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Amagansett, Long Island: Summer
1995
In the summer of 1995, we rented
a cottage in the small village of Amagansett,
out at the end of Long Island; for those familiar
with the area, it's just east of East Hampton
on the South Fork of the island. The rest of
the family came and went, at various intervals,
depending on their schedules and their willingness
to cope with the three-hour "jitney" ride
to the village from The Center of the Universe,
along with three zillion other people who fought
their way out of Manhattan on the Long Island
Distressway.
But I was there most of the summer,
busily working away on a book that eventually
got published
as The
Rise and Resurrection of the American Programmer.
It was also the summer that Netscape went public,
the summer that Windows-95 was released
to the accompaniment of loud yawns from the Macintosh
community, and the summer that I got the first
crude one-page version of my website up and
running. Early one morning, just before dawn,
I dragged my camera and tripod down to the local
beach to watch the sun come up in the east; I
had seen how spectacular the colors were, and
I decided to enhance them even more with an orange
filter on my camera lens. The results are shown
below, along with a handful of additional pictures
from the back deck of our cottage, from the bike
rides that I took in the summer evenings, and
from a road-side shack on the highway to Montauk
that has the best fried clams I've ever eaten.
My
journal entry
for July 24,
1995 read: "Woke
up this morning
here in Amagansett
at 4:55 AM to
find a hushed
and eerie stillness
outside. The
air was absolutely
clear and sparkling,
not a breath
of wind anywhere,
just a few cloud
puffs off on
the edge of
the horizon.
"A crisp
white crescent
moon hung halfway
up in the sky
in a fading
purplish glow
as I walked
out on the back
deck, lightened
by a faint pink
horizon that
signalled the
first signs
of the oncoming
sunrise. It
was so beautiful
that I was afraid
to take a breath,
lest it all
disappear and
turn out to
be only a dream.
"Indeed,
it was by far
the most beautiful
morning I've
had out here
— though
it should also
admit that I
haven't been
up anywhere
near this early
before ... " |
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"
... after some
coffee and fruit
for breakfast,
I picked up
my Nikon, strapped
on my Teva sandals,
and shuffled
down to the
beach for a
walk down to
the Devon Yacht
Club, about
a mile along
the bay. No
breeze, no surf,
no sounds at
all save for
the water lapping
quietly along
the pebbly shore.
A few scruffy
seagulls were
obviously surprised
by my arrival,
annoyed that
I had interrupted
their early-morning
routine of grabbing
clams, crabs
and other stray
bits of food
and pulling
it apart for
breakfast.
"Flocks
of a dozen sandpipers
scampered along
the edge of
the water, looking
industriously
for whatever
sandpipers like
to eat, and
then bolted
suddenly into
the sky, wheeling
in formation
out over the
water, flashing
the bright white
underside of
their wings
before turning
back to land
farther down
the shoreline." |
"I
got some nice
shots of some
birds, some
shots of docks
and jetties
sticking out
into the water,
and a bunch
of traditional
scenery shots
when the sun
finally poked
up over the
horizon at 5:40.
Toward the end
of my exploration,
I ran into one
other human
— a guy
who had brought
half a dozen
large, friendly,
boisterous dogs
down for a run
on the beach
and a splash
in the water.
I suppose he
was as annoyed
as I was to
have his solitude
interrupted,
but we smiled
and nodded at
each other as
I walked past;
the dogs galloped
up, sniffed,
and shook the
water off their
backs in a wild
spray ...
"By 6:30,
it was all over:
the sun was
so high up in
the sky I would
have thought
it was noon,
and the shadows
and mist along
the woods at
the edge of
the beach had
faded away.
I trudged back
toward the house,
pleased that
my Teva footprints
were the only
marks on the
beach." |
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"A
frivolous thought
ran through
my mind as I
reached the
house and went
back inside:
I should propose
a resolution
at the United
Nations that
all mankind
walk on this
beach —
or any other
like it —
at 5AM, to watch
the dawn on
a quiet summer
morning.
"It would
require only
a single morning
to eliminate
all war, for
it would be
impossible to
feel hatred
or hostility
toward any living
thing after
being exposed
to the majesty
of nature that
I experienced
on this quiet
uneventful morning." |
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For more information, please visit Ed's companion site
here.
You may also visit Ed's blog here.
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