Saturday Morning Treasures

A quick stretch of the legs - and the mind - after spending most of the past five days with three babies all under the age of three - have loved every minute! not complaining! heaven! - but even grandmas need a break once in a while.

We have enjoyed at least as many days of perfect Vineyard September weather - an annual gift to islanders, I think, for having endured the (at times) oppressing heat, humidity, and crowds of summer, and this morning I found my usual route - down Main Street to the harbor - to be a study of serenity, with a healthy spattering of locals on hand, including fishermen (Mohawk Bolin, Mike Jackson), workers (Dennis Arnold), and wanderers in search of breakfast pastries (Barry Nevin, Marty Nadler).

It's always great to see old friends - and downtown is a little like old home week this time of year with lots of folks resurfacing now that it's safe to leave our houses - and especially great that we all have time to stop and talk to each other.






Edwina B.


Dennis, whose usual gig is South Beach, was helping out at Memorial Wharf this morning.


A fishy ice sculpture.


Mohawk, getting ready to head out "beyond cell-phone range" to do a little pleasure fishing, a welcome change from his usual break-neck commercial fishing routine.


Marty is back, after being off-island for the summer. I've missed Marty, but can you believe this guy has the nerve to flaunt his Circuit Avenue t-shirt on Edgartown's Main Street?

Marty

A funny thing happened to me on my walk downtown the other evening. Or, I should say, a funny person happened to me. The funny person was Marty Nadler. I love Marty - who doesn't? Marty comes to us via Hollywood, where he was a writer for the Laverne and Shirley show, among others. Marty is ours now and has become a local celebrity, performing comedy around the island and gracing us with his wit and charm wherever he happens to be. I often see him strolling on Upper Main Street after his dinner at Atria (his adopted home - he seems to be under the delusion that he owns the place), always friendly, and always dressed impeccably. I've long suspected, however, that Marty is one of the up-islanders who, when he gets back home, tells his friends, "I never go to Edgartown," you know, the way they love to do, especially in the aisles of Cronig's, exaggerating and drawing out the word n-e-v-e-r very dramatically (up-islanders seem to live for opportunities to say those five words). That's okay, I've seen him here, and now I've got a photo to prove it. I told him, "You'd better be careful, or you'll end up in my blog." He said, "You'd better put me in your blog." I love Marty.