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7.1.17

From the Editor

The best of all possible islands

Let us now praise famous clams...naaaah.

It was the best of lobster rolls, it was the worst of lobster rolls...um, nope.

Four score and seven French fries ago...I’m already feeling nauseated.

In the beginning God created the Basics and the Green Room...sacrilege?

For some say, at the Net Result; and some, at the windy Lookout...too obscure?

Call me fudge...nice local vibe, but...ew, right?

First lines are treacherous paths, just as likely to lead a writer or other sorry
supplicant down some rabbit hole of strained cleverness, maudlin meanderings, or plain boredom as they are to open up into an exalted
revelation.

Until, that is, you hit the right one. So herewith:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all Vineyarders are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Lobster Rolls, Clam Chowder, and the pursuit of a plumber in August. – That to secure these rights, contests are instituted among readers, deriving their just powers from the social networks of the nominated, – That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Fortunately, for now, the form of government on the Island seems to be fostering a stable supply of the necessities of summer living. In nearly sixty thousand ballots cast, for instance, readers nominated more than forty businesses for Best Bakery, more than forty venues for Best Bar/Pub. There are eighteen yoga studios. Add the twenty-nine nominated beaches, thirty-six charity events, a good book, and what more do you need to get you through to September? Besides, of course, someplace for all the people who do the baking and bartending and yoga-instructing to live without fear of being evicted for higher-paying, four-day Airbnb visitors.

Regular readers of this column probably knew that line or something like it was coming. Best broken record award goes to me, I know. (And I’m old enough to know what a broken record is record is record is.) After all, the best fried clam must be harvested, opened, fried, put in a cardboard box, and sold by the best team of clam friers. So the Best of the Vineyard awards, of course, really belong to the people who do the good work of making the Island such a great place to be.

Which brings me to the last line. But last lines are always easy.

The end.

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