Schooling Pappy, Down East Style

Here I am, anticipating Pappy's first trip to Maine. I've missed a year here and there, but I have gone to the same island for most of my 47 summers. In fact, I could lay claim to an extra summer visit-- there are pictures of my mother, hugely pregnant with me, sitting on a lawn chair next to the cottage. Smoking a cigarette and drinking a tumblerful of vodka. (Not really.)

Over the years I have garnered much knowledge of the island and its environs, and now I must pass this legacy on to Pappy. He will learn where to look for crabs, how long to steam a lobster on the beach, what are the master techniques in skipping stones, and how to walk the rocks from Brook Cove to Sylvester's Cove staying below the tide line. And he will meet all the generations of relatives, and learn the definition of second-cousin-once-removed.

Truth is I'll probably spend most of my time trying to keep him from gobbling down sea urchin shells and rotting seaweed, but that's fun too.