2. Nantucket

I stay at The Jared Coffin House: a magical place from my youth, mainly because it has the word coffin in its title. I’d never been inside, but rode past it on my bike every day of every summer I spent on the island. The room is tiny with a twin bed, but seems fitting since I’ve slept on nothing but twin beds on Nantucket. If only I had some Garfield sheets, the picture would be perfect.

I drop my stuff and crisscross downtown blocks. I had low hopes, assuming boutiques or restaurants catering to island latecomers replaced most stores from my childhood. I’m pleasantly surprised to see the old favorites:

1. The Hub, where I binged on Mad Magazines and comic books. Near the end of our family visits, The Hub had merged with the gift shop next door and become a stuffy maze of figurines and non-comic-book-related garbage. Today, The Hub is back to its roots, walled away from the gift shop, and still selling Mad Magazine… and Penthouse.
2. Mitchell’s Bookstore: Several times I found intricate punch and assemble activity books: Masks, Star Wars Vehicles, and some sort of medieval monastery. I don’t know why I felt like punching and assembling a medieval monastery. I really liked punching and assembling.
3. Dreamland Movie Theater: Return of the Jedi, Ghost Busters (at least a few of the eight times Andy and I saw this in the theater, we saw it here)
4. The White Dog Theater: Camelot. This was a weird theater. Today it’s showing first run, mainstream movies.
5. Aunt Leah’s Fudge: They still sell the candy buttons you bite off the paper strip, consuming as much paper as candy.

The Jared Coffin House is very close to our old place on Cliff Road. I steel myself for the hike up the steep hill that always made it tough to head home. Today, it’s merely a shallow slope offering neither a challenge to ascend, nor a thrill if I were to bike down it.

The house is right where I left it, but bears little resemblance to the fort I remember. I know the folks who bought it poured money into every corner, but it seems drab and boxy. The white fence is gone, replaced with hedges coming right up to the house. Where do the kids run with the dog? The kitchen yard has been paved with stones. How will they dig for artifacts? The backyard is well kept with wildflowers, but the outdoor shower is gone. Where do they wash off after the beach? I peer in the door to the sun porch. A muppety dog lifts up from the couch but feels no need to take further action. It looks fine inside. I’m sure the new owners enjoy it. Just not as much as I did.