Posted on 08/13/2003 11:27:44 PM PDT by JohnHuang2
WOODS HOLE, Mass. - August, not April, is the cruelest month. The days are still long, but with the impatient intensity of the waning summer of boundless sky, yellow sun and white sand, foaming edges of ocean. There's the first hint of melancholy. The children sense it as they pass the drugstore and supermarket shelves of back-to-school supplies, and no matter how playful and colorful the displays, the evidence is irrefutable. Summer's in retreat.
But summer isn't what it used to be, anyway, such is the power of nostalgia, even in an idyll like Woods Hole, with the diffident sophistication of urban visitors seeking the succor of a small New England town.
Visitors no longer leave the "other life" behind. Bikers on paths that curve around the point of salty sea are busy on cell phones, often forgetting to look at the sailboats on the horizon. Teenagers caught in a spontaneous cloudburst, who in another century would have tapped into a sense of adventure in nature on the loose, stop strangers to borrow a cell phone to call parents to pick them up.
(Excerpt) Read more at townhall.com ...
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