Sometimes, sitting here in Nova Scotia, my mind wanders back across the Cabot Strait to Random Island. I remember walking past the small, weathered one-room schoolhouses and the quiet rural churches that dot the harbour roads. I never actually went to school in them, mind you—by my day, they had become community halls—but we spent plenty of evenings there. I still remember the excitement of going to a “time”, with the music playing, card tables set up, and the tea boiling in the back.

For years now, I have harboured a bit of a dream for the future. I would love to go back, find one of those old schoolhouses, decommissioned churches, or even an old saltbox house, and convert it into a quiet little heritage room. A place dedicated solely to keeping our outport history from slipping away into the fog.

The goal would be simple: to gather up the old photographs, the hand-written journals, and the stories of the old fellas. I would love to set up a corner for audio and video, capturing interviews and recording the distinct, soft accents of the older generation. Truth be told, we are running out of time. Much of our history is already second- or third-hand, and if we don’t record it soon, it will be gone for good.

Beyond the stories, I picture a room filled with the physical things we used to see in every home. The old pump organs that sat in the living room or hall, the wooden spinning wheels, and the heavy looms that took up half the kitchen during the winter woodcut months. As I think about it, more memories come flooding back—like the old water mill we used to visit, and how we might even recreate some of those old workings one day.

And then there are the fish stages. Not the modern plywood ones of today, but the weathered spruce stages of our fathers and grandfathers, smelling of salt fish and tarred twine. I dream of collecting those hand-worn tools, wooden lobster pots, and net needles, giving them a safe place out of the weather before they rot away.

It is mostly just a fantasy for a future day, sitting up here in NS and drawing blueprints. But I can’t help but wonder. Do you remember the old schoolhouse times in your community? Or do you know of an old church, school, or saltbox building still standing on Random Island that might be saved? I would love to hear your thoughts.