An Island Point of View

An Island Point of View, Nantucket Essays

A Wasted Life

So, we were stuck. Behind me, a jeep settled, with a driver and a beach chair. In front of me, a cable truck sighed and shuddered.

I had fallen into this place through inattention and habit. Normally, at this point in the summer, I would have taken a short cut that would have sped me to my end. I might have headed up an alley, snuck wrong way down a one-way street, and rolled across a yard on my business. But as the sun had just come out, Kiki Dee had returned to the radio after fifty years, and my attention had drifted from what was necessary and important, the afternoon slipped me onto Quaker Lane.

An Island Point of View, Nantucket Essays

Moor Blueberries

In the sweat of August, my Boon Companion and I retreat to the quiet places. For most of the year, he can run about unleashed in some of the most dog-friendly parks and play areas, but when the summer comes the existing rules are reposted, underlined, and enforced by the sad, angry, and afraid.

An Island Point of View, Nantucket Events

Livin’ the Dream

Living the dream. Don’t ask me why, but that trite phrase just grates on my nerves. The delivery of this ditty has to be done with complete deadpan in order to maximize the ironic impact. I’m pretty sure that the first place I ever heard this used was in the wild and wacky world of law enforcement. The optimum context was when greeting an officer who had just completed a 12-hour shift, only to learn that he was now being held for a four-hour traffic detail of some sort. Yeah, just living the dream.

An Island Point of View, Nantucket Essays

The Demands of Optimism

There is nothing quite so heartening and thrilling than for the world to turn around and demonstrate that you were right all along. Your faith and your intellect enjoys a well-deserved trip around the Olympic stadium, shaking hands and waving flags. Most enjoyable, you run past your critics with their heads down and eyes averted. Life does not always validate your parking, but when it does, you take your trot with a spring in your step and a glint in your eye.

An Island Point of View, Nantucket Essays

Our Third Place

essay by Robert P. Barsanti So far, in the middle of July, my best beach day featured a hooded sweatshirt, a makeshift wind block, and more than one tumble in a storm-driven surf. Everyone locked into traffic on I-84 would happily trade places with me, but this is not the […]

An Island Point of View, Nantucket Essays

America: a Promise, a Hope, & a Dream

America can be hard to see.

Oh, we can see the flags. On the Fourth of July, we have the red, white, and blue on every bicycle, tricycle, and baby carriage. The bunting hangs off of buildings and wharves. We celebrate the country in a rollicking, rolling carnival of hot dogs, ice cream, and beer. Somebody will host a firecracker fun run, somebody else will win a pie-eating contest, and then, in the evening, fireworks will guide us through the night with the light from above.

An Island Point of View, Nantucket Essays

Biking through the Mists of Memory

I follow a boy to the beach. He pedals a brown 12-speed Univega with red panniers hanging off the rear rack, as if he were pedaling across the country and needed to bring everything he would ever need. The boy is bent over the racing handlebars, with his hands resting on the lower handles and his butt raised by a fraction of an inch off the seat. He wears a Campagnolo bicycling cap, although his bike has no rat traps for his feet nor is he wearing a helmet.