“I may not know what I like, but I like what I know”

I first entered the Flat Ledge Quarry of Rockport – on – Cape Ann over a decade ago, in the midst of a great drought. A drought which saw the loss of 85% stored water capacity. Every day as the waters receded, the remnants of the Quarry Cutters world emerged. Bits and pieces from a forgotten workplace.
And occasionally a very uncommon piece.

And the unknown, the not encountered, became my guide.

The Mere Post
The Mere Post

Dissing Plum Cove Beach…NOT

With my nose buried in quarry granite, and my eyes tracking a succession of broken fronts crossing Ipswich Bay across Haul-about-point, I had little time for Plum Cove Beach.

I kept driving by saying, “Just a half moon shell of a cove, not much sand….

Then there was this sunset, with the Life Guard  platform and a mother and child sitting there, and everything changed.

For the first time, I saw Plum Cove Hollow..

Here is that image from circa 2002.

plumcoveb

When the good time coming reaches Rockport…

“When the good time coming reaches Rockport, we shall all know it.”
Cape Ann Advertiser, October 21, 1877

And so I post a photo in  “Rockport Stuff,” I remember, someone remembers. Then someone else remembers. Someone else posts a picture which they have remembered.

A meander of memories….

And the thread moves on. In 2040, I will be 91 years old (all spirits willing), many of you reading what I am typing will (most likely) be dead. Along with the posts and memories, your wonderful memories, of living your lives in Rockport. So here is a question, would you like to hear my thoughts and wishes toward a true “Rockport Timeline?” A timeline
in which you play a role, beyond the breadcrumb of Facebook. Comments invited.rockport200

A Question of Nostalgia

visit

We bring our baggage to remember the past

 

SUBSTITUTE [ROCKPORT] or [GLOUCESTER] or [LANESVILLE]  for Maurilia

In Maurilia, the traveler is invited to visit the city and, at the same time, to examine some old postcards that show it as it used to be: the same identical square with a hen in place of the bus station, a bandstand in the place of the overpass, two young ladies with white parasols in place of the munitions factory. If the traveler does not wish to  disappoint the inhabitants, he must praise the postcard city and prefer it to the present one, though he must be careful to contain his regret at the changes within definite limits: admitting that the magnificence and prosperity of the Metropolis Maurilia, when compared to the old, provincial Maurilia, cannot compensate for a certain lost grace, which however, can be appreciated only now in the old postcards, whereas before, when that provincial was before one’s eyes, one saw absolutely nothing graceful and would see even less today, if Maurilia had remained unchanged; and in any case the metropolis has the added attraction that, through what it has become, one can look back with nostalgia at what it was.

Beware of saying to them that sometimes different cities follow one another on the same site and under the same name, born and dying without knowing one another, without communication among themselves. At times even the names of the inhabitants remain the same, and their voices accent, and also the features of the faces; but the gods who live beneath names and above places have gone off without a word and outsiders have settled in their place. It is pointless to ask whether the new ones are better or worse than the old, since there is not connection between them, just as the old postcards do not depict Maurilia as it was, but a different city which, by chance, was called Maurilia, like this one.

 

Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities, Cities & Memory 5

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