News and Events for Nantucket Island
Dylan Thomas knew something about communities. The famous Welsh writer laid out this knowledge in his amazingly epic poem, Under Milk Wood in 1954. This poem is perhaps best remembered as a radio performance with a variety of actors, including Thomas as narrator, giving voice to the eclectic cast of characters. Originally titled The Village of the Mad, the rambling, rhythmic story captured a day in the life of the imaginary Welsh village of Llarggub – “Bugger all” backwards.
I woke this morning borderline astonished that the coffee maker had done exactly what it was supposed to do.
This is not particularly impressive technology. A timer, some water, ground coffee, a heating element. Humanity has accomplished greater things. But there it was at five in the morning, a pot of coffee already made, and with it something I hadn’t quite expected… twenty minutes I would ordinarily have spent making it myself. I took the coffee and sat down.
There is no place quite like Nantucket in the summer.
Every June, the island seems to wake from a long sleep. Window boxes overflow, hydrangeas begin their slow explosion into blue, the harbor fills with sails, restaurants spill onto sidewalks, music drifts through open doors, and every sunset somehow convinces us that we’ve never seen one quite like it before. The island becomes brilliant. Not simply beautiful, but brilliant. It shines with an energy that’s difficult to explain to someone who has never been here. It is easy to understand why people spend all year dreaming about these few short months.
There comes a moment every July when Nantucket settles into itself. The fireworks have faded from Jetties Beach, the last parade chairs have disappeared from Main Street, and another Independence Day has become part of the island’s memory. Families unpack their suitcases, restaurants find their rhythm, gardens burst into bloom, and the island seems to slip effortlessly into the busiest weeks of the year.
I never needed an alarm clock on the Fourth of July. I was always awake before anyone had to tell me it was time: the excitement had a way of beating the sunrise. Before the coffee was brewed or breakfast was finished, I was already figuring out which friends to call. One by one we’d meet on our bikes, towels draped over our handlebars, pockets full of nothing, and an entire island ahead of us.
There’s a wonderful Walt Whitman quote that had my attention today. The esteemed poet, writer, and all-around observer of his fellow humans said, “Be curious, not judgmental.” Sage advice, right?
There is a specific moment, somewhere out past Brant Point, when the island finally lets go of you.
It doesn’t happen at the dock. It doesn’t happen pulling away from Straight Wharf while tourists wave cocktails around on the upper deck and kids throw popcorn at gulls. For a while, Nantucket still hangs onto you. You can still see the church steeples over the rooftops. The masts in the harbor still stand upright against the sky. The shoreline remains detailed enough that you can pick out individual houses, and, for a few minutes, your mind keeps trying to convince itself that you’re still there.
World Cup madness. Wow, my entire X feed is full of it. And it’s been pretty darn fun to follow, for reasons that have not a lot to do with the actual game of soccer (or football, as much of the world calls it).
by Steve “Tuna” Tornovish Sing it with me, my fellow fishing types: “It’s the most miserable time of the year…” We Nantucket fishers have been watching for weeks as the striped bass migration moves slowly north from the Chesapeake Bay. Then into the Connecticut River. Throughout the Rhode Island costal […]
