Opinion
Summer Begins
I am just back from Tunisia. Sadly, I have not been to a hammam — the Turkish steam bath for which Tunisia is famous. And I have not ridden a camel, which, of course, one should always do in a desert country. But I have seen camels aplenty and I have petted one (coarse, uninviting hair — not at all like the smooth texture of a camel’s hair coat). The camel, however, was friendly. His name was Ali Baba and he even let me scratch his ears. Admittedly, he was muzzled. That seems to be the trend among camel owners these days, probably because cross camels spit.
From Gazette editions of May, 1960:
There is a persistent legend, which, if it cannot be proven, certainly never has been disproven — this is the Hammett legend. The Island family of Hammett, well known on the Island from about 1700 to 1900, has produced master mariners, soldiers, adventurers and merchants of every variety. Island Hammetts served in the Revolutionary War, sailed in whaleships, prospected for gold in California, served in the Civil War, and were known in the profession of book-publishers, writers and politics.
The Quahaug Seeker By Adam Moore
Sengekontacket rippling gray
Waters had beckoned me to lay
My rusty basket rake upon
The sandy bottom of the pond.
I grasped, as did I deeper wade,
A rope with braided fibers frayed,
And with it tethered bushel wire,
Afloat in rubber tube from tire.
To quahaugs rake, to harvest reap,
Juneteenth is the celebration of African American freedom and achievement and the oldest known celebration commemorating the ending of slavery in the United States. The event dates back to June 19, 1865, when Union soldiers, led by Maj. Gen. Gordon Granger, landed at Galveston, Tex., with news that the war had ended and the enslaved were now free. This was two and a half years after President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation of Jan.
The other day while mowing the lawn I stopped to wipe the sweat from my forehead and assess my progress. I am forever tinkering with my technique; an up and back pattern, a series of ever shrinking squares, or even, on a rare day, just going with the flow. Deep in thought I happened to notice, out of the corner of my eye, my five-year-old son, Hardy, dressed in a flowing green cape, pirate hat, and a pair of flippers. He was lurking near the shed and watching me. I pretended not to notice and restarted the mower.