Jenifer’s Shelter Island Journal: Let it snow

The snow still looked pretty Monday morning, with early sun slanting across my mostly pristine white yard. 

Yesterday, though, was just plain magical, like a Jacqui Lawson greeting card. For someone who doesn’t generally celebrate snow, I’ve been feeling very fondly towards it ever since I heard somewhere recently that the New England area had warmed up by some 4 degrees thanks to global warming, so we shouldn’t expect much snow in the future. 

Another unwelcome reminder of our poor stewardship of the planet, but also just plain sad for a kid who’d grown up listening to “White Christmas.”

I swore I would write something upbeat for this pre-Christmas column. The saturnine cast over my recent offerings has caused even more of a declension in my own holiday spirits. When this past week, it was announced that Cornucopia, the Island’s iconic gift emporium, was closing its doors on Dec. 30, my spirit took another hit.  Not that at 90, the equally iconic proprietor, Mary Lou Eichorn, hasn’t earned a respite from decades of service, providing countless gift and card-seekers, Islanders and otherwise, with “just the right thing” for any occasion.  

Thank goodness she’s staying open through the 30th so that, at least for one more Christmas, I can pop in a last time or two for that colored tissue paper that only Cornucopia seems to carry, and a couple of unique stocking stuffers, probably, and a handful of those pretty, homemade chocolates displayed on the counter. And a chat, of course. Always.

The pharmacy’s also been a last-minute Christmas lifeline when the stockings need some sensible ballast, like toothpaste or hand lotion, and more than once I’ve found some really cute stocking-toppers, too. I’m glad it will mostly keep those items available, but it’s so odd that it’s not a pharmacy anymore. Like icing without the cake.

Already a few Christmases gone is another Island icon, Jack’s Marine. It’s missed for many reasons, but for me, the loss of the best toy and game department in the area is a hardship all year long, but especially now. Somehow Mike and Camille managed to cram into a very small space the most extraordinary selection of creative toys, games, figurines, rocks, marbles, models, kits and, once, a four-foot-long stuffed alligator — always a special gift for a special kid was there for the finding.

Digging my car out yesterday was actually a pleasure, as was taking the drive to my daughter’s in Hay Beach. The snow was still lightly falling, like a benediction, like a blessing, or like a farewell?  I don’t know, but the whole island was a postcard, a symphony in soft grays and pure whites, with the palest of peach on the horizon. 

It was nighttime when I drove home through Dering Harbor. At Second Bridge, as I looked across the water towards the Heights, I realized something else was missing: The blazing Christmas palace of light that, in the daytime, we call The Chequit. It’s closed now, just for the season, we all hope. 

We do have hope. I know I do. Yes, the changes —and the losses — in our world, our country and our community have come hard and fast in this past decade. It’s been painful and often scary but, in last week’s Reporter — the same issue that announced Cornucopia’s closing — editor Ambrose Clancy wrote the excellent lead article, “Recognizing Shelter Island’s Vulnerabilities,” describing the Reporter-hosted Community Forum, moderated by the Reporter’s Charity Robey, which met on December 3. In Clancy’s opening, he writes, “Shelter Island, like all island communities, is vulnerable to natural events such as winter ice storms, nor’easters, hurricanes, rising sea levels, flooding and pandemics, as well as man-made crises such as cyber-attacks against governments. But islands have significant advantages over land-based communities.

”These advantages were revealed at the Reporter Community Forum … and were reiterated by several panelists throughout the evening. The advantages came down to two words: communication and community. And the first is made easier because of the second; a small island is a place where the sense of community is strong because of limited land mass and a small population, with bonds between residents widespread and strong.”

If you missed the article (not to mention the Forum itself, as I did), I strongly suggest you find it in print or on-line. The meeting covered many topics, including the need for affordable housing as well as an on-Island pharmacy.

A community that is willing to honestly assess its deficits and plan for improvements in problem areas can weather its losses, strengthen its bonds and face whatever the future has in store. Yes, there’s a lot to miss, but plenty to look forward to, including — if we let it be — a very Merry Christmas!