Foreword

I remember the day I hauled my first net, though I better recall day’s end. My back hurt. My hands were cut. I smelled like fish. I felt suffocated by my foul weather gear. I was queasy from the unfamiliar roiling and rolling of a windy tide … and I wanted more. I had grown up a city boy more fascin...

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Published in: Peconic Bay p. xi
Main Author: John Cronin
Format: Book Chapter
Language: English
Published: Syracuse University Press 04-03-2015
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Online Access: Get full text
Summary: I remember the day I hauled my first net, though I better recall day’s end. My back hurt. My hands were cut. I smelled like fish. I felt suffocated by my foul weather gear. I was queasy from the unfamiliar roiling and rolling of a windy tide … and I wanted more. I had grown up a city boy more fascinated by baseball and cars than the estuary next door. But for the first time I felt part of something larger than myself. Water can do that. In 1981, I quit my job as an environmental legislative assistant in Albany