The Rebirth of a Great Old Lady

In case you have not driven through Narragansett Pier recently, there has been a MAJOR change in the landscape. At 41 Ocean Road stands a glorious period restoration of the Lila Delman Real Estate building, circa 1875. Once known as Sea Lawn, the building was also known as the Reading Room, the Wave Crest Inn and the Tea Room. It was moved in 1899 from Mathewson Street to where it still resides today on a large lot just south of The Towers. The lot was once the grass tennis courts to the Narragansett Casino.

Over the years, the old gal had under gone some changes that were less than ascetically pleasing, however, the aims were probably practical and utilitarian at the time. The old porch had been closed in and that is where, for many years, the real estate office was located. You entered through the double glass doors, which were salvaged by Lila, from a local demolition project. When it rained, the buckets were brought out and certain desks were covered for protection. It was like working in the old curiosity shop, but it was fun. Upon entering, people would come in and take everything into account including the eclectic collection of antiques and other memorabilia.

This great old survivor withstood the catastrophic fire of 1900 which consumed the Towers, the flames licking within steps of the front door, and the great hurricane of 1938 with angry seas which swirled and surged around it.

Flash forward to December 2009! After almost one year of meticulous renovation, under the scrutiny of a gifted architect and a team of very competent craftsmen, it is a masterfully restored Victorian building located in one of the most beautiful settings in the area. People walk by and their mouths drop open as they stop and just ogle the “Great Old Lady”.

The restoration, of this wonderful old structure to its original grandeur, makes it a striking new landmark for the town of Narragansett. It only gets better when you enter the building, you feel so comfortable with all the beautiful old antiques collected over the years by Lila and the newly expanded space. It is further enhanced by the happy group of people who work in this wonderful environment.

We are so proud of our office and are so excited to be a part of this wondrous Renaissance!

One In A Million!!!!!

A number of years ago I had the honor and privilege to land on an aircraft carrier, The USS Independence. This wondrous opportunity came about through my dear cousin’s diplomatic connections.

Early one steamy humid spring morning, twenty one lucky people assembled at the Kai Tak Airport in Hong Kong. We were quickly ushered into an isolated room where our passports were temporarily confiscated, to be carefully scrutinized. We were briefed and told that we would not be apprised of the location of our flight destination for security reasons. It was somewhere in the South China Sea, that is all we knew.

After getting the go ahead, we were driven in a small bus far across the tarmac to a remote corner of the airport, where our awaiting military turbo prop was poised between a Mongolian Airlines Jet and a Siberian Airlines Jet. It was a C -2 Greyhound which carries cargo, people and mail to the ship. Upon entering the small confines, I noticed that all the seats faced backward and that there were only two windows. Quick as a bunny, I jumped into one of the two window seats! We were given life jackets and cranials, hard plastic fronted helmets which pilots wear, to don. Half an hour into the flight, as I gazed down at the endless sparkling sea, I saw eight small specks on the water. OH BOY! What had I gotten myself into this time! Those eight specks were the fleet, the largest being The USS Independence. We were going to land on one of those specks!! The fleet was steaming toward Hong Kong from Japan, where it was based at the time. As we braced for the landing, by tucking our heads into our legs with our arms wrapped around them and our feet propped high up against the seat in front of us, the plane touched down. Upon landing, it came to a quick rough abrupt halt in under 200 feet! The plane actually has a large hook which is attached to its rear undercarriage. The hook, hopefully, catches on one of the four cables, which are stretched across the deck of the carrier, to snag it.

We were formally greeted by the fleet commander and respective captains, all of whom had attended the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island! The obligatory photos were taken and then we entered this gigantic cavernous ship. It is twenty five stories from keel to mast top and is a huge self contained floating city which can travel up to 500 miles a day! We stepped through one hatch after another, from one endless compartment to another. All these hatch doors can be sealed shut if the occasion arises.

The destination was the officers’ dining room. We were treated to a scrumptious meal while watching our arrested landing on a large screen TV. All landings and take offs are taped in case of crashes. After lunch we toured the bridge where the captain oversees the running of that enormous ship. He sits in one of the most imposing chairs that I have ever seen, it looked like a quasi Barcalounger/throne, how fascinating!

We then retreated back down below for an air show, in our honor. Almost all of the 5,000 crew members were standing on the four acre expanse! All crew members must wear life jackets while on deck. It was quite colorful since they are all color coded for each specific shipboard duty, ours were white. It was a gorgeous bright blue sky day, wherever we were located, and the water was absolutely dazzling! I was tingling with excitement and my heart was thundering in my chest! As we were wandering around, by accident, I wandered into the exhaust of an idling jet! The heat was searing and it felt like my arm was going to melt off! OUCH! The private air show was stupendous with the jets circling the ship perpendicularly! It was amazing that the movement of that giant ship was barely perceptible while gliding over the waves.

When the show was over we were, yet again, escorted back to the officers’ dining room. We received our official USS Independence caps, small photo albums and official personalized certificates which stated that we were now honorary, “ USS Independence Tail Hookers”! The fleet commander told us that not even one in one million people ever have this opportunity! Thank you, sweet cousin Richard! Who ever said that family doesn’t come in handy!

As we prepared to take leave of the ship, I hadn’t given much consideration to just how this feat would be accomplished. A routine take off? WRONG! There are four catapult lines which are each 300 feet long. The catapult functions as a pressurized sling shot capable of launching a plane in a short linear distance. We belted ourselves in and again assumed the position. The next instant it felt like we were being shot through a tunnel, zero to 150 MPH in less than two seconds!! BANG! I thought that we had crashed, however it was the end of the catapult line! WHAT A RIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The cherished keepsakes, from that splendiferous adventure, have a very special place in my home. I especially enjoy my framed tail hooker certificate. I still pinch myself every time I look at it. This framed embossed sheet of paper represents the proof that this unbelievable experience actually happened to me!

The Enchanted Guest House

When I was a precocious little girl growing up, in rural Connecticut, we had a guest house in our back yard called, “The Mimi House”. It was lovingly named after my paternal grandmother Mary. On summer days I would dash out of my house, wide eyed with my curly hair streaming wildly behind me, equipped with a highly overactive imagination and head straight for that spot. Not even a woodpecker, which was always enthusiastically pecking away at the bent weathered electrical pole, right outside of the guest house, could daunt me. There was nothing about this small resilient structure that did not utterly fascinate me, from the old crank out windows, to the open out window over the head of the bed which fastened to the exterior eaves and, last but not least, the built in bureau with all of its hidden treasures. Upon entering I would drink in the slightly woody, musty and fabric aroma while looking around to see which adventure I could conjure up that day. I would seat myself at the diminutive antique desk pretending to make earth shaking decisions while being hailed as an influential world leader, as I gazed out the window overlooking the fields and orchard.

At the head of the bed there was a shelf with a menagerie of exquisite little china animals which were all lined up perfectly by their respective types in different sizes, from large to small. Who had staged them? I never discovered who that person was, and no one else seemed to remember either. Those charming animals came to life for me and I was endlessly fascinated by them. I would rearrange them, always being very careful to restore the creatures, to their original positions. There were horses, bears, dogs, cats and pigs. That is when I developed my life long penchant for pigs.

Some days, my friend, Kathy, and I would excitedly and reverently pull open the bureau's bin. We were in awe of the wealth of elegant evening gowns which my beautiful sweet mother had worn many years earlier on her transatlantic ocean liner crossing to Europe. At that time it was in vogue to wear a different gown to dinner each evening. My friend and I would sashay up and down the Bocci Court, which was adjacent to the guest house, wearing our daily choices of gowns which were awkwardly trailing behind us on the grass. Believing that we were actually on the promenade deck of the ship and in the formal dining room, we felt the thrills which my Mom must have experienced. What a tremendous joy and delight it was for both of us. That was when children at play still subsisted on imagination.

One hot sultry summer’s evening my older sister, Bonnie, brought her new tape recorder out to the, “Mimi House”. It was the size of a small suitcase! For the first time in my young life, sitting in this cherished haven, I heard my actual voice. Wow, how totally shocking to discover that the voice which I heard inside of me was not the one that everyone else heard, what a revelation!

As the story goes, when the guest house’s namesake, Mary, was sleeping in the guest house one evening, years before I was born, my maternal great grandfather Julius paid her a late night visit. He sat at the end of the bed and regaled her with family tales, which she very happily related the next morning to shocked relatives. He had actually passed away five years previously!

The treasured thoughts of that little guest house have remained with me, enriching me as a person with all of those happy memories. It is the imagination and enjoyment of these little things in life which shape us into the human beings who we are today.

I will always be eternally grateful for my chance to experience the enchanted guest house!

The Existence of Life After Work

Walking out the door and down the steps of my sun drenched windswept office on Ocean Road in Narragansett, Rhode Island, I am drained at the end of the business day. However, as I descend the steps my nostrils are rejuvenated by that intoxicatingly wonderful, sea weedy ocean aroma. Walking to my car, which expectantly awaits me, my pulse begins to quicken. Various items are carefully stowed away, and just as quickly forgotten. Rolling down the windows and opening the sun roof, the vehicle begins to quickly flood with cool fresh salt air. An expectation and excitement begin to build within me. Driving along the sea wall, feeling like I am in a very expensive sports car, enjoying the gorgeous ocean views, the cares of the day are evaporating and falling into a clearer perspective. Continuing to rapidly shed my work skin as I drive down the highway, the greens of the trees are brighter, the colorful blue hue of the sky is especially intense, and the jet trails crisscrossing it utterly fascinate me. I notice just how much I enjoy and appreciate looking at everything.

Feeling on top of the world, I continue on to my selected destination. The car knows the way by heart and I almost believe that the vechicle is on auto pilot. Nearing it, two more miles, one more mile, I have goose bumps! Finally the sign looms up, “Belle Vue Yachting Center”, our wonderful marina. Pulling into a parking space I get out of the car attempting to keep my enthusiasm in check, by not running but walking, not too eagerly, down the ramp and onto the dock while maintaining a pretense of equanimity and dignity. Feeling like a million dollars and a small child filled with expectant anticipation, I turn the corner of the dock and come face to face with our beloved boat, “The Leading Lady”. She is a noble vessel filled with a lot of love, many great times, interesting people and enough happy memories to last ten life times. How can an inanimate object provide such joy, whether at sea or docked? Climbing on to the rear deck I sit there relishing and contemplating the beauty, the boats expertly tied up to their respective slips, the varied scents, the sights and, especially, that relaxing resort feeling just ten minutes from my office. Ah………I am so lucky!
Tomorrow I shall walk into the office with a big smile on my face, bright eyed and bushy tailed, because, I know, that there truly is the existence of life after work , to enjoy, everyday!!!

To Save A Mocking Bird

On a balmy spring day, I was gazing out of the window at my place of work on Ocean Road in Narragansett, Rhode Island. The sparkling ocean was luxuriating in the bright intense afternoon sunlight.

There is a large evergreen tree outside of our office that spreads its limbs like latticework partially obstructing my water view, however providing vital shade. A movement like an unfurling fan caught my eye. Looking more intently, I realized that there was a diminutive bird helplessly dangling from one of the branches. Hearing me gasp, several of my associates rushed over to see what event could be unfolding outside. Within minutes, two of these compassionate souls were on the scene under the tree attempting to reach the hapless victim with a pole, however, they could not free it. Suddenly, out of nowhere, two more heroes materialized with a ladder! The ladder was instantly set up and tenuously climbed by one of them. Again, this attempt to liberate the bird was futile. As I sat there mesmerized, witnessing this kind act of humanity, the rescuer carefully snapped off the branch with the trapped bird still bound to it and tender footedly descended back down the ladder to terra firma.



With a surgeon’s fine tuned touch, the Good Samaritan swiftly extricated the little creature from the thread that had been wrapped around its talon and which had snagged on the branch. He cradled it in his hands with tender loving care, gently stroking the head to reassure the trembling bird. Then, with arms extended above his head, the bird was given the opportunity to take flight and soar away. However, it dropped to the ground unable to fly. A box was quickly emptied of its contents, temporarily providing sanctuary to the small bird, and a call was made to a local veterinarian. Within the hour, the bird was being lovingly chauffeured to the vet who treats untamed birds and animals, by yet another caring person.

A tiny life saved by some altruistic beings whose only collective intent was to rescue a young mocking bird.

A Prehistoric Encounter

Several weeks ago I had an enlightening encounter. I walked out of my home on Great Island in Narragansett, Rhode Island and came face to face with an enormous snapping turtle. It was prodigiously wending its way back to Teal Pond on the south side of my home from the marsh on the north side of my home. Briefly our eyes met, two alien worlds totally, irrevocably unbridgeable. As we sized each other up momentarily, the turtle abruptly retracted its head, legs and tail. Out of compassion I respectfully retreated back into the house. Watching from my covert vantage point with utter fascination, it cautiously poked its head, legs and tail back out of its protective shell and slowly determindedly continued to move forward. The turtle's head was resolutely set with a conviction created by thousands of years of genetic stamping.

Every spring the female snapping turtles dig themselves out of the mud in Teal Pond and make their arduous journeys across my neighbors’ and my front yards to reach the marsh where they lay their eggs. Once these obligatory reproductive tasks have been completed the turtles return along the same path.



While pondering the thought that the turtle was intruding on my territorial turf, it suddenly occurred to me that, in fact, the intruder was I. There was a new healthy respectful thought process being hatched within me. These noble reptiles had been replicating this process many thousands of years before human beings ever existed on this island. I wondered if the turtle had considered me a temporary annoyance, a giant unknown threat, or both.

It continued on with a single minded determination returning to the pond. As the turtle reached the fringes of my lawn, it considered its options, there was only one, the path that had once been open to the pond but was now blocked by an enormous pile of lawn cuttings, compliments of my landscaper. The turtle looked to the right and to the left then proceeded on the course which it had always taken. As a voyeur, I watched with a sense of awakening respect, it took the most difficult way, the one programmed into it. There were several futile attempts, but some how this marvelous awkward creature made its way to the top with tremendous dignity. I watched until the last second as the turtle breached the top and then, I’m certain with a sense of relief on some primeval level, it disappeared out of sight into the underbrush. The turtle was home in the security of its pond. Yet again, the turtle had exposed itself to a dangerous and potentially fatal situation in the name of procreation in a world that had overtaken it, but not defeated it.

I stood there dumbfounded and realized that I had been taught a valuable life story. All creatures, great and small, should be accorded the same common dignity and a huge healthy respect.


Submitted by a humbled human being who was taught a graphic lesson by a simple snapping turtle.

A Little Slice of Paradise in Rhode Island

Snuggled at the southern extremity of Great Salt Pond in Narragansett is Great Island, my wonderful tranquil home. It is one of three neighborhoods in the entire state of Rhode Island accessed only by bridge. As I cross over the bridge to Great Island, bordered on the right by East Pond and on the left by The Fishing Port of Galilee, I feel the frenetic pace of daily life rapidly draining from me.

It is slow paced and still evokes the peacefulness that is part of its history as a 150 acre sheep farm. The sheep were driven over to the island at low tide on a primitive causeway and then left to graze as the tide rose. The original farm house remains firmly perched on the highest point of the island to this day. The vistas are like an everchanging painting with pastoral landscapes as well as inspiring water views. Most of the 350 homes have delightful water views. You are constantly aware of weather conditions as fluffy white clouds dance across the sky borne by the prevailing winds and the sun shimmers off the water as incredible shades of the bright blue of the sky and water integrate with the vibrant green of the land to become a continual panoply of colors.

It is a very cohesive community with remnants of days gone by where, for example, on Halloween, children are still ushered into homes as the enthusiastic residents delight in the costumes and guessing who the little goblins are in their respective disguises. There is a neighborhood association for the residents to enjoy various year round social events and activities, as well as each other. In addition, residents of the island are very environmentally oriented. Only approximately twenty five percent of the residences are occupied year round. The homes vary in character, size and age yet all are extremely well maintained.

I always know that spring has announced its presence when at night I witness the lights glowing in the homes that have been awaiting the return of their summer inhabitants. For all residents to relish there are eight access points to the water so that everyone can enjoy quahogging (clamming in RI), accessing their boats, moorings or just enjoying the ambience of the area. One of these access points is a little gem of a beach that is a well kept secret, even from most island residents. There are endless fresh adventures for children to enjoy on the pond like sailing, boating, swimming or just discovering the wonders of the seashore and Mother Nature. Summer weekends are distinguished by the even larger enticing parade of boats of all varieties and sizes that skim across or down the pond, on their way out to the open ocean and points beyond.

The island is close to all area amenities, yet off the beaten path. Take a stroll down the street and over the bridge to The Port of Galilee, which is the fifth largest fishing port in New England. Purchase your lobsters right off the boats which are tethered to their slips, or walk a little further and hop the traditional or high speed ferry to Block Island. There are restaurants and fish markets as well as seasonal shops to quench your desires. In addition, there is a lovely protected sandy ocean beach poised at the end of the street to enjoy.

In the challenging times in which we live, Great Island gives me the desired result and rejuvenates me on a daily basis. I am truly lucky!