Working Waterfront

My wife can’t throw a flatbar

My wife can do almost anything, really, almost anything. I mean mechanical stuff, electronic stuff, and carpentry stuff, plus all sorts of things that involve thinking, like philosophical and ethereal stuff. Further, she’s a marvelous painter and runs her own very successful gallery. She also knows (she reminds me now… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Music to be melancholy by

Whenever I can listen and do whatever else I’m doing simultaneously, I tune in to At the Hop on WERU-FM (89.9) on Saturday afternoons. Host Rick Foster’s regard for the music and for those of us he supposes are listening, his ironic consideration of the mood and the music, are… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Music to be melancholy by

Whenever I can listen and do whatever else I’m doing simultaneously, I tune in to "At the Hop" on WERU-FM (89.9) on Saturday afternoons. Host Rick Foster’s regard for the music and for those of us he supposes are listening, his ironic consideration of the mood and the music, are… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

An apology and an explanation

I wrote a column for this, the April issue of The Working Waterfront, a column about the absence of meaningful political discourse, particularly among elected representatives, the people we expect will indulge in such deliberation on our behalf. The column contained this: “I was expected to cultivate and sustain a… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Living with others

Around mid-day on Friday, Aug. 15, 1986, while excavating on the shore of Carver’s Pond, a gravestone—in one piece and undamaged—was unearthed from a very unlikely spot, only a few feet from the shore, certainly far from the nearest cemetery. The stone was cleaned up and carefully set aside. It… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

The island approach to medicine

In 1954, crying and clinging to my Dad’s hand with my good arm, I was brought to Dr. Ralph Earle’s office. He walked quickly toward me but then turned and whispered to Dot, his receptionist. She got up, grabbed her hat and left. Then he walked me, still sobbing and… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

A commencement speech that might have been

This might have been this year’s commencement address, had there been a commencement: “You and I and many of the others gathered here have a great deal in common. We each finished high school in Vinalhaven and we each have the rest of our lives ahead of us. I hope… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

An island field of dreams

This summer, my ten-year-old grandson and ten other kids about his own age, encouraged by a large group of conspiratorial island adults, poured a pitcher of ice water over the head of an older island man who certainly had it coming. In 1998, after too many years during which Vinalhaven… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

It took a village to run the motel

My mother was possessed of a resolute conviction that people were good. Certainly, in spite of mounting evidence to the contrary, she felt my three younger brothers and I were clear examples—kind, compliant youngsters who behaved themselves and did for others at every opportunity. In spite of our best efforts,… SEE MORE

Working Waterfront

Remembering that first kiss

Some people wait for the mail ritually, gathering at the post office after the mail van arrives. They are in no hurry and talk about the weather and about the folks that come and go as soon as the door closes and they’ve come and went. One day I walked… SEE MORE