Early Sunday morning, I like to walk Middle Road from West Tisbury.
I live on Martha’s Vineyard, 3,000 miles away from my homeland. Why?
I live off a dirt road, rutted and pitted. Pebbles and dust spew from car tires.
“Is there anything you’re excited about today?” the little boy asked me, as we were drying ourselves off.
I haven’t played all that much golf in my lifetime, but most of it has been with my brother Kent.
Young people, even middle-aged people, don’t usually spend time thinking about growing old. I’m not sure why.
My passion for live theatre is now on hold. The Martha’s Vineyard Playhouse, where I serve as board chair, remains dark in these dark times.
Earlier this week I listened to three former American Presidents eulogize John Lewis.
In May 2018, I saw a documentary called Paper Lanterns. It tells the story of Shigeaki Mori’s research to identify 12 American soldiers who had died...
Back in early March, my two boys, Owen and Rye, were doing the typical sibling stuff. You know, sharing backseat snacks and squabbling over whose...
On August 2, 1970, I boarded a Pan American passenger jet with over 100 other combat troops. We were waiting for takeoff from Danang airbase, Vietnam.

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