Forty five years ago, I received a telephone call from Anna Maxim, saying that a drunk man had crashed his car through her stone wall and was I willing to come and put the wall back together.

I have an ancient-way trail that passes by my house and it is always pleasing for me to see people walking this path.

On Tuesday morning I sat in my truck overlooking Menemsha Harbor as heavy rain poured down, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the distance. I looked toward the jetties and saw fishermen walking back on the rocks at a fairly fast pace.

My father took me fishing for mackerel off the Menemsha dock when I was five years old. I remember some of my friends being there fishing with their families as well.

When I went to the Menemsha School as a kid, the post office was in the Chilmark Tavern building just a stone’s throw away from the school house. Bette Carroll was the postmistress.