As I walk along a wooded lane worn down by time I wonder:

I first met Phyllis Meras walking down Music street in West Tisbury on what I have come to know as her daily sojourn.

How often have I responded with a well-practiced shameful shrug because of something I said, or something I didn’t say, or because I showed up wearing this instead of that.

The calves and children sprinted through melting February ice patches at the Martha’s Vineyard Agricultural Society pasture.

When I learned my Broadway play Sacrilege was closing after only 29 performances, I turned to an old Broadway pro for guidance.

On a recent Sunday after noon, the wind notwithstanding, I went for a walk along the west bank of West Tisbury’s controversial Mill Pond.