• by Robert P. Barsanti • He finally accepted the invitation and came down for the week. Linus lived in one of those far off Vermont towns that you drive through when you are on your way to Jay Peak or Montreal or you are on the run from the […]
Nantucket Essays
Love Unleashed
• by Robert P. Barsanti • Until this year, I have never lived with a dog. I have lived with parents, children, and wives, so I am used to certain duties and responsibilities. I know enough to turn the lights off before I go to bed, hide the Oreos from […]
Menemsha
• by Robert P. Barsanti • Years ago, when I was younger and traveled around with my parents, brother, and sister in a Jeep Wagoneer with five bikes on it, we would spend a week or two on the Vineyard. We spent two weeks in a ten-man Coleman tent; we […]
Drive Like Mike
• by Robert P. Barsanti • Six of them were standing in the middle of a sand parking lot near Fat Ladies Beach. Mom was wearing a mom-like swim suit, but everyone else was wearing something from some company that made competitive yoga outfits. There were sunglasses, and bags, and […]
What, to a Dishwasher, is the Fourth of July?
• by Robert P. Barsanti • Before the Fourth of July rush began, I was lucky enough to sneak my car onto the last run of the Eagle. Nantucket residents get hit up for all sorts of fees and bills, but the residency program at the Steamship gives back a […]
June Weddings
• by Robert P. Barsanti • On Saturday, I parked on Main Street near the Hub. June has many dress rehearsal pleasures. The lines are short (for everything besides the ferry), the strawberries weigh down their branches, and you can get an ice cream in under five minutes. On any […]
Becoming a Reader
by Robert P. Barsanti In 1978, I believed in my Red Sox. The summer had peaked, dived, and peaked again. The Red Sox lead the American League East by fourteen games, then trailed, then won eight in a row to tie the Yankees on the final day of the season. […]
The Power of Fatherhood
• by Robert P. Barsanti • Several colleagues and I got together this week at the Brotherhood for a “Last Sipper.” We slipped inside in the early evening, before the summer sun was near the horizon and far before the lines had formed at the Juice Bar. A young Spanish […]
Cynics of Spring
• by Robert P. Barsanti • Spring has arrived with a truck. It stopped by at noon, got its invoice signed, and then dumped everything it had in the yard. So the grass has become overgrown, the shrubs crawl up the house, and the mulch is eye high. The world […]
