<div>A Little Help While We Rebuild
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<div>Hi everyone,
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<div>This isn’t the easiest thing to write—and if there were a prize for trying to power through quietly without asking for help, we probably would’ve already won it by now. But here we are, doing the vulnerable thing, and sharing a little about what’s been going on.
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<div>This spring, our clamming boat—our main source of income—burned down at the Wellfleet pier. Chris had spent all last summer rebuilding it from the ground up and had just finished the final upgrades to get it ready for a full season of local fishing. Since the end of last summer, he’d been out on the water nearly every day—fishing, clamming, and keeping our family afloat (literally and figuratively).
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<div>Clamming wasn’t just a job. It was how we made this whole life puzzle work. The long offshore trips made it nearly impossible for me to work or finish school—turns out, small kids don’t raise themselves. Returning to local fishing was Chris’s way of making it possible for me to go back to work. Being home meant we could tag-team childcare, support each other better, and I could finally complete my master’s in school mental health and return to doing what I love: supporting students in local schools.
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<div>Finishing that degree wasn’t just a passion—it was practical. I’ve been trying to find stable work on the Cape that fits with what we can (creatively) piece together for childcare and allows us to be there when the kids get on and off the bus (or to hire reliable childcare to). It’s been a challenge—but one we’ve been committed to solving together. Chris has carried the full financial load while I worked full-time, unpaid, through my clinical training. He never once complained. He just kept showing up, every day, in all the ways that count—helping me run the farmers market, donating scallops to community events, and always stepping up when someone else needed a hand.
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<div>The fire took almost everything—tools, gear, marine electronics, clothing, safety equipment. While insurance may eventually help with some of the boat itself, it doesn’t touch the rest: the gear, lost income, the labor to make a new vessel seaworthy, or the cost of re-outfitting everything needed to fish and clam.
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<div>We’ve done our best to stay quiet and figure things out behind the scenes, but the truth is: the fishing season’s ticking by, the insurance wheels are moving slowly, and there’s only so far a person can row a metaphorical boat made of grit and duct tape.
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<div>So here it is: if you feel moved to help, we would be incredibly grateful. This fundraiser is just to help Chris get back to work—replacing the equipment, covering marine mechanic work, and (hopefully) getting a working boat back in the water before the whole season slips away.
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<div>We’re not great at asking, but we’re even worse at pretending we’ve got this all handled. So if you’re able to pitch in or even just share this with others, thank you. Truly.
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<div>With a lot of gratitude (and a little humility),
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<div>Emily
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Kathleen Harvey

Richard Hunt

Diane Becker

Anonymous

Stephanie Sykes

Thomas Condon

Johanna Stipetic

David Seitler

Forrester Quinn

Funk Master

Robert Moodie

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