And now for the most terrible part of all. Is Quentin honored as a hero and returned to his home in the chilly salt waters of the bay? Is he given a parade? Asked to become a pundit on local cable access television? Sent on a photo op, or invited to throw the first pitch in the upcoming little league season? No. He’s promptly devoured raw in front of the crowd of villagers and newspaper reporters and selectmen.
And each time, we loose a bit more of our fading collective innocence, as does Nantucket. If it ever possessed any at all.
Now you know what to do. Write and call your elected representatives. Take to the streets? Boycott stores and seafood restaurants and clam shacks the world over. And please, don’t let Quentin die yet again.
It’s your duty and mine. I hope you’re up to the task. Good luck and godspeed.
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