HOLLY NADLER

508-274-2329

(hollynadler@gmail.com)

We’ve raised an adventurous generation of kids on the Island, judging by the wild antics of the MacLean girls, Kate, 26, and Fiona, 24. I ran into their mom, Bree, where the elite meet and greet — on Circuit avenue — a couple of days ago, and she filled me in on her daughters’ doings.

The trouble started back in 1992 and 1993. Kate was 8, Fiona 6 and their mom, French teacher at the high school, with the enthusiastic participation of her husband, Pete, pianist and draftsman, switched lives with a teacher of English (and her family) from Cherbourg. Of course, that French town summons up images of rain and umbrellas from the movie, but I recall at the time also noting how the two blond MacLean girls each looked like a diminutive Catherine Deneuve, who, you’ll also recall, starred in the film.

There’s something about taking children traveling that leaves them with a raging passion for more, but let’s not get ahead of the story . . . When Kate returned to Oak Bluffs, she re-entered my son Charlie’s class in the fifth grade. They had a memorable argument when she told him her professional ambitions were to be both a world-famous fashion model and the first female president of the United States. Charlie scolded her that she needed to pick one or the other; no one had world enough and time to pursue both professions.

Kate attended Smith College, then wended her way with her boyfriend to San Francisco. She worked for Facebook and lived in a warehouse with enough roommates to require fifteen or more seats around the trestle-style dinner table. It was all fun, I remember enthusiastic reports, but the corporate world wasn’t really Kate’s idea of how she planned to lead her most fulfilling life. An opportunity arose — her boyfriend’s aunt had a chalet south of Grenoble in the foothills of the French Alps; how would the couple like to house-sit for the winter?

They did it, they loved it, and then another opportunity materialized that may not sound like everybody’s yellow brick road to Oz, but Kate’s cousin who owned an organic farm in Snow Camp, N.C., asked if the pair would help her grow stuff and care for the animals. They’ve been doing it ever since and Kate adores it. She also has a heart that over-qualifies her as fashion model or presidential material: She’s taken extra care with the piglets accidentally deformed when their 600-pound moms roll over on them (doesn’t that sound like a National Enquirer headline?) One of these piglets, Oscar, lost a leg, so Kate took the little three-legged cutie in to live with her.

She brought Oscar with her on a subsequent visit to her parents in Oak Bluffs. The whole family brought the piggy with them on their annual summer retreat at their cottage on the St. Lawrence River. “By then he was up to forty pounds,” said Bree, “and by the time we got him home he was even bigger.

Recently back on the farm, Oscar died in his sleep (he had stomach complications from juggling extra weight with three legs) but we can be sure Kate will find new lovable creatures to adopt.

In the meantime, Fiona too attended college but her passion to be outdoors, preferably in the mountains, has now lured her on a three-month trip to Patagonia where she’s working with a WWOOF project (World Wide Organization of Organic Farming). During time off from farm work, she hikes the Andes. Bree is hoping Fiona doesn’t meet and marry a local man and end up staying in that far corner of the planet.

Fiona’s stateside job doesn’t differ a whole lot from the Patagonia gig: She runs a camp in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California where sixth-graders come to learn about nature and the environment.

A final note about the MacLeans: Recently you may have spotted the dapper Pete hobbling around on a cane. Well, get out your stubs of chalk and draw hop-scotch patterns for him on the sidewalk. He’s having hip replacement surgery this week and he’ll probably want to jump around when he gets back. Knowing Pete, he might even try a little breakdancing in Post Office Square.

If anyone in town gets the award for brightening up our frankly ghastly February, it’s Claudia Bowser of 62 Pennacook. Claudia loves playing bridge the way Napoleon loved looting museums. She organizes three theme parties a year but her favorite is the St. Valentine’s Bridge and Brunch Massacre, held last Thursday. (The other two commemorate St. Patrick’s Day and Halloween).

Representatives from five bridge groups sat at four tables. Claudia’s extremely charming house held extra decorations — hearts, flowers, and bags of treats — for the occasion. Claudia had her neighbor, Owen, in an apron labeled “garcon,” playing cello and trumpet, plus she drafted her daughter, Darcie, as chief cook and bottle washer. To a nonplayer, the game looks unreasonably hard, but once learned, it’s clearly addictive: I’ve heard it’s harder to withdraw from than heroin (not really, but who knows? A little methodone might help some of these ladies who had second bridge dates to attend that evening!)

Isabelle Morley, who owns the Beach House in Oak Bluffs, is recovering from surgery in Boston; cards can be sent to her at P.O. Box 3340 Oak Bluffs MA 02557.