Tony Jankowski: Remembering happier, inclusive times at Weirs Beach

To The Daily Sun,

I walked down at the boardwalk on Weirs Beach a couple years back, seeing a packed beach and thought it was a great day to not want to soak up the sun because of the hassles of trying to wedge in on the very popular sandy point. People from all walks of life, sunning, grilling, playing frisbee or kicking a soccer ball, playing their chosen music. My wife and I were reminiscing about how in April of 2012 when we were married on the beach, there was not another soul other than the Justice of the Peace. How a couple months into a new season changes such a big place into such a small place.

Looking out, thinking about the chaotic landscape but how everything seemed to be working in harmony, it appeared to have spontaneous order. Short of someone smoking dope over by the shower building, and the felonious act of kids wearing arm floaties, the crime seemed to be at a minimum. But that didn’t stop us from overhearing the locals.

“Weirs Beach is more like Weirs Barrio” and “looks like half of Lawrence moved up here” are two phrases that stuck out to me in passing these people, looking down from the boardwalk upon the people who were enjoying their beach. Hence, when I hear complaints about the loud music it’s likely not about the volume as much as it’s likely about the content or even more specifically, the people who listen to that content.

We used to run a barbecue at Weirs Beach in which we charged our friends and guests a price per plate and used those funds to support local charities. I guess we are not welcome to return to Weirs Beach for our event. Isn’t that something, when even residents can’t feel at home in the Weirs. Where we feel like our betters have decided for us.

I guess we will have to move our barbecue. We could go do Ahern, but I’d rather set up our barbecue outside City Hall at meeting time. Maybe I’ll invite all of Lawrence to join us, tell them to play whatever music they enjoy. We can have tiki torches, raise some money for the Humane Society, cook lots of charred meats and let the locals know that their hope for a walled city on the lake just for white people is a dream dashed.

I’ll bring the hookah. You bring what we put in it.

Tony Jankowski

Laconia