By: Progress for Westhampton Beach
Building on the success of last year another Monday night movie with no rain. This evening’s showing was the Force Awakens. As with last year there was free pop corn and the youngest were frequently in the queue which was strategically placed so no movie action would be lost by any in attendance, including the pop corn poppers.
For early summer there was a chill in the air. Periodic checks to weather reports indicated that rain was not likely to make it to WHB in time to shut down the movie although it had already begun in Queens. No one spoiled the shocker in the movie even though the film was originally released last December. It was a good start to the season.
With July Fourth being next Monday the following Monday night movie will be in two weeks on July 11th.
From: Progress for Westhampton Beach
One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day,
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bell-wether sheep
Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day, o’er hill and glade.
Through those old woods a path was made.
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged, and turned, and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath,
Because ‘twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed—do not laugh—
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane,
that bent and turned and turned again;
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half,
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed the zigzag calf about
And o’er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A Hundred thousand men were led,
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent,
To well established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun,
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move.
But how the wise old wood gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf.
Ah, many things this tale might teach—
But I am not ordained to preach.
By: Progress for Westhampton Beach
Mayor Maria Moore is soon to begin her second term as mayor for our village. Some will point to the new park on the corner of Library and Main where there had been an overgrown and boarded up lot for decades; or Glover’s Park that is nearing completion after 10 years as a vacant lot; or the Paddleboard and Kayak concession at the marina; or Monday night movies on the Great Lawn; or the undertaking of infrastructure projects for Main Street and the Marina while securing funding, and continuing the hunt for all available financial support to bring to our community.
You may have noticed, however, that Maria does not take personal credit for these successes and improvements, but gives proper due to the men and women in village hall, the team of DPW workers who never say “never” and those people in our community who are happy to pitch-in to help.
Maria brings a Je Ne Sais Quoi that is undeniable, it includes a rare talent for seeing the best in each of us, no matter how much we might challenge her to find it.
In what she will observe as a grievous departure from her example, this post will continue. This is because we do not all possess her rare talent. There are certain bully scribblers who make more than transient personal attacks against others in our community.
Those who are directly the subject of such an attack are possessed of the truth and may be able to dismiss it.
The real danger that persists is not to the individual targets, but rather the target audience — the votaries of vindictiveness who unwittingly imbibe what is nothing less than strychnine for the soul. Such postings should come with a label, and we would all do well to avoid them for our own well-being.