As April Fool’s Day came and went recently, I remembered that Jimmy Cliff was born on that day in 1948.

A few weeks ago I was invited to join a very special sunset sailing opportunity aboard the Alabama. This time felt different. The occasion was more emotional, heartfelt and personal.

Last Sunday was a perfect beach day and my first expedition to Lucy Vincent Beach for the season. The stunning coastline was resplendent, and with July still 10 days away, only a small crowd was gathered at the beach. I was pleased to note that a cozy blanket of sand had been magically/meteoroligically restored, and getting past the eroded cliff line was not a major obstacle. I also noted that the dunes that had separated Chilmark Pond from the Atlantic ocean had been vanquished by Mother Nature, leaving the volleyball area an expansive, sandy stretch.

A 2011 commentary by Peter Simon inspired by the Occupy Wall Street movement.

Two days before my longtime friend, Stan Hart, died, I had the distinct pleasure — and pain — of paying him a final visit. He was hooked up to an oxygen tube and was very frail. But he was very brave as well. He had wanted the Vineyard Gazette to interview him for a story in the paper about the publication of his two new books that he could see while he was still with us. The paper came out last Friday, with a fragile photo of him taken by myself holding those two books. And then Stan died the next day.

Our national pastime is played on a diamond. But for me last Wednesday night it was played in a circle — a full circle. I was a guest of Jackie Robinson’s widow Rachel at Citifield, the new home of the New York Mets.