Opinion
Gone Scalloping
The water was so warm you almost didn’t need waders. The October sun glinted off the water in the pond and at Sengekontacket people congregated in small groups, heads bent over their peep sights, long dip nets tucked beneath their arms. Bert Combra had his signature unlit cigar stuck in his mouth. Who are these creatures, someone might say who had just landed here from the moon.
Living on the Edge
Every week brings new facts to support what our senses already know. The natural environment around us is changing, and the pace of change is quickening.
We listen as we walk and no longer hear the familiar whistle of the northern bobwhite. We gaze on the water and rarely see the quicksilver flash of schooling mackerel. Shore fishermen say the bass are increasingly scarce these days.
Great swathes of beaches and dunes we loved as children are washing away.
In these highly partisan times, policy debates about irrelevant questions are unhelpful in resolving real issues. This is illustrated by the recent commentary by Robert Landreth in which he takes Rep. Barney Frank to task for comments about the “solvency” of Social Security.
Despite the gadgets and technological wizardry that define our era, human beings don’t require much to survive. Yet we’ve manipulated the natural world to the point where our basic needs are at risk. The World Health Organization says it best: “Climate change affects the fundamental requirements for health — clean air, safe drinking water, sufficient food and secure shelter.”
Nest Eggs
From Gazette editions of October, 1936:
George M. Jenks of North Tisbury, at the age of 86, took for his bride Mrs. Elizabeth Hallett Hammett, 71, at the Jenks home on Wednesday evening. Mr. Jenks has renamed his residence the Love Nest. The bride was dressed in dark plum wool crepe. Mr. Jenks, a champion jig dancer of the Vineyard, was nattily attired for the occasion. He is still active as a farmer.
My daughter Pickle, age three and half, has been talking a lot about death lately. The other night at dinner she turned to her mother, Cathlin, and said, "Babu and Babshi died." She was referring to the nicknames of my wife's parents who both died before Pickle was born.
"Yes," Cathlin said. "They did."
"A lot of people die," Pickle said. She pursed her small lips and folded her hands one over the other. "Like eight people," she added.