Bobby, something made me think fondly of P'Town last night. Perhaps it was the sudden cold snap and the snow we got here. There is an incredible raw beauty about December on the Cape that I love-- snow blowing down the empty stretch of Commercial Street, the fireplace at the A House, the bulk of one's day spent indoors with only a brief and brave venture out to the post office to keep cabin fever at bay.
I am not a huge fan of winter, but I think if I were to spend it again anywhere in New England, it would be in Provincetown. Maybe the season is more dramatic there due to the proximity of the ocean, which becomes a very different thing entirely from the gentle and hypnotic summertime sea that gently rocks the rooms at Captain Jack's. There is also tragedy in the Cape winter-- boats down off Nauset, fishermen lost-at-sea, bodies found frozen out by duneshacks. (The shacks are probably not even there anymore. When I lived there, only one or two remained.) But the very changing sea makes it much more bearable and even romantic, unlike the endlessly heavy and crippling winters of other parts of New England. When I lived there, the Bay even froze totally across for a bit, and you could see men ice-fishing each day as the sun came up.
I also remember trying to boil water for coffee on a toaster, because someone in the night had stolen the propane tank right off the back of my house in the woods near Beach Point!
So, I am wishing you and the rest of your townsfolk, a very happy Yule season, Bobby. And many, many fond memories, as I watch the light dusting of snow we got in New York melting in the morning sun.