Memorial Day 2020

                                                    Dock Street window

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Memorial Day Weekend - Sunday Night Downtown

It was on the cool side when I ventured downtown this evening, but that didn't stop the multitudes from going through the motions, acting as if summer is here, with an enthusiasm that belied the frigid air. But after this past horrific winter, who isn't eager for summer? Eventually the weather will catch up, I'm sure.



Eric is from California and has been working at Scoops for one week. It's his first time on the island, and so far, so good.


These siblings from Boston are 8, 6, 4, and 3. According to mom, most of her friends have four or five children, too. Maybe big families are coming back.


Down at the docks I found a few members of the Jackson clan, including Dennis, holding court aboard the Alison Lee.


Peter Jackson, fishing for squid.


Cute fisherboy.


It's Official: Summer 2014 has arrived.

March to the Sea

While swinging from my living room ceiling with a paint brush yesterday, I caught a glimpse through the window of Officer Neal Condlin, lurking on the corner of Pease's Point Way in front of the monument, glancing expectantly up Main Street. I thought this was a bit unusual for a Friday afternoon in May - it crossed my mind that there may have been an accident farther up the street - so I popped out the front door to take a peak.

What I saw when I looked westward were flashing blue lights which preceded a small army of school children and their accompanying adults and EPD officials parading down Main Street, on their way to Memorial Wharf in the annual Memorial Day March to the Sea.

Luckily for me, they were far enough up the street to allow me to quickly run upstairs and grab my camera. Just when I was thinking, "I need something to blog about," too.

Seeing the children with their flowers and flags quite made my day. I especially loved seeing Rich Colter and Cathy Convery Lewis among the throng, they having been among the schoolmates I marched with years ago.

I was also very glad to have been able to take a few photos before the skies let loose with a sudden deluge of rain.

Have a great weekend, everybody - and let us never forget those who have given their lives to keep us safe and free.

Memorial Day in Edgartown

Rushing out of a local shop yesterday, I blurted, "Happy Memorial Day." Before the last word was out of my mouth I realized that the word happy does not belong in that sentence. But what is the appropriate greeting on this day, a day that has been set aside, officially since 1873, as a day to remember our war dead?

The only appropriate greeting, I suppose, would be no greeting.

When I was a little girl my mother passed down the custom of visiting the cemetery on Memorial Day, a custom I did not so strongly instill in my own children, I'm sorry to have to admit; and there was the annual march down to the town wharf where we school kids tossed our lilacs into the harbor (a tradition that continues today), the meaning of which we would not understand until many years later.

I know there was a parade and a picnic in Vineyard Haven yesterday, but we don't really have a national, collective observance of this holiday, to the point that Memorial Day has become just another shopping and party day and summer's kick-off weekend. In my case, it was a work day.

I like the way Israel celebrates its Memorial Day - Yom Hazikaron. There is a minute-long siren blast that is heard all over the country. At the sound of the siren, everyone and everything comes to a standstill - even traffic stops in the middle of the highways, and everyone stands in silence, collectively remembering and showing respect to all of Israel's fallen soldiers.

I couldn't find my flag, I failed to get it together to put a pot of geraniums (the tradition in my family) onto the family graves, nor did I make it to Vineyard Haven for the parade. I offer these photos as my moment of silence.

Thank you.
































The most beautiful grave stone in the cemetery.This huge chunk of rose quartz marks the graves of my grandparents, Herbert Melville Boylston and Mabel Shurtleff Boylston, and my mother, Alison Williams Boylston Piazza. My grandmother had this pink boulder shipped down from a quarry in New Hampshire when my grandfather died in 1939.