Dear Mr. and Mrs. Plutocrat,

Congratulations on your New House! Your investment on Nantucket is wise and will be rewarding, no matter how many digits had to go on the check. You will love coming to this house in August and in December. It should always provide a respite from the memo wars and turf battles of the mainland.

You have visited the island many times. You have been to Cisco in the best weather imaginable, you have caught bluefish by the score, you have taken a long walk at Tuppancy and gotten a wave from Bruce Watts. While you may live in Santorum, New York, you think of Nantucket almost everyday.

Perhaps you have some sand from Cisco on your desk. Perhaps you have some old Henryπs t-shirts. Perhaps you have a photograph of a Madaket Sunset. You know that you are just a visitor, but you would like to have a more permanent hold on the island. Now that you have bought your house, perhaps you feel that you have finally arrived?

Unfortunately, being a Nantucketer has little to do with owning a building on Nantucket. Many ≥tourists≤ have lived for years out here, while some ≥Nantucketers≤ come for a few weekends in the summer. The difference is not based on money, land, or birth. Rather, it comes from attitude.

A Tourist comes to Nantucket with his own pleasures at heart. He wants

the best spot at the beach, the nearest parking place, the fastest line

at the Stop and Shop, and the quickest reservation. He sees the island

as a Yankee Club Med. While willing to spend a lot of money, the

tourist does not see himself as a member of a community. Instead, he

sees himself as a privileged customer. Since he is renting a house on

York Street for $5000 a week, he should get the tee times, the

reservations, the parking space, and the experience that he deserves.

His money has bought him a level of service. He should be on the ≥Gold

Deck≤ with complimentary champagne.

A Nantucketer comes here to reconnect with a community. He wants to

know who was born, who died, and who moved away while he was away. In

re-connecting with the community, he is also reconnecting and affirming

the communityπs standards. An exhaustive list of those standards would

all echo one central idea: concern for others, no matter how rich or

how poor.

This means a Nantucketer in a car will wait at the crosswalk and wait

his turn at five way stop signs. The Nantucketer will wait in line for

his coffee, along with everyone else. The Nantucketer will build his

house based on his desires balanced with those of the community. The

Nantucketer will suffer misfortune and success with an eye towards

those around him. The tourist sees only himself and his fun.

A good friend invites me to Sankaty once or twice a summer for steak

night. Steak Night at Sankaty is just like Steak Night in college.

Everybody lines up with a plate and get served some beef, some

vegetables and some salad. The line is filled with plutocrats whose

names grace the Wall Street Journal and Forbes. Each one

could (and has) killed a career with a glance. But they wait in line

politely, take their turns, and say ≥Thank You.≤ When they ice cream

comes out, they line up politely again. Nantucketers all.

On the other hand, each night during the summer, island kids get together on a beach in the evening. Someone has beer. Someone has dope. Someone has music.

The Fordπs line up in a red-neck Maginot Line. The Chevyπs get chased

off the beach and the rice burners get sunk in the water. Someone gets

insulted and a gang of Whalers grab flashlights and beat on the guy.

The next morning, the beach is littered with bottles and the water with

Toyotas. Tourists, no matter where they were born.

So, as you think about where to put the sofa and hang the plants, take

a moment to sit down and make two lists. First, list all of the

reasons why you bought the house on Nantucket and not on Marthaπs

Vineyard. If your list begins with ≥higher appreciation≤ and ≥better

rental history≤, you might as well sell the house. You wonπt enjoy

living here. However, I would hope that your list would start with a

few beaches and a few experiences. Take that list and put it in your

wallet or checkbook. Those things will help when you have to pay your

tax bill this winter.

On your second list, write down ten people you know and like on

Nantucket. If you donπt know them already, find out who lives on your

street and put them on the list. Itπs okay to put down the

grandmotherly person at the bake shop or the sweet girl who let you pay

$.85 ≥later≤ at Junior. Hell, if Doug Bennett waved at you, put him

down too. To bastardise Vonnegut, this is your karass. These are the

people you need to be concerned for. As you make decisions, from

renovating your house to running a stop sign, think about how your

actions will affect them.

Nantucketers are not perfect. The concern for others can quickly

become peer pressure and a mob mentality. We forgive our fellow

Nantucketers of all sorts of thievery and chicanery. We donπt speak up

when we see something wrong. We accept mediocrity and discredit

exceptionalism.

Nonetheless, The sad fact these days is that Nantucketers are leaving the island and

tourists are coming on. More and more people bring fat wallets and silly expectations. They expect that we will have seen their pictures in the

papers or on television and will want to hear them do an impromptu,

drunken ≥People≤ at Straight Wharf. They have a VIP Pass and front row

tickets for the Pops. The island isnπt ≥exclusive≤ enough for them.

Others come here for the money. They buy the house in order to rent it

at $5000 a week in the summer. Or they come over on a boat or a plane

every morning, swing the hammer, and then fly back. Or they live in a

box with five other guys sending the paycheck and anything else off

island.

The economy of the island needs rich and poor tourists, but the spirit

of the island needs Nantucketers. If you come here with an open heart

and a concern for others, you will find welcoming arms. You will be

known and loved in your community, whether your wallet is thin or fat.

You will be waved at, greeted, and missed when you are gone. Not only

the beaches, the streets, or the moors will be open to you, so will the

community.

But youπll never be a native.

Sincerely,

A Lapsed Nantucketer