In 1963, my family visitied my Aunt Esther in Pigeon Cove, near Rockport. Here am I suitably in awe of the raging sea.
August 23, 2001
Pigeon Cove
In 1963, my family visitied my Aunt Esther in Pigeon Cove, near Rockport. Here am I suitably in awe of the raging sea.
August 21, 2001
I'm Dickens, He's Fenster
In the summer of '62, my Ma decided that her husband and youngest son would spend one month together alone at the family cottage. It must have seemed like a good idea to her on some level. White Island Pond is on the Plymouth/Bourne line, north of the Cape Cod Canal. TV reception there was spotty and there were one billion bugs so I never clamored to spend any time in sunburn country.
What made this "vacation" extra special was the plan my father had hatched to build a pier with my help. Perhaps a little less time with my nose in a book and a little more action with a hammer in my hand would make me a more tolerable boy.
This was the only concentrated period of time I ever spent with my father until he was in his eighties. I'd like to say we bonded. I'd like to say I learned something about carpentry that has made me the handyman I am today. These photos, however, are my only proof that it wasn't all some dream.
What made this "vacation" extra special was the plan my father had hatched to build a pier with my help. Perhaps a little less time with my nose in a book and a little more action with a hammer in my hand would make me a more tolerable boy.
This was the only concentrated period of time I ever spent with my father until he was in his eighties. I'd like to say we bonded. I'd like to say I learned something about carpentry that has made me the handyman I am today. These photos, however, are my only proof that it wasn't all some dream.
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