The Lame Duck's Swan Song (verse two)
a farewell sermon by the Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen
preached at the Second Congregational Meeting House
on Nantucket Island, Sunday August 10, 2003
***
I’ve been thinking all summer about what I wanted to say here this morning. I can’t really say I’ve been looking forward to it (in fact, in many ways, I’ve been dreading it), but I’ve certainly been thinking about it, because this really is my last Sunday in this pulpit as your interim minister, and no matter how hard I try, I know I will never be able to say everything that I feel I still have to say to you. And one of the reasons I wanted to present this “Lame Duck’s Swan Song” in two parts, is that last week I hoped to get all of the sad and sentimental stuff out of the way, so that this week we could really be free to laugh and celebrate the two years we’ve spent together.
Last week I spoke a little about the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance -- emotions we experience around all kinds of losses in our lives; and how one of a minister’s most important jobs is to sit with people in their time of grief, and to reassure them, simply through one’s presence as much as anything one might say, that they are not alone in their grieving. I then tried to describe some of the ways in which I have experienced you as a wonderful congregation [This probably would have been the promotional sound bite if this were actually a two-part television program instead of a sermon: “Previously from the South Church Pulpit.”]
But I said last week, and it bears repeating, that this congregation enjoys both a rich heritage, and a highly-visible and respected identity within the larger Nantucket community. You have a devoted core membership, and the support of a much larger constituency of individuals who share your core values and beliefs. You have a growing cadre of skilled and dedicated lay leaders, and perhaps most importantly, you really seem to like one another, despite (or perhaps because of) all of your eccentric, island idiosyncrasies.
You are passionate and committed, but also tolerant and forgiving; you are hard workers, generous and creative, but you also know how to let your hair down and have a good time; and you always seem to be there to help one another out in times of need or crisis. And I encouraged you then, as I encourage you again now, to learn to build upon these strengths, in partnership with your new minister, Jennifer Brooks, and you will be astonished by how much you can accomplish together.
And finally, I spoke about how proud and privileged I have felt to serve this congregation as its minister, and how grateful I am for the many ways that you have embraced and supported me through MY time of transition here on the island; how you’ve given me both permission and the personal space simply to be myself, and to still be your minister, and thus made it easy for me to be both happy and successful in my ministry here. And, of course, I mentioned how I will always carry a little part of Nantucket with me now wherever I go. And I meant this not only figuratively, but also literally. But this magnificent stole is not the only memento I will be taking with me when I leave Nantucket.
Two years ago, I arrived on this island with half-a-dozen baseball caps. This past week, as I was packing, I discovered that I now possess twenty-three, and here are some of my favorites, in the approximate order that I acquired them. [Hats]
I’ve also accumulated quite a collection of coffee mugs and Christmas tree ornaments, refrigerator magnets, T-shirts, sweat-shirts, golf shirts, a navy windbreaker and a yellow slicker, as well as this especially lovely gift from all of you: a representation of the view of the old North Wharf and our church tower, a view which delights every passenger aboard the Steamship as they approach or depart Nantucket. So I will have much to remind me of where I am not in the years to come, as well as many fond memories of the twenty-three months (and two weeks) of my life that I have spent so pleasantly as your interim minister.
In any event, I thought that today I would just continue with this theme for awhile, and talk a little bit more about some of the things I am going to remember about my time here, and especially the things I am going to miss. But first a brief word of explanation. When I first moved to the island I was advised that, if I were planning to survive the winter here, I should be certain to order the “big” cable package. And I wasn’t really sure whether that meant HBO and Showtime, or merely the “extended basic” cable I was accustomed to back in Oregon, but since the church was going to be getting the bill, I thought I’d better be conservative and stick with the Starz/Encore movie pack (which, as I recall, was only a couple of bucks more a month), which meant that while all of you were home watching new episodes of “The Sopranos” and “Six Feet Under,” I probably saw the movie “High Fidelity” about thirty or forty times.
How many of you know this movie? In this self-described “dark, romantic comedy,” John Cussak (whom some of you may remember from his staring role opposite Demi Moore in the classic Nantucket film “One Crazy Summer”) plays the underachieving owner of a failing used record store whose lawyer-girlfriend has just dumped him for a more stable and mature, sensitive new age guy (played by Tim Robbins). The story is structured around the device of a trivia game that the record store employees play to pass the time when business is slow (which is most of the time) -- a game in which they attempt to create lists of obscure things like the “top five nicknamed jazz musicians,” the “top five songs about rain,” or even the “top five things other than ketchup to put on french fries.”
So now that everyone understands my subtle, yet sophisticated pop culture allusion, here (in reverse order) is my personal list of “The Top Five Things that I’m going to miss about Nantucket after I am no longer the minister here.”
• Number Five: Nantucket Weddings. Weddings are one of those things about a minister’s job which individual ministers either love or dread. I happen to fall into the former category. Christenings are nice too, and Memorial Services often represent some of the most profoundly moving moments in a minister’s career, but for pure, unadulterated celebration of the joy and privilege of being a minister, there is nothing like officiating at a wedding.
When I was still married myself, my wife Margaret would always admonish me as I was leaving the house on my way to yet another wedding: “Remember Tim, they’ve invited you to share the happiest day of their life, so don’t let them down” -- and I always took her advice to heart, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy. Here on Nantucket, I’ve been fortunate enough to officiate at 32 weddings -- the first was three days after September 11th, and the last was just a week ago; in Carlisle (judging from the parish register) I will be lucky to officiate at one or two a year.
Not only do weddings (even first weddings) represent the optimistic “triumph of hope over experience,” there’s also generally a terrific party afterwards, which unfortunately I don’t always get to attend, since I usually have to work in the morning. We all know that life won’t always be cake and champagne; in fact, it rarely is, even for the happiest of couples. But as a minister on Nantucket, it’s been nice to be regularly reminded that sometimes it is too.
• Number Four: My complimentary membership at the Sankaty Head Golf and Beach Club. I have no idea how this policy came about (and I was kind of reluctant to ask, since I was afraid that if they found out who I really was they might change their minds), but I sure am grateful to whoever was responsible for offering island clergy this truly amazing and generous perk, and I just wish that I’d had the time (or maybe the nerve) to take more advantage of it than I did.
I’m the kind of golfer who tries never to let the game itself spoil a good walk, so I tend to play at inconspicuous times anyway, but even so, it was comforting to know that whenever I wanted to I could drive out to ‘Sconset and play a quick round, or hit a bucket of balls on the range, or even just sit on the clubhouse patio and order a cup of coffee and a sandwich and enjoy the view.
And now that I’m actually leaving the island, I’m really tempted to try sending in a routine change of address notice in the hope that maybe I can slip in under the radar and remain just as inconspicuous living off island as I have been up until now. But I probably won’t, because it wouldn’t be honest, and as we all know, honest golfers (assuming they really exist) never take a mulligan.
• Number Three: Wing Night at the Atlantic Cafe. Last Sunday I expressed my great thanks that you all somehow managed to resist the temptation to entertain one another with amusing gossip about my pathetic social life (or at least if you did, you did it so discretely that *I* never heard about it). But the sad fact of the matter is that Wing Night at the A.C. basically *was* my social life, since as a minister I didn’t really want to run the risk of embarrassing any of you by showing up at the Muse or the Chicken Box (at least without a chaperone).
My first winter on the island I went out practically every night: Mondays after basketball (and a shower!) it was a New York burger and a Cisco Ale at the Brotherhood; Tuesdays the Community Dinner at Saint Paul’s; Wings on Wednesdays; Thursdays the Steamship beef at the Taproom, and on Fridays I generally paid a visit to Charlie Sayles. But as time wore on, it was those fifteen cent buffalo wings that really won my heart. For all you “summer people” who aren’t quite sure what I’m talking about, it’s kind of hard to explain; you sorta have to be there. But I strongly suspect that the next time I come back to Nantucket to visit, it will be on a Wednesday night off-season.
• Number Two: the Bob Lehman trio. I’m a big fan of the Bob Lehman trio. I first started watching them perform down at Captain Tobey’s, where (as they reminded me just the other night) I startled them one evening by showing up in the company of a beautiful blonde woman half my age, whom they were relieved to discover later was actually my daughter Stephenie, who was here visiting me on the island. Since then I’ve seen them at numerous other venues, together as well as separately at White Elephant and the Summer House (where the one who isn’t performing is typically in the audience), and of course most recently in their Cabaret Show Sunday nights at the Methodist Church; and they never fail to entertain me. I just hope that I have been half as successful at inspiring them.
And of course, my most favorite moments are the times when they are performing here in church, either on Sunday mornings, or at our annual Fellowship Dinner, or last February’s Valentine’s Day variety show, where I enjoyed the once-in-a-lifetime, never-to-be-repeated pleasure of having them both carry me through a duet of “Hey There” from my High School musical, “The Pajama Game.” I was honored to be asked to officiate, along with Ted, at their wedding last year; they’ve been my frequent companions at Wing Night (and my occasional chaperones at the Chicken Box and the Muse), and I’m grateful that neither of them have confided to me that they golf, or I would probably NEVER get off of this island. And among the many other mementos I will take with me to my next assignment in Carlisle are two of their CDs, which I will no doubt continue to listen to on Saturday nights as I prepare my sermons for my new congregation.
There are many other things that I will miss about Nantucket; some of them I mentioned last week’s sermon, and others in my last “Spiritual View” column in Thursday’s Inky. But if you haven’t already guessed by now, The Number One Thing I am going to miss about Nantucket is not the beach, or the boat basin, or the moors, but all of you. You have all been so good to me, in more ways than I can possibly begin to name or enumerate; and if I tried to list even half of them we would never make it to the party I know you have planned for me following the service.
I don’t think I’m being biased, but I honestly believe that we practice the best religion in the world. And one of the things that makes our faith so great is that we feel free to steal whatever we want, all the good stuff, from all the other religions, and also to reject those things which simply don’t add up. Because on some level we understand that the Truth is The Truth no matter where you find it, and that living “truthfully” truly matters, and is ultimately what gives life meaning.
There are critics of our faith who would say that Unitarian Universalism isn’t really a religion, because we are free to believe whatever we like. But this simply isn’t true. There are a lot of things I would *like* to believe. But as I’ve said before from this pulpit on more than one occasion, Unitarian Universalists are not free to believe whatever we like; we are *compelled* to believe what our reason, and our experience, tell us to be true. It takes a very special kind of person to practice this style of religion: to trust the authority of our own best judgment, fallible as it may be, and then to live our lives accordingly.
Because we know we’re not perfect. We all make mistakes; I don’t think a day goes by where I don’t do at least one stupid thing, and I’m sure the same is true for many of you. But we forgive ourselves, and we forgive one another, and we continue to try to do our best, because we know that we are accountable, not just to some law or rule, or even to God, but ultimately to our own integrity as human beings. And this is what gives our lives meaning.
And this is also, as I understand it, is the essence of the Gospel, as well as the essential truth of every other authentic religious faith. I knew I raised a few eyebrows a few weeks ago when I described myself as a Christian, but I hope you all understand that, in my view at least, there are Christians and there are Christians: there are those who attempt to use traditional religious language in order to impose their own repressive social and political agenda on others, and there are those who understand that the message of the Gospel is one of liberation, and not oppression, and who try to articulate this “good news” in contemporary terms that anyone can understand. And this is what makes us religious liberals -- we believe in liberation, in liberty, in freedom, and we believe that the best protector of that freedom is more of the same, and not less.
And I’m not talking here about the bizarre kind of freedom which justifies the strong doing unto others before they get a chance to do it unto you. I’m talking about a freedom which affirms the inherent worth and dignity of EVERY person, no matter what race, or gender, or sexual orientation they may happen to be; a freedom which respects and defends the rights of the weak and the helpless as much as those of the rich and powerful; and which understands that there is no justice without compassion, no peace without mutual respect and understanding, and that All Souls are precious in the eyes of our Creator.
These may sound like radical ideas to some, but they are True, at least as best as I’ve been given light to understand the truth, and I, for one, feel compelled to live them out as best I can. And that truly is just about everything that I know, at least about religion, in essence if not in detail. Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to share it, and to live it, with all of you these past two years.
And now, before I sail on out of here, endeavoring (as those old Nantucket sailors used to say) to “keep ‘er East,” I have one last official duty to perform.....
[keys to Jennifer]
READING: “If Once You Have Slept On An Island” by Rachel Field
If once you have slept on an island
You'll never be quite the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name,
You may bustle about in street and shop
You may sit at home and sew,
But you'll see blue water and wheeling gulls
Wherever your feet may go.
You may chat with the neighbors of this and that
And close to your fire keep,
But you'll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell
And tides beat through your sleep.
Oh! you won't know why and you can't say how
Such a change upon you came,
But once you have slept on an island,
You'll never be quite the same.
preached at the Second Congregational Meeting House
on Nantucket Island, Sunday August 10, 2003
***
I’ve been thinking all summer about what I wanted to say here this morning. I can’t really say I’ve been looking forward to it (in fact, in many ways, I’ve been dreading it), but I’ve certainly been thinking about it, because this really is my last Sunday in this pulpit as your interim minister, and no matter how hard I try, I know I will never be able to say everything that I feel I still have to say to you. And one of the reasons I wanted to present this “Lame Duck’s Swan Song” in two parts, is that last week I hoped to get all of the sad and sentimental stuff out of the way, so that this week we could really be free to laugh and celebrate the two years we’ve spent together.
Last week I spoke a little about the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance -- emotions we experience around all kinds of losses in our lives; and how one of a minister’s most important jobs is to sit with people in their time of grief, and to reassure them, simply through one’s presence as much as anything one might say, that they are not alone in their grieving. I then tried to describe some of the ways in which I have experienced you as a wonderful congregation [This probably would have been the promotional sound bite if this were actually a two-part television program instead of a sermon: “Previously from the South Church Pulpit.”]
But I said last week, and it bears repeating, that this congregation enjoys both a rich heritage, and a highly-visible and respected identity within the larger Nantucket community. You have a devoted core membership, and the support of a much larger constituency of individuals who share your core values and beliefs. You have a growing cadre of skilled and dedicated lay leaders, and perhaps most importantly, you really seem to like one another, despite (or perhaps because of) all of your eccentric, island idiosyncrasies.
You are passionate and committed, but also tolerant and forgiving; you are hard workers, generous and creative, but you also know how to let your hair down and have a good time; and you always seem to be there to help one another out in times of need or crisis. And I encouraged you then, as I encourage you again now, to learn to build upon these strengths, in partnership with your new minister, Jennifer Brooks, and you will be astonished by how much you can accomplish together.
And finally, I spoke about how proud and privileged I have felt to serve this congregation as its minister, and how grateful I am for the many ways that you have embraced and supported me through MY time of transition here on the island; how you’ve given me both permission and the personal space simply to be myself, and to still be your minister, and thus made it easy for me to be both happy and successful in my ministry here. And, of course, I mentioned how I will always carry a little part of Nantucket with me now wherever I go. And I meant this not only figuratively, but also literally. But this magnificent stole is not the only memento I will be taking with me when I leave Nantucket.
Two years ago, I arrived on this island with half-a-dozen baseball caps. This past week, as I was packing, I discovered that I now possess twenty-three, and here are some of my favorites, in the approximate order that I acquired them. [Hats]
I’ve also accumulated quite a collection of coffee mugs and Christmas tree ornaments, refrigerator magnets, T-shirts, sweat-shirts, golf shirts, a navy windbreaker and a yellow slicker, as well as this especially lovely gift from all of you: a representation of the view of the old North Wharf and our church tower, a view which delights every passenger aboard the Steamship as they approach or depart Nantucket. So I will have much to remind me of where I am not in the years to come, as well as many fond memories of the twenty-three months (and two weeks) of my life that I have spent so pleasantly as your interim minister.
In any event, I thought that today I would just continue with this theme for awhile, and talk a little bit more about some of the things I am going to remember about my time here, and especially the things I am going to miss. But first a brief word of explanation. When I first moved to the island I was advised that, if I were planning to survive the winter here, I should be certain to order the “big” cable package. And I wasn’t really sure whether that meant HBO and Showtime, or merely the “extended basic” cable I was accustomed to back in Oregon, but since the church was going to be getting the bill, I thought I’d better be conservative and stick with the Starz/Encore movie pack (which, as I recall, was only a couple of bucks more a month), which meant that while all of you were home watching new episodes of “The Sopranos” and “Six Feet Under,” I probably saw the movie “High Fidelity” about thirty or forty times.
How many of you know this movie? In this self-described “dark, romantic comedy,” John Cussak (whom some of you may remember from his staring role opposite Demi Moore in the classic Nantucket film “One Crazy Summer”) plays the underachieving owner of a failing used record store whose lawyer-girlfriend has just dumped him for a more stable and mature, sensitive new age guy (played by Tim Robbins). The story is structured around the device of a trivia game that the record store employees play to pass the time when business is slow (which is most of the time) -- a game in which they attempt to create lists of obscure things like the “top five nicknamed jazz musicians,” the “top five songs about rain,” or even the “top five things other than ketchup to put on french fries.”
So now that everyone understands my subtle, yet sophisticated pop culture allusion, here (in reverse order) is my personal list of “The Top Five Things that I’m going to miss about Nantucket after I am no longer the minister here.”
• Number Five: Nantucket Weddings. Weddings are one of those things about a minister’s job which individual ministers either love or dread. I happen to fall into the former category. Christenings are nice too, and Memorial Services often represent some of the most profoundly moving moments in a minister’s career, but for pure, unadulterated celebration of the joy and privilege of being a minister, there is nothing like officiating at a wedding.
When I was still married myself, my wife Margaret would always admonish me as I was leaving the house on my way to yet another wedding: “Remember Tim, they’ve invited you to share the happiest day of their life, so don’t let them down” -- and I always took her advice to heart, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy. Here on Nantucket, I’ve been fortunate enough to officiate at 32 weddings -- the first was three days after September 11th, and the last was just a week ago; in Carlisle (judging from the parish register) I will be lucky to officiate at one or two a year.
Not only do weddings (even first weddings) represent the optimistic “triumph of hope over experience,” there’s also generally a terrific party afterwards, which unfortunately I don’t always get to attend, since I usually have to work in the morning. We all know that life won’t always be cake and champagne; in fact, it rarely is, even for the happiest of couples. But as a minister on Nantucket, it’s been nice to be regularly reminded that sometimes it is too.
• Number Four: My complimentary membership at the Sankaty Head Golf and Beach Club. I have no idea how this policy came about (and I was kind of reluctant to ask, since I was afraid that if they found out who I really was they might change their minds), but I sure am grateful to whoever was responsible for offering island clergy this truly amazing and generous perk, and I just wish that I’d had the time (or maybe the nerve) to take more advantage of it than I did.
I’m the kind of golfer who tries never to let the game itself spoil a good walk, so I tend to play at inconspicuous times anyway, but even so, it was comforting to know that whenever I wanted to I could drive out to ‘Sconset and play a quick round, or hit a bucket of balls on the range, or even just sit on the clubhouse patio and order a cup of coffee and a sandwich and enjoy the view.
And now that I’m actually leaving the island, I’m really tempted to try sending in a routine change of address notice in the hope that maybe I can slip in under the radar and remain just as inconspicuous living off island as I have been up until now. But I probably won’t, because it wouldn’t be honest, and as we all know, honest golfers (assuming they really exist) never take a mulligan.
• Number Three: Wing Night at the Atlantic Cafe. Last Sunday I expressed my great thanks that you all somehow managed to resist the temptation to entertain one another with amusing gossip about my pathetic social life (or at least if you did, you did it so discretely that *I* never heard about it). But the sad fact of the matter is that Wing Night at the A.C. basically *was* my social life, since as a minister I didn’t really want to run the risk of embarrassing any of you by showing up at the Muse or the Chicken Box (at least without a chaperone).
My first winter on the island I went out practically every night: Mondays after basketball (and a shower!) it was a New York burger and a Cisco Ale at the Brotherhood; Tuesdays the Community Dinner at Saint Paul’s; Wings on Wednesdays; Thursdays the Steamship beef at the Taproom, and on Fridays I generally paid a visit to Charlie Sayles. But as time wore on, it was those fifteen cent buffalo wings that really won my heart. For all you “summer people” who aren’t quite sure what I’m talking about, it’s kind of hard to explain; you sorta have to be there. But I strongly suspect that the next time I come back to Nantucket to visit, it will be on a Wednesday night off-season.
• Number Two: the Bob Lehman trio. I’m a big fan of the Bob Lehman trio. I first started watching them perform down at Captain Tobey’s, where (as they reminded me just the other night) I startled them one evening by showing up in the company of a beautiful blonde woman half my age, whom they were relieved to discover later was actually my daughter Stephenie, who was here visiting me on the island. Since then I’ve seen them at numerous other venues, together as well as separately at White Elephant and the Summer House (where the one who isn’t performing is typically in the audience), and of course most recently in their Cabaret Show Sunday nights at the Methodist Church; and they never fail to entertain me. I just hope that I have been half as successful at inspiring them.
And of course, my most favorite moments are the times when they are performing here in church, either on Sunday mornings, or at our annual Fellowship Dinner, or last February’s Valentine’s Day variety show, where I enjoyed the once-in-a-lifetime, never-to-be-repeated pleasure of having them both carry me through a duet of “Hey There” from my High School musical, “The Pajama Game.” I was honored to be asked to officiate, along with Ted, at their wedding last year; they’ve been my frequent companions at Wing Night (and my occasional chaperones at the Chicken Box and the Muse), and I’m grateful that neither of them have confided to me that they golf, or I would probably NEVER get off of this island. And among the many other mementos I will take with me to my next assignment in Carlisle are two of their CDs, which I will no doubt continue to listen to on Saturday nights as I prepare my sermons for my new congregation.
There are many other things that I will miss about Nantucket; some of them I mentioned last week’s sermon, and others in my last “Spiritual View” column in Thursday’s Inky. But if you haven’t already guessed by now, The Number One Thing I am going to miss about Nantucket is not the beach, or the boat basin, or the moors, but all of you. You have all been so good to me, in more ways than I can possibly begin to name or enumerate; and if I tried to list even half of them we would never make it to the party I know you have planned for me following the service.
I don’t think I’m being biased, but I honestly believe that we practice the best religion in the world. And one of the things that makes our faith so great is that we feel free to steal whatever we want, all the good stuff, from all the other religions, and also to reject those things which simply don’t add up. Because on some level we understand that the Truth is The Truth no matter where you find it, and that living “truthfully” truly matters, and is ultimately what gives life meaning.
There are critics of our faith who would say that Unitarian Universalism isn’t really a religion, because we are free to believe whatever we like. But this simply isn’t true. There are a lot of things I would *like* to believe. But as I’ve said before from this pulpit on more than one occasion, Unitarian Universalists are not free to believe whatever we like; we are *compelled* to believe what our reason, and our experience, tell us to be true. It takes a very special kind of person to practice this style of religion: to trust the authority of our own best judgment, fallible as it may be, and then to live our lives accordingly.
Because we know we’re not perfect. We all make mistakes; I don’t think a day goes by where I don’t do at least one stupid thing, and I’m sure the same is true for many of you. But we forgive ourselves, and we forgive one another, and we continue to try to do our best, because we know that we are accountable, not just to some law or rule, or even to God, but ultimately to our own integrity as human beings. And this is what gives our lives meaning.
And this is also, as I understand it, is the essence of the Gospel, as well as the essential truth of every other authentic religious faith. I knew I raised a few eyebrows a few weeks ago when I described myself as a Christian, but I hope you all understand that, in my view at least, there are Christians and there are Christians: there are those who attempt to use traditional religious language in order to impose their own repressive social and political agenda on others, and there are those who understand that the message of the Gospel is one of liberation, and not oppression, and who try to articulate this “good news” in contemporary terms that anyone can understand. And this is what makes us religious liberals -- we believe in liberation, in liberty, in freedom, and we believe that the best protector of that freedom is more of the same, and not less.
And I’m not talking here about the bizarre kind of freedom which justifies the strong doing unto others before they get a chance to do it unto you. I’m talking about a freedom which affirms the inherent worth and dignity of EVERY person, no matter what race, or gender, or sexual orientation they may happen to be; a freedom which respects and defends the rights of the weak and the helpless as much as those of the rich and powerful; and which understands that there is no justice without compassion, no peace without mutual respect and understanding, and that All Souls are precious in the eyes of our Creator.
These may sound like radical ideas to some, but they are True, at least as best as I’ve been given light to understand the truth, and I, for one, feel compelled to live them out as best I can. And that truly is just about everything that I know, at least about religion, in essence if not in detail. Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to share it, and to live it, with all of you these past two years.
And now, before I sail on out of here, endeavoring (as those old Nantucket sailors used to say) to “keep ‘er East,” I have one last official duty to perform.....
[keys to Jennifer]
READING: “If Once You Have Slept On An Island” by Rachel Field
If once you have slept on an island
You'll never be quite the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name,
You may bustle about in street and shop
You may sit at home and sew,
But you'll see blue water and wheeling gulls
Wherever your feet may go.
You may chat with the neighbors of this and that
And close to your fire keep,
But you'll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell
And tides beat through your sleep.
Oh! you won't know why and you can't say how
Such a change upon you came,
But once you have slept on an island,
You'll never be quite the same.
posted by The Eclectic Cleric at 7:44 PM
