News and Events for Nantucket Island
It started with an email that I received on my fishing account last summer: “My son Matt and his family arrive (next week). They live in Louisville Kentucky where Matt is the bass fishing coach (varsity sport) at Saint Xavier High School. He has been fishing every chance he gets ever since he could stand up!”
“It’s in his blood.”
“He comes by it naturally.”
How many times do we hear someone say things like this? I’m guessing that these are common refrains if you’re hanging out around the University of Texas football field, watching young Arch Manning warming up. Arch, projected to be one of college football’s better quarterbacks this season, is the son of Cooper Manning. Cooper was a football player at one time as well, destined to play for Ole Miss, but a diagnosis of spinal stenosis caused Cooper to leave the game. Cooper went on to have a successful career as an entrepreneur, a slight variation of the quarterback business.
It’s ironic to me that when the clocks move forward in March, people say, “spring ahead.” As if longer days mean we’re suddenly moving forward, making progress, gaining time. But in my world, more daylight only means more to do: more grass to cut, more beds to prep, more pruning, more planting, more catching up before the season overtakes me. Dethatch the lawn before the bulbs push through. Prune the red-stem dogwoods before they leaf out. Rake the beds before the daffodils get too tall. I make lists, I make plans, but the days have their own rhythm. The hours slip past, the sun lingers longer, and still, I fall behind.
I bet you all remember where you were the evening of Sunday, February 5, 2017. Our beloved New England Patriots were once again playing in the Super Bowl, this time facing a juggernaut Atlanta Falcons team. And the Patriots were getting worked—down 28 to 3 in the fourth quarter. Everyone on the Atlanta team box was ready to pop the champagne corks. Everyone except for one guy, that is: Scott Pioli (now a Nantucket resident) was the Assistant General Manager of the Falcons at that time. He had been a significant cog in the development of the New England Patriots dynasty, serving in the player personnel department from 2000-2008. Thus, he knew all about a guy named Tom Brady. Pioli was quoted by Mike Kadlick of WEEI – Boston as he remembered that game: “All the folks I’m working with, they’re high-fiving. It’s, you know, out of control. But I was a mess. I felt this nervousness.”
In winter, the island returns to Main Street. During the warmer months, we avoid Main Street: too much traffic, too much chaos, and too few reasons to be downtown. The Hub no longer saves the Sunday papers in their cubby holes, there’s no wing night at the long gone AC, and Hardy’s has disappeared and taken Bingo the parrot with it. Almost everything we could want, from glazed donuts to step ladders to Mom’s prescriptions could be found near empty parking places, away from the confusion, chaos, and cobblestones.
In his 1960 book Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck chronicled his attempt to connect with the many parts of these great United States that he didn’t know much about. In order to accomplish this monumental task, the renowned author retrofitted a truck with a camper to suit his needs. He named his truck Rocinante, after Don Quixote’s horse, and drove it about 10,000 miles in the course of his adventures. Charley, a standard poodle, played the role of Sancho Panza for the great Steinbeck on his quixotic journey. Steinbeck describes his doggie/squire as being a mind-reader, an apt evaluator of the humans they met on their travels. Steinbeck utilized the friendly canine to break down the barriers between himself and the strangers he encountered, with great success. Dogs certainly have this ability.
The first thing you need to know is that the Legos are staying. They are in plastic buckets and bins, assembled, half assembled, or dissipated into an accretion cloud of colorful plastic bricks and smiling mini-figure heads. But they are going to stay.
The rest could go.
Wow, what a week. What an absolutely crazy, bizarre week. Truth be told, this entire summer has been a lot of crazy. Wind turbine blades, beach closures, seals snapping fishing rods, astounding traffic congestion, supermarket refrigeration failures, supermarket deli meat recalls, supermarket payment system snafus, supermarket prices, gas prices…yeah, a wonderful conflagration burning up the Nantucket summer. Could it be that we’ve almost survived (oh, I hate myself a little for what’s about to happen here) One Crazy Summer?
It seems that Hollywood is incapable of an original thought these days. A quick review of the new movies out in theaters right now shows that the majority of new releases are, well, recycled. For example, a new Aliens movie has just been released. The original came out in 1979, the year I graduated high school. Aside from the fact that the once perky Sigourney Weaver would now most likely be using a walker to escape from the slimy alien, I’m thinking that 45 or so years would have been plenty of time to conjure up some new concepts.
They said that they were never coming back.
Again.
For thirty-eight years running.
They had their reasons. They weren’t rich. They told everyone that. They brought air mattresses for the kids, five frozen meals in a cooler, and a full tank of gas. The bikes were tied onto the car, the sleeping bags stored in roof carrier, and everything else packed around the kids. (Tim, your feet are going to be on the Hibachi).
