Jack Comeau

Jack Comeau is an author and Nantucket-lover.

Columnist: 
Jack Comeau

To Sea

So much of Earth’s wonder is revealed only to those who leave her terra-firma, who venture out into the “watery part of the world” as Melville would say.  

My own sea-given memories will forever follow me. Their constantly glowing embers rekindle, at unexpected times, the new chill of a changing wind, the silver glow of racing clouds across a full moon, the scent of wood smoke on a cold night, the embers flame and I am THERE.  

On a Nantucket Winter's Morning

His hands were wrinkled and stained like a used brown paper lunch bag, fragile and tough at the same time. Every scar and wrinkle had been hard earned. His arthritic knurl of knuckles was testament to the decades of sea infused cold he’d once endured on Grand Banks fishing grounds. This was my Grandfather. The sea was still in the voice of the rattling windows that constantly shook from this Nantucket winter. Nantucket had always been home to him, home to so many old salts who avoided the crowded streets of summer.