It snowed as if it would never stop snowing. A resort economy sputtered back to life. History came alive and sailed down the Sound into Vineyard Haven harbor. These were a few benchmarks of the year.
Every Christmas on Martha’s Vineyard is an old fashioned Christmas, even though the observance came relatively late to New England. The three youths who advanced to the front of a platform in an Island school and sang with voices hardly breaking at all, We Three Kings of Israel Are, were pioneers.
Nature seems to whisper during a snowstorm as a blanketing hush falls over the land, sky and sea. Even the foghorn sounds muffled.
The rock and the general — those are the words I use to describe my paternal grandparents. Herbert and Claire Mercier, married for 63 years, created a life on Cooke street in Edgartown.
I woke up wearing a hospital gown. The paper napkin tie-on dress was a faded robin’s egg blue, dotted with orange bloodstains from the burns that turned into inch-thick scabs on my stomach and chest.
"Christmas is coming! Christmas is coming!" That’s how my grandmother, Addie Crist, would greet me when she came to visit my parents and me for the holidays.
Norman Bridwell, who died last week at 86, was living proof that there really are no absolutes in life, and that especially includes rejection. The story has been told a hundred times.
The prolonged cold snap which the Vineyard has experienced for virtually two weeks without a thaw has caused the older inhabitants to rack their memories for some recollection of a similar spell of weather early in the winter of 1925-26.
The following cases were heard in Edgartown district court.

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