The question came up again recently. From time to time I am asked just how we, the several dozen who spend the winter on Matinicus Island, would manage should we need to confront a disaster, such as a flood, fire, tsunami, ice storm, outbreak of avian influenza, Y2K-style computer failure, etc.

On a Saturday in January, as my hands were deep in a bowl of potato bread dough, the phone rang. Unable to pick up the phone at the moment, I heard the voice of a mainland friend talking to the tape: “There's an article in today's paper, it mentions Matinicus...”

Once again, Matinicus Island was in the newspaper. My loaves shaped and rising in the pans, I checked the story online. Yes, once again, someone out there is writing about us, and once again, they make our home appear the very bitter end.

This time of year we struggle with control and chaos. There isn't much we can do about ice in the road, or about the unceasing wind, or no mail on account of weather, mice in the walls, water in the kerosene and it still gets dark early. We want white sugar and coffee, Hershey kisses and buttered toast and rum. We want bacon. We are racked with guilt over the same, brainwashed as we are with some baloney that we should somehow look like movie stars. This isn't seasonal-affective disorder, it's