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OF MARTHA
6.6.99 Once upon a time, I bemoaned the state of the human body and my ineffectiveness at opening jars. I got a very nice email suggesting that I should indeed be using my armpits when tackling a jar of Vlassic pickles. Who knew? Recently, I read Judy Blume's Summer Sisters and wrote about it. I then got another very nice email from the same person, Dean, questioning my unbelievability in a place called — and I quote — "Martha's Vineyard." If you've read me for some time you would know that I'm very interested in deconstructing places and figuring out what they mean. Whether you think I'm right on or off my rocker typically has everything to do with where you've been and what you've experienced and little to do with me being right or wrong. Perhaps you've read Don DeLillo? He's very focused on place and the "collective" memory of our culture, our people, our society. He's interested, I think, in the ghosts of places, the presence that many places and structures have and their effect on people. But, I digress. I really liked Dean's picture painting of Martha's Vineyard. Here's our correspondence, his writing is in brown, mine blue:
Subject: journal - Martha's Vineyard
You wrote,
>> Most of it is set on Martha's Vineyard if you can
believe that. I bet that's where Judy lives now.
And why shouldn't we believe that? It's a real place -- in fact, I got a
phone
call from someone there last night (that doesn't happen very often, but
sometimes). That puts you at two degrees of separation from there.
In fact, a lot of writers do live there. With Fed Ex and email, there's no
reason for writers not to live where they want.
--
But don't you think that Martha's Vineyard as a place and a concept is somewhat
unbelievable?
--
I don't know what you mean by that --
OK, it's a somewhat bizarre name, but this here sea captain Bartholomew Gosnold
was exploring the coast of New England and found an island with lots of wild
grape vines, and named it after his daughter Martha. Mostly people
around here just call it "The Vineyard."
I've been there and can assure you that it's really an island off Cape Cod. It
has beaches, shells, lighthouses, stone walls, a summer theatre, stores,
restaurants, places you can rent sea kayaks and sailboards. There's an area of
summer cottages in Oak Bluffs that's really unusual looking, tiny houses painted
all colors, with ornate "gingerbread" trim and decorative shingles all over
them. Those houses date from the invention of the bandsaw, which made it
possible (and economical) to cut wood into fancy shapes. One huge old house a
few blocks from the cottage colony belongs to Peter Norton of Norton Utilities.
A few miles down towards Edgartown is Spike Lee's house.
The overall atmosphere on the Vineyard is very different from anywhere on
mainland New England. Everything is more relaxed, and I don't think it's just
because it's a resort area. Outer Cape Cod is just as much a resort area, and
the pace there is closer to what it is in Boston. Even the birds on the Vineyard
don't seem to be as scared of people as they are off-island. Maybe it's because
it's a real hassle to get a car onto the island. When we've gone we've left our
car behind; I've taken a bicycle, but mostly we've walked and taken the bus or
got rides with friends.
My own opinion? The Indian spirits are still present and are looking after the
island.
Well, maybe it is somewhat unbelievable and the only reason I believe is that
I've been there.
If I didn't have work to do this afternoon I'd love to tell you about the last
time I was there, my bike ride out to the end of the island, the Menemsha
swordfish harpooner sculpture, and how I met my Indian godmother (some people
have fairy godmothers, not me) while trying to learn about the Wampanoag
language. It may be months before I have enough spare time to write it all up,
though.
--
It sounds wonderful. I've never been much to the East Coast and have only heard "The
Vineyard" mentioned when talking about The Kennedy's and other wealthy sorts who go
there to vacation. I picture men in khakis and boat shoes sipping martinis. Women
with tennis skirts and very tiny breasts laughing through their blond hair. It seems
picturesque. And for that, for me, slightly unreal.
--
You wrote,
>> Women with tennis skirts and very tiny breasts laughing through their blond
hair.
Yes and no. You can find them, but the Vineyard is the most popular vacation
spot in the Northeast for moderately affluent black folks, too.
Carolyn, a friend/co-worker of my wife's, owns a house on the Vineyard, in
Vineyard Haven, and we rented the downstairs apartment for a week once, I think
in 1992. Then we went back for a long weekend when Carolyn got married; we
stayed at a bed and breakfast a few blocks away that time.
That first time, I went for a bike ride to Oak Bluffs and Edgartown one of the
first days we were there. The next day, as we were walking to downtown Vineyard
Haven, my wife said "It's nice here, but it seems awfully WASPy." I had been
around Oak Bluffs and said I didn't really think so, I thought there had been a
fair number of black folks on the ferry over. When we got off the bus in Oak
Bluffs we found a bookstore with a big display of African-American books, more
interracial couples and groups of kids walking casually around than we ever see
in New England, and an area called Ink Beach where we felt definitely in the
minority. I remembered that a black woman I know from the Charles River Wheelmen
bike club had just been talking about being on the Vineyard. I don't know what
it is, how the tradition got started, but the demographics are very different
from anywhere else I've seen north of the New Jersey coast. The crowd on Cape
Cod just doesn't look like that. I got the impression that if you're black and
go to the Vineyard, you're taking a vacation from racism along with everything
else. I don't know, I found our conversation enjoyable. Maybe you'll think this a journaler's copout of an entry? I love asking people about places they've been and things they've experienced. I used to ask people, if I found them interesting, to tell me their life story. Very few would or would only half-heartedly give me the condensed version as if they were embarrassed at having a life. I asked a friend of mine why this was and he said it's because they didn't take my question seriously; that it sounds like a test. Maybe it is a sort of test. Maybe it's the reason why I enjoy online journals — it gives me a glimpse at the world through someone else's eyes.
This weekend was slow-paced and enjoyable. Friday, I was a total couch potato to the point of embarrassment. I admit it — stop tormenting me! I watched the Real World marathon all day. I couldn't tear myself away. They were very clever, those Mtv kids, they wouldn't break between episodes so that before I knew it I was watching a new episode very nearly against my will. Say goodbye to those brain cells. Saturday was a bit more fulfilling. We went to Portland Saturday Market to try and find some decoration for our very sparse apartment. We really have nothing on the walls. We were both hoping to find a print that we could frame but couldn't find that many prints to look at and nothing suitable. We went into this one photography store that had expensive stuff on the walls but regular prints in stacks. The guy that owned the store was a complete jerk. I've been looking for prints from a particular photographer* and asked him a few questions. He was completely snide for awhile while I just patiently gave him a half-smile and my poker face. I learned that from my mother. It's a partially-amused smile and steady gaze that says, "I'm going to continue to be polite until you realize how rude you are." It worked pretty well but he wasn't familiar with the photographer (big surprise) and we left. T. was fuming. Afterwards, we came home and I crashed out for a few hours in bed. I did Tae-Bo (yes, I did) and it felt pretty good. A workout is a workout. My knee is still killing me, though. For dinner I made Toni's (of Lagniappe) ranch chicken recipe for the second time. It's so scrumptious. Today, we went out to spectate at the Rose Festival Milk Carton Boat Races. It was an event for kids in which they create boat using milk carton's as pontoons. Some of the boats were really creative and some of them didn't get very far. There was even a sailboat race that at first was a bit slow but then a gust of wind shuttled the winners to the other side with a thud. The event was sponsored by Alpenrose Dairy and extra cash prizes were given to kids who won and used Alpenrose Dairy milk cartons for their boat. We thought that was really stinky. Afterwards, we went to Magoo's and played with their new puppy, a black lab named Oso. I'm told that's "bear" in Spanish. I forgot to ask them how they came up with
* Here's a description of the prints I'm looking for. I'm fairly certain that it's a female artist. She does (or did) still life photos. She would create an entire room in very drab colors, like completely grey or completely black. She would put non-descript people in them looking very ordinary. Then she would place an object, brightly-colored and multiplied. One is, I think, a kitchen with an old couple and scattered here and there are very bright green cats. Another is an office scene with people sort of going about here business and there's very bright orange leaves sort of hanging from the ceiling, floating in space, and scattered across the floor. Any ideas? æ |
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