Hrumph again, I’m traveling. Last time Marietta had the meltdown before we left. This time I did. We are going to Nantucket, the place where legends are made. Ship captains, whales, sailboats, 75º high summer temperatures, and the destination of our first successful romantic trip sixteen years ago.
And there is the rub. That trip was made by a thirty nine year old man and woman. We were becalmed in a sailboat there, a once every ten year experience for unfortunate sailors we were told, two newly minted lovers not caring where they were, just glad to be together. We walked together on a golf course while I drove golf balls into the fog and we magically walked into the fog to find them together. Marietta achieved her goal of getting me pie-eyed drunk, me a person who rarely has wine or beer with dinner. We road bicycles all over town and walked along empty beaches together. When we were becalmed in the sailboat, we waited for rescue for an hour and had to be towed in. But that didn’t matter to us then because we were together. It sounds rather mundane now, but it created for us great memories and was part of a super glue that has held us together for these last sixteen years.