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There’s a peculiar and fascinating method to the way a man and a woman sit down to watch TV together. I’ve only just discovered this, having come late in life to television, and not only television, but the whole shmegegge, including Showtime, HBO, and stations devoted to grooming llamas, growing dahlias and repairing motorcycles.
So a guy and a gal, say they live in Oak Bluffs, sit down to a newly clicked-on screen. A sports event is taking place because the last person to view something on this particular TV set was the guy, and this is what he loves. The guy hands the gal the remote control: he’s courteous and always insists on her going first. He’s a war baby, she’s a boomer, and his generation is big on manners, which works well for her.
She starts her channel search at the 40s because, lower than that, the commercials are so saturating and pervasive that only 90 seconds of programming pops up between them. She flips through several offerings, but then a movie on the Comedy Channel catches her attention — it’s something about ballroom dancing.
She asks her mate, “Do you mind if we watch a few minutes of this to see if it’s any good?” He nods with great benevolence, but already there’s a glaze over his eyes. Without having to look again, she can sense his boredom mounting, so she rifles through several channels until she comes to Animal Planet. She sits, transfixed, as a couple of Florida animal control officers wrangle an alligator to the ground. A quick glance at her guy: His eyes are buggy now, as round and protruding as eyes can get. He’s clearly horrified that he and his bride have spent 120 seconds on a single spectacle.
The gal hands the remote to her guy. He zaps through a myriad of wonderful offerings — there’s Derek Jacobi playing — oops! too quick to see whom he’s portraying, but it’s one of Shakespeare’s heavy-hitters — now it’s Bill Maher — wait! she loves Bill Maher! — gone! Now it’s a movie about an earthquake in Peru, now belly-dance instruction — sheesh! you’d think her guy would enjoy that, but no, the click of the remote waits for no navel — now Ralph Fiennes moves in for a kiss with Kristin Scott Thomas — obliterated!
Finally the gal says through clenched teeth, “Could I have the clicker back for just a second? The English Patient is one of my favorite movies.”
With an air of self-sacrifice, the guy forks over the remote control. It takes the gal a while to find her flick because in a micro-moment the guy has punched through 27 channels. At last she sees Ralph in a jeep raising a cloud of dust in the Sahara. Sigh of relief. And yet as she watches the breathless scenery, the winsome dialogue, and the heart-stopping romance, her spirit sags under the pure futility of getting the guy interested in this movie. She sighs, hands back the clicker.
“I’m going to read a book,” she says.
At her back, she hears a sports event being broadcast.
“Wow,” he tells her as she leaves the room, “Did you know that Darnell McDonald is leading the Red Sox in outfield assists and he only plays half the time?”
And that’s what we all have to look forward to in the coming winter on this Island.
On a more hopeful note, for this year’s fall production of Annie, the Oak Bluffs School is opening up the chorus for children (especially girls) grades one and up. A parent, guardian or babysitter of appropriate age must be present with your student at all rehearsals. The first rehearsal for the younger students will be Tuesday, Oct. 12 from 2:45 to 4:30 p.m. If you and your student are interested, please attend this rehearsal and find out what it takes for your youngster to be onstage in the big fall production of Annie. Performance dates are Friday, Nov. 19, Saturday, Nov. 20 and Sunday, Nov. 21. It should be a great show.
Other school dates: Oct. 3 is the eighth grade auction, Oct. 4 is instrument pickup at the Edgartown School from 2:30 to 5:30 p.m., Oct. 6 to 8 is the sixth grade trip to Camp Alton Jones, and Oct. 7 is open house and pasta dinner for grades kindergarten through grade five.
Last Saturday night Jack and I strolled through town. The first thing we noticed was the full moon over the Union Chapel. Then we observed soft amber light limning the exquisite old windows, high and low. The final sensation was the throb of music. We approached the open door and a young, bearded man informed us the Martha’s Vineyard Songwriters Festival was just finishing up and we were welcome to enter for the final lap.
We heard Tom Douglas on keyboard, whose song The House That Built Me reminded this freebie seat-holder of her lost house in East Chop, and brought her to tears. Also performing in this final trio of music magic makers was Aussie Kylie Sackley on guitar, and Keith Stegall, composer of the hit song Dallas. All three songwriters had fine voices, particularly Ms. Sackley, who knows how to belt ’em, and the awesome acoustics of the Union Chapel did the performers full justice. Whoa, Nellie! We’ll remember these Indian summer days in late September of 2010 in O.B. and the some enchanted evenings we lucked into.
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