The Lighthouse Keeper
"Hey, there! Did you go strolling over the weekend?" Hawkeye's familiar voice pierced the cold afternoon air.

Squinting to see him against the sky in his perch in the tall dead pine tree, I replied, "How could you not? It was a day for sitting on a bench in the sun whether you needed to or not. And it was a great day to people watch because it wasn't like people were rushing from store to store, actually trying to keep warm or dry. They really were strolling.

"You know," Hawkeye said, pensively, "Saturday was the kind of day when I almost wish that I was a person. I don't usually fly over town; it's kind of at the far end of my range and the pickin's are pretty slim. This week, though, I was lured by rumors of furry critters out in the street, so I went to see what was going on.

"From my vantage point, it looked like people were having a wonderful time socializing and eating; enjoying the sun and maybe even shopping."

"It's true," I said, "but why would that make you want to be a person?

"For two reasons," Hawkeye replied. "First, hawks don't socialize a whole lot. As you know, I like talking about things but, except when we are nesting, we just don't communicate. And when we are nesting, there is too much going on for civil social discourse. So it would be nice to be able to have meaningful conversations when I am not worrying about whether the nest is going to fall out of the tree.

"Secondly, I love lox." "That's funny, so do I."

"I could tell," Hawkeye went on. "I was perched on top of the Pacific Club and I looked over towards the food tent and saw you chewing on the most delicious looking bagel stuffed with lox. I was very envious. I don't usually eat things I haven't killed but I would make an exception for lox any time. Someone dropped a package from their bicycle basket one day and I got hooked."

I interrupted "I went into the food tent and looked at (and smelled) the delicious scallops, the pulled pork, the sausage and onions, the bean soup and everything else that was being served, but as soon as I saw the bagels and lox, my choice was made. I haven't had a good lox and bagel sandwich - in fact, forget whether it was good or not - I haven't had a sandwich like that since I moved to Nantucket. It was fabulous."

"Now," said Hawkeye, "wouldn't it have been nice if I could have gone with you to get a sandwich and then we could have sat on a bench to eat, and talked about the election? That would have been great fun."

"What's to talk about?" I asked. "It's not over until it's over; the recount has been scheduled. Everyone just needs to be patient, and wait to see how the process turns out.

"But...," Hawkeye was thoughtful. "Aren't there all kinds of rumors and stories going around? Fill me in."

"Yes." I said, "I have heard all kinds of things. But I really don't want to talk about it. I would much rather hear about whether you actually saw any furry critters at Stroll. Hawks cannot live by lox alone."

Hawkeye fixed me with a beady eye. "You are avoiding the subject of the elections.

"Yes, I am," I replied. I will tell you the most unlikely story that I heard, but then we go back to fur. Someone called me to tell me that none the ten ballots marked as write-ins had names written next to them and, therefore, all of the people who had marked the write-in oval actually thought they were voting for Patty Roggeveen, because the write-in space was directly below her name on the ballot.

"I pointed out to my informant that some or all of those voters could have marked the write-in space either because they couldn't decide who to vote for or they were registering some sort of protest. My informant found my response unsympathetic and soon hung up to go sell the story elsewhere." "That's it?" Hawkeye said.

"Yes, that's it. Don't you see why there is nothing to talk about?"

"No," Hawkeye responded. "I think there is something to talk about. I think it all has to do with perceptions.

Hawkeye continued, "there are perceptions out there that Patty Roggeveen is tough, and some people find it appealing to talk about the "negativity" of her petition for a recount. They don't realize that a candidate can't just request a recount. Under state law, the recount petition requires that reasons to be stated to form the basis of the request. To some people any substantive reason would sound negative. It reinforces the perception they want to have of the person.

"On the other side," the hawk continued, "there is a perception that Catherine Flanagan Stover is too involved in the recount process wearing her town clerk's hat. As recently as this morning (Monday) she supposedly participated in a meeting of the Registrars of Voters, reviewing the ground rules for acting on the recount petition and discussing how the actual recount process works. Was she there as an observer or was she there to give guidance on substantive issues. Was she out of order? I don't know.

"The point is that in both instances perceptions arise that have as much chance of being erroneous as of being correct. In the Roggeveen petition instance, the candidate did what she felt she had to do and was excoriated for it by some.

"In the Flanagan Stover situation, over the last few days, there have been all kinds of rumors about her involvement in the recount process. Whether they are true or not, they reinforce the perception held by some that, as one of the parties to the recount, she is interjecting herself in the process too much."

I decided it really was time to get back to furs so I tried closing off this line of conversation by saying, "There is an old saw that perception is reality. In this instance, the adage has been brought home in spades. Let's just hope that in the ten days remaining before the recount, both individuals take the high road in their approach to the situation."

"All right," Hawkeye snorted. "I will move on. I was amazed at how few furry things I saw. From that perspective, the event was highly over-rated. I finally left, really hungry."

"I only saw one fur," I said. "The wearer was swaddled from hear to toe in a fur coat and hat. She must have been cooking."

"Oh, I saw that," Hawkeye interjected. "In fact, for a moment I thought it was worth exploring, but then I realized that it was an island woman. I didn't want any truck with that. These island women are much too tough."

I