First time in Texas? It won’t be her last. Tamma Willoughby returned from a long stay in beautiful San Marcos. Tamma went to check on and help out her daughter Ashley. Ashley married Sam Byrd, as you know, and moved to his hometown.
The haunting of William street! Apparently, the kind and stalwart neighbors on this brief four blocks of Vineyard Haven were inundated with our little ghosts and goblins on All Hallow’s Eve.
With great sadness our community learned of the death of Brian Murdoch, who died unexpectedly at his home on Sunday, Oct. 16. He had only been pastor of our Grace Episcopal Church on the Island for two years. He certainly packed those two years. He was passionate about people, a friend to all, and available in any time of need.
I have known Mike Jacobs of Chilmark since he was a teenager. I am so pleased to see how he has grown into a man and a concerned citizen, especially mindful of sustainable energy problems and solutions both on and off Island. Mike is involved with the Vineyard Energy Project’s formation in 2009 of the Vineyard Power Co-op.
Sunday, Sept. 25 was a beautiful day for a walk. It was also my Dad’s 100th birthday. Dad passed 18 years ago. The cause of death was Alzheimer’s. I usually participate in the Cape and Islands walk to end Alzheimer’s. But here I was, in my Old Country, on Dad’s birthday, and nothing would do but for me to walk in White Plains in the Hudson Valley Alzheimer’s fundraiser.
The arts have it on Martha’s Vineyard. The upcoming events are no exception. Do you remember dear Marcia Rossi Wise who lived and worked on our Island for so many years? This Renaissance woman gave piano and art lessons to my son as well as to many, many other children.
The Cimeno-Willoughby clan is always full of news. My dear neighbors for over 30 years have been rallying around daughter Ashley Willoughby Byrd, now married, mother of a 16-month old Jude, and living with her husband in San Marcos, Tex.
There are some things you never forget, nor would you want to. What comes to mind is my first student teaching class, third grade at the Tisbury School under the wonderful eye of my mentor, Bess F. Stone. I remember the hopeful, shining eyes, the quizzical glances, the delighted laughter. I remember Clinton Griesser
