One Big Pleasant Memory
A Memories Project submission as told in 1997 by Margaret Antrim to Eric Marie (who was 9 years-old at the time).
At my age (77 at the time), I find it difficult to pick one favorite memory of Nahant. My many, many memories have blended so much that Nahant has become an experience that I would not have wanted to miss.
Nahant was freedom. After living in New Jersey for one to one-and-a-half years in a new development where everyone conformed, we moved to Nahant, where an adult could ride a bike or run without being considered weird; could have weeds in a lawn; a goat stored in his yard; holes in his sneakers or sweaters. When we first moved here, our neighbor told us that the worst-dressed men walking around town were the richest.
Nahant was life expansion. We lived on an island, so we had boats and learned to sail. The winters were long, damp and foggy, so we spent weekends on the mountain slopes skiing (or, in my case, trying to ski). After boat hauling in the fall, we delighted in exploring Nahant by land – through Swallows Cave, around the perimeter rights-of-way, or leaving town to climb the Appalachian Mountains.
Nahant was peace, beauty and harmony. If the children were restless, we found hours of creativity and peace at the beaches, or in and around the puddles on the beautiful rocks now covered by the Town Wharf parking lot. From there, we could also enjoy the harmony of the lobster men and their boats, the sea gulls with the sea and sky, the friendliness of townspeople sharing the beauty of a sunset, launching days and hauling days.
Nahant was fun and drama. Hurricanes, blizzards, boat races, Fourth of July competitions, Memorial Day Services, Nahant Arts Day, boats in trouble, people saved, an occasional shark brought in by a fisherman, the launching of Palombo’s boat built in his own yard, and town characters kept life interesting.
Nahant was security. Our policemen knew where the ‘kids’ were supposed to be. Example: The older children at St. Thomas Church had catechism class at night. One night my oldest son, who was supposed to be at the Church, was found by Chief Melanson with two friends strolling along Marginal Road. Melanson, knowing they had skipped catechism, delivered them to their parents – an effective technique.
Nahant was educational excitement (probably more in the eyes of doting parents than the children). I remember fine musical productions and Junior High Science Fairs. One that our oldest son did, which drew much interest, consisted of a tank of water with sand and a pump, making wave action, which built up a tombolo. That demonstrated how our island became connected to the mainland by a sand bar, which enabled people to cross at low tide. Later, of course, man added the causeway which is more practical but not nearly as special.
Nahant was democracy in action. Town meetings were very entertaining and thought provoking. Nahant, now, is one, big, pleasant memory – for the most part!
