|Brand-new Maya, brand-new mama, 1981.|
When my godmother died in 1998, the summer cottage was sold and I hadn’t been back since. I was a little afraid that being there again would unleash a torrent of tears, and that did happen, briefly. It also unleashed a torrent of family fun, swimming in the salty, seaweedy sea, playing “tennis” with a grownup Maya (anyone watching us play would know why quotes are needed), late-night games of Mexican Train Dominos, and eating a lot of really good food.
|When I was a kid I spent countless hours|
doing gravestone rubbings on the Cape.
|Thankful. That's a nice name.|
|Really, these stones were the Facebook of the 1700s.|
|Wow. Cool file. Yawn.|
|Pretty disappointing. Where was the jewelry???|
|Hello! Have you dropped any jewels? Can I|
stand here until you do?
|My father and my son, attempting to tolerate my hobby.|
|My dad and me, shortly after I knocked|
over a peerless vodka martini.
|Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean... roll!|
Then I queried Wayne Hilt, a renowned pewter spoon expert. Here's what he said:
I just can't get over the fact that this item was found about 30 feet from the water's edge, about 12 inches deep in the sand.
Also found this honking pile of rust and almost threw it out, but decided to take it home and de-rust it.
|This is a silver-plated something or other.|
Any ideas? Ashtray? Spoon rest?
Finally, this cool old souvenir thing.
|Hard to see here, but there is an image of a|
Native American man on a horse, looking
up to the sky.