Author: Marty Luster

I'm Marty Luster, a retired attorney and politician. In 2010 my wife, mother-in-law, dog and I relocated from Central NY to Gloucester. I hope my photographs and poetry(?) reflect my love for this place and her people. My picture-poem posts can be seen at http://matchedpairs.wordpress.com and selected black and white images can be found at http://slicesoflifeimages.wordpress.com

Below The Waxing Gibbous Moon

Posted on by Marty Luster

Below the Waxing Gibbous Moon

 

At twilight I was watching the waxing

gibbous moon when a plane appeared to fly

high above that bulging disk. It happened quickly,

and it left no contrails, so I missed the plane

when I clicked the shutter to capture the scene.

 

I don’t know where that plane came from or where

it was going –  perhaps on a great circle to Europe.

Nor do I know if anyone on board looked out

their windows and noticed our tiny Cape Ann

nearly six miles below and if anyone wondered

 

if there were people down there looking up at them,

or, if they did, could they imagine who we are

and could they see our backshore, our beaches,

our city with its shops, piers, boats and fishermen,

our granite bed, our salt marshes, our grand

 

tidal river and our artists and performers,

our craftspeople and caregivers and youngsters

who breathe nearly four hundred years of Gloucester

history. Could they imagine the surf’s sound

at night, the feel of a cool sea breeze during the

 

dog days of August and the magic of Autumn’s

golden light and spring’s seductive and subtle color?

I wish them safe travels and a hardy adventure and

I hope they remember passing over tiny Cape Ann,

and all that we are, far below the waxing gibbous moon.

 

Marty Luster

Crossing the Bar

Posted on by Marty Luster

Crossing The Bar

Sunset and evening star

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

 

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

 

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

 

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

 

Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Ron Gilson’s Talk

Posted on by Marty Luster

Ron Gilson’s Talk

 

The other night I went to hear Ron Gilson

speak about his youth on the docks of Gloucester.

Each moment he recalled burst with the excitement

and awe of more than 60 years before.

 

It was clear that those years were not now just

pleasant recollections; they were the anchor

to which his life was made fast, and around which

all events circled as the tide flowed and ebbed.

 

At one point, as Ron searched for the precise way

to describe the mood, sights and sounds of those days,

his voice got tight, he hesitated and tears came.

At last, he declared: “Moving. That’s what it was. Moving.”

 

Those  who were lucky enough to have had

happy, adventurous and exciting childhoods

were brought back to our own dear early years,

as if by the pull of an anchor taking hold.

 

Some of us took long hikes in the dark woods,

sidestepped copperheads, climbed nearby mountains,

swam unsupervised in unpolluted creeks,

helped out mornings on our grandparents’ farm,

 

went on long bike rides to unexplored places,

held secret meetings at the old train station,

built soapbox cars to race wildly down the steepest

hill and carefully walked across the railroad tressle

 

thirty feet above the jagged rocks on our way

to the rope swing high above the Rondout

where, later, we went fishing and  gave the eels to

Mr. Annapple and brought home the sunfish, bass and perch.

 

We spent the nights around the fire, roasted corn

borrowed from the nearby field, told scary stories,

discovered the planets, and galaxies

and discussed things you would not believe.

 

Ron Gilson spoke to the universal child.

He opened wide the doors we had peeked through,

but had not entered and implored us to visit.

Moving. That’s what it was. Moving.

 

Marty Luster

Dory Fishing on Schooner ADVENTURE

Posted on by Marty Luster

A large crowd was treated to an outstanding talk by Ron Gilson, author of An Island No More, at the Essex Shipbuilding Museum on Wednesday evening. Ron introduced his slide illustrated reminiscence of an eight day trip on Adventure when he was 17 years old in 1951 with random vignettes of his youth on the wharves of Gloucester Harbor.

Someone once said something like, “We experience life only once–as a child. All the rest is memory.” At age 79, Ron brought us back to the days of his youth. With some emotion, he evoked all of the excitement, adventure and sense of awe that many of us feel when we search our own memories of growing up. His respect and love for an era now gone by enveloped the audience and made us all feel privileged to share his experience and memories.

Treasure

Posted on by Marty Luster

Treasure

 

A man walks on the narrow beach

up to the wall that blocks his path.

He turns, head bowed, to search some more

along the shore for bits of glass.

 

Above him on the Boulevard,

the walkers and the runners move

without a thought of searching for

a smooth and gleaming artifact.

 

But soon the man will climb the stairs

and place his treasure in the jar

high on the shelf up in his room

that overlooks the Boulevard.

 

Marty Luster