Eventually everyone learns the gift of a new morning with new possibilities. The older one gets, the more one knows how precious time is. Although time goes on forever, your time will eventually expire. You are either the glass is half filled or half empty type of person. One thing most can agree on is that a good day starts with a positive state of mind.
Waking up at 5 am on my dad’s 43’ Egg Harbor fishing boat in Montauk was routine on our family fishing trips in August. The sounds of various other fishing boats starting up their powerful engines was my alarm clock. Only once did I wake up already twenty miles out. It seems that morning my dad and brothers were determined to be first out to look for tuna.
If you have ever gone camping and have slept in a tent or even under the stars, waking up to the sounds of nature is unique. Lying with your ears to the ground puts one in touch with Mother Earth. You hear squirrels moving about, songbirds chirping, crows crowing and the wind traveling through the trees. It’s all a senses loading experience.
Our work, our livelihoods, play a huge role in defining who we are and who we will be. So does where we choose to live. We can never choose where we are born but we do choose where we live, play and vacation. I have chosen the eastern end of the south shore. I had made other choices such as Westchester County and the upper east side of Manhattan, but the last twenty years have been on south shore. I chose waking up with pure ocean air and seagulls overhead.
The beaches now rule my life. Have you ever been at a beach when folks who rarely see the ocean take those first breaths of pure ocean air? That used to be me, the dude looking out over the horizon trying to see France. Now I consider the Atlantic Ocean a daily friend.
There are many ups and downs in a long life. There are speed bumps. We all somehow make a difference in our own ways. Some think big while others prefer the quietly private smaller approach. Back in my years of being a weekly paid reporter I was assigned to go to The First United Methodist Church in East Hampton. That’s the one across from the EH Post Office and the windmill.
I was to do a write-up on “Maureen’s Haven,” and their work addressing the homeless situation in the Hamptons. On the floor in a room in the church there were mattresses with sheets, blankets and pillows. Slowly folks filed in. The volunteers greeted them, many by name. Some had lived in the Hamptons their whole lives while others had only recently found refuge on the east end. The conversations ranged from health, weather, about their bus ride, or other shelters and upcoming Thanksgiving.
That night I realized how fragile existence can be. How a few huge breaks can have you helicoptering into a home south of the highway, while a few bad breaks can land you on a mattress on a church floor. I pass that church every time I go to get my mail at my EH Post Office box. Obviously I think about that night and the all the people I met. Many of us who reported stuff over the years have similar stories.
Guild Hall has fundraising golf outings at the Maidstone Club. For a hefty donation you get to spend a day of golf with a nice dinner at the prestigious club. I have done it twice. You use the locker room and wander around the club as if you are a member. Needless to say, I had a tough time on the course with the tall out of bounds grass. Even with a caddie I lost too many balls in that very tall grass.
The next day, I was sharing my Maidstone golf adventures with J.J. Jensen, the then bartender at CittaNuova, in East Hampton Village. As I told him I hated being in that tall grass rough fearing ticks, J.J. Jensen learned across the bar. Then he said in a loud whisper, “T.J. don’t you know there are no ticks on the Maidstone course?” Processing what he said I then asked is it sprayed? He said, “No! Ticks are not allowed into the club!” The whole bar area broke out in laughter.
When you walk the east end beaches, golf courses, the trails, the back roads or even hang out in a friend’s nice backyard in Amagansett, like my wife and I did this last Memorial Day, you truly understand “A Hamptons State of Mind.”
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