Wednesday, 4:30 PM, Martha’s Vineyard
At this moment I am seated on a park bench facing the Martha’s Vineyard Camp Meeting Association Tabernacle. It’s true, I really am. I bought a small notebook the other day and I’m scribbling away in it. Of course, later I’ll key this in in the old PowerBook and post it, but let’s consider this a “live report,” shall we? More fun that way.
We arrived in Oak Bluffs, Martha’s Vineyard, last Sunday afternoon, just me ’n’ the missus, as advertised. We’re staying at my friend Olie’s house. Monday morning, I woke up with the whimsical idea for the short story seen in the preceding post and, while my wife checked out the shops in Edgartown later in the day, I wrote the entire first draft down in this very notebook and had a great time doing it. Tuesday my prayers were answered and it rained, so I used the time we stayed in doors to tweak it up on the laptop. I set the story right where we’re staying and I hope soon to post some scenes from it, especially the bandstand at Ocean Park and some gingerbread houses.
Earlier today we visited Vineyard Haven (or Tisbury, the town has two names for some odd reason) and cruised around. I don’t consider myself very materialistic, but sometimes I really wish I was rich, rich, rich. I went to a bookstore and saw a score I wanted to buy and read, but (a) I didn’t have the money to purchase them and (b) I wouldn’t have had the time to read them all anyway, or at least not as soon as I would want to. Here’s where being wealthy and idle can come in so handy. Working full time and paying lip service to a budget can be tiresome, can't it?.
The spot where I’m at, by the way, is a nearly deserted park, gorgeously landscaped and quiet, aside from a strong wind blowing through the trees and the sound of two flags flapping on a flagpole some thirty feet from where I’m sitting. The capacious, round tabernacle is in front of me, the gingerbread houses are all around me, and a Methodist church is over to my right (the pastor, by the way, is the Reverend Doctor Mary Jane O’Connor-Ropp — a mouthful, ain’t it? Shouldn’t it rhyme with something? The Rev-er-end Doctor O’Connor-Ropp, stipplely steeplely tippity-top).
Okay, the blissful quietude has just been punctured. Four boys, one with a Nextel walkie-talkie squawking away, have invaded the scene. One wants to hit a “fuckin’ squirrel” with a rock. Boys, boys, boys. Can’t you feel God’s presence, for crissakes? Sheesh!
Oh well, time to push on. Ciao!
We arrived in Oak Bluffs, Martha’s Vineyard, last Sunday afternoon, just me ’n’ the missus, as advertised. We’re staying at my friend Olie’s house. Monday morning, I woke up with the whimsical idea for the short story seen in the preceding post and, while my wife checked out the shops in Edgartown later in the day, I wrote the entire first draft down in this very notebook and had a great time doing it. Tuesday my prayers were answered and it rained, so I used the time we stayed in doors to tweak it up on the laptop. I set the story right where we’re staying and I hope soon to post some scenes from it, especially the bandstand at Ocean Park and some gingerbread houses.
Earlier today we visited Vineyard Haven (or Tisbury, the town has two names for some odd reason) and cruised around. I don’t consider myself very materialistic, but sometimes I really wish I was rich, rich, rich. I went to a bookstore and saw a score I wanted to buy and read, but (a) I didn’t have the money to purchase them and (b) I wouldn’t have had the time to read them all anyway, or at least not as soon as I would want to. Here’s where being wealthy and idle can come in so handy. Working full time and paying lip service to a budget can be tiresome, can't it?.
The spot where I’m at, by the way, is a nearly deserted park, gorgeously landscaped and quiet, aside from a strong wind blowing through the trees and the sound of two flags flapping on a flagpole some thirty feet from where I’m sitting. The capacious, round tabernacle is in front of me, the gingerbread houses are all around me, and a Methodist church is over to my right (the pastor, by the way, is the Reverend Doctor Mary Jane O’Connor-Ropp — a mouthful, ain’t it? Shouldn’t it rhyme with something? The Rev-er-end Doctor O’Connor-Ropp, stipplely steeplely tippity-top).
Okay, the blissful quietude has just been punctured. Four boys, one with a Nextel walkie-talkie squawking away, have invaded the scene. One wants to hit a “fuckin’ squirrel” with a rock. Boys, boys, boys. Can’t you feel God’s presence, for crissakes? Sheesh!
Oh well, time to push on. Ciao!
posted by mr. schprock at 4:30 PM
6 Comments:
One wants to hit a “fuckin’ squirrel” with a rock.
That is what tazers are for... to be used on dumb rock throwing boys.
I know how you feel about wanting to be rich. Just to be able to read, write and play all day, on a nice spread of land on Martha's Vineyard. Yeah.
Yeah, I saw some of those rich types in Vegas at the Bellagio. Looking down their rhinoplasty-enhanced noses at us commoners. But all their clothes were ugly. :P
Martha's Vineyard seems to be good for the soul. I'm so jealous.
BTW, your story reminded me of William Trevor's writing. If you don't have any of his short stories, I highly recommend getting a collection.
OK, why is the squirrel comment so funny? I hope it isn't real. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Thanks for the update. I'm jealous.
'Reverend Doctor Mary Jane O’Connor-Ropp' How many people is this? The Vineyard is so great, we haven't been there for a few years but actually, my wife's sister and her family are leaving tomorrow to go there for a week
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