The Shack – Part 2

As I said earlier the shack is my haven of peace. It’s where I go when I need to sort out my life. I spent some time there after each of my divorces as I needed to figure out what next.

I needed to determine out who I was as an individual and what was important to me. The serenity of the shack is awe inspiring. Sunsets are magically and sunrises worth getting up early to quietly enjoy. Without ambient light the stars show brightly in the sky.

It’s in the middle of everything and nothing at the same time. The only way to get there is by boat. Yet on a clear day you can see the New York City skyline. On the fourth of July the Jones Beach fireworks are easily enjoyed. Yet it is the only thing that sits on this small island.

Given how much peace and serenity surround these shacks it’s amazing that at one time there was a movement afoot to raze them all. Fortunately, they are now considered an integral part of Long Island history.

Originally, the shack didn’t have locks on the doors. If something was left amiss or if the hitch on a boat loosened a passerby would stop and set it straight.

I don’t know what led to the change in behavior but in the 60s, vandals would frequently stop by the shacks to wreak havoc for the sheer purpose of being destructive. Perhaps finding pleasure in smearing condiments in the beds or taking an ax and randomly chopping at things. It was frightening how evil people could be towards strangers.

During the same time the boaters decided these shacks were an eye soar and should be demolished. The theory being they caused pollution – blah blah blah.  Motor boats and jet skis – weren’t an ecological problem – it were these, off the grid, eye soars known as shacks that caused all the pollution.

We owned the shack but leased the land that it sat on. Ultimately it became a year to year uncertainty if the lease would be renewed.

One of the local newspaper decided to do a photo journalistic piece on the shack. Their photographer spent the day with us. He captured moments in a way that still awes me today. He caught moments that caught the essence of shack living. From frolicking in the water to communing with sea life to simply breathing the fresh salt air to dining together in the evening.

The story came out on my tenth birthday. I was honored when I learned years later the photographer had earned an award for his work. Specifically, a black and white photo he had taken of me picking wildflowers as the sun set.

Fifty years later this legacy moment shines for me like a beacon.