Lessons of Nantucket

by Robert P. Barsanti

The neighbors have arrived. They brought their dogs.

The Golden Retrievers came racing in from both sides, clashed in our yard, and then went dashing after each other in a joyful chase for suburban dominance. Their owners slid the sliding glass doors shut.

We all like dogs, and we know how they can behave. It doesn’t surprise me, or anyone in my house, that the dogs like to run around and have found lots of good things to smell and eat in our backyard. We have been dumping clam shells and rotted scallops behind the wall for months. If their dogs want them, they can have at them.

The neighbors have put spotlights on their house with motion detectors. Then they draw the curtains and turn on the air-conditioners. So if the marauders and vandals come in the evening, they can have light for their tools and their owners won’t hear a thing. The lights react particularly well to fog. They switch on and off all night. With an audible click.

Usually this will go on for about two weeks. The neighbors will leave their garbage for the seagulls to pick through, will host parties with Rihanna into the small hours, and will come continued on page 21