Those were simpler times-I’m not sure there was a Michelin star rating that could have captured the simplistic beauty of the Whalers Motel, right on Long Island Avenue in Sag Harbor. For many years the sign read, “Whalers Motel-TV-Heated.”
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But there is much to be learned by loss-it pulls at us and brings us to new places. It highlights the opportunities for joy and steers us always from the perpetual ruts-the heartache impetus.
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My dog Sneakers is preparing for his trip over the damn rainbow bridge. I added the word damn because it just feels a lot more fitting. I’m not feeling the rainbows-none of us are.
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Cemeteries like the Old Burying Ground can be inspirational places to look for signs of life-the life that lives within us.
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The famous, the infamous, the courageous the ingenious, the enterprising, the entertaining-Sag Harbor has a history that tells the story of the strength and potency of the human spirit.
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It is as if the connection and love lives on some deeper plane-where words need not exist-where communication is telepathic and hearts are intertwined.
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It reminds them that they are connected to the earth beneath their feet, the beauty of the world around them, and the hopefulness that there very well may be something wonderful, huge and loving standing by them throughout their lives.
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The inherent benefit of being a ‘local’ is a quiet sense of connection-that this corner of the world is part of you, and you are part of it. No matter who arrives, who comes and goes, who settles and digs their heels in… you know, and are part of the history, the herstory, the evolution of this tiny part of the world.
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