Alexander Trowbridge

Not Your Grandmother’s Summer Holiday

I don’t think the statute of limitations for many of my adventures this summer has quite yet passed. Thus an autobiographical essay published in a community I’ve come to know over the last three months and to which I plan to one day return naturally has to be somewhat censored. As I write this, I debate the prudence of publishing the story of my arrest after celebrating its removal from my record. I was arrested for trespassing, swimming in a pool after hours.

 

 

 

A thin line of chocolate snaked across his plate, capturing his crepe while a dollop of ice cream sat innocently to the side. Michael Torres, of Modesto, Calif., hadn’t touched his dessert yet but already was giving Waterside Market rave reviews. It was his first visit to the new eatery on Main street in Vineyard Haven, he said, and he was impressed with everything from the service to the atmosphere. “We were walking down the street and we saw it and we smelled it and said this is where we want to eat,” he explained.

0

His feet were sore. His toes and heels threatened to blister. They had taken him across ponds, through wetlands and tall grass, under the cover of pines and oaks, over soft moss and hard asphalt, around the bends, down the valleys and up the hills.

0

In 2002, Kris Newby and her husband spent a week at their friend’s place in Chilmark. They had been warned about ticks and checked themselves every day of their stay. Though they didn’t find any ticks on themselves they both fell ill within weeks of their return to their home in California. One year and eight doctors later they finally were diagnosed and treated for Lyme disease.

0

The Martha’s Vineyard Regional High School graduating class of 2008 is made up of of 193 individuals. But as advisors and administrators describe the students they have come to know over the past four years, the running theme is that this is a group class.

“The thing I like about this class is they do things together, they achieve together,” school principal Margaret (Peg) Regan said this week. “It’s not a class of competitive individualists. They’re a class of thoughtful contributors.”

0

The chorus was catchy, the kind that easily got stuck in your head: “When the sparks turn to flames, it’s time to play the blame game.”

The beat was almost inspirational, symphonic samples over a kick and a snare.

“Yo, who’s them four MCs with the same name?” rapped Robert (Bubba) Brown, Matt Lucier and Andrew Larsen, all seniors at Martha’s Vineyard Regional High School, together with their friend Henry Peacor from Colorado College.

0

“One.” Parents leaned close and readied their cameras.

“Two.” Seventh-graders looked at each other in excited anticipation. They had waited all day for this, waited for years, watching as older students took their turns. They had led the procession from Edgartown School down Main street to Memorial Wharf, and now stood at the water’s edge, clutching a garden, ready to pay tribute to generations of fallen soldiers.

0