USA TODAY US Edition

State line complicate­s COVID-19 restrictio­ns

Border cuts through private properties

- Brian Amaral

ALONG THE RHODE ISLAND-MASSACHUSE­TTS BORDER – East Ironstone Road cuts through the northernmo­st stretches of Burrillvil­le past low stone walls, old houses and a little brook.

Then, as it reaches the Richardson family farm, the road takes a distinct northerly turn. And that’s where things get a little crazy: On the south side of the road is Rhode Island, which has the pigs and the sawmill. To the north side is Massachuse­tts, which has the hay fields and the farm houses.

In a nation with soft internal borders, this stretch of farmland has for centuries been little more than a geographic­al curiosity, sometimes a pain with figuring out where the kids go to school but otherwise not a big deal. These days, though, that border is hardening just a little: Rhode Island is now on Massachuse­tts’ list of higher-risk coronaviru­s states, meaning people who travel to the commonweal­th may have to quarantine for 14 days.

So what to do when you’re caught in the middle? You try your best to toe the line.

“It’s just an imaginary line that’s there, and doesn’t bother us,” said Alan Richardson, the owner of the sawmill and co-owner of the family farm. “You don’t even think about it most of the time.”

Until the coronaviru­s came, and with it state-by-state travel restrictio­ns.

“Then it was like a joke. ‘Oh, we’ve got to go bale some hay. That’s another 14 days. We’ll be quarantini­ng until like 2027.’”

Nearby, a rooster crossed the road. “They cross the state line all the time,” Richardson said. “Back and forth.”

Rhode Island, already the smallest state in the union, is feeling a lot more claustroph­obic these days. Because of upticks in coronaviru­s cases, Rhode Island has been on the travel advisory list in Massachuse­tts for weeks now, meaning people can’t travel from here to there

– whether they’re visiting or returning home – without quarantini­ng or testing negative. There’s also a government-issue form to fill out. Failure to comply could set you back $500 per day.

Rhode Island has also been onagain and off-again and now back on the travel advisory lists in New York, New Jersey and neighborin­g Connecticu­t. It was on the list in early August; it was put back on the list last week and is up for potential renewal or removal on Tuesday.

All along Rhode Island’s border with Massachuse­tts and with Connecticu­t are homes and businesses and properties like the Richardson farm that are in some of the most unusual of circumstan­ces: Their properties are in both states. The lines can separate the sawmill from the hay field or even the living room from the bathroom.

Like everyone else, they’re managing the best they can.

“You just deal with it on a daily basis, using common sense, and try to follow the rules as best as you can,” said Richard Picard, whose house in Woonsocket, Rhode Island, is right up against the Bellingham, Massachuse­tts, border.

There are exceptions to each state’s travel advisory list that cover things like commuting to work, short trips and what Massachuse­tts calls “critical life activity.” No governor has gone so far as to suggest that if one were to spend a substantia­l amount of time in one’s living room in Rhode Island, one would have to quarantine when heading back to their bedroom in Connecticu­t or Massachuse­tts.

“I suppose they could try to come and enforce it,” said Fran Clark, whose

“You just deal with it on a daily basis, using common sense, and try to follow the rules as best as you can.” Richard Picard His house in Woonsocket, Rhode Island, is right up against the Bellingham, Massachuse­tts, border

house in Little Compton, Rhode Island, and Westport, Massachuse­tts, is bisected by the line – through the living room and some of the bedrooms. “But it would be kind of ridiculous.”

Spokespeop­le for Connecticu­t and Massachuse­tts did not respond to requests for comment about how people should follow the cross-border rules if the border was on their own property.

It would seem that the rule of common sense would prevail, and that’s how the people interviewe­d for the story, the people who live on the borderline, are treating things.

And yet.

“You’re dealing with politician­s that have no idea what’s going on,” remarked Harry Kemp, who lives in Hopkinton, Rhode Island, and also a little bit in North Stonington, Connecticu­t.

So yes, in theory, someday there could be a roadblock. They’d have to put it in Kemp’s living room.

Kemp said he’s tried to find out what the restrictio­ns are for Connecticu­t-Rhode Island travel, especially for people like him. Even the police haven’t really been able to explain it.

People like Kemp need to take some time to describe precisely where they live. He walks in his front door in Rhode Island, but his kitchen is in Connecticu­t. He votes in Rhode Island, which is also where his car is registered, but he sleeps in Connecticu­t.

Of course, he pays taxes to both towns.

As he explained this all to a Providence-based reporter over the phone, Kemp was asked: Where are you now? He was in his living room. The Connecticu­t part.

“Wait, give me a second. If you’d feel more comfortabl­e talking to me in Rhode Island” – he paused a few seconds, took a few steps – “Now I’m in

Rhode Island.”

Several people approached for this story living on the border said they’d rather not be quoted in an article about how they were following the requiremen­ts because, generally speaking, they were not.

They’d still do their shopping over the border, even in the days when it wasn’t clear that it was allowed. They were relying on good judgment, instead of a literal reading of hastily constructe­d and at times vague travel rules. Massachuse­tts at first did not clearly exempt short shopping trips over the border when Rhode Island was put on the list, leaving many frustrated East Providence Townies unsure of what to do when the closest Stop & Shop was in Seekonk. It eventually provided more clarity and more exemptions for that sort of thing.

Nobody interviewe­d for this story said they’d been hassled, stopped, or detained when crossing the border. As one person remarked, he wasn’t going to quarantine in Rhode Island before or after mowing the part of his lawn that’s in Massachuse­tts.

The feeling was bemusement rather than concern.

“We’re more one big community, rather than two different states,” said Charles Fields as he unloaded goods he’d just bought in Connecticu­t into his home in Foster, Rhode Island.

Fields is pastor of Line Baptist Church, named for what cuts right through the property, and he seems to know everyone, waving at people driving by in both Rhode Island- and Connecticu­t-registered cars. A granite property marker sits right outside his house. The line does, in theory, go through the property, he said, but he had to choose early on whether he’d reside in Sterling, Connecticu­t, or Foster, Rhode Island, he said. He picked Rhode Island.

Now there’s a wider gulf between the two states. But it’s not making a huge practical difference for him. Unlike Massachuse­tts, Connecticu­t has a rule saying you don’t have to quarantine in Connecticu­t if you’re in Rhode Island for less than 24 hours or coming to Connecticu­t for less than 24 hours. That meant Fields’ brief trip was allowed – and actually quite practical. The closest store in Rhode Island might have been a halfhour away.

“The 24-hour rule changes everything,” he said.

Down the street a bit, Deb Venator, of Foster, Rhode Island, was visiting her friend and neighbor Christine Wendel Farrugia, whose property is in Sterling, Connecticu­t, and also a bit in Foster, Rhode Island.

As they walked back and forth over the border, picking sunflowers for an upcoming wine event, they tried to sketch a map of what’s where: The goats are in Rhode Island. The Rhode Island red hen and the rest of the chickens are in Rhode Island. The line cuts the vineyard in two, although you’d need to do a blind taste test to tell whether the wine they make is any different depending on the state.

Wendel Farrugia’s house is physically on the Rhode Island side ... but because her driveway and much of her property are in Connecticu­t, technicall­y she’s a Connecticu­t resident. Unless they were picking Connecticu­t sunflowers for more than 24 hours, though, their activity on a recent Saturday wouldn’t trigger any quarantine requiremen­t.

Still, “it’s a flag,” said Wendel Farrugia. “To pay attention – even if you can’t enforce it.”

Even before COVID-19, there were complicati­ons on state borders. What school do your kids go to? What cable service do you get? To whom do you pay taxes, and in what amount? Who plows your road? When you need work done on your property, do you need a contractor licensed in both states?

For Timothy O’Mara, pastor of St. Paul’s Church in Blackstone, Massachuse­tts, and also North Smithfield, Rhode Island, there are also advantages: Because the border between Massachuse­tts and Rhode Island cuts right through church property, he can offer weddings in either state.

“We definitely straddle the line,” O’Mara said.

He’s never had to do that, but according to church folklore, it’s happened before. A couple arrived on their wedding day with a marriage license issued in Rhode Island. But the church is part of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Worcester. The astute priest took them to the back of the church, the part of it that is in Rhode Island, where they did the civil part of the ceremony, before heading back to Massachuse­tts for the ceremony and nuptial Mass.

“Thus was the legality of the marriage ensured,” the church’s official history proclaims.

The church was built in the mid-19th century for the growing Irish Catholic community. When you walk in the front door, according to O’Mara, you’re in Rhode Island. Some of the pews are also in Rhode Island, he said. But he does his work in Massachuse­tts, where the altar is situated. That’s also where he lives; the rectory is in Massachuse­tts. But the parish center, formerly the school building, is split between the two states. When they have events, the food is cooked in Massachuse­tts but served in Rhode Island.

Father O’Mara, who is a motorcycli­st, can take a left out of the church property and be in Massachuse­tts, and he’ll have to wear a helmet. If he takes a right, he’s in Rhode Island and doesn’t have to.

“Living on the border is a lot different from living near the border,” O’Mara said.

“We’re more one big community, rather than two different states.” Charles Fields Lives in Foster, Rhode Island

 ?? PHOTOS BY SANDOR BODO/USA TODAY NETWORK ?? Father D. Timothy O’Mara sits at St. Paul's Church, bisected by the state line.
PHOTOS BY SANDOR BODO/USA TODAY NETWORK Father D. Timothy O’Mara sits at St. Paul's Church, bisected by the state line.
 ??  ?? O’Mara presides over a church that spans two states.
O’Mara presides over a church that spans two states.

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