Opinion
Seasonal Shuffle Again
Now begins a yearly ritual: the search for affordable summer rentals. College students from around the world are already searching for arrangements. Those attempting to work the Island tourist season for the first time are often unaware of how daunting this can be, and they leave it for after the spring semester, or, worse for them, until they arrive on Island.
In going through some old stuff recently, I found this information about James Naismith and how he invented basketball. He was also a student at the Martha’s Vineyard Summer Institute. Mr. Naismith put the first game of basketball in play at Springfield College. Did the summer school on the Vineyard inspire him to finally invent the game of basketball? Could it have been the lovely salt air or watching the seagulls scoring with their shells from the air without any interference? (Mr.
So a Hollywood production company, 25/7 (would you want to work for an outfit that thinks there’s an extra hour in each day?), plans to shoot what they’re calling a docu-soap on Martha’s Vineyard. It will be aired on CW TV which already runs 90210, America’s Next Top Model, and Gossip Girl, so you see where they’re going here.
A new fishermen’s organization formed on the Island in the last month: the Martha’s Vineyard/Dukes County Fishermen’s Association. The group has arisen at a time when commercial fishing is at its worst, when fewer Vineyards call themselves commercial fishermen than ever before.
I went to New Orleans because my daughter Jill has a house in the city and teaches third grade at Langston Hughes Charter School. Her students had spent the previous two years in Houston, exiled by the ravages of Hurricane Katrina. Now Jill is doing her part to bring the city back from that devastating storm. It was a good time to visit with her.
I have just returned from a week on Martha’s Vineyard — a glorious week full of morning walks on the beach and films at the film festival and cold beers at the Newes with friends I miss so dearly. And, after my week was up, I drove onto the ferry, reluctantly, but with a stiff upper lip, to return to Boston and work. For the first time ever, I had a front row parking spot on the boat. It was a five o’clock boat and, as I watched the late afternoon sun slip into the harbor, I cried.