By Philip Crossman There are only two places, Here, this island off the coast of Maine, and Away. There is a big and obvious difference between those who live Here and those who live Away. There is no less a distinction between those who live Here and who the rest of us...
Standing at the toilet early one recent morning was a little startling. It’s not usually. I’m customarily quite at ease. Anticipating the great relief I am accustomed to experiencing at this time each day I was taken aback briefly and my effort stalled when I realized the water level in the appliance’s basin was advancing toward me at an alarming rate.
By Phil Crossman A few years ago I went to Florida on vacation. I’d never seen a woman in a thong before. Of course I’d seen pictures of them but seeing them actually move around close enough to, well, study, is different. I’m glad I waited. At this stage, happily...
By Phil Crossman Last week a perfect snow fell. It was perfect for cross country skiing which Elaine and some friends responded enthusiastically and it had just enough togetherness to respond perfectly to an effort by three youngsters to roll it into a big ball, a ball...
Do you find that, although you like the general ‘heft’ of New York City, Manhattan is not quite the island experience you’re looking for? Take heart! In many respects an island is just an island, whether circumscribed by the East, Harlem and Hudson Rivers there, or by East Penobscot Bay, The Reach and the Fox Islands Thorofare here. Vinalhaven, the largest island among this Archipelago, has enough in common with Manhattan that…
In 1952 Santa came to Vinalhaven, to the church, as he did every year, to separate the worthy from the unworthy. We all foundered in those tricky waters where worthy and unworthy were not so distinct. For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ.” -Romans 14:10 simply was not as scary as actually sitting in the judgment seat, in the lap no less, of one who knew for sure, not only when we were sleeping and when we were awake, but whether we’d been bad or good or worse, for goodness sake. This was, after all, the eighth annual church visitation from Santa in my own young life, and that was eight more times than I had even seen Christ, let alone sat in his lap.