sins of the 21st century and what I'm doing about them

Sloth, Accidia  It's been a hot weekend, heavy air, and even though there are fireworks in all of the little towns out here, from the private celebrations at beachfront mansions and exclusive "bathing clubs," where the peasantry is allowed to stand in the streets or - gasp! even park - to watch, to cute little settings-off of things that go boom over rivers and bays... we were so wiped by the end of the day that we stayed in under the a/c and watched the Macy's fireworks on television. I've seen many Macy's Independence Day spectacles, from other people's offices and from good spots on the Queens side of the river, and all I can say is that each year, there's more hype and less good ole July 4th. Probably there were 19th-century curmudgeons who didn't relate to Mr Sousa's band music and would have preferred a unit of fifes and drums with their fireworks, though. See, I am trying to learn perspective.

Selfishness On the 5th, we rode out to Montauk to see which little stores and restaurants had survived the winter, check out new openings, and pick up some of Duryea's chowdah for a light meal later. This sounds like a simple plan, but Himself is always shocked and outraged to discover that other people are driving on the same road as he, and at the same time, too. I think this may have to do with his being raised as an indulged only child, he prefers not to share highways. This is amusing at times, but out here in the summer it's dangerous, because of all the Very Important People who drive Very Important Cars and come East to indulge their sense of entitlement by running red lights and ignoring stop signs and local speed limits. On the one hand, this is good for local revenue because bounty-hunting local police lurk behind those beautiful trees and high boxwood hedges. On the other hand, when safety and the normal courtesies of the road are ignored, it can be a tense ride. We make up for this by letting old cars and trucks enter roads ahead of us, waving them on while a Master of the Universe with Trophy Wifelet and a matched pair of Accessory Young fumes and races his overpowered engine behind us. See, we are practicing generosity of spirit. In our own way.

Despair  Our village prohibits share houses, but the stores are in the towns to either side of us. Every year, we are treated to the sight of people who've never bought food before (as distinguished from ordering take-out) struggling with the array of products in the local supermarkets. Even as there is a type of vacationer who goes to a restaurant to have 3 or 4 drinks before ordering food, there are summer house-mates who block shopping-cart traffic while arguing about whether all those different colored leaves are really lettuce, whether generic salad dressing is better than stuff with a fancy label, whether there is gluten in rice, and whether something called ground round is in fact chopped meat. I wish they could settle their preferences and allergies before getting lost circling in the aisles and later circling in the parking lot. Come to think of it, the last subject of food debate may in fact be a respectable inquiry, given recent scandals. See? I'm trying to be openminded.

Anger  Duryea's is a dock in Montauk where you can sit and eat, plus they have a store where you can buy fish and really good chowdah to go. It adjoins a shack that hosts a new trendy store every few years. This year's tenant was unremarkable. I entered the fish store side, and there was one group ahead of me, composed of people who didn't know what they wanted. Now there have been times when I get to the front of a line and learn that what I wanted is sold out or didn't come in, and at such times I tell the person behind me to go ahead while I figure out what I'll get instead. This group had never heard of such a custom. So while I stood there fuming, they interrogated the fish guy about the different kinds of fish, the different cuts - is a steak better than a filet? why can't you cut a flounder steak? - oh, painful. Two of the group were insisting they weren't going to eat fish anyway. 

Greed  And dinner reservations... I don't expect to have dinner in a restaurant again until after Labor Day. Lunch is a possibility. There tends to be less drunken braying at lunch, and less of a wait. See? I'm avoiding a situation that would cause me to be impatient and spiteful.

We have been invited to a party which has a dress code, it's wear your favorite t-shirt. Oh, boy.