HOLLY NADLER

508-274-2329

(hollynadler@gmail.com)

Dear Extended O.B. Family,

Forgive me for falling back on the despised New Year’s form letter, but I calculated the time it would take to write personally to every last one of you, and I realized I wouldn’t be finished until St. Patrick’s Day.

My year of 2009 started with a stout-hearted stay through January on Island as I secretly sneered at all the folks who headed south or west or southwest because they couldn’t face one more snow day. Wusses, every one of them! Meantime I hosted my friend, Kathleen Quinn, who, sadly enough, had endured 12 years of living abroad, first in Venice, then in Paris. She thought, quite understandably, that a migration to Martha’s Vineyard would act like a shot of vitamin B-12 to the spirit, and began a search for a year-round rental. Thanks to my old pal Lisa Lucier at Ocean Park Realty, Kathleen found an adorable home in Harthaven, even as the Arctic Express howled across the Sound, causing frozen crystals to coat the surface like cheesecloth over a baking turkey.

Before Lisa got into the act, the repatriated ex-pat was asking everyone in sight if he or she knew of a rental. She may have entreated any number of you. One of her new best buddies was Island journalist Jack Shea, whom she attracted over to our table at The Newes from America while I was off in the loo.

Now I happened to have been, for many years, happily single, like a nun in an order of one, Our Lady of Perpetual Disinclination. Besides, I had my cute Boston terrier and, as I always told my female pals in the throes of another aggravating relationship or a string of bad dates, “If you have a dog, you don’t need a boyfriend.”

The thing was, every time I bumped into Jack, I would confide to whomever accompanied me, “If I were dating, that would be the man I’d date.” But, of course, I wasn’t, so I didn’t.

Two months intervened while my dog, Huxley, and I stayed with family in California. All I can say about February and March spent off-Island in some sunny, warm place is that the experience fills you with very nearly incapacitating survivor’s guilt, so don’t hate me!

Well, Kathleen kept extolling Jack to me, and me to Jack, while another mutual friend, Gwyn McAllister, writer and publicist living in the heart of O.B., tried to get this sweet, smart and funny man to make a move on the morbidly shy amateur enunciate. I gave him the wrong phone number (could this have been a hidden agenda to preserve my nun-ness?) and that discouraged him from any further pursuit, if pursuit is the appropriate word here. Finally in late May I called him, but our wickedly witty and wonderful conversation went nowhere romantically, and at last I blurted out, “Are we getting together?” He replied. “You want to go out for dinner?” “Sure. When?” “Tonight?” “Oh, well, um . . . okay!”

We dined at the Blue Canoe. We went out every night for a week and one day. On the eighth evening when he drove me home, he parked his black Subaru, switched off the engine, then reached up to twink on the harsh interior light. “Will you marry me?” he asked. I said, “You bet! We collapsed into one another’s arms. When finally we pulled apart, I said, “Now can we turn off the light?”

We had a small ceremony on Oct. 24 at the Aquinnah town hall. Our dogs wore Windsor-knotted ties, whacky Huxley’s all askew, the dignified black Lab Dukey’s perfectly straight all through the afternoon. Now that 2010 is upon us, Jack and I are finally getting to know one another and, I’m here to tell you, marriage works best when you fall immediately in love on a high poetic plateau and discover the quirks later, e.g. He lets the dogs take sips from his water bottle? and Why does she bump into walls?

So that’s the news on the Nadler/Shea front. Marty, my beloved ex, attended the wedding in a snappy Ray Orbison look of black shirt, fedora hat and dark shades. Son Charlie was in situ for the wedding and then again in the past week for Christmas. In Vineyard rendezvous mode, he checked in with as many home-for-the-holidays buddies as possible. Jack and I would love to betroth him to an Island girl, but we just found out parents and even stepparents are no longer allowed to arrange marriages for their kids.

Here’s wishing you all a sensational new year full of money, adventure and, above all, romance!

Much Love,

Holly

P.S. If you’re considering beefing up your IQ during winter days in adult education, check in with Lynn Ditchfield at 508-627-8373 or lynnditchfield@gmail.com.

For the January children’s program at the Oak Bluffs Public Library, Wednesday, Jan. 6 will see a 10:30 a.m. toddler storytime when kids will play and develop literary skills, featuring winter themes, as they read, sing and do fingerplays, ending up with a simple craft and activity (kids one-and-a-half through three). At 11:30 on the same day, preschool (three to five) storytime will take place with a, needless to say, much more sophisticated academic approach.