When lobstermen began receiving crustacean demands in writing last spring, they thought of it as a joke. In an effort not to take any of it seriously, they claimed to be unable to read the handwriting. Lobsters were impugned as bad spellers, practically illiterate.
All they were asking for was more respect. Well, that and better food, bigger condos, cleaner water and manicures for the ladies. That wasn’t unreasonable. But no, lobstermen didn’t listen when they had a chance. Now a few are realizing who those postcards from Portugal might be coming from. Lobsters seem to have taken the summer off this year.
It appears that their burgeoning sense of entitlement and privilege has led to a more hedonistic and irresponsible lifestyle. They seem to be enjoying the abandonment of traditional expectations. Call it their “Summer of Love” phase. Remember how hippies in the sixties – those so-called “Flower Children”- claimed the right to “do their own thing”? They frolicked naked in the mud at Woodstock. Consider the lobsters. They are doing that, in their own carapaced way, right now, probably somewhere off a sultry Portuguese beach. And it is not just attitude the lobsters have in common with that era. There is this too: heavy metal. The sixties generation had their music; the lobsters have their detritus. There is no telling what the long-term effect is of either, but obviously the short-term effects are similar. Both served as gateway to the “Me Generation.” These lobsters obviously need to be convinced there is something in it for them before returning to Maine waters. Otherwise, why should they? Rose wine has already replaced Geary’s ale at their parties, and they prefer to be called “lagosta” now rather than lobster. It is already almost too late.
Lobstermen, take out your pens, grab your postcards, and start writing back. Don’t feel you have to guarantee “two-touch” handling for all or a condo for every lobster. Rather than even mention CrustaStun’s “decent demise,” focus instead on quality of life. Tell them we’ll do what we can so that lobsters thrive while they’re alive. Call it “CrustaFun.” If you have to, promise to throw in some heavy metal as well. Not their usual toxin, but the other kind; it’s still around too, in its original format. How do you think that island of rock, Vinalhaven, got its name?
Tina Cohen does a lot of writing when she’s on Vinalhaven.