In my 11 years (1969–72 and 1977–85) as a resident of Washington, D.C., I never went near an inauguration. The inaugurations that took place during my residency were for Nixon (one) and Reagan (two), which is to say nothing to celebrate for me or for the overwhelming majority of other D.C. residents. In 1972, however, I did boogie in the wake of the inaugural parade as part of a counterinaugural demo. The police threatened to arrest us but no one got busted where I was.
Early this month, the M.V. Democrats sent out email invitations to an “inaugural ball” on the 21st. Potluck desserts and finger foods, dancing to Johnny Hoy and the Bluefish, only $10? I’m there.
Infamous mini cheesecakes
As the date approached, an email reminder went out. This one specified “Vineyard Formal” attire. To me this means “put on a clean pair of jeans,” but suits, dresses, and high-heeled shoes are seen more often on Vineyard streets these days than they were in the not-too-distant past, so I asked a couple of longtime Vineyarders what “Vineyard Formal” meant to them. Reassured that it meant the same thing to them that it did to me, I laid in supplies to make my (in)famous mini cheesecakes.
My hat
Monday, while the cheesecakes chilled, I redecorated my hat. I listened to President Obama’s inaugural speech: “We, the people, declare today that the most evident of truths —- that all of us are created equal —- is the star that guides us still; just as it guided our forebears through Seneca Falls, and Selma, and Stonewall . . .” He said Seneca Falls? He said Stonewall? He said gay brothers and sisters?
The whole thing was exhilarating. The truths on which the country was founded may be self-evident but they aren’t self-executing, he said. We have the rights we’ve got because people — women, people of color, workers, gay people, disabled people, and all the rest — have fought for them together. And where individuals have accomplished great things, they virtually never did it in isolation. It was this understanding that won me over to Elizabeth Warren’s campaign. I heard it echoed and underscored at the Democratic National Convention, though when professional pols get together to pat each other on the back, I don’t put much stock in their rhetoric. But hearing it in the president’s inaugural address? He’s appealing to our largeness and our strengths, instead of our smallness and our fears. What a difference from what’s gone down in the last 30 years.
While I prepared, the predicted snow was developing outside. Would the ball go on?
Of course it would. A little after seven, I set out for Chilmark. The view through my windshield looked like the starship Enterprise shifting into warp drive. Maybe driving to Chilmark was a stupid idea. There was no one else on the road. Maybe I should have checked for cancellations? It’s January, I reminded myself. There’s never anyone on South Road at this hour.
The Chilmark Community Center was all lit up and Malvina Forester grabbed the last free parking place in the parking lot. Whew.
Johnny Hoy and the band
The party was great. I danced more than I had since the 60th birthday extravaganza almost two years ago. Several people dressed a lot more formal than I did, and after dancing for 10 minutes, I had to admit that bare arms and gossamer fabrics were better to boogie in than the clothes that keep you warm working a sedentary job in a 60-degree (F) apartment.
Even President Obama got down and boogied, with a little help from his friends. Some people noted that he looked a little stiff. Others thought he looked thin. I didn’t see him anywhere near the food table: maybe he’s on a diet?
Me and the president. Photo by Adrianne Ryan.
Me and the president, take 2. Photo by Adrianne Ryan.
The Martha’s Vineyard Democrats, hosts of the event, who worked locally for the reelection of the president and the election of Elizabeth Warren gathered for a group photo. I’m told that they tried hard to persuade Elizabeth proxy to co-preside over the party, but it seems that she’s not cut out for it. The cake, I’m happy to report, was not made of cardboard.
Photo by Adrianne Ryan.
I missed the pre-Christmas CD release party for Willy Mason’s newest because I had the three-week malaise that may or may not have been the flu. Fortunately a friend scored me a copy of Carry On. In typical Vineyard fashion he dropped it off at the West Tisbury library’s temporary quarters across the street from Conroy’s; I retrieved it on my next trip to the post office.
An old man in the bar orders one last drink “to light me up,” but the songwriter is looking beyond the clouds for deeper illumination, “the kind of fire I’d be proud to / carry on.”
There are several perfectly shaped evergreens on my neighbors’ property. This little tree is in front of the bike shed.
If you want people to think you’re a good photographer, get a gorgeous dog. Here’s Travvy, my Vineyard snowdog. We’re not telling where this picture was taken.
Shortly after they lost at June’s special town meeting, Parks & Rec — which by this point I was calling Poop & Wreck — put up a NO DOGS sign on the public tennis court they administer near the West Tisbury School. That tennis court is rarely used in the off-season and is frequently vacant even in high summer. For almost three years, Travvy and I had been using the tennis court for training. It was a perfect place for working off-leash: close to where I live, well fenced, and hardly ever used for tennis. When anyone did show up to play tennis, we’d leave. Sometimes people would stop to watch us, and ask what we were doing. It was fun, and friendly.
Elizabeth Warren, Sam Sutter, and Barack Obama, all of whom I enthusiastically supported, are Democrats. I usually vote Democratic. But I can’t help noting that it’s a Democratic State House that’s stuffing the roundabout down our throats, and Democratic state legislators who have proven too gutless to stand up for their Vineyard constituents. Our votes are too few to figure in their re-election calculus. The fellow who as MVC chair did as much as anyone to support the roundabout was also a co-host for an Elizabeth Warren fundraiser. I don’t know how the Poop & Wreckers are registered or how they usually vote, but I have this hunch that they usually vote the way I do. We are not, however, on the same side.
From the Seasonally Occupied Territories . . . 