News and Events for Nantucket Island
~ by Robert P. Barsanti ~ The wind builds. I stand at the door, over a mug of Pumpkin Spice coffee and the birches are clattering together, the clouds tumble overhead, and an uncomfortable and expensive whistle rises from the sliding doors on the porch. My Boon Companion stands on […]
~ by Robert P. Barsanti ~ I was driving between the fields at Bartlett’s when I noticed the moon rising up from the pine trees. I pulled the old car over, but left it running. In the dry and cool Autumn air, the moon processed through one thin line to […]
~ by Robert Barsanti ~ I watch them. They run across the parking lot in a clatter of cleats and mud. The helmet dangles from one hand and while the other grasps the ball. They are wearing practice shirts with tears and dirt ground into them. Their socks fall down […]
~ by Robert P. Barsanti ~ As ordered, a pile of rich loam appeared at end of the driveway on Tuesday morning. The loam had come from the dump, created from the garbage and trash of the previous hundred years of half eaten sandwiches and rotting milk. Give food enough […]
~ by Robert P. Barsanti ~ On his last day, he woke early. He eased out of bed, one foot, turned to a knee, and then slipped out without bouncing the mattress. She slept on; he wanted to be alone for a moment. No noise slipped from the girls room, […]
~ by Robert P. Barsanti ~ Labor Day comes late this year. For most of my life, Labor Day was my true birthday. When I was much younger, it marked the moment when I got a year older; suddenly I was in sixth grade or I was in high school […]
~ by Robert P. Barsanti ~ “Do you know anyone with a 1967 Bug?” my personal mechanic asked me. He stood in his side yard and was holding a y-shaped piece of metal. “This is a trailer hitch for a Bug and I hate to take it to the dump.” […]
~ by Robert P. Barsanti ~ Everything changes. The island changes every summer with every new season of visitors. The shop owners stand at their doors and wait to see who walks in and who walks by. Is this the summer for towers of oysters and cherrystones? Is this the […]
~ by Robert P. Barsanti ~ When the nail gun starts next door at seven in the morning, my boon companion starts barking. The workers bang six nails into the dawn, and he barks them out as best he can. Standing in my underwear at the kitchen sink, I scratch […]
