When I saw a Seattle billboard that proclaimed, Bruce the Musical, I thought I was the only resident who would understand the reference.

It has taken me more than 10 years since William Blakesley died to realize he was the quintessential Vineyard artist.

I went for my mother’s 87th birthday but stayed for the storm.

I have never belonged on the Vineyard, yet it’s the place that’s home to my heart.

The guard waved me into Dukes County Courthouse as the town clock in the Old Whaling Church struck 9 a.m.

Over the years I have wondered what form the end will take for our Camp Ground cottage. Since I began seeing the cottage through adult eyes, I’ve eyed it with the trepidation of watching a truck turn off Main street in Vineyard Haven. It’s not going to make it.