by Barbara Fernald
Thanks to the thoughtful planners in town and the skillful inoculations from Sharon Daley of the Seacoast Mission, a record number of people received painless flu shots in November in the Cranberry Isles. It’s a darn good thing too, since those of us who came down with the two-week worst-cold-virus-ever in December and January could at least be reassured and grateful that, though it really felt like it, we did not have the flu.
When I don’t feel well, I don’t feel good about anything I do. This makes facing the deadline for my first 2013 Cranberry Report a bit of a challenge. I have been trying to develop a description of how winter feels on Little Cranberry Island and what a special time of year it is, but I’m not having much luck. Instead of finding 1,000 words of wonderful, I’m afraid I’m going to grumble my way through several hundred words of woe in an account of what it was like to leave the island for the holidays.
In the gale-festered week before Christmas, the Beal and Bunker boats and the commuter boats were canceled on three separate days, messing up work, shopping and travel plans for quite a few residents. Bruce and I were lucky to leave for Baltimore on a day when all boats were running. We had clear weather to drive to New Haven, where we spent the night with the parents of our daughter-in-law, Stephanie. We indulged ourselves with enthusiastic talk about the desire for grandchildren, getting it out of our system before arriving at Robin and Stephanie’s new house where it was wise to not yet mention the topic.
We left New Haven in a downpour, with written directions to the Tappan Zee Bridge and an older model GPS that suggested we take an alternate route at every exit along the way. Although Bruce and I are the best of friends, who have been together for 36 years, we still manage to have the hardest time getting along when we are traveling together in the car. I don’t know why it is, and it’s not a constant thing,...
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