Category Archives: Massachusetts

July 23 is World Whale and Dolphin Day

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Whale‑watching tour boat with humpback whales surfacing beside the vessel as passengers watch and photograph the marine wildlife.

 Good Morning

 

Fresh from the Feline Desk at WMEO (We Meow, You Listen) Correspondents Banner and Balboa are here with an update on World Whale and Dolphin Day.

 

Banner:

July 23 is World Whale and Dolphin Day. Concerned that commercial fishing had reached such a level that several species of marine mammals were at real risk of extinction, international conservation groups pushed for quotas and a total ban on commercial whaling on July 23, 1982. In 1986, July 23rd was officially designated World Whale and Dolphin Day.

Balboa:

dolphins. Whales play a crucial role in maintaining a healthy ocean and even help combat climate change by supporting natural carbon removal. There are other observances too, like World Whale Day on February 19.

Banner:

Whales and dolphins have become beloved worldwide thanks to their intelligence and unique behaviors. Orcas can live 30–60 years in the wild, while dolphins—among the smartest animals on Earth—have demonstrated remarkable communication abilities and even therapeutic benefits for humans. Learning more about these incredible creatures helps us protect them.

Balboa:

Whale and dolphin watching has grown into a major ecotourism industry, bringing visitors and revenue to coastal communitiesBreaching Whale while promoting conservation. A good trip offers education, excitement, and the unforgettable experience of seeing these magnificent animals in the wild. Humpbacks feed off Alaska all summer, gray whales cruise past California bluffs in winter, and the critically endangered North Atlantic right whale still passes close enough to Cape Cod to spot from a boat.

Banner:

Celebrate Whale and Dolphin Day with a whale watch adventure. You’ll almost certainly see whales—and maybe some energetic white‑sided dolphins racing alongside the boat. Humpbacks may breach, feed, and sometimes even bring their calves over for a curious hello.

Balboa:

In Massachusetts, you can enjoy a day on the water with:

Cape Ann Whale Watch

7 Seas Whale Watch

Newburyport Whale Watching

Dolphin Fleet, Provincetown

City Cruises Whale Watching

Captain John Boats (Plymouth & Provincetown)

Celebrate Whale and Dolphom Day with a Summer Day on the Open Ocean.

End of bulletin. Please resume your regularly scheduled scrolling.

 

Necco: The Candy That Refuses to Die

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The former Necco candy factory in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with its brightly colored pastel water tower displaying the classic red Necco logo — a well‑known New England landmark.

If you grew up in New England, Necco wasn’t just a candy brand — it was part of the scenery. The pastel wafers, the Valentine hearts, the Cambridge factory with its neon sign glowing over Mass Ave… it all felt woven into everyday life. Necco was one of those regional icons you didn’t think much about until suddenly, it was gone.

Necco Wafers: America’s First “Melt in Your Mouth, Not in Your Hand” Candy… Before M&M’s

Necco Wafers weren’t just old — they were historic. Dating back to the 1840s, they were one of America’s earliest mass‑produced candies. Soldiers carried them in the Civil War. Explorers packed them for long expeditions. They lasted forever, held up in heat, and didn’t crumble in a pocket.

And here’s the fun part: Long before M&M’s turned “melts in your mouth, not in your hand” into a marketing empire, Necco Wafers were already doing it. They didn’t have a sugar shell — they were simple, chalky discs — but they were famously durable. They survived heat, humidity, backpacks, pockets, and battlefields without turning into a sticky mess. The original tough‑as‑nails candy.

Sweethearts: The Chalky Little Hearts That Defined Valentine’s Day

Then there were the conversation hearts — Sweethearts. Every February, those pastel hearts took over classrooms, office desks, and candy bowls. “Be Mine.” “Cutie Pie.” “Call Me.” Corny, chalky, and absolutely iconic.

Necco made billions of them every year. When the company collapsed, Valentine’s Day actually felt wrong without them. Stores had empty shelves. People hoarded old bags. It was a tiny cultural crisis.

The Collapse: When a New England Institution Went Dark

In 2018, after nearly two centuries, Necco abruptly shut down. Workers were locked out. The Cambridge factory closed. The neon sign went dark. Candy lovers panicked, and New England collectively realized how much this quirky little company meant to its identity.

Necco Wafers disappeared. Sweethearts vanished. Sky Bar went extinct. It felt like losing a piece of home.

The Rescue: Necco Lives On

But New England doesn’t let its traditions die quietly.

Spangler Candy Company stepped in and revived Necco Wafers in 2020, keeping the classic flavors intact. Sweethearts returned too — a little imperfect at first, but unmistakably back. The original company is gone, but the candies themselves survived. The spirit of Necco lives on.

Sky Bar: The Rebel That Went Its Own Way

Sky Bar didn’t follow the others.

Instead of being scooped up by a big candy company, it was rescued by a tiny gourmet shop in Sudbury, Massachusetts. Duck Soup bought the rights at auction, rebuilt the production process from scratch, and brought Sky Bar back as a small‑batch regional candy.

Eventually, Sky Bar spun off into its own brand — Sky Bar Candy — with its own website, its own store, and even its own merch. T‑shirts, hoodies, hats… all in that bright yellow retro logo. It’s the most New England thing imaginable: a beloved candy bar saved by sheer local determination.

In the End, It’s All New England

Necco’s story — collapse, rescue, reinvention — feels like a perfect metaphor for New England itself. Old traditions, stubborn loyalty, small businesses stepping up when the giants fall. Whether it’s wafers, Sweethearts, or the resurrected Sky Bar, these candies are stitched into the fabric of the region.

The factory may be gone, but the candy lives on. Still loved. Still nostalgic and unmistakably New England.

 

Nantucket: Small Island, Long Story

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A row of weathered gray shingled cottages with green roofs, white trim, and climbing summer flowers in pink, purple, and white. Small signs reading “Constitution” and “John Jay” hang on the buildings, and American flags fly above them. The scene looks like a tidy, historic seaside village.

Nantucket: The Little Grey Lady of the Sea

Before we leave the coast of Massachusetts behind, there’s one more island waiting out there in the Atlantic — small in size, enormous in history. Like Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket has no bridge or roadway connecting it to the mainland. You reach it the old‑fashioned way: by sea or by air. Ferries glide across the Sound from Hyannis, Harwich Port, and New Bedford, and small planes touch down at the island’s airport, delivering summer travelers to a place that feels both remote and familiar.

And then, once you arrive, Nantucket reveals itself.

Nantucket is one of those places that feels familiar long before you ever set foot on it — a name that drifts through novels, travel magazines, and summer conversations like sea spray. Thirty miles south of Cape Cod, this tiny island has earned its nickname, The Little Grey Lady of the Sea, thanks to the weathered cedar shingles that cloak nearly every building. They fade to a soft, silvery grey, giving the whole island a muted, timeless palette.

I haven’t been to Nantucket yet, but researching it feels like paging through an old maritime diary. Cobblestone streets. Rose‑covered cottages. Lighthouses standing guard over dunes and surf. And beneath it all, four centuries of maritime history — whaling captains, Quaker merchants, shipwrecks, and the quiet heroism of life‑saving crews.

A Seaport Frozen in Time

Nantucket is the southeasternmost town in Massachusetts, but it feels older than the state itself. More than 800 buildings predate 1850, and the National Park Service calls it the finest surviving example of an 18th‑ and early 19th‑century New England seaport town. Walk its streets and you’re essentially walking through a living museum — one that smells like ocean air and sunscreen.

The town center is a postcard: wharves lined with restaurants and boutiques, steepled churches rising above the rooftops, and those famous cobblestones that look charming until you try to roll a suitcase over them. In summer, the population swells to around 80,000, transforming the quiet off‑season island into a bustling colony of vacationers, seasonal residents, and day‑trippers stepping off the ferry with iced coffee in hand.

Before the Whalers: The Wampanoag Story

Long before the cedar shingles and whaling captains, Nantucket belonged to the Wampanoag people. They lived on the island for thousands of years, organized into groups led by sachems, with a population that may have reached three thousand. Their story is woven tightly into Nantucket’s early history — and into its whaling legacy.

When English settlers arrived in 1659, they persuaded two sachems to relinquish their rights to the island for 66 pounds sterling. The Wampanoag later petitioned, arguing the sachems didn’t have the authority to sell the land, but the courts upheld the deeds. Sound familiar? Manhattan’s story echoes here — “sold” in 1626 for trinkets and trade goods, another moment where Native land shifted into colonial hands under deeply uneven circumstances. It’s a familiar American story — one of displacement, adaptation, and resilience.

The Wampanoag became carpenters, weavers, and eventually whalers. By the early 1700s, whaling boats launched from Nantucket’s shores were crewed mostly by Wampanoag men. A typical seven‑meter whaleboat had five Wampanoag oarsmen and one white man steering. Without them, Nantucket’s whaling industry — the one that would eventually dominate the world — simply wouldn’t have existed.

The Island That Ruled the Sea

By the 18th and 19th centuries, Nantucket was the beating heart of the global whaling industry. Herman Melville captured the swagger of it in Moby‑Dick: “Two thirds of this terraqueous globe are the Nantucketer’s.”

The tragedy of the whaler Essex — rammed and sunk by a sperm whale — inspired Melville’s novel. Characters like Ahab and Starbuck were written as Nantucketers, shaped by the island’s culture of grit, danger, and ocean‑bound ambition.

Whaling wealth built the island’s grand homes, funded its churches, and shaped its identity. Even today, the Whaling Museum stands as one of Nantucket’s most important landmarks, telling the story of the industry that once made this tiny island the center of the maritime world.

Modern Nantucket: Salt Air and Summer Crowds

Today, Nantucket is a summer destination with a price tag to match — the average sale price for a single‑family home was $2.3 million back in 2018, and it hasn’t exactly gone down. But the island’s charm isn’t about exclusivity. It’s about atmosphere.

Fog rolls in like a soft blanket. Salt and sunscreen hang in the air on a July afternoon. Roses climb over cottage doorways in full bloom. It’s the lighthouses — Brant Point, Sankaty Head, Great Point — standing like old friends who’ve seen every storm.

Nantucket feels curated, but not artificial. Preserved, but not frozen. A place where history and summer coexist, each giving the other a little more meaning.

Leaving the Grey Lady Behind

And just like that, our time with the Little Grey Lady comes to an end. Nantucket may be small, but its story is anything but — a place shaped by wind, water, and centuries of human hands. As the ferry pulls away and the island softens into the horizon, you carry a little of its quiet dignity with you.

From Cape Cod’s sandy arm to Martha’s Vineyard’s rolling farmland to Nantucket’s weathered shingles, this stretch of Massachusetts coastline is a tapestry of islands, each with its own personality. Nantucket is the one that lingers — the one that feels like a whispered chapter in a much larger maritime tale.

Someday I’ll go. I’ll walk those cobblestones myself. I’ll see if the shingles really are as grey as everyone says. And I’ll bring back my own stories — the kind that only come from being there.

 

Martha’s Vineyard: Summer Colony, Sharks, and Storylines

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A high‑speed passenger ferry named “Ava Pearl” cuts across the water on a sunny day, carrying travelers on its open upper deck. The white and blue catamaran creates a wide wake behind it as it heads toward Martha’s Vineyard.

A Little Spin Around Martha’s Vineyard

We’re about to leave the Cape — at least for now — but before we go, there’s a little hook worth tugging on. Around here you’ll often hear people say “The Cape and the Islands.” Now, “the Islands” refer to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket, but here’s the fun twist: neither one is actually part of Cape Cod. They’re simply spoken together because that’s how locals frame the region.

So let’s start with the Vineyard — Martha’s, that is.

Getting There Is Half the Fun

When people say getting there is half the fun, they mean it literally. There’s no bridge, no road, no secret tunnel. Martha’s Vineyard is a true island. You either board a ferry or hop on a plane, and that’s the whole point — you choose to go, and the island rewards you for the effort.

The ferry ride takes about 45 minutes, and on a sunny day it’s as relaxing and pretty as coastal New England gets. Ferries run year‑round, but once May arrives your options multiply. Seasonal passenger service pops up from Falmouth, Hyannis, New Bedford, Quonset Point in Rhode Island, New York City, and northern New Jersey.

You can’t catch a ferry from Boston, but you can fly. Logan offers daily year‑round flights, and between May and October the schedule expands with routes from American Airlines (Washington, D.C.), Cape Air (multiple cities), Delta (LaGuardia), and JetBlue (Boston and JFK).

A Summer Colony With a Long Memory

The Vineyard’s reputation as a summer escape stretches back more than a century. Families return year after year, building traditions that last generations. Oak Bluffs became famous for its gingerbread cottages — tiny, colorful homes that look like someone dusted a Victorian village with powdered sugar.

 

Edgartown grew into the elegant counterpoint: white clapboard captain’s houses, quiet streets, and that postcard‑perfect New England calm.

 

Jaws Put the Island on the Big Screen

If the scenery feels familiar, it’s because Jaws was filmed here in 1974. Spielberg turned the Vineyard into “Amity Island,” and locals still point out filming spots. Say hi to Bruce while you’re at it. The movie changed the island’s identity forever — suddenly Martha’s Vineyard wasn’t just a summer colony; it was the shark island. (Fun fact: Amity means friendship. Just ask the mayor)

And Yes… the Sharks Are Real

Back when Jaws was filmed, great whites were rare in Vineyard waters. That’s changed. As the ocean warmed and the seal population exploded, the sharks followed the buffet. Today great whites are regular summer visitors around both the Vineyard and Nantucket. Researchers tag them, track them, and occasionally name them, and every summer brings a fresh round of “shark spotted off South Beach” headlines. Islanders take it in stride. Sharks are just part of the neighborhood now.

A Place Where Friendships Form Easily

Locals talk about “Vineyard friendships” — the kind that form over shared ferry benches, sunset drinks at Menemsha, or long walks on State Beach. Something about being on an island makes people open up. Maybe it’s the slower pace. Maybe it’s the salt air. Or maybe it’s the fact that once you’re there, you’re all in it together until the next boat leaves.

A Tragic Footnote: JFK Jr.

The Vineyard is also tied to one of the most heartbreaking moments of the 1990s. John F. Kennedy Jr.’s plane went down in the waters off the island in July 1999 as he was flying there for a family wedding. Islanders still remember that night — the search lights sweeping the water, the quiet that settled over the community.

The Island Today

Despite the fame, the sharks, the movies, and the history, Martha’s Vineyard still feels like a place where you can exhale. Beaches, bookstores, ice cream shops, bike paths, seafood shacks — it’s summer distilled. You arrive by boat, you leave by boat, and in between you get a little taste of island time.

A Lighthouse Lover’s Guide to Cape Cod

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Chatham Light on a clear summer day, the white tower and red‑roofed Coast Guard station standing against blue sky and green trees, with visitors gathered out front.

Cape Cod’s Mighty Sentinels 

Nobska Light- Photo credit Linda Whitcomb

Some people are real lighthouse folks. They love them. Lighthouses have a mystique about them — they represent our relationship with the sea. They stand as guardians for sailors and provide a path of safety to snug harbors. They warn ships away from dangerous shoals.

If you’re one of those lighthouse people, this post is for you.

Cape Cod, with its hook into the Atlantic Ocean, presented a multitude of hazards. In response, we built lighthouses — lots of lighthouses — beacons to guide sailors home.

Today on Cape Cod you can visit eleven of these mighty sentinels. Not all allow interior tours, but all can be admired from the outside. I’ve started out many times to visit them all, but somehow I always run out of time or get sidetracked.

How many have you made it to?

Nobska Light (Falmouth/Woods Hole)

Nobska Light has watched over Vineyard Sound since 1829. Its original 30‑foot stone tower and whale‑oil lamp guided mariners through the tricky currents between Woods Hole and Falmouth. Over the years it evolved from a simple coastal beacon into one of Cape Cod’s most beloved landmarks. With its white tower, keeper’s house, and sweeping views toward Martha’s Vineyard, Nobska remains a place where history and beauty meet the sea.

Chatham Light (Chatham)

Chatham Light stands watch over one of the most dramatic stretches of coastline on Cape Cod, where shifting sands and powerful Atlantic surf have challenged sailors for generations. First lit in 1808, the station has evolved through storms, erosion, and countless rescues, yet it remains a steadfast symbol of the Coast Guard’s presence on the Cape. With its crisp white tower overlooking the restless waters of Chatham Bar, this lighthouse feels alive — a place where history, danger, and beauty meet at the edge of the sea. Even from the outside, you sense the weight of its duty and the stories it has seen.

Stage Harbor Light (Chatham)

Stage Harbor Light sits quietly along the shoreline, a weathered sentinel overlooking the calm waters of Chatham’s southern coast. Built in 1880, it once guided fishing boats and coastal schooners through the harbor’s shifting channels, but today it stands retired, its lantern long dark. Yet the lighthouse still carries a certain grace — the kind that comes from decades of salt air, storms, and sun. Seen from the beach or by boat, Stage Harbor Light feels like a glimpse into an older Cape Cod, a place where time slows and the past lingers in the wind.

Nauset Light (Eastham)

Nauset Light is the lighthouse everyone recognizes — the bold red‑and‑white tower perched above the Atlantic, famous from the Cape Cod Potato Chips bag but even more striking in person. First built in 1877 and moved inland in 1996 to escape relentless erosion, it stands today as a symbol of the Cape’s constant dance with the sea. The surf below is never quiet, the wind never still, and Nauset feels like it’s holding its ground with quiet determination. Whether you catch it at sunrise or under a bright summer sky, this lighthouse carries the spirit of Eastham’s rugged coastline in every line of its silhouette.

Three Sisters Lighthouses (Eastham)

The Three Sisters are unlike any other lights on Cape Cod — three small, weathered wooden towers set inland among the pines, quietly telling the story of a coastline that has shifted and reshaped itself over centuries. Built in the 1830s to guide mariners past Eastham’s treacherous outer bars, the original trio once stood proudly along the shore, their three lights forming a distinctive pattern at sea. As erosion claimed the bluff, the Sisters were moved, retired, and eventually restored, now standing together like old friends who have seen much and endured more. Visiting them feels less like seeing a lighthouse and more like stepping into a chapter of Cape Cod’s past that refuses to be forgotten.

Highland Light (Truro)

Highland Light is the grand old sentinel of Cape Cod — the tallest, oldest, and perhaps most storied lighthouse on the peninsula. First lit in 1797 and rebuilt in 1857, it has watched centuries of ships pass along the treacherous “Backside” of the Cape, where deep ocean swells meet steep bluffs. In 1996, the entire tower was moved 450 feet inland to escape the relentless erosion that threatened to send it over the cliff, a dramatic reminder of how fragile this coastline can be. Standing beside Highland Light, you feel the sweep of history and the raw power of the Atlantic all at once. It’s a place where the past feels close, the horizon feels endless, and the lighthouse seems to hold its ground with quiet, unwavering dignity.

Race Point Light (Provincetown)

Race Point Light sits at the edge of Provincetown where the Cape feels wild and wide open, a place where sand, sea, and sky stretch out in every direction. First lit in 1816, it guided ships along the outer arm of the Cape, where strong currents and shifting sandbars made navigation treacherous. Reaching the lighthouse today often means a long walk through soft dunes, the wind in your face and the Atlantic roaring nearby — and that journey is part of its magic. When you finally arrive, Race Point Light feels both remote and welcoming, a sturdy white tower standing against the elements with quiet resilience. It’s one of those places where you can hear your own thoughts and feel the full sweep of Cape Cod’s untamed beauty.

Wood End Light (Provincetown)

Wood End Light sits at the quiet edge of Provincetown, where the land thins into sand flats and tidal marshes before giving way to open water. Built in 1872, it guided ships past the tricky currents at the mouth of Cape Cod Bay, standing as a steady companion to Race Point and Long Point. To reach it, you cross the breakwater — a long granite path that disappears under high tide and feels almost otherworldly when the wind is calm and the harbor is still. When you arrive, Wood End Light feels peaceful and solitary, a simple white tower keeping watch over the shifting tides and the wide, empty horizon. It’s one of those places where the Cape feels both remote and deeply familiar.

Long Point Light (Provincetown)

Long Point Light sits at the very tip of Cape Cod, where Provincetown’s sandy arm curls into the bay like a protective hook. Built in 1875, it guided ships past the harbor entrance and the shifting shoals that once made this stretch of water notoriously tricky. Reaching it today feels like traveling to the end of the world — a quiet walk across sand flats, gulls wheeling overhead, and the town shrinking behind you until all that’s left is sky, tide, and the steady white tower ahead. Long Point Light has a lonely beauty to it, a sense of isolation that’s peaceful rather than stark. It’s the kind of place where you can stand for a moment and feel the full sweep of the Cape’s geography, the curve of land meeting the open bay, and the lighthouse holding its solitary post with quiet grace.

Sandy Neck Light (Barnstable)

Sandy Neck Light stands at the entrance to Barnstable Harbor, a quiet, dignified beacon tucked along one of the Cape’s longest and most beautiful barrier beaches. Built in 1857, it once guided schooners and fishing boats through the harbor’s narrow channel, but today it serves mostly as a picturesque landmark — privately owned, lovingly maintained, and best viewed from the water or the long, winding trail behind the dunes. There’s a peacefulness to Sandy Neck Light, a sense of calm that comes from its distance from the bustle of town. With the salt marsh stretching behind it and the harbor opening before it, the lighthouse feels like a gentle reminder of the Cape’s quieter side, where tides move slowly and the past lingers in the breeze.

Bass River Light (West Dennis)

Bass River Light is one of Cape Cod’s quiet treasures — a small, graceful lighthouse tucked beside the Lighthouse Inn in West Dennis, still shining each night as a private beacon. Built in 1855, it once guided vessels along the busy Bass River channel, its light reflecting off calm waters and salt marshes that haven’t changed much in more than a century. Today it feels almost like a secret, a lighthouse you stumble upon rather than seek out, with the inn’s white buildings and the river’s gentle tide giving it a peaceful, timeless charm. Bass River Light may not be as famous as some of the Cape’s larger towers, but it carries a lovely intimacy — a reminder that even the quieter corners of Cape Cod have stories worth telling.

Closing Thoughts

Cape Cod’s lighthouses are more than landmarks — they’re storytellers. Each one has weathered storms, guided sailors, and stood watch over generations of coastal life. Whether you’ve visited one or all eleven, each lighthouse offers its own moment of connection with the sea and the history of the Cape.

Note: Most of the photos were taken from the internet. If I was able to give a photo credit I have done so. Many thanks to the talented photgraphers that captured these images.