Sometimes a photo can speak volumes. Other times, it tells you just what you might not want to hear.
It was the week before Christmas and New Year’s when we’re well into the post-holiday blahs. Gifts have been received and returned. Many trees have been dismantled. The house is getting back into decent shape. That Christmas bonus you were hoping to receive — and didn’t — is now a foregone conclusion.
Perhaps next year.
All that’s left before some sanity is getting through New Year’s Eve and the never-ending drone of football games blaring from the TV. It’s been a marathon, hasn’t it? If I survived the pandemonium of Dec. 31, then New Year’s Day was always one of my favorite holidays. At least the most peaceful.
For years when the children were small, we would head out to Salisbury Beach, walk the sand, smell the salty air, and bask in our thoughts. Then we’d head over to the arcade, cash in a zillion tickets for trinkets and head to a restaurant for our dining pleasure.
One day, after putting the paper to bed, I headed toward my favorite watering hole for a beer. I wasn’t one to drink a lot. A beer now and then was fortifying. And the best stories of all are derived from the local taverns and coffee shops of our community. You sit, you listen, you write.
I was enjoying my brew before heading home when a guy seated next to me interrupted my solitude.
“Hey, aren’t you the Gazette photographer?” he asked.
“Among other things. Been known to write a few stories as well.”
“Man, have I got a tip for you.”
I’ve gotten a ton of these. Sometimes, they explode. Other times, they’re duds. I was all ears.