First Person: ‘I’ll walk down the street proudly and speak up when I need to’

“First Person” shares the stories of people who make a life here, in their words. Conversations are edited for clarity and length.

Harpswell has one of the oldest populations in the nation’s oldest state. But young people like Caitlin Kaiser defy that trend. Kaiser has worked construction, security and trucking, and she recently became an emergency medical technician and certified firefighter. She proudly identifies as gay and has found Harpswell to be a welcoming community.

I grew up in Brunswick, but I’ve always come to Harpswell. This was the place we would take people from out of state because it’s so beautiful. During the pandemic, Harpswell got gentrified. But when my girlfriend and I decided to move in together three years ago, we found an affordable apartment on Orr’s Island. Our landlord had bought the property and lowered the rental rate for locals, people who would benefit from the community.

We got lucky, and what was going to be a temporary thing turned out to be a lot more permanent. Having the older population here was a culture shock for my girlfriend, who’s from Boston. I’m 28 and Hadley is 29. But she’s fallen in love with it as much as I have. I like a small town. I like knowing my neighbors. I like quiet. Brunswick’s always been a little too busy for me.

I’ve always liked to work. My junior and senior years at Brunswick High, I had 12 jobs at the same time — construction, automotive, working on a rabbit farm, a pigeon farm, sheep farm, pigs, all that stuff. The dream was to own a farm someday. 

After high school, I moved to Wyoming to work on a dude ranch. I grew up riding horses, barrel racing, wanting to be a cowboy. This place was way up in the Tetons; we’d ride up ahead of the hikers, set up a base camp and climb the mountains for a week. We were two hours from cell service, had no power, no running water. I was stinky as hell, but I woke up to elk bugles every morning.

The ranch changed hands, and when the pandemic hit, I rooted myself back here. I’m working as a dispatcher at a trucking company now, but the long-term plan is to work full time as a firefighter and EMT. When I was working for a security company, driving around Portland at 2 in the morning, I saw a woman drop to the ground. I pulled over and ran over instinctively, but I realized I didn’t know what to do. That tore me up because I wanted to help and couldn’t.

Another time, I watched a Cumberland County sheriff’s deputy roll his vehicle in the pouring rain and I just instinctively pulled over and ran across four lanes of traffic. My mom has always called me unluckily lucky; I always just run across the craziest scenarios and I’ve always wanted to help. Last fall I became an EMT with the Orr’s and Bailey Islands Fire Department. And a bunch of us young volunteers just finished fire academy to get certified as firefighters.

I can keep a cooler head in high-stress situations more than I can trying to decide what to do for dinner. I can handle someone, you know, screaming and freaking out, but the moment where my girlfriend’s like, ‘What do you want for dinner?’ I’m like, that’s my last straw. In emergency situations, it’s all instinct. You don’t have time to think; you just do. Afterwards, it all hits you. You’re like, oh my god, that was crazy. It’s also, in a morbid way, fun. Obviously, I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. But it’s that puzzle that I need to put together, to feel like I’m doing something meaningful.

There’s a great support system here. They’re excited to have new first responders in the field. It’s an aging town and it’s an aging department. On my first ambulance call, I ran out of the house and drove way too fast to the station and climbed into the ambulance. The call was for an older woman who was feeling lightheaded and nauseous.

I was so eager that I walked into the house and just immediately went into the script we learned at EMT training. “My name’s Caitlin. I’m with Orr’s and Bailey Islands Fire Department. What’s going on with you? Are you OK?” Well, the paramedic had gotten there before we did and he had already gone through the whole list of questions; he was just ready for us to transport her to the hospital. Ha!

If someone’s house is burning down, I want to help them. One thing I didn’t realize is how dark it is inside a burning structure. You’re in a building you’ve never been in before. It’s smoky and you can’t see your hand in front of your face. You have to find the victims and you have to find the fire. Everyone has to be, like, a little crazy to join the fire service, because it’s in our blood to turn away from that risk. You could get hurt, you could get killed. But they teach us to put safety first. If I’m dead, I can’t help anyone else.

I grew up in a religious family and thought it wasn’t OK to be gay. In junior high, Maine was trying to legalize gay marriage. And I remember being very against it. But through my entire teenagehood, I had never understood how all the other girls were boy crazy. I thought all the boys were weird and gross and, well, most of them were my friends. I always thought I was broken somehow. Then I was watching Jennifer Lawrence walk down the red carpet for “The Hunger Games” premiere. I could just feel my heart do a pitter-patter and I thought, “Oh, shit.”

I shoved that way down. I couldn’t even look at myself in a mirror for three to four years. I was so ashamed and closeted against myself. But then, in my junior year of high school, I was — stereotypically — playing softball. There was a girl on another team and we’d joke that she was going to be my prom date. My friends were trying to find her on Facebook for me. That made me stop and realize, I have people around here who don’t care. That’s when I was like, yeah, I am gay. They’re like, “We know.” When I came out to my mom, I walked into her bedroom. She was reading, and I just sat on her bed and asked, “Do you know I’m gay?” And she goes, “Well, yeah!”

I don’t believe being gay should make you any more special than the other person. I think it’s just another unique thing about you — you know, like, you’re a writer. I’ve listened to people be homophobic, and I say, “You know I’m gay, right?” And they’re like, “Oh, well, you’re different.” I am like, “How am I different? I’m exactly like every other lesbian I know. We all have the same shitty mullet, and we all play softball. It’s not that hard.”

That’s how I try to do my own little civil justice. It’s just being me. I’ll hold my girlfriend’s hand in public. I’ll walk down the street proudly, and speak up when I need to, to protect someone or protect our voices, especially in our political climate today. Harpswell is a small community, it’s full of an older generation, and I have felt open and respected.

I love my girlfriend, and that’s the best gift you can get. She has the biggest heart. Our first year together, I was extremely sick with Crohn’s disease. My immune system just stopped working. I got COVID four times, even though I was vaccinated. Without even knowing me, she just took care of me.

I hope to be an advocate for women who don’t feel like they have a voice in the healthcare system. I spent years arguing with doctors that I wasn’t just having period cramps; it was a lot worse. Finally, I got a couple of doctors who are women and they said, “You’re right. We want to figure this out with you.” It was just so freeing. I want to be a safe space for women who, whether they’re experiencing abuse or going through a medical experience, aren’t being listened to. Just to have someone there to say, “I hear you.”

Editor’s note: Jeffrey Good is a volunteer EMT with the Orr’s and Bailey Islands Fire Department.