“Snowfall will be above normal in most of the Northeast, although below normal in much of New England.” So said the Old Farmer’s Almanac for the start of 2015. It sounds like a cheap fortune cookie message. Also, it sounds quite off the mark.
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.
At a recent event at the Katharine Cornell Theatre I was crowned Martha’s Vineyard poet laureate, succeeding Lee McCormack. I was given a two-year term, a plastic laurel wreath and a toga.
It was November 1974. Forty years ago. I was meeting an award-winning writer for lunch at the Black Dog Tavern. A great excuse to come to the Vineyard.
This is not going to come as a shock to anyone — well, to anyone who has left the Vineyard at least once in his or her life — but there is an assortment of quirks associated with life here.
