"Sameness was the island's currency. The families that had been summering on the island since 1965 or 1989 or 2002 had created traditions that had to be upheld. On their first night on-island they had to eat at the Brotherhood of Thieves, where they would order medium-rare bleu cheeseburgers and curly fries. They had to wait forty-five minutes in line for ice cream at the Juice Bar because nothing tasted better than a hot fudge sundae in a waffle cup when you ate it on the Steamship Wharf as you watched the stream of cars unload from the ferry. They had to bike to Sconset and get turkey sandwiches from Claudette's; they had to take their annual picture in front of the peppermint stick of the Sankaty lighthouse, where someone had to remark that erosion was most definitely eating away the bluff, and if someone didn't do something about it soon, the lighthouse would certainly topple into the ocean . . . They had to "forget" to bring sunscreen to the beach at least one day -- and go home feeling the warm, tight stretch of tanned skin."
From Summerland, a novel by Elin Hilderbrand
