Don’t forget to check out Jack’s column in the Nantucket Chronicle dated January 6, 2014, called On A Nantucket’s Winter Morning:
His hands were wrinkled and stained like a used brown paper lunch bag, fragile and tough at the same time. Every scar and wrinkle had been hard earned. His arthritic gnarl of knuckles was testament to the decades of sea-infused cold he’d endured. The sea still spoke in the voice of the rattling windows that constantly shook from this Nantucket winter.
In his waning years, my grandfather yearned for Nantucket, not because he had a history there but because Nantucket’s own history dovetailed with his. Like the sea, itself, Nantucket remained immune to time’s passage, just like he had.
