It is a picture perfect 4th of July in picture perfect Edgartown on Martha’s Vineyard. Happy 4th, everyone! I hope it is picture perfect wherever you are…
Yesterday, as I was shuttling back and forth from the bookstore, I kept thinking how carefully curated Edgartown is by the town fathers.
Joyce had a half price bookstand on the porch of the bookstore and they cited her for having that; it was too unseemly for the town. It now rests in a corner in the bookstore.
It feels like they all went to the Walt Disney School for Civic Perfection.
Visually stunning, the little town of Edgartown, is a haven for preppies. In town, we are awash in pastel and Lilly Pulitzer. I had forgotten that salmon was the color of choice for WASPS.
Oak Bluffs is much more diverse than Edgartown, and each part of the island has its own feel. Edgartown is prep, all the way. I think that Igor and Mischa, the two baristas at “Behind the Bookstore” are the two edgiest characters in town and loved by everyone. There is no doubt that “BTB” has the BEST coffee on the island.
There will be massive fireworks, I understand, though I am not sure I will be seeing much of them as I am closing the bookstore tonight, a role I frequently play. Last night we closed at ten and I didn’t get back until 11:30 and didn’t unwind enough to sleep until one. Ten percent of the day’s take was done in the last hour as folks wandered in after dinner to have books to read this beautiful 4th.
There is an interesting opinion piece in today’s NY Times about the Declaration of Independence being partly driven by a fear of Indians and slave revolts. You can find it at:
It is fascinating, interesting, explanatory and gives me cause to think, which is good in an opinion piece, whether at the end you agree or not.
The British, in attempting to quell the rebellion, were agitating both American Indians and slaves.
Yesterday, Jeffrey, Joyce and Joyce’s niece, Julie, and her husband, Mark, along with Joyce’s sister, Elyse, went clamming and came home with 219 of them, near a house record. Before I leave for the store, there will be a feast of them and other things before Mark and Julie fly back to New York and I leave to deal with the madding crowds that will be roving Main Street after dinner.
And as we celebrate, I am also taking a minute to bow my head in memoriam for the 200 plus dead in the bombing of a marketplace in Baghdad as Ramadan nears its end. And for those who were killed in Holey’s Cafe in Dhaka by six armed men, in turn killed by security forces. At least several of the attackers came from elite families, without want and well-educated. Their families are left without explanations and with tremendous guilt at their sons’ actions.
The Paris attacks, 9/11, the Madrid train attack and all other killings on Western soil are terrible and damning and yet I keep being reminded by things like the marketplace bombing in Baghdad that IS is mostly killing other Muslims.
Now, as I sit on the veranda, overlooking Edgartown Harbor, that world of violence is far away. Boats motor or sail by with easy grace on still water, birds chirp, the sun shines, American flags wave in the light breeze. It is a day the town fathers of Edgartown could not have choreographed better. Uncle Walt would be proud…
Letter From Claverack 07 04 2017 Thoughts from the creek on Independence Day…
July 4, 2017It is as idyllic as it can be here at the cottage. On an achingly clear day, the sun shines brightly through the green leaves of the trees. A bee buzzes somewhere, the creek is so clear you can see its bed, the air is filled with the thrumming of insects and a soft wind moves the leaves gently.
My coffee is strong and I am slowly rising into the day, the Fourth of July, 2017. My nephew, Kevin, is asleep in the guest room and it is so wonderful to be here, in this spot, enjoying the beginning of this day.
Kevin prepping for a game of backgammon.
It has been a blessing to have been here this spring and now summer, to see the earth return from winter’s sleep, bloom green and touch the peace of this spot. Not far away, a deep throated frog croaks, signaling.
All of this is a treasure and a privilege and a boon to my sanity.
As I sat here, on this day which celebrates the birth of the United States of America, I was thinking what a messy birth and history it has been. It means so much to, I think, all of us and yet those individual meanings are all mixed and jumbled, and so infused with anger. The Week’s cover for June 30th had a “Blue” and a “Red” American glowering at each other, with a line asking whether “Are Red and Blue America headed for a divorce?” The article is about a culture of rage.
And, as we live through this time in our country’s history, with the very real sense of rage on both sides of the political spectrum, I am doing my best to remember that the history of this country, for better or worse, has been driven by a sense of rage. From the Boston Tea Party through our current Trumpian dystopia, there has been rage.
We didn’t part peacefully from England, we warred our way to independence.
We fought a Civil War from which, quite frankly, I don’t think we have ever recovered.
We have assassinated four presidents and there have been numerous other attempts which didn’t succeed. Yes, violence is in our American DNA.
We ripped this land from Native Americans, dragged captives from Africa to work that land as slaves, built our version of the Athenian Empire and are now, and may always be, attempting to reconcile all the ugly facets of America with all the beautiful things it has been and can be.
Immigrants have flooded here from the beginning. Each new wave was met with hostility by those who had come before.
It is ironic but not surprising that one of our current flashpoints is immigration.
An acquaintance of mine, a young Rabbi, recalled his immigrant grandmother hiding as a girl as mobs ran through New York’s streets, screaming, “Kill the Jews!”
America has been and is an experiment and other countries are experiencing our challenges. The relative homogeneity of Europe is being challenged by the flood of migrants sweeping in, seeking a better life as did the millions who flocked to America, also seeking something better.
Change is hard and unwanted change is often met with rage. We are a country constantly changing so it is not surprising we are raging. Because of the acceleration of communication capabilities, we are more knitted together than with greater challenges in finding veracity.
I savor my idyllic spot and cling to the hope that reconciliation will come. Not in my lifetime, I know, but at some point, America will hopefully become what so many politicians have called us, the bright and shining city upon the hill.
Let us remember this as we close out this year’s celebrations, let us face each other with the light and love Christ had when He, in the Sermon on the Mount, provided the base message for Winthrop, Kennedy, Reagan and others.
Tags:4th of July, City on the Shining Hill, Civil War, Claverack Creek, immigration, John F. Kennedy, Kevin Malone, Trumpian dystopia, USA
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