A dense fog is beginning to settle on Edgartown harbor after a wet, chill day; rain pummeled down in sheets for a time and then there was the damp aftermath. I was delighted that I had thought to bring a sweater with me to the bookstore.
There was a steady stream of customers through the store and while it didn’t seem busy, when we closed out we had had a rather good day, he said, sounding like a shopkeeper.
I have a whole new respect for people who work in retail. I have always attempted to be nice to them. I will work even harder.
One elderly lady was in the store, with her daughter I think. My colleague, Stav, took care of them. Her credit card said her name was Gimbel and he asked if she was any relation to the department store Gimbels? And they nodded and said yes, they were.
It was Gimbel’s Department Store in New York that started the Thanksgiving Day Parade, watched by millions every year, now the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. But back when they made the original “Miracle on 34th Street” it was Gimbel’s that was making the parade.
Gimbel’s and Macy’s were both sold to Federated at some point and they phased out the Gimbel’s name in the 1980’s. The daughter said that no one young remembers them but Stav is younger than me by far and he remembered them.
Macy’s was the child of Isidor Strauss, who went down on Titanic with his wife, Ada. She would not be parted from her husband as the ship was sinking.
There are several memorials to their love in New York, most famous is the small park near 106 and Broadway, by which I have often walked.
It is Memorial Day and I don’t want that to go unnoticed. I thought about it when I was swinging, at last, out of bed today. I went to bed early last night, incredibly tired and slept long, having wild murder mystery dreams. [One of the things Joyce asked me to do was make suggestions for new mysteries to order…]
It is Memorial Day and I was thinking of all the men and women who have served the US in all its wars.
And always, on Memorial Day, I think about Greg Harrison, with whom I went to high school. Older than me, he enlisted in the Army after high school and died in some rice patty in Viet Nam.
He was a gentle soul. He once teased me about something and when he realized he had touched a chord that hurt, became protective of me. And I remember him every Memorial Day. I went to his funeral in Minneapolis and could not comprehend he was not with us anymore.
I still cannot quite comprehend that he is not with us anymore. I still remember the moment when he realized the tease hurt me. He had not meant to and after that, he was very good to me.
When this day comes, I mourn him. And will, until I die.
I am not in Minnesota and so cannot bring flowers to my parent’s graves; my brother does that, thankfully, as he does to our Uncle Joe, who was the most important father figure in our lives. Our father was a reticent man, not much given to social interchanges. Uncle Joe, however, was, and living next door to us, embraced us all.
When I was twelve, my father died and Uncle Joe did his best to be the best uncle he could be to me. He loved all his nieces and nephews and did his best to be fair and generous to us all.
He is remembered, too, this Memorial Day.
In the meantime, politics plunges on toward whatever end. I am weary and wary, fearful and fretful and it will be what it will be. And when I return from my summer sojourns, I must do what I can to see Trump is not the next President.
Ah, fog envelops the harbor. At this moment, no boats at anchor can be seen. Time for dinner, a little time and then to sleep, perchance to dream…
Letter from the Vineyard 
Letter From New York 06 04 2016 Thoughts on Main Street in Edgartown…
June 4, 2016The sun is laughing down Main Street in Edgartown, with cars slowly moving down the street, toward the water but without the congestion that is coming toward the end of the month when “the season” really gets going. Across the street, Sundog, selling clothes, is as empty as we are.
A few people have wandered into the store and have wandered out, rarely with a book in hand. A lovely mother and daughter came in, the mother buying her daughter a copy of “A Man Named Ove,” by Fredrik Backman, a book she insisted her daughter read before they left the island next week.
It’s been interesting, watching people come and go, looking at books, some are wildly enthusiastic, some are just looking as they look languidly at titles, hoping something will spark their interest.
As I said to someone yesterday, I have a whole new respect for those who work in retail.
The morning was foggy, the afternoon sun blessed. Music from the 1960’s plays gently in the background, the soundtrack of my youth. It is easy here to put away the woes of the world and believe in the loveliness of life.
Unfortunately, the reality is quite different in the off island world.
Muhammed Ali is being mourned everywhere. A figure in my youth, I watched with fascination, not quite understanding his moves but also not being bothered by them. If he no longer wanted to Cassius Clay, then why not? There were days then I didn’t want to be Mathew Tombers.
Many of his moves outraged the world and shook people up. All for the ultimate good… Rest in peace, Muhammed Ali, rest in peace and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Bernie Sanders has announced he will contest the Democratic Convention, fighting down to the last moment.
In France, floods are beginning to recede but not until after claiming three more lives. My friends, Chuck and Lois, who have an apartment in Paris, are somewhere else with friends, waiting to get back to their place when the waters do recede. Guards are standing watch at Louvre and artwork has been moved to higher ground as a precaution. It has been nearly 34 years since this kind of flooding has been seen in the City of Lights.
It has been determined that Prince died from an accidental, self-administered dose of fentanyl, a pain killer 100 times more powerful than morphine and 50 times more powerful than heroin. One doctor described self-administration of fentanyl as playing with death; it is not to be used outside of hospitals.
The opiate crisis is enormous. Even here on bucolic Martha’s Vineyard, meetings are being held to combat the island’s heroin problem. Everywhere you turn right now, opiates are a critical problem. It may be that Prince’s death will be a catalyst for change.
It is the 27th Anniversary of the massacre in Tiananmen Square and tens of thousands have gathered in Hong Kong to commemorate the event, shunning the official memorial because it has become too “Chinese” oriented.
In the Mediterranean, with the beginning of warm weather, more migrants/refugees are risking the sea to reach Europe and what they hope will be a better life. It is believed a thousand have drowned in the past week alone. It will only grow worse.
Many are fleeing IS, which now finds itself fighting on four fronts in Syria and Iraq. The unofficial capital of IS is Raqqa and Syrian forces, under the cover of Russian airstrikes and with help from Hezbollah have reached the border of Raqqa province.
Attempting to follow who is fighting whom in that part of the world is not easy. IS is struggling for control of a town called Marea, which is controlled by the anti-Assad Nursa Front, which is associated with Al Qaeda. There is also heavy fighting around Aleppo, once Syria’s largest city and commercial center.
The sun is beginning to set in Edgartown. The streets are still quiet. Anita, who works in the shop, has gone home as we are completely quiet. Last night, after everyone had left and I was closing down, I had the most remarkable moment of peace, surrounded by books with the walls resonating with the laughter and voices of the people who had passed through yesterday, just looking for a good read.
Tags:A Man Called Ove, Al Qaeda, Aleppo, Bernie Sanders, Chuck and Lois Bachrach, Donald Trump, Edgartown, Fentanyl, Fredrik Backman, IS, Louvre, Martha's Vineyard, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Muhammed Ali, opiates, Paris Flooding, Prince, Tiananmen Square
Posted in 2016 Election, Airstrikes, Daesh, Elections, Entertainment, European Refugee Crisis, Hillary Clinton, IS, Life, Literature, Martha's Vineyard, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Media, Mideast, Music, Political Commentary, Russia, Social Comentary, Syria, Syrian Refugee Crisis, Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »