Let's take one last look at Monhegan Island before we shove off. This is the front side one of the fish house that dot Fish Beach. You don't have to spend a lot of time here to figure out that the lobstermen and fishermen, who inhabit the island, are a hard-working lot. The buildings show it. Their front yards show it. Their faces show it. I grew up in a time when hard work was a good thing. Work early. Work long. Work hard. Save money. It was a mantra my parents tried to instill in all us kids. If you didn't, the good catholic guilt trip would kill you. Based on what we did and how we did it, I believe my brother and I worked harder than any of our neighborhood chaps. Caddying early at the age of twelve, paper routes on top of paper routes throughout our teen years, cleaning the local bank and architect offices nights, helping to clean the local armory on a moment's notice were all part and parcel of the deal we got growing up in our family. Did we complain? Sure, from time to time but not a lot. We thought every kid did it. We were wrong. What do they say about work? If it doesn't kill you, it'll make you stronger. I don't know about that, but I do believe, in the long run, it made us better.