I grew up in a household where no one got better at anything. No one practiced anything. No one started a project, no one finished a project. No one took an instrument, no one played a sport. My father made it clear that we were never to look foolish, which to me translated to don’t try anything new. When I took ballet at seven and came home and complained to my mother that my toes hurt, she said well honey if it hurts, quit. So I quit everything.

When my kids were young and I was in a mother’s support group, the question of telling your children about Santa came up. There were the realists, the delayers and those that didn’t celebrate Christmas anyway.

The realists argued that if you are caught lying to your children about something, perhaps they would never trust you again. The delayers wanted to make that delicious innocent time last as long as possible. And the Hanukkah crowd saw no reason to keep up a story that had nothing to do with them.

As a member of the First Congregational Church of West Tisbury, I was dismayed and disappointed by the letter to the editor from the Rev. Cathlin Baker and Rev. Rob Hensley regarding the issue of boycotting the red kettles of the Salvation Army.

A note to the Edgartown business community: Do you utilize signs to communicate with your customers and/or the public in general?

If so, you need to be aware of proposed changes to the Edgartown zoning bylaws and the planning board meeting scheduled for this coming Tuesday, Dec. 18, at 5:50 p.m. to review these proposed changes.

The following letter was sent to Admiral Robert J. Papp Jr., commandant of the U.S. Coast Guard.

I am writing in regard to the status of the Gay Head Light tower on Martha’s Vineyard.

From the Dec. 10, 1993 Just a Thought column by Arthur Railton:

It was a couple of weeks before Christmas nearly 70 years ago, about 5 o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. I remember the day and the time because I was on my way home from choir practice which, for us boys, was every Tuesday after school. I was a boy soprano in the all-male choir of Grace Episcopal Church in Lawrence. We were all paid, not much, but paid. It was the only time in my life anybody ever paid me to sing. Grace was a pretty fancy church and very proud of its choir.