Dan's Papers - July 25, 2008

My sister, a librarian specializing in children's literature, has a knack for finding the perfect book for our son's age by rummaging through "removed from the collection" piles at the local library, thrift shops and yard sales. Last year, she found an unusual book from 1968 called The Summerfolk, written and illustrated by Doris Burn. It's about Willy Potts, a 10-year-old 'local' boy who lives with his bayman father, Joe Potts, on an island in what seems to be the northeast - Maine, the Cape. Joe Potts doesn't like the summerfolk. "Thick as sand fleas and twice as pesky," he grumbles.

But young Willy meets an eclectic and eccentric group of summerfolk one day - children with names like Fedderly and Rosebud. Willy sings songs at Rosebud's "Stately Wain," hangs from tree swings at Cork and Spinner's Green Alder Mansions (a treehouse), has "lupper" (a meal between lunch and supper) at Twyla Loo's. It's a magical day for Willy: The magic is that his experience changes his mind, quashing his burgeoning prejudice. In the end, as Willy and Joe watch the last of the summerfolk zoom away, Willy mutters, "I reckon there's summerfolk and summerfolk."

Our son loves summerfolk. He loves everyfolk, really. The more people, better. On the fourth of July weekend, when we arrived at my favorite beach of 20-plus years, Two Mile Hollow, it was thick with every kind of folk, the first time we'd seen such a crowd in 10 months.

"Oh my god," I muttered. "What mumma?" he said. "Nothing," I said. "Summerfolk," he muttered. I was aghast. Had he developed Willy Pots' prejudice? When I looked down at him, he was smiling deviously. Then we went on to the beach and, like every day, he found a group of kids to play with.

At five, Hudson already has summerfolk friends. There's a "city" family of two boys and one girl that he's played with for a few years, but only seem to come out in the summer. There are year-round friends and acquaintances from points west whom we see only on the beach in the summer. And there are full-timers who, because of school schedules and work commitments, we just don't see much year round, but count on seeing in the summer. As much as both yearrounders and summerfolk complain about the crowds, it's a great opportunity for kids to meet, on the beach, or at camps, where Hudson has met summerfolk counselors and other kids. (While most kids go from the city to the country to have new experiences - for kids who live here it's the opposite: The city is brought to them in the summer.)

Usually, the kids and families on the beach are friendly and open. But a week ago, we encountered a group of very grumpy, territorial children. "This is our hole," they insisted. "You can't dig with us." Hudson couldn't comprehend kids not wanting to play with one another. We couldn't comprehend why the parents didn't intervene, encouraging the kids to be more inclusive. We tried not to make a big deal out of it. But I must admit, I don't understand families going to a public place - like a beach - if they want to remain a closed unit. It's like taking your dog to a dog run and getting annoyed that other pooches approach him.

This weekend, there another opportunity for kids and families of all stripes to meet: the LVIS fair in East Hampton. On Saturday, from 10-4 pm, at the LVIS on 95 Main Street, there will be face painting, puppet shows, pony rides, rock climbing, and fun stuff for grown ups, too. Summerfolk and yearrounders are welcome, so long as they're not pesky.