Dan's Papers - July 18, 2008 - The View From the Ferry

The idea of this column is to give those who live or visit elsewhere an inside look at Shelter Island. Since I work on the ferry and live on the Island, I get to see, right up close and personal, pretty much everything that's coming our way, what it does when it gets there, and what it looks like coming back. Some of this makes for interesting commentary, and some of it makes you want to emigrate to the South Pole. So, from time to time, you'll be able, right here, to observe that passing parade through my gimlet eye. But, not today.

I wrote this last week from Park Slope, Brooklyn, where I carried between nine and twelve thousand pounds of Rebeca's books down three flights of stairs. I have not yet started on the furniture, but it should be interesting. I can hear Dr. Kelt now. "So where were you when that hernia finally tore loose?" Rebeca, you see, has finally, after five long years, consented to leave the city and move back under the same roof with me in, of all places, Shelter Island. I've found a bigger house in a spiffy neighborhood, where she, all three of the dogs and I will live happily ever after, or a least until the lease runs out. We moved in Friday, July 11. Shelter Island may be a little more crowded than it used to be but it's got nothing on Brooklyn, where there is always something coming at you.

Last week, for example, I was leaving the building with the dogs when I was accosted by two very respectable looking ladies wearing big flowered dresses and carrying what looked suspiciously like Bibles. Church ladies.

"Are those Rebeca's dogs?" one inquired.

"Well, ours, yes" I answered.

"Oh, and, is Rebeca at home?"

I didn't want to lie to these women, I thought they'd know if I did, and that it might even be bad for my karma, which has sustained plenty of damage already. So I came clean.

"Yes, she, um...... is."

I had to think about this for a moment. These women obviously knew Rebeca, but were not likely to be pals of hers. In the five years we've been living separately, Rebeca's gone through a lot of changes, as they say, but becoming a Jehovah's Witness wasn't one of them, so far as I knew.

Letting these two go up probably wasn't going to earn me any points with my beloved. So I told the truth again.

"Busy? Yes, she's watching 'Sex and the City,'" which in fact she was, but probably wasn't what these ladies wanted to hear.

The one doing the talking looked at me and then glanced down at the Good Book.

"Oh," she said. "Well, how is Rebeca?"

"She seemed alright when I left her a couple of minutes ago."

"That's good," said the church lady, "the last time we were here she said some things that weren't very pleasant."

So, I knew right then I'd done the right thing for all parties. When I got back upstairs, I asked Rebeca,

"What did you say to those church ladies?"

"I told them to go away and not ring the bell anymore. The dogs go crazy every time they show up."

I suspect she just doesn't want anybody saving her soul while she's trying to watch "Sex in the City," but as for my small role in this drama, it just goes to show that whether you're on little Shelter Island or here in the big city, the truth will always set you free.