The Derby

I am penniless and without a passport right now in Istanbul, many of my friends believe. That’s not at all impossible. I could well be.

As Labor Day passes, those of us remaining on the Island begin to transition from the fast pace of summer to the more measured rhythms of fall. For many of us, it is a time to take a deep breath, reconnect with our community and pick up the projects that we set aside in May.

I have always tried to end each summer on an Island, and their names tend to end in the letter “a.” Kea, Ponza, Kreta. This year, almost, Elba. And, of course, the eternal Island of Martha’s Vineyard.

On that Thursday although I knew that the bonito were off Cape Pogue, the north wind in the early morning made it too rough for my boat, a 14-foot aluminum skiff. So I decided to hit the surf.

This is not going to come as a shock to anyone — well, to anyone who has left the Vineyard at least once in his or her life — but there is an assortment of quirks associated with life here.