That’s the little family on Nantucket. It’s probably Surfside. I can’t remember the exact location. It was five years ago. We were guests of a friend on Nantucket. He served us bluefish that he had personally caught the day we arrived for lunch. A Cisco Indie Pale on the side. No Captain Swain’s Extra Stout, I see? I actually had a low opinion of lobster as a child. A boyhood friend of mine lived up on Turkey Hill in Hingham. His father was a lobsterman. He fed us lobster constantly. We thought Hingham House of Pizza was a delicacy. Not something you pulled out of the stinky harbor. Or dug up at low tide. You can keep the shellfish too. French fries are what we want. And Mountain Dew. That too. Everything that you have going on up here? Seaside Turkey Hill. We think is terrible. It’s amazing to think how positioning is everything. What was our position this summer in ACK? The little family that was living in Dorchester when this photo was taken on Nantucket. We were hating Dorchester. It was done. However Dorchester was the best thing ever for a solid fifteen years. I was like the Mayor of The Dot. Absolute top of it. Everybody knew me. From the guys in the matt. To your Congressman. The Dot was really good to me. Where else can you hatch up a plan to get free beer off your Congressman and actually do it with your letter carrier who is a polar bear swimmer like you? I walked over to UMass Boston to inquire about a single writing class. I walked back home with a teaching position and a scholarship. But in really quick succession Dorchester was done. Booster was born. He pretty much decided for all of us that we were moving to the suburbs. It’s a time honored tradition for Boston Irish Dorchester parents. Mine had done it. They moved to Scituate. Hingham was closer. Fire up the Roon Dog. Jackie Rooney actually sold my place to his niece. Happy day. Dorchester is great. It’s just not great for where I am at right now. We went out to Nantucket as I said at the beginning of this article as guests. I’ll never forget it. We were at Children’s Beach and it had rained. A woman came out of her house with towels to dry the slide for us. My head practically popped off. I was used to telling Ma to put out the cig at the playground. Fuck off to the projects Ma. I can talk as tough as you like. That’s the punch in the entire article. I have almost medical level profanity. I am that tough. It’s just a byproduct of growing up in what was then relatively rural New England. We don’t talk hood. We talk wood. And it’s not delicate. It’s right in your face. And right to the point. We don’t mix words. As Cara famously said: we eat our young. There is some sort of real estate wisdom in here. Or just give bluefish another try. Don’t forget The Captain Swain’s Extra Stout next time. We drove all the way down here from Dorchester. Just a couple of poor kids from The Dot. The least you could do is host us properly. Booster is going to form a negative opinion on ACK. And we can’t have that.