One of the great memories I have from my youth is visiting our friends Dick and Madeline Paleski in New Jersey. We would get there at 2 or 3 in the morning and there would be pans of lasagna, sausages and gravy already cooking. There would also be large boiling pots of water for the guests of honor, the 30 or so lobsters that were resting comfortably in the coolers among the seaweed and ice in back of my parents’ van. Along with the Paleskis and their sons, Rich, John and Mike, it would be a weekend of fun, good food and great friendships.

The moment I heard about the overturned truck on Route 1 where crates of lobsters littered the road, I was taken back to those early morning feasts. Dick telling stories of being stationed in Brunswick with the Navy. My Dad telling stories of how he tormented his friend, Dick by having him called out of formation at a change of command ceremony. In my mind, I could see the two of them, both long since passed, scrambling to head to the crash site to “save” those poor crustaceans. Arms cradling large pots, ready to assist the authorities any way they could. It really would have been comical.

And that is how it was for a couple of days. Reading the stories in this paper and others. Reading the comments was even more entertaining. Most everyone had the same sort of commentary. Some said they missed out on a great feast. Others claimed that there should have been an overturned truck with butter nearby. Only the occasional commenter shed a tear for the scavengers of the seabed.

Then the absurd happened. A group, long known for its quirky campaigns, decided to petition the state to put a memorial on Route 1 to celebrate all of the souls lost in the truck tragedy. The memorial tombstone was to be 5 feet in size and was meant to insist that people remember the lives of the lobsters and try a non-meat alternative.

What? The sidewalk at Red’s Eats was not available? The entrance to Moody’s was booked up?

I see a number of memorials for people who have lost their lives on the highway every day. One of note in Yarmouth looks a little weathered and has been there for some time. As much as I would not want my life memorialized in this fashion, at least those memorials are there for humans. The top of the food chain.

The organization pushing this idea is simply hoping to poke the bear. In an area where a great number of men and women make their livelihoods from the selling, cooking and eating of lobsters, it is just needlessly provoking people for no good reason. Those lobsters that perished in the hot sun on the side of Route 1 were not on their way to Mackerel Cove to rejoin their brethren under the sea. They were on their way to a market or to become a stew or perhaps a bisque, maybe even a stuffed lobster tail. Their fate was sealed the moment they were lifted out of their lobster pot bastille.

Thankfully, while the Department of Transportation was drawn into this case their shell did not crack and they have said no to this idea. With the number of people who were against it, at least in online comments, it seems that the memorial got plenty of people boiling mad.

For now we can drive along Route 1 without being distracted by another roadside marker. These lobsters are now left to exist only in one’s dreams. Salty, buttery dreams.

As for Dad and Dick, wish you guys were here to see it.

That’s my two cents…

Jonathan Crimmins can be reached at j_ crimmins@hotmail.com