Suddenly It’s Summer

Last night when I finished working I cut up the watermelon left from last weekend, put it in a Ziplock container, got my book, and drove out to Eastern Point Lighthouse. It had been a very warm day but the evening was clear and cool with a lovely wind blowing in off the water. A great night for sitting quietly with a book — I thought. I forgot that the warm weather brings out people, which is fine. But not all people share my appreciation of quiet, relaxing evenings. Very few do, in fact.

The lighthouse parking lot was full. Quite a few fishermen casting lines off the breakwater. They are usually relatively quiet and easy to get along with. But then there were the others.

One of the things that just baffles me is people who fight — and fight loudly — in public. They were a young couple, well dressed and driving an expensive looking car. Apparently he had decided to teach her how to fish. Clearly they had invested a substantial amount of money in their gear, as had she in her fishing outfit. But the experience wasn’t going well and she wasn’t happy about it. I was quietly reading my book. The binocular-toting bird watchers were more interested in the feathered critters in the marsh, and the fishermen were waiting for a bite but, before they left, all of us knew that this guy ALWAYS thought up the dumbest ideas and he didn’t know what he was doing and she didn’t know why she put up with his %$#@ and she was tired of him treating her like she didn’t know *&^% and this was the last ^%$#ing time she was going to.... blah, blah, blah. All of us breathed a collective sigh of relief when he peeled out of the parking lot in their shiny SUV and took her the &*][ somewhere else.

Then the Instant Tourists arrived. Instant Tourists are the folks who, for some incomprehensible reason, have taken it into their heads to go somewhere (why?) and see the sights. Except they don’t really have time to spend on any of the sights. They are Quantity Travelers — far more interested in acquiring a long list of things they have seen than in knowing anything about them or spending any time with them. I wonder if they have checklists in their car. See that lighthouse over there? Yup. Check it off. Got that one.

They roared up in a very loud car blaring music which they were generous enough to share with everyone in the parking lot, on the breakwater, and in all the houses along their route. Three of them, young, tattooed, wearing — well, not much — baseball caps, and neon, reflective sunglasses. And beer cans stuffed into I [Heart] Gloucester cozies.

“See, that’s the lighthouse the boat goes by in the Perfect Storm,” one announces. “You’re full of ^%$#!” “*&^% you, it is.” “I thought it was the other one.” “^%$#.” And they turn the car around and roar away. Somebody quick call The Crow’s Nest and warn them!

Then comes The Family — mom, dad, medium-sized kid, and little kid. They arrive in a mini-van and, before they even park, I know two things — they have spent the day at the beach, and the kids are past ready to be in bed. Big, noisy door is slid aside, kids fight, kids are unbuckled and unstrapped, kids whine, mom passes out juice boxes, kids throw them on the ground, dad yells, mom tells dad not to yell, kids yell.......... well, you get the picture.

So, finally, I packed it in. I’d finished my watermelon and my book could be read just as well on my couch with the salty sea breezes fluttering the curtains and the fragrance of fresh mown grass and the harbor on the night air. A glass of wine.

It’s only June..........sigh.

Thanks for reading.