On the Massachusetts North Shore
By Gavin Keenan My wife and I were reminiscing about Independence Days long past, when our children were little, some of our parents still alive, and our families mostly living nearby. Backyard cook-outs scheduled around shifts at Beverly Hospital or the I.P.D., Betty Dorman's Recreation Department Fourth of July Children's Parade - thankfully still going… Continue reading Ghosts of Independence Day
The moral of this story is that it's never too late to decide what you're going to be when you grow up.
It's popular to wax nostalgic of a time and place where the winters were colder, the snows deeper, and the pace of life more manageable. For those of us lucky enough to grow up in Ipswich, these things were mostly true.
To borrow a hockey metaphor, if June and July designate the first and second periods of summer, then surely August tells us that we are now deep within the final period of this glorious season. The changes abound in subtle but perceptible ways.
What was forwarded to me was a shocking eye-opener of national proportions, I promised to keep it under my hat, so consider yourselves among the very privileged few to have this access. Please don't tell anyone...
Historic Ipswich 