Winter Sleds in Burial Grounds

Crisp brittle sheer white snow. That's a challenge to any live blooded human to stretch out and hike. The temperature was just cold enough to make it right so off we went Sunday to see what Rockport looked like on its first respectable snowfall of the winter. We never regretted one pace of it. The steaming hot cocoa at the end never tasted better to the wife -- nor did the much more stimulating spirits frumenti warm the cockles of the male heart any deeper.

Carrie MacDonald was still displaying her attractive Christmas greens in the windows of her Railroad Avenue restaurant which railroad men frequent. And we wouldn't blame her for not putting them in storage. They were beautiful and deserved a year-round showing.

The light snow was crunchy under our feet, a positive improvement to the landscape, not too difficult for motorists. Everyone seemed concerned over feeding the birds. Starlings, grackles, yes, even greedy gulls swooped down onto backyards to get their fill. We had already seen to it that the Sunday dinner left-overs were strewn into the back yard to take care of these welcome scavengers and on our Sunday walk, we saw that plenty of other folks had done likewise.

Passing by the Mill Pond, we could see young fry busy scraping the snow away so that they could enjoy their winter sport. This scene was repeated on all the skating ponds of the Cape for the weather was perfect for those who rate skating their top winter sport. Florida was never like this.

Once we thought we were the only Sunday hikers. But this Sunday we saw Dr. George Bruns and his daughter out on a jaunt at Land's End. And he was real professional at it, even to a cane. And this Sunday who should be stepping out but Don Betts and his wife Martha. They, too, parked the family car to get the most of a wintry day.

We noted that Rockport was prompt on sanding its main streets. Pete Perkins, Frankie Francis and George Caffrey saw to that. They were out right after daybreak attending to it with the result that motorists didn't mind coming down Rockport streets to get their Sunday paper or going to church.

Sledders were much in evidence. Rockport selectmen set aside hills for sliding. We saw many youngsters on their way to sliding grounds. One of them was on a bike towing his sled. He told us that High Street wa the best. Both of us wished then we had a sled to take part in the thrilling sport. But our young fry were beyond the sledding stage and we had long since given away the double runners to other folks so that their offspring could enjoy the sport. Yes, we sure miss that phase of childhood.

What captured our attention most in regard to sliding was the fact that kiddos were using the old burial ground on Beach Street for this pleasure. This happens to be the Old First Parish burial ground, not used today. It offers a convenient place and the youngsters are safe. And honestly we don't think that the dead mind one bit.

Much of the time we were also chewing the fat about this and that. Among the topics was that of the present generation coming home from college this week after their midyears. Since ours is among the number, little wonder it was a topic. After all we hadn't seen him sice Christmas. We could again see the gang clustering around Nick's on Gloucester's Main Street and Poole's on Rockport's Main Street. And we also could again hear the clucking of irresponsible old tongues about such clusterings of youth and wonder why some folks of our generation have to grow so old and so ridiculous so soon.

Coming down to Bearskin Neck we noted five boats, including the lonely Friendship sloop and at least 50 squawking gulls battling the wintry breeze. It was a typical January scene. And braving the blasts walking to the tip of the inner breakwater were five young ladies without escorts.

Along the Neck we noted a gathering in Eddie Donovan's lobster shack and came to the conclusion that Rockport's "Senate" had moved from Cap Green's on Dock Square. For there were the lobster skippers, the postmaster, and other weighty citizens hashing over the affairs of the day.

A stroll through Wendell's Alley on the Neck convinced us that the lane got the most bountiful snowfall. Fred Douglas' summer shop had a snugly mass of snow against the sill. Jack Frost had done a beautiful etching on the panes of the New England Handicraft House. Winter had certainly come to Bearskin Neck.

J.P.C., Jr.