05.01.08

On June 24, 2007, a group of twenty-three ten- and eleven-year-olds, fresh out of the Oak Bluffs School for the summer, gathered with their families along the Black Dog Wharf in Vineyard Haven. Accompanied by six chaperones, these students were about to cast off their normal summer luxuries – television, video games, indoor plumbing, families – to set sail on the Black Dog’s tall ship Shenandoah, owned by Captain Robert Douglas and his family.

By Meredith Downing

05.01.08

Just look down. As Jill Bouck, curator of the Martha’s Vineyard Museum, explains, “You’ll find arrowheads all over the Island. If you’re tilling a garden, digging a foundation, or just walking down a dirt road, keep your eyes open – you never know what you might find.” The archeological history of the Vineyard is a rich one, stretching back to the Paleoindian Period – 9,500 to 11,500 years ago. While very rare, a handful of spearheads have been found dating back to that period.

By Geoff Currier

05.01.08

I’m not much of a gardener. Don’t know the practical difference between a shovel and a spade. Can’t figure out what to do with a hoe – seems like after I use one, my back aches, and while I use one, I look like I should be strapped into a straightjacket and sent to a loony bin. Maybe there’d be some nice gardens there.

By HJ Bernstein

05.01.08

I became interested in moving to Martha’s Vineyard about thirty years ago through my conversations with Terry McCarthy. He was a state representative based on the Vineyard, and I was assistant regional director of Region Six [Boston] for the Department of Youth Services. I met Terry at the Golden Dome pub on Beacon Hill. A lot of state business was conducted there, and I was familiar with the place because I used to sit in the barbershop next door talking with Billy Bulger [who became president of the state senate during this time].

By Jim Kaplan

09.01.06

Dear Summer Person: Goodbye. Fear not, this is not a good-riddance letter. I’ve lived on the Vineyard year-round for eight short years and still relish the Island summer and the people who come with it.

By Kate Feiffer

09.01.06

(With apologies to Billy Joel’s Piano Man): It’s nine o’clock on a Wednesday mornThe regular crowd’s shuffled inWe’re fifteen strong in the Mansion House poolTrying to work off our tonic and gin Well, Leslie C. Grimm is a friend of oursShe teaches aerobics for allBe it stretching or strength’ning or    pumping the heartEveryone’s having a ball Splash, splash-splash, de de splashSplash splash de de splash splash splash

By Jim Kaplan

12.01.04

It finally happened the other day. Four people in line at the coffee shop, and I knew every one of them.    

By Mark Jenkins

12.01.04

Like so many ambitious enterprises, it began on a whim. In February of 2002 my canary yellow – I called it Tweetie Bird – Dodge Colt died. It was a typical Vineyard car, meaning that to take it off-Island practically assured you of getting stranded far from home with either a defunct car or a massive mechanic’s bill. I’d bought it from my sister, who’d already built up a good 100,000 miles on it.

By Holly Nadler

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