Comfort Island was designed to operate with a staff. When great-grandfather Clark and his family came for their first summer in 1883, they brought with them a butler, a maid and a cook. Locally they hired a captain for the steam yacht, an engineer, a caretaker and laborers as needed. When Dad married Natalie in 1974, his dedication to Comfort Island waned. Ivan Ford was a retired Adirondack Park Ranger who later became a security guard for the Stillwater Hunting Club. He took over the caretaker job in 1968 after Ronald Shutler resigned to purchase a dairy farm, Ivan did some of mowing and a little cleaning, but we generally thought of him as a carbon copy of Dad, who liked to joke and reflect on the past. They were more like brothers or friends rather than employers and employees. Its role in shouldering a significant portion of Comfort Island's maintenance diminished with each passing year. When Dad died in 1981, Ivan was perhaps more relieved than worried about what he would do next in terms of work. Ivan was the last paid caretaker on Comfort Island. Kira, Deb, and I shared housework and maintenance for the next few years. Deb became less involved in island activities as the years went by and eventually returned to California in 2006 and has only returned a couple of times for short stays. Kira and I lived close enough to commute for just the year we ran the racket. club. In all other years we came and stayed for as long as we could afford. By default, we took on most of the tasks associated with maintaining the land and house. What the uninitiated don't understand is that island life has a romantic image that doesn't always align with reality. The Clark property on Comfort Island was app...... middle of paper ...... to keep the legacy alive for so many decades. His cousin, Elk Ann Cole, rented the Papworth boathouse next door to station her large contingent of family and friends connected to the Edwin Clark branch of the family. Dozens of our friends from the river and neighboring states attended. It was an afternoon evening complete with a small band playing mostly background music. The weather was sunny and warm, which seemed fitting for such a special occasion. Bunting adorned the tower's railings, and brightly colored signal flags were attached to the soffits of the front porch. I remember asking Deb, “Do you think we'll make it to one hundred and fifty here?” She thought about it for a moment and then said, “Maybe one hundred and twenty-five years is more realistic.” I'm here to say we got to one hundred and twenty-five and beyond, but one hundred and fifty was proving too optimistic.