Every summer in the mid-seventies, my family – like many – would be mysteriously drawn to a quaint, slightly cramped coastal cottage in Maine. August was our preferred time to migrate, maybe because it was stuffed full of all that was required for lazy summer days, like a picnic basket at the beach.
We fancied ourselves temporary locals that staked our claim in the little seaside haven — staying longer than a visitor but still having to return to school and “real” life at summer’s end. We came from Connecticut, laden with our urban habits, agendas and, to do lists. Yet, everything wilted faster than lettuce in the sun, under the influence of the sea salt air and the hypnotic laziness the coast seemed to prescribe – doctor’s orders, you might say.
The Atlantic Ocean was an enormous, terrifying bathtub to my younger self, full of mysteries lurking below its surface that I couldn’t quite reach – not with inflatable armbands, at least. But the coast of Maine was different. It was a treasure map with the ‘X’ constantly shifting – secrets hiding in rock crevices, seashells, and new pet hermit crabs. And the waves? They didn’t just crash but gossiped, spilling sea stories to anyone patient or sunburned enough to listen.
Fast forward forty summers and the memory of those times bubbles up like a lobster in a cookpot every time the August sun begins to bake the sidewalks and streets of Greenwich. Like many in our home time, I know when it is time to get out of town. The call of the coast is very strong as lazy summer days stand in stark contrast to the incessant noise of our full Greenwich lives.
My thoughts wander back to the coast, the salt air, the sand. The rhythm of the waves, timed perfectly with my relaxed heartbeat. The laughter of children, fresh and unvarnished. The setting sun, painting the sky with colors so vibrant it is impossible to catch with a camera, signaling the day’s end.
The charm of the Maine coast serves as a vivid reminder to slow down, reconnect with nature and, most importantly, enjoy a good lobster bake. And August, with its warm winds and stunning sunsets, provides the perfect environment for a crustacean-themed retreat.
That is our ode to summer in the 1970’s in Maine. And where are you off to?
Greenwich is slowing down; people have already left for Maine or Nantucket or Wyoming and so many other places. For those staying at home in Greenwich, we have our own version of a summer retreat. Greenwich is a wonderful place to be in August. The St. Roch’s feast will be in full swing soon. Generally, you can find a place to park on Greenwich Avenue, you don’t need a reservation for restaurants, and people are less harried…stopping to say hello. There is less honking and stress all around. It is a welcome reprieve.
This week’s paper marks our last issue for two weeks, until August 25th. It is our annual summer hiatus, a time when we re-evaluate, relax, and come back a little better than we were before.
Are we going to Maine for our annual pilgrimage? Not this summer. We have other exciting plans! On August 25th we resume printing the Greenwich Sentinel and we will be launching the inaugural issue of the New Canaan Sentinel, a new weekly paper in both print and digital formats that will celebrate all that is great about New Canaan.
A second newspaper with its own content, reporters, advertisers, subscribers – the list goes on – is a big undertaking and we would not be doing so without all of the support we receive in Greenwich.
It was quite a compliment when members of the New Canaan community asked us to join their community too.
Thank you, Greenwich. And enjoy the rest of your summer!
