I worked a long day today in the midst of the terrible rainstorm shedding earth’s tears on the world. The winds are ferocious and the harbor is full of rollers and breakers. Riding through Providence was terribly unsettling. Throughout my ride through the City streets I saw only one man walking, but could not stop to photograph him since I was in moving traffic. He was ingeniously wearing a trash bag as a rain shield, and had a tidy tuck of the bag to envelope his arms. I don’t think he would have taken kindly to being photographed under the circumstances anyway. The Providence imagery unwittingly have a common theme. The people were gone from the streets. There is an image of rock stars who are gone too. A woman holding a remnant of lost heritage. The emptiness changed when I stopped on Bristol’s harbor front. There bobbing in the tumult sat my first sailboat with its unmistakable garish soylent green topsides. I often wondered what became of her. We had many good times on that fine small craft, racing her around the cans and sailing her in Narragansett Bay and to the Elizabeth Islands. Many other stories involving her come to mind. The best ones involve my wife and my daughters and Dave and Dolores and our friends. Those memories deep and forever.