutes away, but it’s very small and lacking hi-tech diagnostic equipment. The closest major hospital is 90 minutes away, in Portland. Our rural rescue and fire service is all-volunteer, and they do a good job under the circumstances but are very limited in addressing life-or-death situations. There are no fire hydrants, for instance, so once the fire truck runs out of water, they have to run the truck to the nearest lake to fill up and only then return to the scene of the fire. Beyond getting people and pets out of a burning house, the emphasis is containment: keeping the fire from spreading to the forest rather than actually saving the house. That’s just the reality of the situation.
We don’t have a police department, only a sheriff, but he’s got a large county to cover and response time could be one to two hours. Fortunately crime is not an issue. Armed game wardens and forest rangers, who ensure that hunters and fishermen are properly licensed and aren’t guilty of poaching, are actually more prevalent than police or the sheriff. I have never felt afraid walking in the woods off the beaten track, just me and my dog. Both my dog and I wear neon orange vests in the fall during hunting season, however, lest we be mistaken for a deer!
The hamlet where we live has about 230 residents, but my closest neighbor is a quarter mile away, and the next one is one mile away. Many of the residents are descended from pioneer colonial settlers who came at the time of the Revolutionary War, and have never lived anywhere else. Native Mainers are taciturn and very private but friendly, polite, helpful, and very tolerant of people who are different from them, as long as one doesn’t try to “improve” their lives with all sorts of suggestions on how they might live better or differently. Maine’s state motto is “The way life should be,” but it could also be “Live and let live.” I’ve never met a rural Mainer whose goal it is to be rich. They live very simply. One requires much less “stuff” when living rurally. Mainers are honest folk with a healthy sense of self-respect. They have a tremendous work ethic and work very hard, but just enough to pay for their minimum needs, because when it’s fishing or hunting season or family time, they will never let their jobs get in the way. I guess you’d call this “subsistence living.”
Jews in Maine
We weren’t sure what to expect as far as the attitudes of the local populace to Jews. Until the 1960s, there were resorts in Maine that refused entry to Jews, but that is no longer the case. Many of the summer sleep-away camps in Maine that sport Native American names are in fact owned by Jews. But many rural Mainers have never met a Jew before. So we have both the blessing and the burden of being ambassadors for the Jewish people, and making a positive impression by the way we conduct ourselves. It’s something one doesn’t necessarily think about when one lives in a large, established Jewish community. But we really try to be an ohr lagoyim (“light unto the nations”). I often wonder whether, if we Jews were more conscious about how we behave, no matter where we lived – anti-Semitism might be lessened today.
No, there is no minyan where we live! Or anything else Jewish, for that matter. Maine is a large state with few people, and one must traverse great distances to get from one place to another. There are three Orthodox synagogues in the state, which have primarily Shabbat minyanim: a Chabad house in Portland, 90 minutes away; a shul in Old Orchard Beach, the oldest continuously Orthodox synagogue on the East coast, located 90 minutes to two hours away; and a shul in Bangor, which is three-and-a-half hours away. There is also a summer minyan in the town of Lincoln, New Hampshire, which is about 80 minutes away. We sometimes spend Shabbat in Old Orchard Beach, or my husband will drive to Chabad in Portland on a weekday, if we have a yahrzeit and need to say Kaddish. The rabbi there ensures that we will have a minyan on those occasions.
We have become close friends with some of the people in Old Orchard Beach. And thanks to podcasts by Rabbi Silber at Suburban Orthodox, in Baltimore, it is possible to participate in “live” shiurim (classes) even from rural Maine. My husband also Skypes with his chavrusa (learning partner), and learns via the internet on a daily basis. There is a wealth of material and Torah learning via the internet, and my husband really takes advantage of this. He also has fun connecting with Jewish ham radio operators once a week. Because he has fewer distractions or commitments in Maine, and doesn’t need to run around so much, he actually spends more time learning Torah in Maine than he did in Baltimore.
In terms of kashrut, there is literally nothing you cannot get today anywhere in the United States. We bring cholent meat from Baltimore, which goes into our freezer. I buy large quantities of grated cheese from the Costco in Columbia or Monsey and bring it to Maine. It, too, is stored in our freezer. Chicken and turkey are available by special order from a supermarket, but it’s easier to go to Trader Joe’s in Portland every few months and stock up on kosher poultry from there. Trader Joe’s also sells extremely reasonably-priced kosher wine in their New England stores, much cheaper than I can buy in Baltimore! The only challenge is chalav Yisrael milk. We don’t keep chalav Yisrael in Maine, but some of our children do, so when they or other guests come to visit, we are able to accommodate them by ordering from a supermarket in Monsey via the internet, and it is delivered by UPS packed in dry ice. Or you can go the “native” route and get cow and goat milk from local farmers, as it’s being milked!
Inadvertent Outreach
We return to Baltimore for Jewish holidays, family simchas, and school events. But we’ve made some fascinating Jewish connections in rural Maine. We signed up with Shabbat.com, and have had some really interesting Shabbat guests, including Israelis on their gap year, and even a Satmar chasid. Some people with whom we’ve connected by hosting via Shabbat.com have become good friends.
One year, I advertised in a local newspaper, saying “Chanukah Party,” with a picture of a dreidl, the date, and my phone number – nothing more. Twenty-seven people came, 25 of whom were Jewish! Eighteen of the guests were secular Jews living in all parts of the Maine and New Hampshire woods; some had come from 80 miles away to be part of our Chanukah party!
Another time, I arranged for people to meet up for a group picture, holding signs that said “Jews in the White Mountains Stand with Israel!” Some people drove two hours to be part of that photograph and to show their support for Israel.
Then there was the time we were going out for a walk on a Shabbat morning on the road in front of our house, and a man walking in the opposite direction stopped us and asked if were were Jewish, because the previous day, he had taken a wrong turn and driven up our driveway, instead of to the house he was supposed to go to. He had noticed the mezuzot on our doors and was wondering how it could be that Jews lived in such a remote place. We ended up inviting him and his friends – who were from Har Nof! – for Shabbat lunch. We had divrei Torah and singing, and one of the fellows said it felt like he was living in a Carlebach dream fantasy!
We’ve even had rebbeim visit us. I took a rabbinic family to an isolated alpine lake known only to locals. It is something of an adventure just to get there, since the dirt road is heavily rutted and eroded and only passable for four-wheel drive vehicles; it also required some hiking. But where else can a frum family relax and swim together as a family? They had the entire lake to themselves. I dropped them off in what seemed to them the middle of nowhere and picked them up at an agreed time several hours later. They said it was the highlight of their trip.
We’ve also had guests who were struggling with work stress and/or religious conflicts, or with medical, psychological, or abuse issues. They came to us simply for a change of scene. It’s amazing to see their transformation by the end of their stay. They are relaxed and joyful instead of tense and dour. I feel the combination of nature, the slower pace, the pure mountain air and water, and the non-judgmental environment has the capability to heal, albeit temporarily.
Although we enjoy having guests, our house is not big. There is a very simple inn with few amenities about a mile down the road; we often suggest that people stay there when there are more guests than we can handle. I’d love to organize a Shabbaton there, but I’d probably be getting in over my head trying to make everyone happy!
Camp Savta
One of our best experiences – and I have written about this on my blog – is when my grandchildren come to visit us in Maine. We call it “Camp Savta.” They’ve had many wonderful outdoor experiences over the years, and I think it’s really important to publicize that, because it shows that it’s possible to entertain children ages 1 to 14 without electronics or doing things that cost money. Interestingly, it is those experiences that my grandchildren relish the most: the hikes, the swims at the lake, kayaking, campfires, camping, seeing wildlife, learning survival skills, and growing food.
The best things in life really are free – and freeing! What could be more spiritual and pragmatic than connecting nature to Hashem and the perfection of G-d’s Creation when it’s stretched out before you? In Maine, I am creating a bond with my grandchildren and some lasting memories that they will cherish for the rest of their lives, as will I.
Greater Heights
I have learned many new skills by living a rural life, but I also realize that the essence of living Jewishly is within a Jewish community. Unfortunately for me, in the United States that means living an urban life, something I am no longer prepared to do. To be honest, each time we come back to Baltimore, it gets harder and harder, despite enjoying the time with my family. There is so much daily stress, distrust, and crime, and so many rude drivers and apathetic shopkeepers. I now know that we don’t have to live this way, that there are choices, and places where life runs according to a different beat.
My husband and I hope to move to Israel next summer, where we can have the best of all worlds: living a slower-paced life within a rural, religious and spiritual Jewish community that has wide open spaces amidst nature. As a result – and it’s bittersweet – we’ve just put our house in Maine up for sale (www.mainewoodshomeforsale.com) so we can make our dream of living our later years in Israel a reality.
To contact Galia or read her blog, go to www.midlifeinmaine.wordpress.com.
