These Are My Stories.

It all started last week.

It was bedtime. So I told a story. And the minute I started to tell it, Nonie and Dec set their books down to listen. I couldn't help but notice that they sat a little closer to me.

***

It all started with...

A quick one about picking corn at Katama Farm and getting into "corn wars" with the other farm hands.

I talked of chucking ears of corn high into the sky - over 3, 4, even 5 rows at a time - with the hope of hitting an unsuspecting picker on the other side. From the old dirt road, Farmer McCarthy saw his investments flying in the air (ear by ear) and he knew we were up to no good. What a site! I still smile about it.

That story led to one about cleaning cow tails. Wearing long rubber gloves and armed with buckets of diluted clorox bleach we approached the cattle. All 100 of them. In one swooping motion, we'd scoop the buckets up the tail (to wet the arse too) and then scrape the arse and the tail with a rake-like contraption. Caked on poop would fly to the ground (and to our clothing, hair, shoes....) with reckless abandon. It was messier than my words can describe.


Oh, and it smelled too.

This was a totally unrewarding job. Most of the time the cow would get stimulated and poop on the arse we'd just cleaned.

Dirtiest Jobs Discovery Channel? You've got nothing on that one.

***

Dec's eyes grew large when I explained that these were my "jobs" as an eleven year-old summer resident of the Vineyard - and my payment, each day, was one single scoop ice cream cone.

We'd work our arses off for that ice cream. And trust me, it was delicious.

Dec's wide eyes made me wonder: was he amazed by the tasks I described, or intrigued by the "payment". I couldn't quite tell.

But I did notice that he was on the edge of his seat.

***

I have stories about exercising the horses along Katama Bay where the cars drive out toward Norton Point.

I told the kids about the one time my horse spooked when it walked by a milk crate stuffed with Quahogs in the shallow water. Sent me running for 1/4 mile. It was scary and exciting all rolled into one bumpy ride.

Trade that experience ever?

Never.


These Are My Stories.

Horse vs. Clams.

(Scooch a wee bit closer and and I'll tell you who wins.)

***

I have stories about taking outdoor showers in the rain. Told that to Dec this evening while he disappeared then reappeared in his bubble bath.

***

I have stories about being able to collect 2 rings on the Carousel and watching the "real islander kids" collect one on each finger.

Still can't get more than 2.


But, These Are My Stories.

I did win the brass ring once. And Dec relived the experience with me the other day on our car-ride home from the Island.

***

I have stories about deep-sea-fishing with Mark, Chris, and Dad on the Skipper, a charter fishing boat. There was a cooler of Sunkist sodas. I drank one and I felt like I was sinning 'cause I was about 10 years old and 10-year-olds in our house aren't allowed to drink sodas. Especially ORANGE ones. But I guess it was okay 'cause I was on a boat and it didn't really count.

Anyway, the captain taught us to drop our line 'til it hit the bottom...then reel it up three times...then wait for a fish...and wait for a fish and stand on the boat and wait for a fish.

Well, when my line caught on something I reeled it in with all my 10-year-old gusto only to find (10 minutes later) that I hadn't caught JAWS (much to my disappointment/relief) but I'd caught the person on the other side of the boat.

Our hooks caught under the boat!

***

At the end of that story Dec belly-laughed at the mere thought of his mother catching another person with a fishing pole.

And, Miss Nonie? Miss Nonie said "boat" every time I did.

"Boat" "Boat".

"Boat" "Boat".

(Priceless I tell you).

***

Yup, I have stories.

These are MY stories.

They are the stories that make Dec and Nonie set their books down and listen.

And sit a little bit closer to me.

Remember KICK THE CAN?

And S-P-U-D?

And sharks & minnows?

And greased watermelons in the deep end?

And squeezing in during sardines?

And water ballet? (that's been coming up a lot lately....point your toes and put down that bubble gum cigarette)

Remember bubble gum cigarettes? I mean.... what?!?

Do you remember ice cream by the 6-gallon (friendly's containers - were they 6, or more???) in the freezer in the garage?

And the swim team sleep-over with sleeping bags lining the chaise lounges?

And making towel hammocks?

Do you remember chits?

Grilled cheeses at the quarter deck?

The guest book from Norcross Drive?

And little white bags of candy exposed to salty air for a few too many hours?

What about the draft horse pull at the fair?

Washing cow tails?

Needle point on the beach?

Illumination night?

Rice in salt shakers?

Scooping ice cream?

Serving fritters?

Harbor tours on the "S.S. Fresh Off"?

Peddling t-shirts?

Walking out water street with ice cream in hand?

Gidget bikes?

Deflating tires to drive over-sand?

Looking way up at the blue ribbon sunflower?

Do you remember summer as a 6-year-old?

As a 13-year-old?

Summer as a 16-year-old?

There is magic in these fleeting minutes.

Magic.

Crab Walk

THEY HAD CUT THE POND. WHICH MEANT WE HAD TO WALK THE BOAT.

THROUGH THE SLIME AND MUCK AND GRASSES AND BARNACLES.

IT WAS A TEST OF BRI'S WILL POWER. I SHOUTED WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT AND TOLD HIM PEOPLE PAY GOOD MONEY AT SPAS TO BE WRAPPED IN THIS STUFF. AND WE WERE GETTING IT FOR FREE.

GOOD THING WE DIDN'T SEE ANY CRABS.

AND BRI DIDN'T LIVE UP TO HIS NICKNAME.

A Sunset Shared...

On Sunday we scrambled.

With news that the presidential helicopter was leaving Cape Cod, we hopped on our bikes and cycled as fast as we could to the airport. Sweat dripped on our brows as we arrived in time to see the endless procession of black suburbans whiz by. Wow. Our hearts raced with excitement. We were impressed by the spectacle of it all.

We waved and wondered which vehicle you were in. And. We were certain that you saw us. How could you miss us?

Then, we re-grouped at Sharky's where all around us vacationers celebrated your arrival with the Obama-rita and the Barack-o-taco. But, we stuck with the tried and true Steak Quesedilia. Delish delish. So so nice got to type it twice.

On a whim, we ventured to Pohogonot to see Oyster Pond from afar. We waved to neighbors enjoying the sights and sounds of this very Vineyard evening. Twigs and berries were sailing their boat around the furthest bend just as we made our way across the sandplain. The sun seemed to be searing through the clouds. It took my breath away. It did.

It is there where we kicked off our flip flops, leaped beneath a setting sun, sent laughter through summer's warm breeze, goofed at the camera and wondered ...

if...

the president was less than a mile down the beach from us, doing the same thing with his family.

We hoped he was.

Sunset over Oyster Pond, Edgartown. August 23. 2009.

Gettin' my fix

"I own an island in the sea, I do not own it actually. I claim it only by right of need, defying those who hold the deed. Perhaps a truer phrase would be, there is an island which owns me."

Louise Bugbee

Off to the Vineyard.
It's been too long.
A few years ago when I was spending much of the summer there by myself and the beauty of it was a bit lost one me...
Kara said -
Be there. Enjoy it. The time will come when you won't be able to spend your summers there.
And you'll miss it.-

I do.

SEE YOU THERE!!