I forgot another part of Sunday’s Cape Cod experience. Apparently, one of the members of the congregation at Mass was none other than Harry Connick Jr., singer/actor. I did not see him, but my aunt and cousin apparently did.
Moving on to Monday. Monday was exciting in many ways. To start with, my aunt and uncle took everyone whale watching. Since I had desired to go whale watching since I was half the size of Jenne (long ago, I assure you), I was excited. To simply go out on one of the watching tours was excitement enough. The possibility of seeing any whales in real life was heart racing, in that my heart flew just to think of it. So we got on the boat and went out to sea.
The town we started the tour in, a popular town on the Cape that offers such whale watching tours, is called Providencetown. Now Providencetown is notorious for its residents (human ones, that is). For the past 30 years or so it has been a haven for the homosexual community. Because they have had such a long time of “freedom” to live the way they desire, the homosexual behavior and lifestyle normal subdued in both gays and straights in the rest of the world. Not only did we see people holding hands (man to man, woman to woman) but we saw them do things like friendly pats on the butt, etc. Lets just say I said more than one prayer while riding in the car.
But back to the whales. Many people go whale watching every year. Some have great success in witnessing these whales swim about. Sometimes individuals witness behavior such as bubble feeding, when the whales form a net of bubbles under the water to trap the fish, then swim up into the net to eat a mouthful, to fin and tail slapping, when the fins and tails of the whales are slapped against the surface of the water. Also very popular are breaches, when the whales hurl themselves out of the water. Many people have gone dozens of times trying to see all of these things.
We saw all of it and more on this one trip. It was incredible. There was also a mother and a calf playing around, which was also a rare sight. All of this together was well worth the money spent for the tour.
We went out to eat that night, still in awe of what we saw. It was truly spectacular.
Tuesday, August 15. Feast of the Assumption. That day we went to Mass at the same church we went to on Sunday (see previous post). This time, since we were late, my brother and I sat up in the front, led there by an usher. Good old users, doing their duty. Anyway, once again Ibid’s habit of receiving on the tongue made him walk away with a smile. This time he received in the front of the church from the permanent deacon. The deacon, in true modern communion distribution fashion, did not look up at the recipients until I came along. The only reason he looked up was because the throne-shaped hands he was expecting were still folded. Looking up to see me with my mouth open, a second instinct kicked in, and he gave me my Lord. Then he returned to distributing without raising his head. The priest next to him, who had celebrated the Mass, was doing the more traditional style of raising the host before the communicant before placing it gently into the waiting hands of the person standing there. Ah.
It made me really miss the old CC.
The rest of the day held my brother and I looking for hermit crabs in the tide pools of a certain beach, finding them just as the rain began to pour. We sat around inside the house until the storm, I mean light drizzle, gave up, and the sun began to appear. My brother and I decided to walk down to the beach and see what we could see. It was beautiful. I wish I had had my camera, but it would not have done it justice. Even as I type I tremble of the thought of that beautiful sight. The sea is most gorgeous. I will post the poem I composed after seeing the beauty at a later date. The rest of the night was unexciting, save for the attempts to find out how to keep the hermit crabs alive. They were dead by the morning.
Wednesday was upon us. Only 24 hours before we hopped aboard another plane back home. What could one do at a time like this?
Go claming. My uncle took my brother and me out with his claming gear. It consisted of two buckets and two claming hoes. Claming is a great experience and I highly recommend it to those who can do it, legally of course. Which brings me to how we got in trouble. We had two buckets full of clams, many pretty good sized. They were, of course, rather sandy, and we had to wash them out in the ocean water at that beach. So while we were doing so the fishing warden rode up in his boat. He stopped us, asked for my uncle’s license (we were to be his sons for the day, so it was a father sons claming thing), then began to measure our clams (you can’t take any that are too small) and began to count them out (you can only have 12 quarts worth). All this while the tide was coming in. Eventually we got away with, hopefully, a warning and bout 20 less clams than we had to start with. Clam chowder for dinner that night.
Also, while the clams cooked, my brother and I went back to the beach with the hermit crabs for one more look. My aunt came with us. As we got into the excitement of getting so many little hermit crabs, our aunt, watching us so intently, did not notice the tide creep up the beach to where our bag of stuff was sitting. The bottom of the back got wet as the sea water went in. Most unfortunately for me, my cell phone was on the bottom. It does not work like it should. The little flashlight will not turn off (at least the phone turns on. It wasn’t doing that until yesterday) and the phone will not vibrate. I need a new phone, and hopefully will get one before I board that plane in DC in a week or so.
The chowder was delicious, just in case you were wondering.
Thursday arrived and we were on the road to the airport at 6:30 or so. In the car, my aunt, trying to get conversations going, asked if my brother or I had seen any of our school friends this summer. Patrick said he saw some at band and at baseball. I talked about the Glen Echo trip (only PBJ Girl and Coastie showed up, besides me) and the Summer Institute. I mentioned the talks and said one was on B XVI and Women in the Church. That perked her ears, and asked what the speaker said. I explained what she said (which is on the tape I bought from the Institute). My aunt did not agree. She said some comment, if I heard her correctly, that the Church would have to change the policy on women and priest if it wanted to keep up with the modern world or some jazz like that. Another prayer was said. I arrived home with my brother and grandmother (along with the hermit crabs. Ask me when you see me about that story, getting the crabs from Boston airport to BWI). Here I am, safe and sound.
Any questions? I’ll answer them when I get a chance. What a fun trip. Now I must prepare for that other trip, the one to that other city far away. . .