HOLLY NADLER
508-693-3880
The moon has been so dramatically full this week — so fat and blazing and low on the horizon — that some people have had to break out sunglasses for their evening stroll with the dog.
The moon’s glow was particularly taunting on those extremely freezing nights earlier in the week when you had to wonder how a heavenly body could shed major light and zip heat.
Then there’s all the supernatural folklore about full moons, to which I’ve been ready to subscribe this week (heck, I’m ready to subscribe all weeks.)
So far there’ve been no reports of werewolves and, frankly, I’m disappointed — always have been — that no werewolves have ever prowled the hills and dales of the Vineyard (wouldn’t that solve the skunk problem.)
But how’s this for a moonstruck guardian angel story:
On Monday, eve of the full moon, my friends Marcia Smilack and Dawn Greeley had dropped in to the bookstore for tea. Ever the gracious hostess, I set out a small bowl of mixed nuts. We caught each other up: Marcia was busy taking winter photographs, Dawn is off for some weeks in Palm Springs where last year’s rainfall was all of three inches and it happened on a Thursday. Dawn, knowing I was looking for a buyer for the store, asked me how that was going, and I joked, “So far Borders has made the best offer, but I might have to turn down the part about a condo in Cozumel.”
As my buddies were leaving, a guy poked his head inside the door.
“Are you open?”
“Well, no, I’m —”
Didn’t matter, he was in, bopping around to look at books, and shoveling nuts into his mouth from the open bowl. He wore typical Island male scruffy gear: an old grey knit cap pulled low, worn boots, ancient trousers, canvas jacket. We talked about writing — he was doing some, though he was admirably vague about what — and, of course, books.
He told me about his time in the Hamptons, and how he’d wandered into some fabulous book collectives there. “You know, each collective’s got a small group of owners, all of ’em real serious about reading, they all put in hours at the store, decide on new books together — it’s great!”
As he talked, he went on popping nuts in his mouth which somehow I found totally endearing.
Meanwhile his news about book collectives exploded in my imagination like a flashlight relieved of two rusty C batteries, replaced with new ones, and switched on.
“You know, I’d love to do that with my store . . .”
As I mused, I leaned away from the man to pick up a scrap of paper and toss it in the wastebasket. When I turned back to my, well, customer I guess you’d have to call him, he was gone.
I don’t know how a live human could have fled the shop so quickly, including how he could have opened and closed the front door with its hanging wrought-iron bells-and-angel (?!) strategically placed to bang and clang on every entrance and exit. It had made no sound. (Note to the guy: If you’re a real person and reading this, do not come forward and identify yourself: you’ll ruin the story.)
One last featurette of this re-make of It’s A Wonderful World: Some minutes later I decided to compose a letter to some of my book-blissed friends about a collective. The first person I thought of was Alicia Lesnikowska. Many of you know her — she’s the landscaper with a doctorate in botany, she lives on Hines Point (with her mom, Ann) and sleeps in a tower much like Rapunzel did (though Alicia’s hair is not so long). She also has a dealership in rare books, and a husband in France whom she makes a point of visiting twice annually. At this time of year she resides with her sister, Molly, in Georgia. So how could I write to Alicia?
Okay, in the meantime, I had plunged into the basement to scrounge up some R.D. Wingfield mysteries I’d left down there, saw a box in the corner with a shiny turquoise-and-white-dotted notebook sticking out. Couldn’t remember what it was, and opened it to make sure it wasn’t an embarrassing diary. Nope, it was a guest sign-in journal from when I’d first inaugurated the bookstore. The page to which it fell open had the name and address (with my finger actually pointing to it!) of one Alicia Lesnikowska.
This just in from Matthew Bose at the Oak Bluffs Library: Please join them on Saturdays at 3 p.m. during the month of February. The latest DVD releases will be shown on their big screen for your viewing pleasure; it is just like being at the movies. Ask a library staff member or call for the title of the upcoming movie: 508-693-9433.
Robert Iadicicco, moderator of Friday Conversations at the Oak Bluffs Senior Center, has announced that the speaker for Friday, Feb. 29 from 10 to 11:30 a.m., will be Keith Gorman, newly appointed director of the Martha’s Vineyard Museum, formerly called the Martha’s Vineyard Historical Society, before that the Dukes County Historical Society. (I think we should go on notice that no person or institution is allowed more than one name change per decade. Even the Artist Formerly Known As Prince hasn’t foisted another moniker on us.)
At the Oak Bluffs School, the 4th Grade Winners Circle Group, the Vineyard Champs, visited Second Chance Animal Rescue last week where they learned the shelter paid $5,000 in vet bills for the care of two sick puppies. The Vineyard Champs are forfeiting their recess and lunch time today, Friday, Jan. 25 from 11:25 to 12:15 to hold a bake sale in the school lobby. Something tells me they won’t raise the full $5,000 in those forty minutes, but their hearts are clearly in the right place, as hopefully the puppies’ hearts or whatever-needing-fixing still are.
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