My favorite welcoming sign

There are dozens of signs around the island to welcome the Obamas. But I have decided this one is definitely my favorite. I hope the First Family takes the school up on its generous offer, don't you? The Rose Garden could probably use it!

Rolling out the red (white and blue) carpet

Hurricane Bill never really showed up, despite the threats and despite the fact that many area grocery stores were overrun Saturday afternoon and evening by anxious folks determined to stock up on crackers and bottles of water, just in case Bill turned out to be Son of Katrina. Saturday night brought nothing more than a few unspectacular showers, a steady breeze and some rougher than usual waves, which stuck around much of Sunday as well.

But Sunday brought a different kind of storm: the long-awaited (in some circles, long-dreaded) arrival of the First Family. Their touchdown on the island was delayed slightly by worries about Bill, but by late Sunday afternoon the word was out -- they're here! Of course, there have already been plenty of reported sightings of Michelle dining and shopping in Oak Bluffs over the past two weeks, hardly a surprise since there seem to be scores of well-heeled young women taking fashion cues from the First Lady. I admit even I had to look twice when I went to dinner at The Newes in Edgartown last week and caught a glimpse of a stunningly lovely lady who had done a sensational job of cultivating a Michelle Look. I wasn't the only one fooled: The waitress kept scrutinizing her carefully and seemed to make extra trips to the woman's table to refill the water glass.

If President Obama is looking for a friendly place to escape the tensions of the health care debate, he's made a perfect choice. The Vineyard has rolled out the red carpet and the Obamas seem to be exceedingly popular with the residents. Of course, this might be because the local merchants -- who weathered a disastrous June, thanks to a month-long series of rainy days and tepid temperatures -- have been betting the President's vacation will bring in a few thousand more tourists that are eager to spend big money in the hopes of seeing the First Family. Obama-themed merchandise is literally available on every corner, whether your tastes run to T-shirts, oil paintings or handbags with the word "HOPE" stitched on the side.

If you get hungry, there's Baracky Road Fudge or Barack-O Tacos. You can wash them down with a mug of Ale to the Chief or an icy Obamarita. There are even dog treats inspired by First Dog Bo. If there's a way to capitalize on the Commander-in-Chief, the Vineyard vendors have probably found it.

But the island is also dotted with welcoming signs put together by residents, including hand-painted signs from kids and far more elaborate displays by grown-ups. My personal favorite is the yard display down the street from my house: The family cleverly (and probably painstakingly) stacked red, white and blue balloons to form a six-foot-high OBAMA billboard.

Of course, the media is everywhere, filming Sunday morning shoppers in Vineyard Haven and Sunday afternoon shoppers in Oak Bluffs. The arrival of the Obamas was closed to the press, but the island is basically open-city and you can bet the Chamber of Commerce is thrilled to get what will amount to thousands upon thousands of dollars of free publicity, courtesy of CNN, MSNBC and all the dozens of smaller networks and stations that have sent reporters and photographers to document the visit.

There's something else on the island, too: roaring black helicopters in the skies. They've been flying around for much of the past week, surveying the landscape. They aren't limited to Chilmark, where the Obamas are actually staying; they are everywhere. A huge black van with a sky-high transmission tower on the roof was parked alongside State Beach last week. Since the license plate bore the "U.S. GOVERNMENT" insignia, it was fairly easy to guess who was inside.

But -- at least for the time being -- the horrendous traffic tie-ups and clogged streets that some feared would come with the Obamas have yet to materialize. I went to Vineyard Haven Sunday morning to swim at Mansion House and had no trouble at all finding a parking space. Late Sunday afternoon, I went to Oak Bluffs to eat dinner at Thai Cuisine and not only was parking a snap, it turned out I was literally the only customer in the restaurant (it's usually bustling). Sunday night I returned to Vineyard Haven to see a friend's band perform at Chez Lounge and catch a showing of "In the Loop"; again, no parking hassles and no mob scenes.

Maybe people were still hiding from Hurricane Bill, but since the weather Sunday was generally gorgeous that's a bit hard to imagine. After all, who wants to eat boring old crackers and cheese when you can run down to Sharky's for a Barack-O Taco instead?

Words to live by

Who says there's no culture in "agriculture"?

With the Grand Illumination last Wednesday and now the arrival of the Martha's Vineyard Agricultural Society Fair -- known locally as the Ag Fair -- we are moving into what the Vineyard Gazette so poetically calls "the heart of a Vineyard summer." It's apparently a very steamy heart, if the humidity in the air is any indication.

At least there were a few bold breezes blowing through the Ag Fair yesterday, which were both a pleasure and a nuisance. Pleasurable because they kept the air circulating; annoying because they kept knocking over and rearranging the hand-out materials on the Vineyard Playhouse that I had carefully set up on our table in the so-called Community Tent. There I was, wedged in between a quilt raffle and a display of melted hair curlers, scorched extension cords and burned-up shoes that was meant to call attention to fire hazards in the home.

Cautionary tales are clearly a major part of the fair. Walking in, I was almost immediately confronted by a giant inflatable rat (who was waving a small American flag, for some reason) that was supposed to remind me to have my property checked for vermin. The rat-extermination table was located directly beside an exhibit that's supposed to encourage parents to talk to their teens before those party-hearty kids get out of control. Pest-control, alcohol-control -- it's all the same at the Ag Fair. After all, it's just a matter of time before those crazy teens start ratting their hair and listening to the seductive sounds of Ratt, right?

Getting to the fair was a challenge in itself. There's supposed to be a bus that runs from downtown Vineyard Haven out to the fairgrounds, which are nestled in the wilds of Tisbury. My plan was to park my car at the Park and Ride lot -- thus avoiding both the traffic and the $5 parking fee -- and jump on the bus. But although I had no trouble finding a space at the lot (which is something of a minor miracle in and of itself), I had more difficulty tracking down the shuttle. In fact, it never showed up.

So I started walking down State Road in the direction of the fairgrounds, certain that any minute that tardy bus would be rolling into view. No such luck: I finally decided to call a cab so that I could get to the fair by 10 a.m., which was the time I was supposed to open the Playhouse's table. The cab showed up almost immediately and the driver couldn't have been chattier or more pleasant. The cost of the trip: $20, plus tip. But I sure did save that $5 parking fee...

The Ag Fair seems like a good old-fashioned good time, but it's actually serious business. The Agricultural Society lets no one in for free, even if you're coming in to staff a table in the Community Tent. Adult admission is $8, which gets you nothing more than the honor of having your hand stamped by a cheery child. You want to go on the ferris wheel? It costs extra. You need a corn dog? Cough up another $4.

And if you run low on cash, you can always turn to the ATM machine for a quick fix -- if you are willing to pay the $3.50 service charge per transaction that apparently goes to the Agricultural Society. Like so many things on the Vineyard, the Ag Fair is chock-full of hidden costs.

That is, it is also a reasonably fun fair, with a broad variety of food booths (including Touchdown Tempura, a Japanese-themed concession stand run by Vineyard Football), the standard celebrations of prize-winning fruits and vegetables, a talent show (which, at the time I dropped by, featured breakdancers doing The Robot to songs from Michael Jackson's "Thriller," so we are clearly not dealing with cutting-edge entertainment), racing pigs (disappointingly, they were on their break when I dropped by) and livestock exhibitions. One of the DJs on WMVY had promised this year's fair featured "pigs the size of pianos!" and I was eager to see if they lived up to the hype. Yes, they were the size of pianos... toy pianos. I left the barn feeling absolutely swine-dled.

More intriguing were the vegetable sculptures, created by local artists who see untapped potential in cucumbers, tomatoes, squash and such. Really, how can you not be charmed by a figure with an eggplant body, gourd eyes and a red pepper nose reclining in a miniature hammock? There was also a fiber tent, in which weavers demonstrated their craft. Some of them were using alpaca wool from Island Alpaca, which is located just around the corner from me. The creations were beautiful and, although it was in the high 80s inside the tent, several of the sweaters and shawls looked as if they could easily ward off the chills that autumn and winter will someday bring.

In mid-afternoon, three youngsters from the Playhouse's Summer Stars youth theater program arrived to take over the table for me. "We'll bring in a younger crowd!" they promised. Their secret weapon: iTunes. One of them had brought along a laptop and a special musical playlist was quickly compiled in the hopes of attracting curious customers. First, they tried out John Mayer's "Your Body is a Wonderland" (which they sang along to). Then they moved on to selections from "Wicked" ("That's real theatrical music!" one told me), but before too long Beyonce had nudged Elphaba and Glinda out of the way.

In between trying to find the perfect songs ("Do you have 'Lucky' by Britney Spears?" one Star asked another. "Yeah, I had that CD -- when I was, like, 5!" he answered.), the Stars provided their own reports on fair activity. After an ill-fated run for chicken fingers, two of the Stars returned with a towering basket of fries instead. "This was the small!" they assured me. "You should have seen the large: I swear, it was like a basin!"

While the Ag Fair pigs may not really be the size of pianos, some things at the Fair are definitely not for the meek of heart.

Oak Bluffs illuminated

The gingerbread cottages of Oak Bluffs were dark last night, despite the scores of paper lanterns hanging from awnings and around the porches. There would be no lights until right around 9 p.m., when a single lantern was lit and carried through the main aisle of the Tabernacle to signal the start of The Grand Illumination, an annual celebration dating back to 1869. Hanging that first lantern started a domino effect around the Martha's Vineyard Camp Ground and, within seconds, hundreds of Chinese and Japanese paper lanterns began to glow all around the neighborhood.

When it began 140 years ago, Illumination Night was allegedly little more than a publicity stunt to attract potential buyers to the cozy community; now, it's a full-fledged festival, with neighbors cheerfully competing against each other to cook up the most eye-catching presentation. Some display lanterns with a long history, decorations that have seen many an Illumination Night. Others use bright new lights. Some mix it up, combining the vintage and the modern.

The heavy emphasis on Asian art is a reflection of the time in which the Illumination originated. In the 1880s, the West was just beginning to embrace all things Oriental, and Erastus Carpenter, the builder who helped establish Oak Bluffs, considered Japanese and Chinese lanterns to be the essence of chic. Looking at the delicately painted paper globes featuring geishas, charging horses, spectacular dragons and smiling suns, you can see some things never go out of style.

The crowds flocking to Illumination Night begin their evening at the Tabernacle, where a band plays a mix of familiar tunes (ranging from "Stars and Stripes Forever" to a "Wizard of Oz" medley and the theme from "The Phantom of the Opera"). A Community Sing is held. And then one Camp Ground resident -- it's supposed to be a big surprise, but one of my friends said the identity of the honoree always leaks out before the ceremony "because we have nothing better to do than gossip about things like that," she explained -- is picked to light the first lantern, which will signal to everyone else in the neighborhood that it's time to brighten up the night.

The decorating is done hours before the event begins, since many of the lanterns are antiques that can't stand much exposure to heat or wind. In earlier times, the lanterns included candles; most of them are now equipped with electric bulbs, although there are still a few hold-outs.

Strolling around the Camp Ground is like Halloween in reverse. It's the homeowners who are likely to be in costume, as some choose to dress in the fashions of the 19th century, or deck themselves out in their best summer attire. Some serve punch, cake or ice cream to visitors, but many simply lounge on their porches, greeting passersby and basking in the glow of a magnificent tradition.

Night of the Living Bass Heads

"If you see anything big in the water, let us know," said a solemn-faced young girl who was standing near me in the waters of State Beach. Her brother was close at hand, scrutinizing the water. Let me remind you that Martha's Vineyard is the location where "Jaws" was filmed, so the idea of "anything big in the water" is a bit troubling to me.
Thankfully, the kids were not hunting a Great White Shark; they were pursuing an impressive bass that must have easily weighed 15 pounds. Unfortunately, they were hunting him with almost comically small plastic nets that would have been more appropriate for hunting butterflies. "The Deadliest Catch," it was not.
I spotted the bass almost immediately and alerted the siblings, who scampered through the shallow water to track it down. The bass, of course, easily eluded them. It even seemed to be teasing them, swimming within a foot of their nets and then making an abrupt turn to take them off in another direction. I did not stick around for the finale of this particular fishing expedition, but I seriously doubt the kids dined on bass last night.
State Beach, located on the coast of Oak Bluffs, is a fascinating place to spend a warm afternoon. The water is so heavy with salt that you can practically float on the surface simply by laying down on the water. The waves are mild, unlike the roaring surf of South Beach. And State Beach is also the site of The Inkwell, the area of beach once populated almost exclusively by African-American vacationers. Although the term may sound vaguely derogatory, it's still widely used by people of all races in Oak Bluffs. "We're not actually in The Inkwell, we're just outside it," a black woman told a friend on the phone who was trying to locate her.
At least on this particular afternoon, The Inkwell looked much more like The Melting Pot, as sunbathers of all colors and nationalities gathered to enjoy a perfect day of brilliant sunshine and reasonably warm waters. And that elusive bass, of course.

Chappaquiddick: No jokes, please

There was something stalking me in the bushes. All I had wanted was a leisurely walk down the winding roads of Chappaquiddick, and now something was following me. With every step I took, I heard a slight crunching in the shrubbery nearby. I looked over to see if I could identify what kind of creature was hiding in the leaves, but I could see nothing. I decided maybe this would be an excellent time to cross over to the other side of the street -- and maybe start jogging.

After all, Chappaquiddick is definitely a rural area and you never know what might be watching you. A thin strip of land separated from Edgartown by water, Chappaquiddick is so peaceful and rustic it makes Edgartown look like a Mardi Gras by comparison. In contrast to the chi-chi boutiques of Edgartown, there is only one business on Chappaquiddick (reportedly some sort of convenience store and car-repair garage) and I did not see it. Most of the rest of the Chappaquiddick is ruggedly pretty countryside: tall grasses, wildflowers, robust trees, etc. You can find seashells in the grass. You can also discover more goldenrod and Queen Anne's Lace than you ever thought could exist in one place, making this a dicey destination for anyone with either allergies or a paralyzing fear of chiggers.

At one time, Chappaquiddick was apparently connected to Edgartown by a narrow strip of beach that was washed away in a tumultuous storm a few years ago. Now, getting to Chappaquiddick requires taking a ferry, although it would not be mistaken for the jumbo-sized ferries that carry us back and forth to Woods Hole. This ferry is barely larger than a pontoon and can only accommodate three vehicles at a time; passengers on foot or bicycle are squeezed into the space on the side of the boat. The entire journey takes about 45 seconds, and you could probably swim there if you were willing to brave the current and the busy boat traffic.

I had been planning a visit to Chappaquiddick since mid-June, but every time I had started out for the ferry, a storm rolled in. When I awakened yesterday to glorious sunshine and warm but not blazingly hot temperatures, I finally decided to try again.

Strolling through Chappaquiddick definitely feels like taking a walk in the countryside. All along the road, you find gorgeous flowers and plump, possibly poisonous berries dangling from their vines. Towering trees provide ample shade. Looking out over the terrain, you see the sleek sailboats and ivory-white yachts you would expect to find in the surrounding waters.

Chappaquiddick is best-known, of course, for being the place where Ted Kennedy drove off his car off the Dike Bridge in 1969, resulting in the death of passenger Mary Jo Kopechne. This incident has not been forgotten in the Vineyard: In fact, there were fliers posted in Edgartown for a "40th anniversary tour" of the accident site. Thanks, I think I'll pass.

You might expect a place with such a strong Kennedy association to be luxurious and classy. But I had to chuckle when I saw the Chappaquiddick Beach Club, which sounds impressively upscale but actually looks like one of those old British holiday camps, with tacky, flimsy-looking dressing rooms and little more than a well-worn white picket fence to keep undesirables out.

Many of the houses are positioned far back from the road, most of them located behind walls of trees or at the end of long driveways so that you can't exactly see what they're like or who might be living there. Chappaquiddick is obviously a place for those who like seclusion: The scenery is dotted with signs reading "private drive," "private property," "no trespassing," etc.

I never did find out exactly what was lurking in the brush, watching my every move. Perhaps it wasn't an animal at all, but a Chappaquiddick resident, worried that I might dare to actually set foot on his private property or private drive. Thankfully, I resisted the urge to trespass and made it back to Edgartown in one piece.