News and Events for Nantucket Island
by Robert P. Barsanti This winter remains in the shadows and in the base of the bushes. It squats, cold and frozen, in the darkness, until the rain and the sun finally drive the dirty ice underground. The crocuses remain hidden under the frozen turf, as do the daffodils. Sometime […]
• by Robert Barsanti • On winter Sundays, I like to sit on a bench on Main Street. The weather rarely drives me inside or keeps my front door locked. The ocean has her gifts; one of her minor ones blows over the island and sends you to the sweaters […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • The light remains in September. The air clears, the fog settles, and sky glows throughout the afternoon into an operatic sunset. To own a summer home on Nantucket is to also own the bankrupting irony of island living; the best weather comes after you […]
• by Robert P Barsanti • I have a puppy. He has been growing and the honeymoon is ending, but he can turn heads on the street and pose for a picture with the occasional toddler. While many dogs have been chased into and out of my life, he is […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • She stood at Children’s Beach at six o’clock in the morning. The Eagle hummed with lights and activity, but otherwise the harbor was quiet and still. Four ducks paddled past the sailboats, and their wake, eventually, rolled up on the beach. The sun rose […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • He has stopped in the crosswalk by the Hub at nine o’clock at night. His phone and my headlights put him in a spotlight; however, because his earphones are in, he cannot hear my car. Instead, he hits himself in the thigh, then begins […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • At the Juice Bar, the scoopers put up a sign over the ice machine that read “Relax, things could be worse. You could be on this side of the counter.” When I found this sign, I was one of about thirty people with my […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • He stands in board shorts and Yacht Club flip-flops at dawn on the Steamship Wharf and watches the colors spill over the eastern horizon. Then he puts his sun glasses back on. Summer can’t leave yet. He remains on the stand-by list. He parked […]
by Robert P. Barsanti I attended the funeral in Hillsboro, New Hampshire recently. My uncle, Nandy, had died relatively unexpectedly at age 88, at the end of a long laughing life. Those who had survived gathered up in a small church in the hills of central New Hampshire to try […]
