MostfolkcallmeRudd.

From1994-2004,IwrotemonthlytalesforasmalltownNey Hampshire paper, the Richmond Rooster. For a few oftheseessaysIborrowed,examinedandexpandedmyyouthfulsummerexperiencesonPointConnett.Forothers,Iexaggeratedorliedcreatively,acharacteristicmymomsuggestedthatIdoorallywithastraightface.Intheformerscenario,Ihopethereaderwill sniffa fewsaltbreezes frombeautifulBuzzardsBay,howeverattimesthebaycanbeveryangry.Yogi Berra, “When I was youngI could recall everythingwhether it happened or not.”I was nine years old when the1938 hurricane slammed intotheNewEnglandCoast.

ThesinglewarningofahugestormapproachingMattapoisettand Point Connett came fromOman Price, local constable.PackingprizedpossessionsintoDad’sStudebaker,myfamilyleftshortlybeforedevastatingwindandwavesburiedPointConnettandsurroundingareas.

Mother, Dad and I returned from our winter home inWalpoletoaCrescentBeachroadblockwhereanelderlyfellowwasbeingpulledalivefromdebris.Itwasahorrorscene…homesoffoffoundations,boatsinwoods,scatteredtelephonepoles, demolished cars, downed trees, and shell-shockedresidents searching for belongings. Connett,Angelica andPeases were destroyed, too, and Mattapoisett recorded ninedeaths. On thesame location,Dadbuilta summerhomewith

livingquarterssolidlysupportedbycedarstilts.

OnlyashortchipshotfromBuzzardsBay,heusedblocks,tackle, boards and jacks to move huge boulders to form aprotectiveseawall.

RecallingDad’swords,“Ihope that I live tosee theresults of another hurricane, becausethishousewillstand.”

In August 1954 hurricane Carolcrashedthroughthebasementwithoutdamage to living quarters. HurricaneEdna followed one month later withextensive Point Connett propertydamage. My dad smiled and coastalbuilderscopiedhisdesign.

From age nine to my early teens,summer memories rattle my brain … toe scratching forquahogs,mom’schowder,ourgangmoviesandthree-leggedracesonLaborDay,4thofJulyfireworksfromthestonepier,BabeRuthretiringandLowellThomas,myfolks’favoriteradionewsprogram,gulfhill icecreamandkiteflyingfromNedsPoint.ThroughDad’spicturewindow,wecouldwatchtheNewYorksteamboat,litupwithacoupleofhundredentertainedpassengers,headedtowardthecanaltoBoston.

Most summer reflections focus on teen age activitiesthatIneverconfessedonmycollegeresume.Oneprofessordidstatethatafewtruthsaremorenoteworthythanalibraryoffiction.However,Ibelieveitiscommendabletoimproviseorstretchthetruth.

Margie,mywife,workedwithAlzheimer residentsataNewHampshirenursinghome. Aninetyyearoldladyhad

An older sister, Joan, won regional sailing awards; anolderbrother,BobJr.,becameaB-26pilot,shotdownandbadlywoundedoverGermany,hewassurgicallyhealedbyaskillfulenemydoctor.ReturningtoPointConnett,BobmarriedDebbieandtheysiredfourboys.

Jillbecamemyfavoritetwin,likethesisterIneverhad.WerodetherollercoasteratLincolnParksixtimes,andcrashedbumpercarsattheBrocktonFair.

Onone Julynight, Jilland IprowledthePoint,howlingand hooting like wounded elephants waking neighbors andalertingOman.Afterahomewardboundmarathon,Guntha,Oman’sGermanShepherd,sniffedmecoweringunderPeck’sJeep.WithOman’sbrightlightinmyeyes,Iinvitedmanandbeastnextdoortomyfolk’shouse,lituplikeacasino.With

nevermetme.LucyandIconversedknowledgeablyandatlengthaboutpeopleneitherofusknew,promnight,thehighschool reunion, and Joe – who pumped gas at our favoritegarage.Thoughmymemorybanktendstooverflow,itmakesme happy that the spiritualchallengeworkedforLucy.

In 1938 like everyone onPointConnett,theWarrenfamilyhad to rebuild. Bob and GraceWarrenhadtwins, Jackand Jill,who became my summertimepals.

Jack & Jill Warren

Mom and Dad in Bermuda, Oman accepted and suggestedfutureprimatebehaviorinmoderation,whileGunthasnored.Jillescaped.

In the early 1940’s, the threat of German submarinespassingthroughBuzzardsBaybecamearealityandforseveralmonths, the Coast Guard maintained scrutiny and securityfromoursummerhome.Nightlyblackoutsinterruptedearlyeveningcocktailandbridgeparties. DadboughtasurplusNavysearchlightandmounted itonthefrontporchrailing.During the early war years, a fatal shark attack happenedoffPease’s Point,but Idonotrecallany foreignsubmarinesightings.

DressedincamouflagewithBBgunsattheready,PointConnett special forcesborrowedGuntha to search for spiesbehindscrubpinesandboulders.Mostofmyfriendsenergizedcommandoes,belongedtotheAngelicaYachtClub,andsailedtwelvefoot,gaffrigged,twopersoncatboats.

AYC sailors raced for weekend flags and the BeetlecatCup,apewterreplicaofAmerica’sCup.

While colored flags seemed important to enthusiasticparents,onlyafewyellowflagsforthirdplacefinishesgracedtheWymanRafters.Consistently,theWarrenfamilywontheblueandredflags,aswellasmanytrophies.SailingtheBobbinwithherblackhullandorangesail,myfriendsdeservedeveryaward.

For myself, racing was not a serious pastime, and Icarriedafishingrod.NamedaftermyfavoriteDisneysong,HiHo,crossedthefinish line longafter theracecommitteeand spectators had left the stone pier. Fresh striped bass,orbluefishfortheWymanfamilySundaydinnerwasatreat,withmilktoastforbackup.

The course was to sail around the Angelica Red buoy,leaveClevelandLedgetoPortandhome.PointConnettoddsfavoredJillintheBobbin,withDaveBarkerforhercrew,at2-1;afewsympatheticgamblershadHiHo,withPollyAnderson(mycrew)at12-1.

BetweenPointAandB,andinlastplace,InoticedgullsfranticallydivingoveraschoolofBlues. Castingapoppingplug,immediatelyIwasontoagoodsizedbluefish.ThatwaswhenPollynoticedasharkfin,andsuddenlywaterexplodedasSundaydinnergotslicedintwo.

Polly,“I’llneversailwithyouagain.”And,shedidn’t,butshekeptmyschoolring.

MyDadthoughtthatSundayracingwasexcellenttherapyforsharkhunterswhodranktoomuchbeeronSaturdaynight.SleepinglateononeSundaymorning,hecarriedanddumpedmefromthestonepier,reiteratingwordsofPollyAnderson’s

dad,Andy,“Whenwillyougetalife?”

ThishappenedonthesameweekendthatIdeclinedmyGrandmother’sofferandfinancialincentivetoquitsmokingonmyseventeenthbirthday.Beachbummingcouldbeariskylivelihood.

Across from Warrens the Trefrey family summered.Charles ran a successful real estate business in the BostonareathatinvolvedRedSoxplayers.VernStephensandBillyHitchcockvisitedPointConnettresulting inmyonlyfishingcharter. Motoring off Angelica in my fourteen foot skiff, IsuggestedtoBillythatitisriskytostandinasmallboatwithaBudweiser inonehand, rod in theother,whilesmokingacigarette. Later, at Dunn’s Field, I copied Vern’s “Face thePitcher”homerunstance,athitlongfoulballsoffofCrescentBeachSoxprospect,JackMcGonagle.AndyAnderson,“Baseballkeepstherascalsoutathehouse!”

YoungChuck,myage,hadaprettycousinwhovisitedTrefreysand I tookher toNewBedford to seeStrangersonaTrain,withFarleyGranger. Afterabold, rejectedattempttokissClarissagoodnight, likeagentleman,Iwalkedhertothe door. On the following day, I learned that JackWarrenretrievedmydateforacozymoonlightcruise.

Duringonesummer,ChuckandIenrolledintheBerlitzSchool of Languages. With a Russian threat and withoutconstructivehobbies,wewouldstudytheRussianlanguage.While Chuck learned to swear in Russian three times inone sentence, my welcoming motivation, “Hello Comrade”and“HaveaNiceDay.” DadandAndyAndersonknewmeprettygoodandsummerschoolmayhavebeenaploytowardestablishingmynewlife.

TocelebratetheendofWorldWarII,AdrianPeck,whosehouse was split in two, in 1938, sponsored a Luau with an

Aboutthistime,JillandIreturnedfromalatenightpartyinSouthDartmouth,andMom’sPontiacslidoffRedman’sPier.

“Kidswillbekids,”Momrationalized;however,sheblamedJillfortheaccidentandwebothwonderedwhy.WasittimeforthekidsofSummertogrowup?Beachbummingcouldbeafinancialrisk,andlifethreatening.

Facing the challenges of maturity, fishing was therapyand hopefully part of becoming a responsible person.Some lessons had to be learned before school would start.Apparently though, Andy Anderson thought that my new

importedband,dancersandchef. Thewell-attendedaffairhappened between the Wymans and Pecks, and featuredlobsters and a pig roast. Jill Warren, Barbara King, NancyBearse and June White performed a sensual hula dance ingrassskirts,andIwasoldenoughtopayattention.

lifewasprogressing irresponsiblywhenhestatedthatPointConnettisasummerrefugefordescentfoldwithdelinquentkidswhofishforsharks.

First,thekidshadtoeliminatetheblowfishpopulation,thatwascausingaswimmingconcernoffthestonepier. Ablowfishchewsontinytoes,isprehistoricinuglinessandisanannoyingbaitstealer.AfterwatchingmyDadfirerocketsfrom the stone pier, Chuck and I devised an exterminationplan.Whenoneticklesthetummyofablowfish,itpuffsuplikeatexturedballoon.Afterpryingopenbuckteeth,inserta cherry bomb, tickle tummy, light fuse and boot subjectexpectingairborneexplosion.TodayIamnotproudofthisactivity,buthistoricallytheblowfisheradicationmademoresensethanstuffingdeadeelsintoCrescentBeachmailboxes,wheresomeresidentscomplainedtoOmanaboutbadsmells.

With the blowfish problem solved, four restless ladswould become serious shark hunters. Jack, Randy, ChuckandIwouldpursueanighttimechallengefromthestonepierusuallywithfemalecompanionshipandapailoficedbeer.

Asharkhuntingcareerbeginswithseveralfeetofquarterinchnylonline,aboutsixfeetofchain,coupledtoaneedlesharphookcamouflagedbyafishhead.Fromtheendofthestonepier,baitisrowedaboutseventyfeetanddropped.

Eachsharkhunterhasresponsibilities. Myjobwastocatch the bait, preferably a fresh, bloody bluefish. Randy,stickballchampionofNorwoodandeventualbankpresident,accomplished the rowboat maneuver with dexterity andcompassion.Carryingaloaded22Woodsmanrevolverincaseafriskysharkshouldbecomedangerous,Jackhandledpublicrelations,securityandentertainingtheladies.Wevotedourintern,Chuck,tomaintenanceanddisposal.Ifthefishingwasslowandthehourlate,Dadwouldspotuswiththesearchlight,

aninvitationforsharkhunterstoretire.

Chuck devised an after hour plan that he called “TheRussianRattle.”ItbecamehisresponsibilitytotieslacklinetotheAYCFlagpole,ortoananchoronthebeach.Whensharkstrikesandruns,pailpoundsandrattlestowakenhunters.Ononeoccasion,arudelyawakenedneighbor,RalphHill,hauledinafive-footfriskysandshark.Afterphotos,slittingstomachandfillingcrevicewithstones,ChuckwouldswearinRussianbeforedumpingthecarcassbeyondtheAngelicaRedbuoy.

Witha failing familybusiness in1961, theyearMargieandIweremarried,DadsoldoursummerhometoBobandDebbieWarren.

July 7, 2000

BobandDebbieWarrenhavebeenmarriedforfiftyyears,andthisisaspecialeveningtocelebrate.MyfamilyhasbeeninvitedtoPointConnett–anopportunitytorevisitfriendsandtorenewsummermemories.Also,ecologyscientistswillbeinterestedtore-evaluatetheblowfishpopulation.WepassDunn’sField,whereMarshalltrippedonaplumthornbushchasingJackMcGonagle’sgamewinninghomerun.TheoldtenniscourtalongAngelicaRoad,whereDaveBarkerwontheConnettCup,iscoveredwithgrass.TherearetwonewcourtsbehindArtHill’shouse.

IpointtowherePollyAnderson,myoldgirlfriendlived,andnextdoortotheNewmanhousewhereItchyandBubbaput a smoke bomb inAndy’s garage, I wondered …“Wouldthey be here?” My wife, kids and myself are excited to beinvitedtothisspecialoccasion,andwearrivefromourNewHampshirelogcabinwithfishingrodssecureinroofrack.Alargecircus tentcovers theWarren land,wherePecksLuau

happenednearlysixtyyearsago.ThereisathreatofrainandlightningstreaksoffofAngelica.

The Warren family welcomes us and proudly, DebbieshowsinteriorimprovementsandthereareadditionalboulderstoDad’sseawall.ThehomeringsofnauticalbeautywithaHobycatonthefrontlawn.IthinkofmanynightsIwouldfallasleeptothesoothingechoofwaveslappingrocks,amagicalsoundthatmostcitykidswillneverhear.

CamaraderieunderthebigtentbeginswhenIspotBudand Mary Franklin. Time recents to an early summer daywhenBudandIrowedanddroppedathreehundredpoundmushroom anchor into fifteen feet of clear water. Liftingandpushingtheanchorovertheskiff’sside,chainwrappedaroundBud’slegpullinghimoverboard.Asmyfriendspiraled

BubbaNewmanandArtMcLeanhadalong-lastingfeud.Art,aloyalYankeefan,reactedviolentlywhenBubbaimpliedthatTedWilliamswasabetterhitterthanJoeDiMaggio.

WhileAndysoughtjailtimeforbothlads,ArtputliveeelsinMrs.Newman’sprivatewadingpool.WhenshecontactedOman,hevowedtokeeppeace;however,BubbadidretaliateandborrowedoneofChuck’sdeadsharkstoputinherbathtub.Omaninstructedbothpartiestoshakehands,apologizetotheladiesandtopainthishouse.

Bubba will be missed tonight, but it is enlightening todiscover that a few of my friends are alive. Barb Hill andBarbTatro,youngwidowsofMargie’sandmygeneration,areplanningaWintercruise.IsitpossiblethatCharliePeckwillcelebratea60thbirthdaytomorrow?Charliewasababyat

tocertaindeath,thechainunwound.Withhislegfree,Budsurfacedwithabadlybruisedleg,andwepaddledtothestonepierinaskiffnearlyfullofwater.Asilentprayerofthanks;thenandnow.

Kay Hill, in her nineties, with two of her four lovelydaughters,greetus.StanAlleninformsmethathisCaliforniacousin,claimsthattheAngelsareadefinitethreattoourRedSox. ItchyNewmanseemsglad toseeme,but looksveryold,andnotalotwiserthanwhenhebuiltsmokebombsandthrustabarbecueskewerthroughAndyAnderson’sOldTowncanoe. When I ask about Bubba, sadly he relates how hisbrotherdroveanArcticCatunderbarbedwire,and losthishead.

his Dad’s Luau, about the time Mom’s Pontiac skidded offRedman’sPier.

Iamabouttogooutsidethetentforasmoke,andamapproached by a distinguished-looking gentleman in Randyboatshoes,withdyedredhairpokingfromasignaturebaseballcap,“CoedNakedVolleyball”.

Myname isHenryWiggingtonand Iamanold sailingbuddyofBob’s.Ihaveenjoyedyourmagazineessays:SharkHunter’sGuideforDummiesandSailingfortheHeluvit.

“Iwould like toaskyou if you trulybelieveeverythingthatyouwriteabout.”

Thiswasnotadirectquestion,andItooktheoffensive:“Areyoutrulyintovolleyball?”

“The hat is a disguise,” he says, “I teach a journalismcourseatHarvard,emphasisoncreativity.InSeptember,myclasswillfocusonjuvenilebehaviorandteenageawareness.”

Peeringatmeoverabulbousnose,Wiggintoncontinues,“Harvard will pay you to chair a three-day workshop oncreativity.”

Hehandsmeacolorfulbusinesscard-HenryWiggington,CoEdVolleyballforMatureAdults,andIwonder:wrongcard? IamawarethatHenry isnotaftermyautograph,and,smelling smoke in the cockpit, I intend to ask Bob aboutWigginton’sshenanigans.

MywarherofriendisarespectedbusinessmaninNorfolk,hisWinterhome,andheisthearchitectofawell-publicizedaerialphotoofPointConnett.

RainhasheldoffandBob,ontheseawall,issippingaSamAdamswhile enjoying the serenity of afewquietmomentsawayfromthetent. I applaud that theblowfishremain gone, and we reminisceaboutaswordfishingadventureoffNoman’saboardhisTashtigo.TherewerebeachbuggytripsinmyWorldWar II Jeep, Weegetum, catchingstripedbass.

Weegetum

Fishinghasbeenanimportantfactortorelievemyfriendofpost-warstress.

IaskBob,“IsHenryWiggintonafriendofyours?”

“HankyPanky?Heisagoodperson,Rudd,andcrewedformebeforethewar;however,Hankyliesalotandhasfrequentdelusionsofgrandeur. InJune,Hankywasheldhostagebyaliens, escaped, and he was captured by the MattapoisettPolicewhenheranaredlightonRoute6.”

I tell Bob that tonight Hanky is a Harvard Professordrummingupamidnightvolleyballgame.

Mydaughter,Sarah,abeautifulsocialbutterflyappearsandasks,“Anyoneupforagameoffriendlyvolleyball?”

“Yousawthehat!”Istated,andwebothlaugh.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Life is a succession of lessonswhichmustbelivedtobeunderstood.”Irecallanunexpected,shockingexperiencewhilepowersandingawoodenboatwhilebarefootonwetgrass,andwonderhowIsurvivedtopossessalovingfamily.

Whilephilosophizing,myson(Steve)andJill’sson(Jim)returnfromAngelica,eachheftingakeeperstriper.

Duringthe1940’sand1950’s,striperfishingfromDad’stwentyeightfootHackercraftwasanexcitingchallenge.

At this time, So-Ho may have been the fastest cabincruiser on Buzzards Bay. Sleeping four, my family haddelightfulweekendtripsacrosstheBay,throughoneofthreeholes,toTarpaulinCove,HadleyHarborandCuttyHunk.WecruisedalongsideoftheNewYorkYachtClub,withAmerica’sCupdefenders,whenbeautifulshipssailedintoMattapoisettHarbor.

At an early age, I gained respect for the ocean, a factthatmusthaveimpressedbothAndyAndersonandmyDad.ReturningtoPointConnettafteraBostontrip,wheremyfolksshared fog bound adventures with a crew ofAmish peopleaboardablackschooner,weapproachedtheEastentrancetotheCanal,andaroutineentry.However,abouthalfwaythroughsuddenlywaveshitSo-Hofromeverydirection.MomandIdawnedlifepreserversasawaterfallofseacrashedthroughthewindshieldknockingoffDad’sglasses.Pots,pans,boxesand oranges floated on the cabin floor as we plowed into amountainofangrysea.Toavoidbeingbowledover,DadkeptthebowstraightintotheturbulentwaterasanyvariationtoPort,ortoStarboardwouldhavebeenacertainknockdown.Finally,enteringBuzzardsBay,therewasacalmconclusiontoafrightfulexperienceforayoungsailorandparents.

Dad’s Hackercraft So Ho

RespondingtoasolidwhackonmyshoulderhopefullynotHanky,Ihugmyfriend,DaveBarker.

“One more set and I’d have cleaned your clock,” I tellhim,andDavelaughs.WehadsomeexcitingtennismatchesandIoftenwonderedifDaveandJilljuggledcupid’sarrows.Thelongagomemorieskeepcoming.

Dave’s father, Hump, owned a thirty-four foot yawl,Barkeroll.

Dave, Jack and I sailed to theVineyard for the annualEdgartownRegatta,apartyweekendwithatraditionalYachtrace.Afterleadingonehourintotherace,weeitherlostourbearings, made a wrong turn, or had too many beers andseveralboatsfollowed.

Wedidnotknowwherewewere,butCaptainDavemadeupforitwithspeed.Later,afterseveralbeersandapologies,everyonelaughed.

I learnedavaluable lessonon thisvoyage. While Jackslept, I filled his nearly empty beer can with salt water.Awakening,Jacktookaslug,retched,spitandreachedforhis“shoot a frisky shark” gun. Dave grabbed him around thenecksavingmylife.Fortunately,HumpsoldBarkerollbeforethree disillusioned argonauts’ formulated plans to join theNewYorktoBermudaRace,withorwithoutloadedguns.

MemoriesofthisPointConnettreunionwillbetreasured.Thetimeisgettinglate,andIneedtofindJill,Luaualumnusandmyfavoritetwin.

AfterJack’searlydeath,JillandIbecamePointConnett’shooligantwins.Withabearhug,shekeptmegroundedonthestonepierasIfoughtandlandedasevenfootbluesharkonaspinningrod.

Duringthewar,weexchangedMorsecodemessagesbyflashlightfromfacingbedroomwindows.Wewere competitive: 3-legged andpotatosackraces,tennis,Monopoly,beerdrinkinggamesandGo-Fish.

Iusedtokid Jill thatanyoneoverthirty-fivefaceshealthissues.Now,withhersnowwhitehairandpushingtheCadillacofstreamlinedwalkers, I find Jill chatting withJune,anotherLuaualumnus.Juneis escorted by Henry Wiggington– Hanky winks at me and says,“Maybenextyear,Rudd,andkeepupyourwriting.”

It is importanttospendqualitytimewithmyhooligantwininthisspecialplacewheremischievousbehaviorignitedexposureduringourparents’generation.Jill’spotatosackand3-leggedmarathonsarehistory.Withafewhealthproblemsofmyown,includingacoupleofurgentvisitstoovercrowdedERrooms,wecoulddiscussourmedicalissues.Definitely,IamproudofJillfornotbelaboringahappyreunionwithhospitaltalk.

“We’vehadgoodsummers,Rudd,butwhydidyourMomaccusemeofdrivinghercaroffofRedman’sPier?”

Notwantingtodestroyamysteriousmoment,IventuredthatmyMomdidteachmetodriveinastraightline.

IwishHankyahappy life,give Jilla longoverduehug,andaskherifJuneisavolleyballfan.

Jill replies,“YoushouldhaveaskedHanky if Juneplaysvolleyball.”

“Hankylies,”Isay,butwhyshouldanyonecareaboutanentirelyplausiblerelationship.

“Go-Fish,”Jillsays,withahugecontagioussmile.

Thefactisthatneitherofuswasdriving.WhenOmandiscovered us on the following morning of the late nightparty, we were asleep next to Mom’s Pontiac, with its frontwheelsburiedinthesand.AfterawetsmootchfromGuntha,Ienvisionedtheinevitablemusicoffacingourparents,whohadthePolicelookingfortwohooligansintwostates.

Jill,“Isthatreallywhathappened?”

Rudd,“Go-Fish!”

August 15, 2011

ManyproudghostsofthisandpastgenerationshavelefttreasuredfootprintsinthePointConnettsand.

IhadhopedtoreadthisEssaytoJill,beingcaredforinaMarionnursinghome.However,Ididnotgetthereintime.

Today,Jillissailingonagreatwhitecloudhopefullywithcaringangels,tellingherto,“Go-Fish!”

WrittenBy:

RuddWyman(774)5535022