Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me - I am happy.
Every summer my husband and I pack our suitcases, load our kids into the car, and drive from tense, crowded New York City to my family's cottage in Maine. It's on an island, with stretches of sea and sandy beaches, rocky coasts, and pine trees. We barbecue, swim, lie around, and try to do nothing.
| John Bach, Actor (1946) |
| Peter Erskine, Musician (1954) |
| Lord Thomson Of Fleet, Publisher (1894) |
| Ken Follet, Author (1949) |
| Ken Follett, Author (1949) |
| Kenny G, Musician (1956) |
| David Hare, Playwright (1947) |
| Alfred Kazin, Critic (1915) |
| Kathleen Kennedy, Producer (1953) |
| John Maynard Keynes, Economist (1883) |
| Gamaliel Bailey, Journalist (1859) |
| Eleanor Farjeon, Writer (1965) |
| Orlando Gibbons, Composer (1625) |

