IT FELT JUST LIKE SUMMER ON THE OCEAN TODAY. That’s quite the happening on Easter Sunday near the 44th parallel. I have never seen so many people at Wolf Neck as there were today. Bare legs and arms bleached from winter’s darkness hanging out in springtime sunshine and soft, warm ocean breezes. Pinch me – am I dreaming?

When we returned home, there were Easter Baskets to open, sent from the Florida branch and in particular the newest of the clan – the Ethiopians. One basket addressed to Grandma B and the other sent to Grandpa Jerry. Out of respect for these lovely children – and for no other reason, as I normally avoid those abominable things – I ate a chocolate dipped Peep. I have to admit, it was good! Actually it was fantastic. I never cease to be amazed at the pure transformative joy a little chocolate can produce. There is another one, of course, but it will have to wait for desert time tonight.

Since CA and I are many miles from family, we could find little reason not to indulge ourselves with a couple of nice fresh Maine lobsters for our supper. A small spring salad, baked potato and a bottle of good Chablis from the cellars at Bow Street Market will round things out. Such indulgences do not replace family but do a pretty damned good job as a placeholder until someone shows up.

Tee shirts and sock-less sandals, walkers, joggers and cyclists everywhere. I even heard a motorcycle blast by a moment ago. It ain’t daffodils but the signs of the season of growth and harvest are at hand.

I’ll resist putting up the deck umbrella today. Maybe tomorrow. – after checking the forecast.

YOU KNOW HOW IT IS – You go off to school or work sometime in your early life and discover opportunities where you never thought they were and as a result never go home again. Well, that describes my early life. I could cut to the chase and say here I am in a remote corner of America feeling as much at home as I ever did in the land of my birth.

It’s here that an interesting sidebar should be inserted. The pictures I have stored in my mind of my friends and my life in the land of my nativity are all dated and faded. Because I never see those people, I see them as they were not as they are.

For you who have lived your lives close to where you grew up it’s a different feeling and experience. You and your friends have grown up into maturity in a partnership of shared lives or at least a shared place. When you see each other the changes you see are gradual and you see yourself in the lives of others.

When my brother died photographs were posted of people I last saw many years ago. Suddenly, my own age was palpable. For a while there was a website dedicated to news and events of my high school class. They would have a monthly luncheon and I would look at those pictures in amazement. Hardly a one would be recognizable to me in a random encounter.

I have spoken to many natives who say they would love to have lived somewhere else. But the draw of the familiar, of home is powerful and usually overrides most other considerations.

I sometimes envy those of you who grow into old age among your people. I have friends for whom I am grateful beyond words, while my immediate family is gone and old friends are slipping away. But isn’t that the way it goes? Yet, there is an element of life that I missed and do miss. On the other hand, I feel sure I would not change a thing. Our histories are the culmination of countless choices which if only a few or even one were otherwise, none of this might be happening.

We take life as it is. Even if we want to change things – that change must begin where and as it is now. I like it the way it is.

I feel deeply indebted to and grateful for each of you who have a part to play in my life. Thank you.

Carry on.