Admittedly, I haven’t paid attention to the comings and goings of my fellow Chilmarkers these past few days, although I have heard from many of you along with friends both near and far. I thank you for extending your condolences. Losing a loved one is never easy. Emmett Carroll, my finest-kind father-in-law, may not be with us in body anymore, but he is walking alongside me both in spirit, as that funny little voice in my head, and in the stories shared by family and friends from today and forever forward.

I don’t have it in me to write a true town column this week so I’d like to share this little piece I wrote about my father-in-law back in 2014. I hope you enjoy it:

It makes me wonder how truly hungry the first person to eat an oyster was. Admittedly, they are not for me, yet genuine Menemsha Oysters are something I have developed a fondness for. Ten years ago, my father-in-law, Emmett Carroll, jumped head first into aquaculture. He is what I call, a farmer of the sea. I remember when his very first “babies” arrived and how proud he was of them. Those tiny little specs of what seemed like nothing would be grown, would be tended to, tumbled, sorted, cleaned and sold as delectable Menemsha Oysters.

Although they require some talent to open, and what you see on the inside isn’t visually appealing by any means (okay, so that is my opinion), what you actually get out of their consumption is calcium, iron and protein. Pretty impressive for a little glob (nope, I can’t really think of a better word) that grows in a shell.

I’ve been told Menemsha Oysters have a sweetness that you simply can’t find anywhere else. Recently, Emmett showed his grandson, Brooks, his oyster business. Along with Emmett’s wife Kathie and son Marshall, the foursome ventured “up the pond” pulled cages, sorted, counted and took oysters to market.

Eleven-year-old Brooks found it to be a bit of work but “pretty cool” at the same time. He says he will help grandpa again but maybe next time he won’t wear his favorite sweatshirt.