I’m not a dog. Just in case some of you might have thought … As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t want to come back as a dog. To be someone’s Chihuahua traveling in a woman’s purse or Great Dane to impress the neighbors’ hissing cat, no, no. If I do come back for a second try at life and happiness, let it be as a seagull, flying high and free over Long Island’s beaches and bays, yes, I’ll take that. As I am slaving away in my yard, I see the gulls gliding in sensuous abandon, carried by the wind, a mix of silent flight and piercing cries, ready to dive for that unfortunate fish or for a quick sweep by our picnic table left alone too long. (more…)
We, noble species, dreamers of cathedrals, little Mozarts, Shakespearean scholars, yes, but we do spend a precious part of our lives, not at the piano with little Mozart, but with brush and rags polishing the world around us. Oh, nothing lofty; shoes, for instance. If we don’t polish, we don’t exist. (more…)
Kara, who runs Hands Fuel in Orient along with her husband, Jeff, had called me in New York to report a problem. Two months after their previous oil delivery to my house they had tried to replenish the oil tank. Impossible: The tank was still full. It meant: Heating system not working. Big problem, I thought. I’d been away for a few weeks. A vision of broken pipes, debris and repairs I could ill-afford had suddenly disrupted a quiet time in the Big City. (more…)
“In the middle of this red-hot summer, my neighbor’s lawn was cool green. Mine was the Sahara desert, except for the presence of 1,001 dandelions and the absence of camels.”
No, I’m not delusional. Above is the first paragraph of my first column for The Suffolk Times, Oct. 7, 1999, a little over 15 years ago. Nearly 200 columns done. Fifteen years from now? Let’s not talk about that. (more…)
The sun rising over Orient Harbor in Orient. (Credit: Tim Kelly, file)
It all began with my brother Jean’s crazy idea to get on his old Peugeot bike and pedal away from New York City to Eastern Long Island. Decision in Riverhead: North Fork? South Fork? It would be North. Arrived in Orient Village — it was love at first sight. Jean called the family, mother, grandmother, sister, brother. “A beautiful village. I’m taking the train back to get you. You must come to Orient.” (more…)
Farm workers harvesting spinach at Bayview Farm on the Main Road in Aquebogue. Photo by Barbaraellen Koch.
I’ve had a question on my mind: If a son or a daughter were about to decide on a career, which choice of theirs would make me proud? Here are some answers.