Early mornings this fellow, Aldo, would come around the mooring field in a Whaler – singing! and selling fresh pastries and doughnuts. It was great and we looked forward to seeing him every summer. We would row the ‘dink’ in to the town dock and go exploring for hours; swimming in the salt water pool, and finding shells and exotic shorelines treats along the way.
It has been many years since those summers. My father sold his sailboats in favor of a power boat he and our mother could manage alone. My sister moved to the desert with her husband (a move, frankly, I will never understand.) As for me, I live a short walk from the marina and the yacht club where we essentially grew up. In the winter I have a waterview of the harbor where all our boats were kept, and the summer memories of Aldo and Block Island…I would love to go back there in time and space, again.