This morning I was walking on the beach where my Uncle Jimmy once rented his fishing boats. I still feel our childhood footprints there and conjure up a vision of Old Sag Harbor.
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Growing up in Sag Harbor we all seemed about equal and ‘more’ or ‘less’ wasn’t something we even thought about.
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Those were simpler times-I’m not sure there was a Michelin star rating that could have captured the simplistic beauty of the Whalers Motel, right on Long Island Avenue in Sag Harbor. For many years the sign read, “Whalers Motel-TV-Heated.”
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But there is much to be learned by loss-it pulls at us and brings us to new places. It highlights the opportunities for joy and steers us always from the perpetual ruts-the heartache impetus.
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My dog Sneakers is preparing for his trip over the damn rainbow bridge. I added the word damn because it just feels a lot more fitting. I’m not feeling the rainbows-none of us are.
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Cemeteries like the Old Burying Ground can be inspirational places to look for signs of life-the life that lives within us.
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The famous, the infamous, the courageous the ingenious, the enterprising, the entertaining-Sag Harbor has a history that tells the story of the strength and potency of the human spirit.
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It is as if the connection and love lives on some deeper plane-where words need not exist-where communication is telepathic and hearts are intertwined.
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