Betty Ann Bryant (1938–1994)

It’s not true that you can find everything on the internet. Not long ago I went looking for Betty Ann Bryant. Betty Ann was one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. I dedicated my novel, The Mud of the Place, “to the memory and spirit of Betty Ann Lima Bryant (1938–1994), who showed me where to look.” What she showed me was the year-round island, the island that I’d never even glimpsed as an occasional summer visitor.

I was shocked. There were so few traces of Betty Ann on the Web. She was mentioned in Mary Breslauer’s Vineyard Gazette eulogy for Betty Ann’s dear friend Gerry Studds after he died in 2006, and in the obituaries for her husband, Danny, who died in 2011. That was pretty much it.

Betty Ann’s obituary from the Martha’s Vineyard Times, written by her friend and my colleague, Times reporter Gerry Kelly, did a wonderful job of evoking her work and her spirit. It wasn’t on the Web either. I had a copy — what if I reprinted it in my blog? I hesitated. Gerry himself died in 1996. I didn’t know Laura, Betty Ann and Danny Bryant’s daughter, and I didn’t want to post it without her OK.

Fast-forward a couple of years. Laura and I connected — on Facebook, where else? She loved the idea, and provided the photo below. And she added this: “My mom now has two beautiful great-granddaughters, Jena Isabella Cleary, aged 15 months, daughter of her special grandson James and his wife Libby; and Aubriella Elisabeth Desplaines, 7 months old, daughter of li’l princess grandaughter Miranda German and her fiancé, Phil Desplaines. Mom would have loved them so and they are her legacy for sure.”

— SJS

By Gerald R. Kelly

Betty Ann Lima Bryant, 56, died on Nov. 23 [1994] at 2 a.m. Her daughter Laurie was with her. It was the first time Betty Ann ever abandoned anyone, but death required it.

Betty Ann Bryant 96 res

Betty Ann listens to a supporter while campaigning for Dukes County commissioner. Photo courtesy of Laura Bryant German.

In the Martha’s Vineyard Hospital a few days earlier, she was uncharacteristically quiet. She looked like Betty Ann, though ethereally thin, but usually a chance encounter with this remarkable person was like stepping into a complicated controversy that was already underway. You were expected to know about the issues, have opinions, participate, and be on the right side.

She was sharp-tongued, witty, passionate, and dramatic. She was never without an urgent cause or a desperate need, always on behalf of someone else. When Betty Ann Bryant asked help for someone publicly, she was customarily swamped with responses from all those who believed implicitly in her.

She was the confidante and local representative of former Massachusetts Gov. Michael Dukakis, Congressman Gerry Studds, and the official greeter for President Clinton.

Mr. Dukakis, who will speak at the memorial service on Saturday, [Dec. 3, 1994,] said, “I think every television station in America ought to be at that memorial service to tell the story of Betty Ann Bryant. Instead of giving us nothing but blood and gore and tragedy day after day, they ought to tell some stories about her, because she was the kind of person who makes democracy work in this country. There are a lot of Betty Ann Bryants out there who are working their heads off day after day after day, making life better for their communities and their fellow citizens.

“Apart from our personal bond and everything she did for me, that was the motivating force in her life, and she would have been the first to tell you she got enormous personal fulfillment from doing it.”

“She was very, very close to me for a very long time,” said Mr. Studds. “She was clearly one of a kind. She stands as a reminder to all of us that one person can make a very real difference indeed. And she held us all to that standard, as best she could — a lot of people, including myself.

“I guess the best that each of us could hope for when our time comes is that people will look back and say that person really made a difference, that this is a better world for him or her having been there, and I think there is unanimity in that about Betty. She was special.”

Islanders will miss her in many ways. When we hear of a homeless person, she will not be there to find a home. When a woman in trouble needs help, there’s no single phone number to give her, the way we’d automatically blurt out Betty Ann’s number.

There are still people working to help other people, but Betty Ann was a clearing-house, the first person to call, and she would not only tell a needy person where to turn, but go along to secure the help, and follow up two days later to make sure everything turned out as it should.

Angela Madison, a close friend and protege of Betty Ann’s for most of her life, recalls, “Well over 20 years ago, my niece Holly was with me when I went to see Betty Ann. At the time, Betty was a mentor in Community Action on advocacy for poor people. I went to visit her and went into her house. We got no further than the kitchen when Betty just started talking a mile a minute, about politics and the Democratic party and about issues with welfare recipients, and all this time she had my three-year-old niece in hand, getting out pots and pans and water on a little table so she could play while we were talking.

“We never even sat down. Betty Ann kept on talking about all these things and I felt like I was getting a lesson in politics, in advocacy, and early childhood education all at the same time. In the space of about 20 minutes. Betty Ann continued to talk the whole time and I don’t know if I got a word in edgewise when it was time to go. I shut the door and my little niece looked up at me and said, ‘Aunt Angie — who’s the lady with all the words?’

“She was a determined person in helping others and no matter who they were, they received respect. She taught me about dealing with other people that no matter who they were, they could teach me something. And whatever the situation was, it required respect.”

Even in the last year of her life, battling a killing cancer, she met a young person in a hospital who was sick and didn’t know where to turn. Betty Ann found a doctor, transportation, a support group, and helped devise a way to pay for it all.

She was born in 1938, in Edgartown, the daughter of Priscilla Klingensmith and Manuel Lima. She was the oldest child and, after her parents died, she took responsibility for the rest of the family.

Her sister Dottie Grant recalls, “Many, many times when I needed Betty Ann, she would balance out my needs and say, ‘Your needs aren’t important today’; some other child or some other family was far more important at that time. What she thought was important really was important.

“She raised us, she helped finance us, she was a big part in all my children’s education. She took Kenny to Washington with her for the presidential inauguration and my niece, Tara. She was right there when they all went to college. She was behind them one hundred percent. In fact, when my son graduated valedictorian, Betty Ann jumped up and wanted his name changed to Lima.”

Betty Ann was cleaning houses for a living in the early 1960s and was cleaning the mental health center once a week when Dr. Milton Mazer and Bill Bruff ran it. “We realized there was much more to her than we had recognized,” Dr. Mazer recalled. “She was passionate about people, and I’d seen her give her last $5 to someone. At the time there was a job available in the poverty program and we asked her why she didn’t apply.

“She said, ‘Oh, I’ve only been to high school; I don’t have any credentials.’ We asked her to sit down and tell us about herself and she wrote out a resume and got the job. That’s what started her. From there on she just went on and did everything.

“The saddest thing was when I visited her in the hospital and she didn’t say much. For Betty not to say anything was just unbelievable. She always had convictions and opinions. She was a remarkable person. She was a passionate citizen and did as much for the Vineyard as anyone I know.”

She was elected to the Chilmark School Committee and turned that body on its ear. She met Maurita Prada, the late school committee member from Edgartown, and they were a formidable pair. Maurita always described herself as a Boston Irish politician and Betty Ann learned the Democrat basics from her.

She was an advocate for the homeless for Community Action from 1986 until she died; a tax collector in Chilmark; a paralegal for Legal Services; Family Planning director and counselor; youth worker at the Vineyard Youth Center; VISTA volunteer; a school committee member, Chilmark selectman; and a Dukes County Commissioner to the end of her life.

She served on the Martha’s Vineyard Commission, the Regional Housing Authority, the Dukes County Planning and Economic Development Committee, the Regional Transit Authority, was a justice of the peace, a director of Community Services, an EMT with the Tri-town Ambulance Committee, a trained Samaritan, a member of the Welfare Advisory Board, the Chilmark Registrar of Voters, drug committee, Dental Survey Committee, a Chilmark election officer, and much more. She was chairwoman of the Chilmark Democratic Committee, and the Cape and Islands Democratic Council.

Her father was born in the Azores and her mother was Pennsylvania Dutch. She was the oldest of six children and attended the Island schools. She was widely traveled, including trips to Cuba, England, and France.

One of her earliest employers was Dick Bigos, who has run Community Action of the Cape and Islands since its inception. Mr. Bigos was astonished by Betty Ann, who became his link to the Island and a vigorous political leader.

Thanksgiving morning Dick Bigos was remembering Betty Ann. “She’s always worked with me, not for me. I’ll always remember her for her strength, her energy, her passion, her warmth and for making the Cape and Islands area a much better place to live.

“She was a friend. Friends trust each other; friends love each other; friends care about each other; friends disagree sometimes with each other. She and I were friends.

“She loved Gerry Studds. Gerry, apart from Dan, was the love of her life.

“I’m glad it’s over, but we’re trying to figure out how we’ll have someone to work on things she worked on. I don’t even know where to start. When I think of the Island, I think of Betty Ann. She was my lifeline to that Island.”

Philip Johnson, Secretary of Human Services under Mr. Dukakis, got to know Betty Ann well in those years and again in 1992 when he and Betty Ann were delegates to the Democratic convention that nominated President William Clinton. He said, “I’ve known her through many campaigns. I probably met her first in the Kennedy campaign, she worked for him and for Mike Dukakis. She was a key person on the Cape. I also knew her through Human Services.

“She was one of a kind — passionate, idealistic, energetic. She loved politics, loved people, and for her to be struck down so young is a real tragedy and I think we’re all sad today.”

Tom Lebach, former attorney with Legal Services of the Cape and Islands, was another friend and colleague of Betty Ann. “She started the Family Planning Foundation on the Island and she organized the Chilmark Democratic town committee and attended every state convention since 1964 and the last two presidential conventions, the last one as a delegate.

“There are very few, if any, other people who had the kind of impact on my life that she did. Not having her is going to be a huge change. I think they ought to name the new airport terminal after her. If there was anything that happened on Martha’s Vineyard that affected low income folks, she was involved in it, whether it was housing for the elderly or keeping the various bureaucracies honest.”

Rep. Eric Turkington was another friend. “When I first came to the Vineyard I didn’t know a half dozen people but Betty was one of them and, by the time she had introduced me to all her friends, I knew everyone.

“I was thinking the other day when the electricity went out: ‘Well, it’s going to go out again soon.’ I think it did when she went.

“She was a seminal person on that Island, a constant source of energy and enthusiasm and caring. She may have been only five-foot-six, but she was a giant. She was single-minded in her enthusiasm for Island issues from the very first time I met her to the very last time I talked to her. She was always pushing the Island agenda. And it wasn’t the agenda of the people with the big houses; it was the agenda for the people with no houses. She knew everybody, especially in the Dukakis years. She could run through the State House and poke her head in every door and find somebody she knew.”

Robert Carroll, a prominent Island Democrat and businessman, was Betty Ann’s first employer, back when he had a lunch counter. He said, “The outstanding quality she possessed was her serious concern for everybody else and she had that until she died. She was just a great gal and didn’t deserve what she got returned.”

About a year ago, knowing death was imminent, she decided to do a number of things she had always wanted to do. Dotty Lima said, “She did get to New York to see ‘Cats’ with her grandson. She had been to England with her two younger sisters, Ginny and Bobby. Her last request was for us to go to Portugal to find our ancestors and to go to Pennsylvania to look for our mother’s relatives.”

Betty Ann Lima Bryant is survived by her husband, Daniel; her daughter and son-in-law, Laura Bryant and Michael German; her grandson, [James] Cleary; and granddaughter, Miranda Elizabeth German. She is also survived by her sisters, Dotty Grant, Edgartown; Virginia Carbon, Edgartown; Roberta Whiting, Edgartown; and her brothers, Tony Lima, New York City, and Jacky Lima, Florida.

The memorial service for Betty Ann Lima Bryant will be held at the Old Whaling Church on Saturday, December 3, at 10 a.m.

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Travvy Is Six!

In honor of Trav’s sixth birthday, I just reread my April 27, 2008, blog about meeting him for the first time at Masasyu Alaskan Malamutes in Canandaigua, New York. We spent our first night in a motel.

A motel? With an eight-and-a-half-week-old puppy who’s never been away from home? I’d borrowed a puppy-size travel crate from a Vineyard friend and thought I was prepared. Hah. Puppy started squalling as soon as I shut the crate door. So do I wake every other guest in the motel, or do I risk puppy having an accident on the rug?

Almost home: Travvy at 8.5 weeks

Almost home: Travvy at 8.5 weeks

Option #2 was a no-brainer. I put down newspapers, took puppy out frequently, and crossed my fingers. Puppy didn’t have an accident on the rug.

Puppy had never been on the road before, but he was a trouper all the way home. This is one reason he became Masasyu’s Fellow Traveller.

Getting from Canandaigua to Martha’s Vineyard was the easy part. Our real journey was just beginning. Here are some pictures from his first year.

As a puppy Trav spent a lot of time at the barn. Here he is with big sister Allie at Malabar Farm.

As a puppy Trav spent a lot of time at the barn. Here he is with big sister Allie at Malabar Farm.

Trail riding with me and Allie

Trail riding with me and Allie

Trav's horseback-riding career was cut short by a growth spurt.

Trav’s horseback-riding career was cut short by a growth spurt.

Shaking paws, July 2008.

Shaking paws, July 2008. By 4+ months the puppy was looking more and more like a dog.

Trav was a conehead after he got neutered at seven months. He thought flipping his food dish into the cone was a good game.

Trav was a conehead after he got neutered at seven months. He thought flipping his food dish into the cone was a good game.

This was taken around his first birthday, to celebrate which I got my first digital camera. Quite a dog, isn't he?

This was taken around his first birthday, to celebrate which I got my first digital camera. Quite a dog, isn’t he?

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Rhodry Remembered

Rhodry (1994-2008) and Susanna

Rhodry (1994-2008) and me. Photo by Betsy Corsiglia.

Rhodry died on February 26, 2008. Travvy was born the very next day, though I didn’t know it till I met him almost two months later. Ever since, there’s come a two-day period between Candlemas and the spring equinox when I celebrate the two most important dogs of my adult life.

I can’t add much to what I blogged about Rhodry’s life and death two years ago. I think about him a lot, about all the coincidences that brought him into my life and our long journey together. Rhodry had family on Martha’s Vineyard. Neither Travvy nor I do, but I’m still related “by the dog” to everyone who belonged to one of his littermates or his full siblings from the litter born a year and a half earlier. His dad, Bear, was a malamute. His mom, Nanu, was a samoyed–border collie mix who was said to have some greyhound in her pedigree. Rhodry took after the malamute side of the family.

Here are some more Rhodry pictures.

Puppy Rhodry and his older brother Tigger

Puppy Rhodry and his older brother Tigger

Puppy Rhodry soon after he moved in with me, at about six weeks

Puppy Rhodry soon after he moved in with me, at about six weeks

Puppy Rhodry got tangled up in my friend Marilyn's weaving while the people were yakking in the kitchen. First we saved the weaving. Then we recreated the scene.

Puppy Rhodry got tangled up in my friend Marilyn’s weaving while the people were yakking in the kitchen. First we saved the weaving. Then we recreated the scene.

Grownup Rhodry in his favorite chair

Grownup Rhodry in his favorite chair

Rhodry and his friend Rosie in the snow

Rhodry and his friend Rosie in the snow

Rhodry supervised both me and the pickup on our horse-sitting gigs.

Rhodry supervised both me and the pickup on our horse-sitting gigs.

And, finally, one of my most favorite photos of this beautiful guy:

Cat on a cold fencepost

Cat on a cold fencepost, at Malabar Farm, winter of 2004–2005. Photo by Ginny Lobdell.

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Overbooked

I do a little dog-sitting on the side. Mostly in the neighborhood. It’s not arduous. It gets me off my duff and away from the computer. What’s not to like?

I’m in the middle of a three-week gig looking after one dog, two cats, and five hens. Oh yeah, and one pot of sourdough starter. No prob. But this is school vacation week on Martha’s Vineyard, and during February school vacation week, Vineyard people like to go away.

Hens having breakfast

Hens having breakfast

The short version is that this past weekend I was scheduled to look after two additional dogs as well as the dog, the two cats, and the five hens. And, of course, Travvy. And the two books I’m editing. And the essay I’m writing.

As the weekend drew closer, I wondered how I was going to pull this off. Necessity, however, is the mother of improvisation, and it helps if the dogs cooperate.

Which they did.

Zena, the little schnoodle next door, is fine off leash. So she’d come along to T-beau’s house, hang out with T-beau while I let the hens out and checked for eggs, and then come along with us to Star’s house.

Star the Bernese mountain dog

Star the Bernese mountain dog

T-beau the labradoodle

T-beau the labradoodle

T-beau’s an old guy. He strolls at a leisurely pace and isn’t fazed by anything. Star’s full of energy. If you let her off lead, she loves to play “catch me if you can.” I’d play too if I didn’t have a bunch of other things to do.

From Sunday night Zena had someone staying with her, so after that I’d pick Star up, go to T-beau’s house, tie Star to a tree while I let first T-beau and then the hens out, then go for a walk with Star and T-beau.

Trav watches

Trav watches

Trav watched all these comings and goings from the deck and sniffed me with interest when I got home. Then he and I would go for our usual hour-long walk, just us.

Now Star’s people are back. T-beau’s people don’t get back till the end of next week, but life is so much simpler when you’ve only got two dogs, two cats, and five hens to take care of. The cats want nothing to do with either Trav or Star, but when it’s just T-beau and me one or both will come walking with us.

20140224 cricket walks

Cricket comes for a walk

We make quite a procession, not least because T-beau and the cats, Cricket and Lovebug, are so well color-coordinated.

Despite the extra chores, I’ve managed to keep writing. Morning is my best writing time, but the sun’s rising earlier these days, so I’ve been managing to get up a little after six and write until 7:30 or so. Whatever I’m working on then ferments in my head while I’m out walking with dogs.

The sun’s also setting later, which means the hens aren’t always in their house when I come by to take T-beau out. Once I tried to persuade the hens to go in before they were ready. Bad idea. Better to accommodate the hens’ schedule. They aren’t interested in mine.

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Red Sky at Morning

Sunrise this morning came in sunset colors. I knew it wasn’t sunset because my front door faces east and it was about 6:30 a.m.

20140218 sunrise 1

Red sky at morning
Sailors take warning

20140218 sunrise 2

Hoo boy, sailors — forget about “take warning.” Run for cover! You guys are doomed.

20140218 sunrise 3

Uh — never mind.

So it snowed halfheartedly for several hours then the snow in the air turned to rain and the snow on the ground started turning to slush.

By sunset, though, the day had come round. I missed the best of it because I was out walking a neighbor’s dog, but what I caught was pretty good.

20140218 sunset

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Snow AGAIN?

20140216 early morning

Early light

Did I say the other day that the worst of winter wasn’t over at the end of December? It wasn’t.

When I went to create a folder for photos of last night’s snowstorm, I realized I already had a folder called “February 2014 snow.” Surprise, surprise.

This batch of photos may look like they were taken earlier in the month, or last month, or the month before that, but they weren’t.

Snowy Malvina

Snowy Malvina

During the big snow earlier this month, I was looking after a dog and a miniature horse — plus Trav, of course. This time I’m looking after a dog (different dog), two cats, and five hens — and, of course, Trav. The menagerie is bigger but the hassle is less because it’s within walking distance. I haven’t dug Malvina Forester out yet. The big deal isn’t the digging; it’s scraping ice off the windows. Here’s hoping the sun does most of the work.

When the snow’s more than a few inches deep, the hens stay in their little yard. They’ve got cracked corn and a heated water dispenser in there.

20140216 hen yard

I scattered some sunflower seeds around for the wild birds, hoping this doesn’t make them sitting ducks (so to speak) for the cats.

The driveway

The driveway

After the menagerie was taken care of, Trav and I set out for our morning walk.

The snow’s pretty heavy, but the wind was strong and there’s been a fair amount of drifting. I’d guess there’s seven or eight inches out there. Thursday’s torrential all-day rain, coupled with temps in the mid to high 30s, took care of most of the ice on the driveway and the road. This is good. I wore my Yaktrax anyway.

Travvy was in a zoomie mood. Into the woods, out of the woods . . .

20140216 trav woods

Until he wore himself out and needed a break.

20140216 trav resting

Many, many trees were bent low with the weight of the snow. In some places they blocked our usual path. One hand’s shaking wasn’t enough to free them of their burden — my other hand was holding Trav’s Flexi lead. We picked our way around them. I hope they don’t break.

20140216 bending trees

Snow and shadow make wondrous patterns. This one is from the tennis courts near the school.

20140216 net shadow

20140216 bike pathSomething with one wide tread and runners had already been up the bike path. Maybe it was two things? Damned if I know. There are some strange critters abroad in the woods.

We passed two neighbors scraping ice off their cars.

Snow makes for more work, but it’s still beautiful.

20140216 trees

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Ephemera

We had a wintry December on Martha’s Vineyard. Life gave me ice, so I got into ice diskology — unmolding the ice that froze in Travvy’s outside water dish and arranging the resulting disks on my little deck. I called it “dog dish ice art.” Quite a few of my Facebook friends liked it, so I kept doing it. We even had a little ice disk nativity scene co-starring Travvy and Garfield.

Angel wannabe wants to say something. No wonder those shepherds were "sore afraid."

Some winters, the worst is over by the end of December. The catch is that you don’t know for sure that the worst is over till the end of March. This year the worst was not over by the end of December. January and February (so far) have brought snow and more snow, and temps that went as low as 7 below (Fahrenheit) and hung out in the teens and single digits for extended periods. These cold spells have been interrupted by days in the mid- to high 40s.

All of this is to say that ice disks come and ice disks go, but I’ve taken pictures of all of them. This is what the winter of 2014 has looked like on my deck.

20140102 collage

20140101 cracked 1

The new year began with two old-year disks, one of which was somewhat the worse for wear. On January 2 they got snowed on.

Disks come in thick . . .

20140104 thick disk

. . . and thin. The thin ones play better with light, but the thick ones last longer.

20140104 thindisk 1

When the cold sticks around, the ice disks accumulate.

20140110 quintet
Some disks look like the new moon. Other disks look almost like pentacles.

20140126 pentacle

20140120 very thin

20140125 night long 2Disks have a colorful nightlife. I string green and purple lights on the deck railing so I can see the dark better.

20140131 four on stairsDisks can climb stairs. I realized this after one disk took a tumble after some zealous snow shoveling. It survived the one-story fall. As I carried it back up the stairs, I thought, Why not?

One, two, three more joined it.

Then they all turned to puddles.

20140208 fear no art

Ice disks are what they are, but they can be persuaded to carry a message.

When I started a row along the shortest side of my deck, I didn’t realize that it would grow into the season’s longest to date. Here’s the sextet.

20140211 six

20140212 brokenWhen I tried to make room for #7, my hand slipped.

First I was sad. Then I decided that cracks add character.

Yesterday morning there were eight. The angle makes ’em hard to count, but they’re there.

Yesterday, however, got warm.

20140213 eight and co.And by the end of the day this was all that was left.

20140214 remnants

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Community

Shirley W. Mayhew

Shirley W. Mayhew

“Community” marks Shirley Mayhew’s second appearance in this blog. The first, in September 2012, was “A Miracle.” (Go read it if you haven’t already. Reread it if you have. We’ll wait.)

Shirley brought this piece to Cynthia Riggs’s Sunday night writers’ group, to which we both belong. It’s such a wonderful evocation of the interrelationships that make Martha’s Vineyard, and our town of West Tisbury, such a special place that I said “Gimme, gimme — please?” And Shirley said yes. Shirley’s a regular contributor to Martha’s Vineyard Magazine. She’s lived in West Tisbury since before I was born.

My plumber is one of the EMTs who used to come to pick up my husband when he fell before he had to go live in a nursing home. The woman who cleans my house every two weeks was a student of mine in the 1970s when I was a teacher in the Edgartown School. One of the tellers in my bank is also a former student.

Several of the aides in Windemere were former students of my husband, who was a resident there — one even took care of his mother many years ago. And another is so young that her mother was his former student.

The register of deeds grew up with my older daughter, Deborah, and our carpenter friend used to play with my younger daughter, Sarah, when they were toddlers. The contractor who built Deborah’s house and later attached my “granny apartment” to it was in her class at school. About fifty years ago, when I was a children’s photographer, I took pictures of a friend’s four children, one of whom grew up to be James Taylor, the successful singer. I’ve been invited to a party at Laura Roosevelt’s house. She is married to Charlie Silberstein, and is the sister of Nancy Roosevelt, who cleaned my house back in the hippy years. Laura and Nancy are both grandchildren of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who led this country through World War II when I was growing up.

One of the wonderful features of this Island community is the diversity of its residents. Last night I went to a dinner party in my town of West Tisbury. First of all, it was a potluck dinner party, which meant that there were many different kinds of food — diversity in our eating habits. But more interesting than the diversity of food was the diversity of the people who brought it. The common denominator was that we were all neighbors and friends.

The age difference varied from less than a year to almost 88 years, and lingered between four generations. The number of men to women was about equal – approximately ten of each. There were two teenagers and three children under twelve, one a baby who slept through the entire party. And I shouldn’t forget the four dogs — one large, one medium, and two small — that mingled with the partygoers and each other with no disputes.

The contractor chatted with the computer consultant, the Pulitzer Prize author conversed with the retired teacher, the successful farmer talked memories with the computer analyst, and one of the teenagers kept track of the toddler, who was her nephew. The hostess was the ex-wife of one of the invitees, and she spoke with his present wife. The other Pulitzer Prize winner confessed to the carpenter that he was glad his son had been accepted at Harvard because it meant he would be close enough to come home often.

One of the most interesting things for me about this congenial group of people was that this February 8th party was being held in the house I had lived in for fifty-five years, which I moved out of two years ago on February 8. Although it was no longer my house, most of the dinner guests had been in it many times since they were children. And the hostess was the ex-wife of one of those children.

The house where Shirley lived for 55 years, and where the potluck was held the other night. This photo was taken after the blizzard of 2003. The house looks a lot like that right now.

The house where Shirley lived for 55 years, and where the potluck was held the other night. This photo was taken after the blizzard of 2003. The house looks a lot like that right now.

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Country Roads

I sometimes wax rhapsodic about the single-lane dirt roads of Martha’s Vineyard. True, they’re all very minor roads, sort of like long driveways that have acquired names and a place on island maps. But plenty of us live on them.

The dirt road I live on

Halcyon Way, the dirt road I live on

Driving on Martha’s Vineyard means learning the little dance required when one encounters a car coming in the opposite direction. Sometimes there’s room for both cars to pull a little bit off the track without hitting any trees. Other times one car has to back up a bit. Most dirt roads have occasional laybys so no one has to back up too far.

Pine Hill, aka the back way to the dump, the post office, and the grocery store

Pine Hill, aka the back way to the dump, the post office, and the grocery store

Who backs up? Generally this is decided by each driver’s instant assessment of the situation, often coupled by a barely perceptible glance-to-glance negotiation. Whoever’s nearest the layby backs up. One car backs up for two. A vehicle unencumbered by a trailer backs up for one that is. And so on.

It’s beautiful when it works, as it mostly does.

This morning, however, it didn’t.

I’m looking after a dog and a miniature horse for a few days, which is how I came to be at the State Road end of Old County just before 8 a.m. Light rain was turning to wet snow. Out of the gray gloom on State Road came a black pickup. It didn’t have its headlights on, which made me appreciate all the vehicles that did. Visibility wasn’t great. I fell in behind it.

The dog and the mini live just off a fairly well traveled dirt road near the Tisbury–West Tisbury town line. The black pickup signaled for the same left turn that I was about to make. Another pickup was paused at the end of the dirt road. To my amazement, the black pickup stopped to have a driver-to-driver conversation with this guy. This left me half stranded in the up-island-bound lane of State Road.  WTF?

Finally Black Pickup noticed (a) that someone was behind him, and (b) that there was no room to get by. He moved forward. I got off the paved road.

Approaching in the opposite direction, around a little curve but visible through the bare trees, were one, two, three cars. Black Pickup pulled over to let them by — finally his good manners, and perhaps his morning coffee?, had kicked in. I stopped where I was to give them room.

And what should come bulling past me but an enormous dump truck whose driver was paying zero attention to what was going on about 20 feet ahead. WTF squared!

I was far enough back to avoid the jam: Black Pickup and Blue Dump Truck going one way, three passenger cars coming in the other, in a spot where the single-lane road narrows to get around the curve.

I wanted the quick right, onto an even narrower dirt road. Fortunately there was just enough room between Blue Dump Truck and the trees for me and Malvina to squeeze by.

Unfortunately I don’t know how the jam sorted itself out. I’m sure it did, however. There were no bumpers or frayed tempers in evidence when I left about 40 minutes later.

 

 

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