Paul Jackson died recently at the age of 87. You probably never heard of him, which I’m sure was fine with Paul.

April begins a fool and ends a sage. She tags the tails of March, the cruelest month with high hopes and fierce winds.

I always thought I would have one last chance to say goodbye to my grandfather.

The proposed housing bank bill replaces the direct democracy of town meeting with a central committee, consisting of seven commissioners, one elected from each town, and a seventh commissioner elected Islandwide.

So it is April at last. The daffodils are up, but not all in bloom yet.

Our dad Richard Leonard was promoted to president and CEO of the Martha’s Vineyard Cooperative Bank in 1989 — a big job for an Island boy freshly graduated from University of Massachusetts.

“The Ukraine crisis is something we don’t want to see.”

—Xi Jinping

A slant of light on a winter afternoon
Illumines a two-foot pine sapling
I forgot I planted at the lawn’s edge.
In my mind’s eye: I accept from
Someone’s hands the tiny tree,
Roots swaddled in a plastic bag.
I transport it from somewhere
And plant it at home on the Vineyard,
Heaping soil around the base, then
Forgetting about it until a ray of light
Points to a tree tall enough for me to see
From the windows of my study.

Blood Pudding by Ivan Cox is framed as a long-lost memoir of its narrator, Tadeusz Malinowski.

Jim Kinsella should be remembered.

Up the coast to another territory. Hollywood war music on the radio.