News and Events for Nantucket Island
The Least Terns are hatching. Residents of the Endangered Species List, the Least Terns get special fencing, some observers, and the path to Great Point blocked. The birds are delicate and fragile things that swoop and dart in constellations over the water. It happens every year. Drivers in Ford 150s, in Expeditions, and in Discoveries find themselves flummoxed at the gatehouse in Wauwinet when someone does not know Who-I-Am. That happens every year, too.
A young man with a famous last name died recently on island. Sudden deaths have become unfortunate and common in the last few years, not just on Nantucket, but throughout the country. Every death is as unique as a fingerprint. The reasons are opaque: the results caustic. We hear of the death and we pause, then we ask ourselves why and what could we have done? Every answer we find is wrong.
Too many years ago, I saw the Beethoven frieze when it reappeared in Vienna. The painting is a remarkable work; Gustav Klimt depicted each of four movements of the Beethoven’s Ninth symphony along the top of four walls, climaxing with a chorus of angels singing the “Ode to Joy” atop the final wall. Young as I was, I understood that I was in front of something that I did not understand. The work ascends beyond beautiful to an awful sublime, especially if Beethoven’s work still shakes in your bones. We spent an hour there, and moved on.
The neighbors have arrived.
They brought their dogs.
The Golden Retrievers came racing in from both sides, clashed in our yard, and then went dashing after each other in a joyful chase for suburban dominance. Their owners slid the sliding glass doors shut.
We all like dogs, and we know how they can behave. It doesn’t surprise me, or anyone in my house, that the dogs like to run around and have found lots of good things to smell and eat in our backyard. We have been dumping clam shells and rotted scallops behind the wall for months. If their dogs want them, they can have at them.
Many years ago, when the only cars my boys cared about were built out of Lego, we planted daffodil bulbs. The wind was blowing, the sky rushed overhead, and a shower hung out on the Sound, while Angel Rays shone over Cisco. We used a small trowel, knelt in the backyard, and planted the bulbs every couple feet along a stone wall. Afterwards, we had lemonade, chocolate chip cookies, and watched Monsters, Inc for the hundredth time.
Warren Sawyer Shipwreck on Nantucket
by Robert P. Barsanti We arrived before the storm. It had spun up off the east coast of Florida, knocked some sea walls down, then aimed to the west of us. The ferry alarmed the ducks and the seagulls as it crossed the Sound, slipping under the deep purple clouds, […]
At eight in the morning, the bride was running down Main Street along with her photographer, her maid of honor, her intended and two other guys in tuxedos. She was carrying her shoes in one hand, the hem of her dress in the other. She was flying on the wind of social media but the photographer wasn’t keeping up. You have got to get the light when it’s just right.
In early September, I return to the classroom and look at all of those things that I haven’t changed, as well as all of those things that I have. The chalk board got covered with a dry erase board which is now covered by screen for my computer projector. Many of the posters are the same. Some are under glass (“Tracy’s World”) but some, like the Ghastlycrumb Tinies and the “Flensing of a Corrupt Judge” remain as they have been for over twenty years, just with more holes in the corners. The room is, of course, lined with books.
I have a kayak.
The kayak is a beautiful boat; outfitted with pedals and a rudder, an ocean keel, and two watertight compartments. Once in the ocean, it will glide and keep its line through waves and water.
I haven’t used it in years.
