Phil Smith told Mary Jo Joiner he was willing to check out Alaska but never thought he’d settle in and call it home. Sixteen years have passed since that day and they are pretty content with life on Browns Lake on the Kenai peninsula.

As happy as they are in the 49th state, there’s nothing like coming home to Martha’s Vineyard for a visit. Although I haven’t had the opportunity to cross paths with Mary Jo yet, I have managed to shoot the breeze with Phil. For those of you who might be wondering, he looks and sounds exactly the same way he did the day they left. The man doesn’t change.

Bob Hungerford pulled up to the Texaco in his big Ford diesel. He typically rides solo but sometimes his bride Irene is in the passenger seat. I saw a silhouette through the tinted window alongside his and thought nothing of it, assuming it was Irene.

When the passenger emerged from the vehicle, I was a tad confused. The woman looked like Irene, but wasn’t Irene. Irene’s sister Edie is here for a visit. It was a funny moment in my head but now that I’ve jotted it down on paper, I guess you just had to be there.

Well wishes go out to Wes Brighton, who always seems to go big or go home. When he injures himself, it’s never something like a broken finger or sprained ankle. This time, he managed to tear his Achilles tendon. As of Monday, he was in a cast awaiting surgery which was rescheduled for Tuesday. Heal quickly, Captain Brighton. We don’t need you on crutches for too, too long.

Ana Sada Zambrano and Sam Fankuchen who call Sheep Pen Lane their home away from home announce the arrival of their first child, Sebastian Fankuchen. Born at UCLA Santa Monica on Nov. 6, he is welcomed by his extensive family including many on his Mom’s side in the city of Monterrey in Nuevo León, Mexico. He will be loved and doted on by grandfather Elliott Fankuchen and aunts and uncles including Alex and Alexa, Peter and Allyson, and Olivia. Sebastian is the great-grandson of Jean and the late Adrian Kantrowitz and the grandson of the late Lisa Kantrowitz.

June Manning was one of those people who somehow managed to change the way we live and the ways we thought. She knew just about everyone, was active in nearly every club, group or board in existence and was knowledgeable about nearly every topic imaginable. If you didn’t know June you’d think I was exaggerating. If you did, you know I am not.

It saddens me to think we will no longer have conversations about genealogy, family, Island history, her role as Coast Guard Station Menemsha’s “grandmother,” selling beach stickers at the town hall, former jobs or various board meetings she would attend.

When you lose someone, especially someone as truly remarkable as June, the world seems to stand still when you are told. A feeling of total sadness envelops you and no matter how much you try to hide and cover up the huge hole you feel deep inside, there is no denying its existence.

I know I am lucky that June was such a presence in my life, but today I am sad.