by Robert P. Barsanti The radio rolled out with Presidential shenanigans, a new iPhone in California, and an update on the latest hurricane before it muttered out the September “Beach and Boating Forecast” and the tides for the day. Then I shut it off. Instead of the radio and the […]
Nantucket Essays
Our Piece of the Pie
by Robert P. Barsanti On a crystalline Saturday for brides, I crashed a wedding. I had known the groom well in the days when I was able to collect his homework, assign him lunch detentions, and wonder if he would go to the prom. In the stretch of years after […]
Faith in the Hurricane
by Robert P. Barsanti Another hurricane has missed us; it slipped away to the south and east. It spun the fish and darkened the sunrise, but it passed on its one-way trip to Ireland without so much as a sprinkle. Nobody noticed but the surfers. In Madaket, where the waves […]
The Great Luxury of Life
by Robert P. Barsanti It took all summer, but I finally put the kayak in the water. It took one little white lie, one big bald faced lie, and a lucky parking place in Monomoy, but I was able to settle into the craft, deal with pegs that weren’t quite […]
Under the Blue of August
Between one thing and another, I missed the boat parade. First, a house needed to be turned over and, while I was at it, dishes needed to be cleaned. Then, the Burma March to the dump, then a hundred other things before I stood at the top of Step’s Beach, […]
Green Lantern
by Robert P. Barsanti I met the Green Lantern this weekend. He looked a lot like me. He is now taller than I am, and has more energy that I can summon, but he had the set of jaw, the piercing look in his eye, and a certain insouciance that […]
Visitors Remind Us
by Robert P. Barsanti On a night in August, a yacht named The Podium was tied up at the end of Straight Wharf, just beyond the swinging saloon door that protected “Yachtsmen and their guests” from the rest of us. The Podium is a 197 foot Lurssen super yacht tied […]
Keeper of the Constellations
by Robert P. Barsanti After I got the call, I spent an hour or so in my mother’s photo albums. During one of my mother’s chemotherapy summers, she organized a life-time of snapshots and Polaroids into a series of books. Film, in particular Polaroid film, was expensive. As a result, […]