The Library

One of the amenities of my MV cottage was that it was advertised as having free Wi-Fi access. When I spoke with my landlady (Bernadette, or Bernie) on the phone, she mentioned that the Wi-Fi access was theirs in the main house and that the cottage can receive their signal. When I arrived the wireless internet router had been moved from the back of the main house (the cottage side) to another area near the street-side of the main house. Bernie told me that if I had any trouble getting internet access, she would buy a booster so the signal would be stronger. Being pretty easy to please, I've been sitting on the couch working with my laptop since that's really the only place in the cottage I've been able to receive a "very low" signal. Everywhere else I lose it. Two days ago, the signal stopped altogether. When I spoke with Bernie, her service was down and she's been working ever since to get it fixed. I did mention to her that I'd take her up on the booster.

In the meantime, I've discovered the Vineyard Haven Library. It's well stocked, well lit, and equipped with free Wi-Fi in a comfortable, quiet area. From that little sanctuary, I make this entry. I've forgotten, or perhaps it's new, how much you have at your disposal with a library card. Besides the volumes in paper in the library itself, you have access to any book that can be ordered for you and, perhaps best of all, you have access to a terrific reference librarian! The reference librarian sat with me yesterday for 30 minutes browsing through Amazon.com and Google books to see what was available on Native American tribes in Virginia's Shenandoah Valley in the early 1800's! Research for Dad's book since I believe it was great, great grandma Lucas who was a Native American. She has ordered a book called Forgotten Fire which looks amazing.

One final note about having the advantage of being in a great place like Martha's Vineyard, like New York, you are where things are happening. In the case of MV, it's much more understated and quiet, but it's here. There are so many artists and musicians and writers here. Check out this photo (sorry for the poor cell phone quality) from my new local library.


I'll be going to Leigh (my landlord) and Bernie's Halloween Party tonight, so I had to take the bus out of Vineyard Haven in order to buy a bottle of wine (what she needed me to bring). Remember, VH is a dry town. I look forward to going tonight. Although I should be dressing up, I'll probably just go in black skirt and top with a camera hung around my neck. The camera is both armor and ice breaker, so it's a big help to me. Leigh and Bernie expect between 750 and 800 kids to come to the door tonight, if past years are any measure. Halloween is BIG on The Vineyard!!

Morning Rain, Afternoon Wind

This morning it was rainy - slow, steady rain soaking everything well and cleaning the air. It’s windy now, and the trees around my cottage are bowing their graceful heads as the leaves run races across my front yard. I’ve been here two weeks already – how the time flies.

I contacted my writing workshop leader, and she gave me the name of a woman who may be starting a writers' group on the island. I've left a message for the lady, so hopefully I'll hear back from her soon and be able to get involved from the ground up.

I keep photos of Grammy and Granddad Hogan up in my cottage window to help inspire me to write. Yesterday was particularly productive. I have so far to go in order to put together an actual story about Dad, but I was able to capture several memories that will help when I begin weaving the story. (**Rules of any comments on the writing in order to protect my 'artist child' - only good things, no suggestions or corrections.**)

Dad never wore a shirt. Okay, he wore a shirt to the dinner table and to town and to mass on Sunday, but in my memory of him, he is always shirtless - swinging a hammer, or laying mortar on brick, or using his hand saw (with the handle painted green). His back was the color of baked earth - terra cotta, the Italians say - and his weathered cowboy hat would cast a shadow on this shoulder or that as he moved around, steadily, purposefully, with very little wasted energy. Dad despised waste. Having been 9 or 10 at the time of The Great Depression, he considered waste a sin because everything was a precious gift from God. Even his health and strength and work ethic were gifts. He loved a good laugh, but when it was time to work, it was time to work...

a.k.a. Jose Ruiz, a.k.a. George Milewski

Today was a beach day! But before I got there, I had to deal with the US Postal Service. I'm having my mail forwarded to Vineyard Haven from New York with the "premium" forwarding service that allows forwarding without going back to the sender with a note that you've moved. I haven't been getting the volume I expected here, so I had to stop by the Post Office to check into that and to pick up a package from Macy's containing one large, white, super-duper fluffy robe. I've been using "General Delivery" for the last couple of weeks, but I took this opportunity to open my P.O. box (the mailman doesn't deliver to addresses in Vineyard Haven, so it must have some power that hail, sleet, and dark of night do not possess). As you can imagine with a town where you have to go to the Post Office to get your mail every day, it is often packed. I finally got my white, fluffy Macy's package and the keys to my new P.O. box. When I opened the box, not only was my envelope of forwarded mail there, so were pieces of mail addressed to that box number in the names of Jose Ruiz and George Milewski, names I would not have chosen for myself, but I suppose now I'll forever be Jose or George in addition to Mary.

Packages in hand, I set out to make the 11:10 a.m. bus to Edgartown. I wanted to try the state beach between Oak Bluffs and Edgartown which, David tells me, is known mostly for having been the setting for the filming of the movie "Jaws." I could have taken my packages home, but by this time the weather was so gorgeous I couldn't face wasting another minute that I could be spending lying and listening to the waves. In order to fit my packages in my bag, I had to remove my folding blue stripe sunshine blanket tote with carrying strap, waterproof backing, and 100% lifetime warranty. I sat the blanket neatly beside me on the #13 bus, and there it sits still unless I'm lucky and some kind soul has turned it in to the lost and found.

I got off the bus just before the Edgartown bridge and didn't notice that I was missing my blue stripe blanket until I was on the beach. After cursing my bad memory and grieving over the loss of my blanket tote purchased specifically for this trip, I cheered up and improvised. My jacket tied around my waist became my blanket and my fluffy Macy's package became my pillow. I suppose if a police officer had come by, he would have thought I was a homeless person since it looked like I had everything I owned there on the beach. The only giveaway may have been my little Michael Kors flats (which I feel certain weren't designed for the beach), but I don't know if while being ticketed for vagrancy, I could have convinced the officer to look at the designer label in my shoes.

In any case, it was a glorious day -- 63 degrees and bright sun. I read and slept, and wrote and ate, and took some photos to share and to remember how lovely Indian Summer on Martha's Vineyard feels.

Friends, New and Established

Saturday night, my friend Ardys from the Writers' Workshop and I decided to go to dinner in Oak Bluffs. We planned on Zapotec, but they were closed for the season. We walked around town, noting each restaurant's potential and menu before deciding on Sharkie's for Mexican food. We had a Black Cherry Mojito with our toasty tortilla chips and homemade salsa and guacamole. Dinner was a burrito for each of us, and we talked and listened to the lively music. (I've found out recently that my town, Vineyard Haven, is a dry town which explains why it's much quieter at night here.) After dinner, we walked Oak Bluffs some more when we came upon the local arcade. I taught Ardys how to beat me 6 out of 6 games at air hockey (!!), and then we tried our hand at pool. I was just as bad as ever, but Ardys made some pretty impressive shots. When we sunk the 8 ball early in the second game, we used the rest of the time to practice and actually made some improvement in our shots. It was a great night, except for the fact that I had to say good-bye to her since she had to head back home to New Hampshire today. We plan to see each other again.

Today my friend Jody visited me! We talked and walked and took beautiful photos. Then we ate at The Black Dog Tavern and walked and talked some more. I've missed her terribly and it was so great to catch up. Friends...what would life be like without them? Speaking of friends, Laurie will be visiting for a week two weeks from now. That will be so much fun. Can't wait!!

All Roads Lead to Lake Tashmoo Beach

Seven minutes into the 10-minute West Chop Loop, I stepped off the 10A bus and followed the driver's directions, "Walk down that paved road until it ends. You'll see two stone pillars. Turn right on the dirt road and just keep walking." I walked to the end of Daggett Road, and when I saw the stone pillars and the sign "Stonehaven - Private Property" in front of them, I laughed aloud. Apparently all roads must lead to Herring Creek Road and Lake Tashmoo beach, since this is the very spot where I emerged from the woods several days before on my quest for a beach with waves. (David has since told me that Katama is the place for waves.) Anyway, since I had taken the bus this time instead of walking and I felt strong and sure with my new directions, I set off determined that I would find the beach. After having walked about 35 minutes, I noticed that the trees were coming to an end and that only blue sky lie behind them. This was a good sign. To get to the public beach, I would have had to walk another 10 minutes, and I was ready for a rest and for the lunch I had brought with me. I trespassed through the driveway of a beach house abandoned for the season, and up and over the deck onto the steps leading down to Vineyard Sound. At last, sand, pebble beach, beautiful clear water, and the rhythm of restful waves.

Last Day at the Writing Workshop & Snapping Turtle Farm

These past four days at the Writers' Workshop have been incredible. What we are taught and what we have learned cannot be put into a syllabus. Reduced to its essence it amounts to contagious creativity in a safe environment, followed by warm bread slathered in butter. Wonderful! Here's a photo of our group at the end of our session today.

After today's session, I joined several other group members for lunch. Wendy Weldon, also a member of the writers' group and a talented artist, invited us over to her place which she named Snapping Turtle Ranch some years ago. Her property holds her studio, where she lives all summer since she rents out the "main house" in order to pay the taxes and insurance on the place. Wendy is one of many second generation Islanders that struggle to keep property that their parents bought 30 years ago. Of course she sells her paintings and etchings as well, but it's really the summer visitors who keep the place afloat...barely.

While at Wendy's place, we were treated to homemade apple & grape chutney which was spectacular. She also provided hot sauce with the quesadillas that she made from the peppers in her half-acre garden, and beets and tomatoes fresh from the garden. Ardys gave Wendy some pointers on helping her aging cat by providing acupressure points to help release her blocked chi. So many of the Islanders are very open-minded and spiritual people and having an acupuncturist for yourself or an animal communicator on retainer is as normal as having a therapist in Manhattan. I will learn so much this year.

Lunch at Linda Jean's

The second day of my writing workshop went well, and with the exception of my butt falling asleep from sitting on a thin cushion on the floor for 5 hours, I loved every minute of it. Some of the aspiring writers are so talented...incredibly talented. There's Serge, the son of an Italian mother and French father, whose every story is a poem so tightly compressed and highly polished it can only be called a diamond. And there's Ben who, at 18, can hold the entire room's attention with his beautiful and lyrical writing and reading performance. Our homework assignment tonight was to write about a time when we felt one way but acted another. Most of my writing takes the form of a narrative, but I've chosen to do something a little different this time:

I felt powerful, but feared to lead, so acted weak.
I felt beautiful, but feared attention, so acted plain.
I felt bright, but feared blame, so acted dull.
I felt foolish, but feared scorn, so acted wise.
I felt lonely, but feared pity, so acted brave.
I felt certain, but feared the truth, so acted blind.


After the workshop, my new friend Ardys and I drove from Chilmark to Edgartown to have lunch. Many of the restaurants were closed for the season or only served dinner, so we ended up (on the recommendation of a local) at Linda Jean's. It was a down-to-earth place with friendly service and fresh and delicious food (I had a fish fillet sandwich that melted in my mouth). Linda Jean's was very much like the Islanders -- unassuming, down-to-earth, friendly, and welcoming. Such a pleasant surprise.

On my walk home from the Stop and Shop today, I took a few photos of the cottage. The first is from about a block away, and the second from right in front of the cottage. I'm very comfortable for now and have hopes that the winter nights won't be too severe.