Lake Erie Lives

Phil Thiede always craved warm weather. But, somehow, the guy who meant to retire peacefully and soak up the sunshine in some southern clime wound up parka-clad, isolated and island-bound, working hard and wintering not in Florida but on Lake Erie’s Kelleys Island in Ohio.

Not that he really minds. But unlike the stereotypical rugged souls that one imagines on northern islands, Thiede is more like you and me: a regular Joe who would prefer to spend his winters indoors, where it’s warm, and among the hustling, bustling trappings of everyday life — at places like the mall.

There aren’t any malls on Kelleys Island.

There are, however, deep freezers. Lots and lots of deep freezers. Thiede owns two, and he lives by himself.

“I thought I had it all planned out,” he says. The year he retired, he decided to move out to the island for the summer. The boats weren’t running yet (it was still early spring), but Thiede was confident they’d be mobile in a week, so he flew over with a few groceries and not much else. Five weeks later, the boats finally started running — and Thiede had gotten a taste of true island living.

As the former assistant principal and athletic director for the Margaretta school system, near Sandusky, Ohio, Thiede had visited Kelleys often; it was just a short boat ride away. One summer, he pondered buying a boat, but bought a piece of land on the island instead. He figured he’d use the log home he built during the spring, summer and fall. During that first summer of retirement, Thiede did just that.

Then the weather started to turn.

“I started thinking, what am I gonna do all winter?” he says.

The superintendent/principal of the Kelleys Island school had just retired, and after giving it some thought, Thiede decided to apply for the position, a job that offered the best aspects of school administration without the long hours that he’d come to dread at his previous position. He wasn’t quite ready for retirement yet.

That was in 2004. Thiede’s been there ever since, shepherding the advancement of an enrollment roster you could probably read in one long breath. Sixteen kids are signed up for the 2010-11 school year, ranging from second grade through 12th (although juniors and seniors with solid grades actually fly or boat to the mainland every day to attend classes). Four teachers oversee this modern-day one-room schoolhouse.

“I would’ve loved to have my two kids go to school here, because of the one-on-one contact they have,” says Thiede. Plus, it’s super safe. “If somebody’s driving down the street and they see one of our students, and maybe it starts to rain, it’s not like it would be a stranger. It’s such a tight community here. Everyone knows each other and looks out for each other.”

Thiede inspired some changes on Kelleys. He helped start a twice-monthly health clinic at the school, open to everyone on the island, and organized the addition of a generator at the school, so if power were ever out for an extended period of time, residents would have a safe, warm place to go. “I started questioning all these things that might happen,” he says. “I had come from where everything was right at your disposal.”

He also opened up the school’s gym to islanders. “This is a school for the kids during the day,” he says, “but it’s your school, too.” Previous administrators didn’t live on the island. Thiede’s here 24/7, so he’s always thinking about ways to improve his own quality of life, along with the lives of every Kelleys resident.

This winter, the wannabe snowbird will slog through another island winter, brightened by evenings at the VFW (the only place open to the island’s 150 residents when the snow flies) and the occasional perfectly quiet, beautiful winter day. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“I still curse my family for ever living in the northern part of America,” he says with a chuckle. “Fortunately, I have the school job. It gives me a reason to get up every morning.”