by Robert P. Barsanti When you mow a lawn in September, you mow for yourself and the hawks. Perhaps not for the voles and the mice. The grass that once hid them has been mulched and they have to take their fuzzy chances in the open. Around us, the neighbors […]
Tag: Robert P. Barsanti
The Responsibility of Privilege
by Robert P. Barsanti It has gotten later in September. Downtown, the stores are closing earlier in the evening. Fewer clerks and salespeople wander the racks, and the man behind the register is a good bit older. He may be doing the crossword when you walk in, and he may […]
Once Upon a Time on Labor Day
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 or was […]
The Shadow of Nantucket
by Robert P. Barsanti The thunderstorms cleared the air last night and brought back the stars. I found them when I was evaluating the soaked car upholstery. In the clear 3 AM air, the stars hung low in the early morning. The early morning dark lets you know your place […]
She Left Us Her Song
by Robert P. Barsanti Peace comes at a premium in August. It hides in the shadows and corners, away from the linen and the hydrangea. It steps back from the traffic, the shoppers, and the selfies, and settles itself on hard and varnished wood in St. Mary’s. Inside, the air […]
Cheerios and Popsicles
by Robert P. Barsanti Recently, we entertained a very old confirmed bachelor, my Uncle Oswald. He babysat the kids, played in the surf, and read them stories at night. Oswald gave them airplane rides in the backyard and shoulder rides in the waves. In short, he was a wonderful houseguest […]
So Much Depends on a Yellow Pickup
by Robert P. Barsanti Sunday broke into a red sky at morning. At five in the morning, the sun poked through a hole in the fog over Monomoy and lit up the Pacific Bank on Main Street. I thought I was alone on Main Street for this singular sight, but […]
Dayenu
by Robert P. Barsanti I found a one hundred dollar bill. The fates pushed it up through the sand at Nobadeer at seven o’clock in the morning while my Boon Companion was out chasing a water bottle and the seagulls were waiting for me to leave an open bag of […]
The Lines of July
by Robert P. Barsanti Lily Pulitzer came in the front door, skipped ahead of both the order and the pick up line, and demanded her sandwiches. She explained. “I have an Uber.” “And she knows how to use it.” A plumber explained. There was laughter (for most) and confusion (for […]