Past the halfway mark already?

I just realized today that, as of Friday, I will have been here for a full seven weeks. That means I am now in the second half of my time here. In some ways it seems to have gone by incredibly quickly. Believe me, since I started working at the Playhouse, the time has truly flown. We've already done six of our 22 performances, which is quite hard to believe.

People keep asking if I'm going to stay in Martha's Vineyard. Honestly, I don't want to give a firm "yes" or "no" at this point, but I have to say it seems rather unlikely. Not that I haven't enjoyed the community or the people (or the abundance of lobster). There is so much to recommend this beautiful place, both in terms of its natural beauty and the almost supernaturally easy pace of life here. I have never lived in such a comfortable, almost entirely stress-free environment and I can certainly understand why this island has been a haven for so many for so long.

But when I look at the situation realistically, I don't see myself here in the long run. My jobs are seasonal, for one thing. My housing situation is as well. And although I've met some wonderful people out here, most of them aren't going to be staying around either.

My family and most of my friends are nearly 1,000 miles away and I am reminded of that every day. I had hoped to take a break midway through my stay and go back to Michigan to attend my friend John's wedding, but it was prohibitively expensive. I hated having to tell him I wouldn't be able to make it; even though he said he understood, it was a disappointment for both of us. And that's the sort of scenario I would be facing again and again by relocating here permanently. I have written before about how tricky it is to leave the island. Figuring out how to get to Michigan for a few days -- a journey that would have involved ferries, buses, planes, rental cars and possibly even trains and cabs -- was almost hilariously complicated and the trip would have easily cost the better part of $1,000.

At the same time, I can't see myself staying in Michigan permanently. The job market is barren and it's anybody's guess when (if ever) it's going to improve. My former position is gone and even though I have heard from friends who are "sure" I could get it back, they are sorely mistaken. It won't be happening, no matter how hard they wish it.

Anyhow, all of this has been on my mind since I had to fill out some paperwork for the Playhouse this evening that asked for my "permanent address" and I realized, perhaps for the first time in my entire life, I don't have a permanent address right now. That is a disorienting thought. Does this make me a gypsy? Homeless? A wanderer?

Ultimately, of course, I will end up living wherever I get a job. Right now, I don't know where that will be. Maybe it will be Martha's Vineyard -- but I am doubtful. I only hope I have a much clearer answer in the not-too-distant future.

A day of deliveries, an evening of ushering

In addition to writing for This Week on Martha's Vineyard, my co-workers and I also get to deliver the paper each Thursday. We've been paired up to cover a particular area of the island and drop off copies to the businesses that distribute it. In my case, I work with Scott to blanket downtown Vineyard Haven, which, thankfully, is not that large. Basically, it's a main street and a few spots down by the dock where the ferries come in.

There was a certain amount of suspense Thursday because the sky kept darkening and the wind would swoop in, bringing with it the threat of rain; considering we make our deliveries by hand, that would literally put a damper on things. The barista at a coffeehouse I stopped in assured me that the forecast said the rain would hold off until evening and, thankfully, she was right. Even though the overcast skies never disappeared, there was no precipatation until long after we'd finished our chores. As you can see from the photo above, readers seemed to be eagerly awaiting the issue; personally, I think my extensive list of seasonal fundraisers was a big selling point.

Thursday evening was spent at the Vineyard Playhouse, where I had volunteered to usher for the final preview of "Fly," a play by Ricardo Khan and Trey Ellis. It's a superbly performed drama based on the experiences of the Tuskegee Airmen, the African-American fighter pilots who overturned a lot of misconceptions when they went into battle in Europe in World War II. The script addresses not only the racism they faced from their white instructors on a remote base in Alabama ("This ain't 'The Wizard of Oz,'" one officer snarls at an aspiring pilot. "There ain't never been and ain't never gonna be no flying monkey.") but also the tensions between the men themselves, who came from all over America and had their own stereotypical ideas to overcome about other regions and other lifestyles. A self-assured, strutting Chicagoan in a zoot suit dismisses one of his fellow candidates as "country" until he finds out the man is actually from Harlem and trained on an airfield on Long Island that Charles Lindbergh once frequented. A flyer who comes from the West Indies and speaks with a strong accent is nicknamed "Coconut." Eventually, of course, such differences and discriminatory attitudes had to be put aside as these men prepared to work together in combat.

The Playhouse is an intimate, 120-seat venue, but director Khan and choreographer Hope Clarke use the limited space to maximum advantage, making us feel the claustrophobia the men must have experienced in those stuffy living quarters and classrooms and in those cramped planes. One of the show's many inspired touches is the use of a tap-dancing griot (a West African poet/storyteller/historian) who occasionally serves as a chorus to voice the men's unspoken feelings and anxieties, but more often enhances the mood of the moment by using his fast-moving feet to simulate the sound of an airplane engine coming to life, a stopwatch ticking away, a train chugging down the tracks, a nervous heartbeat, etc. It's the opening show of the Playhouse's summer season and I suspect it will turn into a word-of-mouth hit.

Ushering was generally a breeze (I only had to "relocate" one slightly confused gentlemen who had settled into the wrong seat -- the seat reserved for me, actually -- and needed to be directed to the other side of the house) and the Playhouse staff could not have been more cordial and helpful. One of my duties was to make the coffee that was served prior to the performance and everyone seemed to like the way I made it, which was a relief since, as many of my friends and family can attest, that is not always the case.

Will the real lobster roll please stand up?

Remember that lobster roll I showed you last Friday? Please forget it. It's nothing but a fake, according to the good people at Grace Church in Vineyard Haven, which serves up hundreds of lobster rolls every Friday evening (almost 600 last Friday, according to their sales chart on the wall).

"Some people make them with lettuce and stuff like that," one of the hosts told me. He made a sour face. "These are the real thing." One of his co-workers seconded that sentiment: "These are the best lobster rolls you'll find on the island," she said, proudly.

They are certainly worth waiting all week to get your hands on: It's a fresh-baked bun (sort of similar to a hot dog bun, but slightly more spacious and with more of a curve to it) that's overflowing with shredded lobster. There may have been a touch of mayonnaise mixed in to hold the meat together, but if there was, I couldn't tell. No celery. No lettuce. No shallots. None of the other "inauthentic" fillers used to pad out lobster rolls at other places.
The sale starts at 4:30 p.m. every Friday during the summer, and I was glad I showed up early: Within 15 minutes, there was a quickly growing line of hungry people.

Just down the street from the church is a bed and breakfast known as The 1720 House. It's an attractive building in its own right, but what really caught my attention as I was walking past was the driveway. At first glance, it looked like chopped-up tree bark scattered all over the place. Who'd use something like that on a driveway, I wondered? Well, not the people at The 1720 House anyway. Upon closer inspection, I realized the driveway was actually covered with ground-up shells, which, considering the property's close proximity to the beach, would surely be easier to come by than gravel.

By the way, the weather here has been so gloomy that islanders seem to feel a compulsion to apologize for it. "It's never like this, really!" one man assured me. Another told me this was "not like June at all." It's not as if I was planning to blame the natives for the seemingly inescapable gray clouds and frequent bursts of rain, although it's reassuring to hear that this is merely a fluke. A little sunshine would definitely be welcome sometime soon.

Here's something that happens to me regularly when I am out of town: I am stopped on the street by other out-of-towners who seem to think I'm either a local or Mr. Information. It's occurred several times in London (and boy, are the tourists surprised when they hear my very American accent!), in New York, in Los Angeles, in Toronto. So why shouldn't it happen here? And today it did. An apparently thirsty gentlemen asked me where he could find a good wine store in Vineyard Haven. Aha! A trick question! "Vineyard Haven is a dry town," I explained. "You'll have to go to Oak Bluffs or Edgartown. But both of them have several liquor stores." He nodded and went on his way and I felt really proud of myself for a few seconds for being able to give accurate instructions. If anyone needs to know where to find alcohol on the island, please track me down and I'll set you straight.

The second time around

Twice in one week is probably too much. But I was in Oak Bluffs this evening and I couldn't resist the Lobster Macaroni and Cheese at Sidecar Cafe. Happily, it was every bit as delicious this time around. Even better, I had my camera with me this time so I can show you what it looks like. If only I could make this photo Scratch-N-Sniff, but technology defeats me. Sidecar is a wonderful little place with very friendly service and delightful little bonuses, like the free white bean spread, olive plate and crostinis that came with the meal.

Was the meal the highlight of the day? Perhaps so. I awoke this morning to the unwelcome sound of pounding rain outside my window. The weather has been overcast and grim the past couple days, so much so that I've overheard salespeople and managers complaining that it's starting to cut into their business because everyone is staying home. Initially, the extended forecast promised a sunny weekend, but now it looks like the threat of rain will be hanging around (thunderstorms are predicted for tomorrow morning).

During a break in the rain, I ventured out to West Tisbury to visit a store called Citrine, which is one of the places being spotlighted in a piece I'm doing on exotic fashions. I didn't choose the story; it was an assignment, and I vowed to make the best of it, even though it was not something I would have picked for myself. Citrine turned out to be a little eye-popper of a place, with an impressive array of scarves and beads in any color you could dare to imagine. The helpful young woman on duty there gave me plenty of information and I managed to get back to my computer and file my story before my noon deadline, so that was a plus.

Later in the afternoon, I dropped by the Vineyard Playhouse in Vineyard Haven when I noticed the doors were open. Although their first production, "Fly," doesn't open for another week, some of the Playhouse people were busy getting items ready for a tag sale that will be taking place on Saturday. They're selling off many of their props and stock items that they don't have room to store anymore, and several of them looked quite nice. I think I now have plans for Saturday morning, in fact.

To wrap up a mostly mundane day, I dropped by Stop-And-Shop, one of the island's grocery stores. Months before I came here, a knowledgeable friend had warned me, "Wait until the first time you go grocery shopping..." and she was accurate: Prices on some of the items are, well, let's just say a bit startling. You have to remind yourself that you are not in a place where trucks can deliver day or night. Almost everything is brought over on a boat and the lucky consumer gets to bear a portion of the transportation costs. So laundry detergent that would have cost me no more than $5 in Portage goes for almost $7.50 here (ouch!) and a bottle of Absolut that would have been about $20 at most Michigan party stores is closer to $24 here. But there are still some bargains to be had, as I found tonight when I got 20 yogurts for only $10. I also noticed a box of Celestial Seasons tea cost just about the same at Stop-And-Shop as it would have at D&W in my old neighborhood.

There are also other surprise savings outside of the supermarket. Several of my co-workers and I went to the Capawock Theatre in Vineyard Haven Tuesday night to see "The Hangover" and paid a whopping $5 apiece for our tickets. No, it was not "twilight bargain" time: The Capawock regularly shows movies Mondays through Thursdays for this price. Apparently, the theater had been shuttered for many years until 2006, when the Hall family, which owns the property, re-opened the doors. I don't know how they fare on a regular basis, but the Tuesday night "Hangover" was sold out (the theater has about 300 seats by my guesstimate) and this evening's show of "Up" seemed to be bringing in a healthy crowd as well. The family also owns what I guess is meant to be called the Strand Theatre in Oak Bluffs, although the missing letters on its signage make it the Sand Theatre; it's apparently only open in the summer.