OK moving RIGHT along, Nancy would love to know that the President is practicing for the next Tiki Festival by wearing a muumuu in of all places, Vietnam. This should attract a fairly good crowd down here on SPI and I’m sure folks would move here just from the sheer notoriety, especially if he helps sing the Turtle Call and Song.
Of course, to attract all these … HEY NO WEIRDOS, OK … nice folks down here we need to help clean this place up. As Sandy Feet and Amazing Walter say, we need to un-litter. We’ll be recording our ukulele version of “Unlitter” sometime soon here whenever we get up the gumption, the unofficial Town Song, but there is much work to be done. Below, here’s a poster from the 1971 Earth Day. Have a great Thanksgiving!
2 comments:
Hey...aren't you and Lori some of those affluent Baby Boomers moving to the Island? With an at home job? We are very lucky to live on SPI. Amazin and I went to Ft Myers beach FL...about the same size as SPI...they have 4 times the residents, twice the traffic, and the cost of housing is double what it is here. The only difference I could see was the sun sets over the Gulf instead of rising over it. They have the same T-shirt shops with the same stuff (only theirs said Ft Myers). They have however been a toen longer than we have...so a community can and will grow. The good news is they manged it WITHOUT gambling.
So my point is be happy with SPI....it may have it's quirks (and quacks) but it's home. Shark sculptures and all....which I like by the way!
Aye we are the lucky ones and thanks for the post, Christy. Oh, and nice avatar there!
Not too many people comment on this blog so here is a story about "boomers" and Thanksgiving, a boy story so give me a little leeway. The story was told by my graduate college sponsor, Dr. Bill Gordon now at URI. Unfortunately I must heavily paraphrase his story.
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My dad was an ex-Navy man and before on Thanksgiving he decided to fix up the old septic system at our house up in Maine. It was a little slow to drain, and with eight extra folks coming over he was worried about things. He went to the hardware store and asked what to do.
The nice old gentleman said to flush one packet of bread yeast down the toilet and that would work - otherwise call the Roto-Rooter Man.
Now Dad being a sailor, figured that if one packet of yeast was OK, a whole bunch of them would be great. So he bought all the yeasty stuff he could get his hands on and drove home with new resolve. Down the commode it all went.
I showed up on Thanksgiving about mid-day and we had a wonderful time, quite cold up in Maine but nice weather. We sat down to Thanksgiving dinner about 2:00 in the afternoon, not an inch of the table available for more food. We prayed and ...
"Blorp."
"Blorp-blorp."
Conversation stopped but Dad said not to worry, as the old house had rusty pipes. As he finished talking, the kitchen sink belched, farted, and rumbled ominously.
Mom started crying when the upstairs bathroom started sounding like a DC-9 jetliner taking off the runway. Dad ran upstairs but walked back down in reverse, shaking his head. Something was chasing him and it did not look good.
So Mom is crying, the little kids are going "peeee-yewwww," and the older folks were saying "Betsy, best damn turkey I've ever had. Any pie?" At that moment, Dad says maybe it is time to go outside for a walk. Like right now.
We're glad we did, I mean the lights went out and everything. Even the volunteer fire trucks showed up, all two. I think the folks moved back in like six months later.
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!
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