Waking up in Gloucester can be a great pleasure. Especially at this time of year when early morning fogs often envelop the town. “Fog at 7, sun by 11,” the sailors say, and I found that to be true as Rocky Neck, seen here, emerged Brigadoon-like from the mists on this Easter morning. By the time Memorial Day arrives, most of the beautiful fogs are gone, replaced, alas, by the “summer people” who, as Jay complains, “have no sense of urgency are unfamiliar with local ways.” Here’s my complaint by way of a story: As I was running along East Main Street on the Saturday morning of that holiday weekend this year, I stumbled, fell forward onto the pavement, my cap and sunglasses flying, and I wound up on my back in the middle of the road, stunned and breathless for a moment. No one stopped to help me. No one. The cars continued to drive by as I fell, as I lay there, turning ever so slightly to avoid me, on their way to their summer homes. How long is it until Labor Day?
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