Martha's Vinyard
MARTHA'S VINEYARD TRIP - July 19-26, 2010 (8 days)
MONDAY, 7/19/10: Elevator button goes off after two minutes, won't go on for another minute, then finally goes on and comes down crowded, with others reporting that the light had gone on and off. By coincidence, it turns out there were lightning and electrical problems elsewhere in the city about the same time. Down to the lobby to find the driver looking for me in the passage to the sidewalk, and he puts my bag into the trunk and we leave at 9:27AM, Ken saying they hadn't been waiting long. Out of cab at LGA at 9:44AM. Past bag check at 9:50, and to X-ray at 9:53. Shoes off and laptop out, and find that it's RAINING against the windows we can see. Buy a spicy sausage frankfurter recommended by Marlene Dietrich (with champagne!) and Julia Child for $3.26 as a sort of brunch, while Ken has an enormous two-kinds-of-chicken Chinese dish, which I share. This takes us to 11:05, and we notice that the boarding time for the noon flight is 11:30AM. We've both peed. 11:20: Delays for RAIN. Woman sitting next to us GOT on plane for 8:25AM departure and was called back. 12:04PM: Plane now arriving at 3:20PM and leaving at 3:40. Ken makes "a very expensive call" to the Isensteins, leaving a message on their phone that we're delayed. I start reading Acadia, having brought NO puzzles with me for the "no problem" flight. 2:25: we're told our flight must be REBOOKED. Ken's birth date is 8/18/44. Now, the plane is leaving Manchester at 3PM and will get here at 4:20PM. More and more people are waiting. Get seat 4F, which I hope is a window. 3:04: Look at board at gate 5: we're leaving at 4:25PM. 4:02: plane lands. I finish my $9.13 tuna sandwich, having already eaten my bacon-egg-tomato flip, tiny, for $3.04. I'm impressed by the thighs of guy wearing "Cleveland Pioneer" T-shirt. Call to board at 4:20; I'm JUST in front of wing and behind prop. 37-minute flight, gusty winds from south, 90° in Martha's Vineyard. Pilot announces, after long wait, that the airport is "busy, and there's a long wait." Start in-flight magazine's sudoku at 5:06, and off at 5:14. Cloudy, then clear. Most of flight seems to be over Connecticut. 5:43 LOW clouds over all. Few photos. 5:44 over water, and some all-green islands (the Elizabeths), temperature announced at 79°, and we land at 5:58 after 44-minute flight, so we waited longer than we flew! See Marvin and Sandi standing under the Martha's Vineyard arch, and I wave from the front door before we can get off the plane, but they don't see me. They're SO relieved to see us, big hugs, Marvin sitting, and we're to a short tour of Edgartown and get to Alchemy for dinner at 6:55 after putting all our bags in our trunk and traveling in their Jeep. Good short-rib dinner (though not great), and Ken has his first of about five lobsters during the next two days. To their fantastic house at 10PM, get our individual bedrooms, and they announce that they're sleepy, so I'm to bed at 10:35PM. Sleep almost immediately.
TUESDAY, 7/20/10: Pee at 5:35AM and note dream: I'm in a huge medieval cathedral, where "magic rooms" transfer me from one era to another---sort of a Masque of the Red Death atmosphere, with reality characters mixed with odd Alice in Wonderland characters. Elaborate sets and costumes dazzle me, and I fear getting lost. Back to sleep and at 7:35 note dream of tiger cubs and kittens fighting, tigers chewing at tourists' heels, people leaving garbage and laundry in halls. I dress and sit outside, walking lawn after rabbit disappears, and walk down path past oars and lifejackets and an aluminum canoe to the shore of Segekontacket Pond (clear, gently lapping water), and then back to get orange juice from fridge and take morning pills while Sandi and Ken appear and sit on the deck. Sit to 9:30 and then leave for breakfast wait at 9:55-10:35, Sandi quite frail (Ken said Marv said she had some sort of undiagnosable neurological problem---and that he's 83 and she's 82), but we're finally in to loud (but not as loud as Alchemy, truly deafening last night) Art Cliff Diner (named after the first two owners, but now a woman owns it) for my good eggs Benedict to 11:30. People are still coming in, and the menu proclaims breakfast to 2PM. Back to house to try cell phones, but mine doesn't seem to work---plus there are no reception bars at the top. Ken drives to town, where we park in the spot noted by Marv on the map, and board a free bus that takes us to the three-buildings' tour at 2-2:35, really hot in all the rooms. Other tourists are time-constricted because they have to get back to their buses. Then we're to the even more humid Martha's Vineyard Museum, to a number of buildings including a steamy barn with old fire trucks and carriages, and then to a cool library with holdings scattered over a number of tables, getting in at 3:45 (just before it closes at 4PM). It sprinkles a few drops of rain as we rest under a tented picnic table, then go to Main Street's end---where we find a viewing platform over a fishing dock, where I take pictures of the Chappaquiddick Ferry, which Marv later says is difficult to maneuver because a recent storm broke through the sandbar that had connected the two islands in the south, and so now what was Katama Bay is currently part of the Atlantic Ocean. Hot there, so we're back to the Sutphin Gallery and a few other shops along School Street (including a great photo shop with a sexy keeper and a good photo of Reims Cathedral from 1870 at #45), and then we sit to 5:55 watching screaming kids until we leave for Détente for dinner at 6PM. Good two appetizers for me, THREE for Ken, with three glasses of wine, while I have iced tea and cranberry juice. Back at 9PM, just after the Isensteins arrive, and at 9:30 I take a shower to 10:11 and do sudoku to 11:17PM and get to bed at 11:18PM, taking slightly more time to get to sleep.
WEDNESDAY, 7/21/10: 3:51AM: Dream of a VERY detailed index taken SLAVISHLY from text lists, and I finally convince the editor of the second edition that I can rationalize and "redo" entries to "make more sense" and "make it easier to use," and make MUCH money on a book that may sell MILLIONS of copies and make a redo WORTH the cost. Back to sleep after peeing, and get up at 7:10AM to start typing on my lap, not very satisfying, so I take the Dell out to the dining table in the large room, making good progress until Sandi asks me to wake Ken, which I do by knocking on his door at 8:10. Two women came in at 8AM to clean, Sandi telling them to ignore our bedrooms, since they have the habit of "putting things away" so that Marv can't find anything at all afterward. I risk leaving my bathroom door open. Ken drives through multiple turns to Oak Bluffs Slice of Life Café for a huge omelet and a glass of iced tea, which Marv insists on paying for, saying THEY are responsible for our breakfasts, and Sandi insisting that she likes to cook and will make breakfast for us SOME day before we leave. I have such an enormous omelet that I ask the waitress to put the rest into a bag, making sure there's a plastic fork in there, too, including half an onion-scallion potato cake and maybe even a slice and a half of rye toast. That goes to 10AM, I remarking that this is the first place we had to make neither a reservation nor stand in line. Sandi asks about a County Fair today, and there's one in West Tisbury, so we go a long way around, past many waters, to the van-back operation---where I taste many jams, a chocolate drop, some pesto, and a pair of jellies, and take a few pictures of the non-picturesque fair, at which time Ken says they're ready to go, and I say I'll be there in ten minutes, taking more pictures, and find them sitting in the shade on the stairs of the Grange Hall. Out at 10:40, Ken turning emotional somersaults to get out of the parking lot [and now driving me out of my mind as I sit typing and he's across from me reading a newspaper and CONSTANTLY, just absolutely CONSTANTLY, EACH MINUTE, laboriously clearing his throat, which he'd done in the car to no remark by either Isenstein]. They ask me when the Caves Trip was, and of course I have no idea, only saying that I think I joined the Beard in 1996, so we must have met in 1995, though Ken thinks the Caves Trip was NOT our first trip together [and I just remark NOW to him about the controversy about his smoking in our bedroom, and he says, "Because of an incident on that trip, I stopped smoking"; his dentist told him his damaged tooth would heal faster if he stopped smoking]. Back home at 11:06. I find that the housekeeper put all my bathroom supplies into one drinking glass, along with MY toothbrush mixed in with THEIR toothbrushes, and zipped closed my dop kit. But my bedroom is untouched. I go right to the computer, Sandi goes into the bedroom, Ken phones for the Chappaquiddick tour tomorrow (if it doesn't rain) and talks desultorily about what we might be doing today, which I suggest be outdoors, since it's clearly not about to rain SOON. Now it's 11:27AM and I'm slightly tired of the trip already. Sandi's constant concern is where we're going to have whatever evening meals we'll share together, including one which she'll cook here. Marvin talks about anything that enters his mind, and Ken clears his throat; I try to throw in whatever amusing anecdote comes to mind. I can't quite imagine what we're going to be doing for the next few days, but it can't be all bad: comfortable sitting here in air-conditioned luxury. Maybe I'll now get out Marj's proofreading: noted with interest that the computer AUTOMATICALLY put the accent on the final "e" in Café, and when I inadvertently typed Marj, with a capital M followed by a capital A, it automatically lowercased the A. Yes, now at 11:30AM I will get to the proofing for MADAGASM. But that minute we leave, and park, and walk Oak Bluffs at 12:01PM to piano music from the Temple, which has wonderful acoustics. At 12:27 I sit on the porch while Ken pays $2 to see the insides of a cottage at the Cottage Museum, guide talking about how the community started with 20 tents, then 50 tents, then 250 tents---"You can see where this is going"---and then cottages and gingerbread. VERY pleasant walking down Clinton Avenue just looking at designs, and Ken starts talking with a seventh-generation daughter and her cute husband about who can do what to whom without being kicked out of the Methodist-leaning community. [The pianist, I see from a program, was Amaryllis Glass.] Ken lunches on lobster, for the fourth time, at the Coup de Ville across from the ferry, while I finish my omelet, potato, and toast from 1-1:23PM. 1:37 onto line for oldest Carousel, for $2, built in 1876, everyone (except Ken) getting multiple brass rings. Off at 1:58 and leave town at 2:14. Home at 2:30. MADAGASM start at 2:18 and proof to page 20 to 4:52, getting tired. Dress in North Face shirt and black pants at 5:08 to leave 5:11-6:02PM for cliffs at what used to be Gay Head and in 1997 changed name to Wampanoag Indian name of Aquinnah. Cliffs are under mist, we shop, I take photos to 6:18 while Ken goes down to pee. To Plotzes at 6:45, who are quite ready for us with snacks of cheeses and crackers and pistachios and other nuts, cranberry juice for me and wine for everyone else. Ken mistakes Lucille's name for Louise, but she's so pleasant everything seems OK. Delores Stevens talks up a storm about all the people she knows, the concerts she's organized, the Grammy award she kept away from---who was the guy John worked for?---because she didn't like him at all, and since they'd never recognized Stravinsky and some others SHE liked. John Stevens is quite quiet in the face of his wife's onslaught of verbiage, and I think about contributing that I knew X's secretary, John, and knew Bob Bucher, who MADE harpsichords, but don't really care to interrupt her flow of jabber. Lightning and rain make the view for everyone but me (with my back to the windows) dramatic, as Lucille comes out with superb potatoes, too-soft squash, and a great rack of lamb, of which I take a double rib only to start, and then half a double at the end. Charles picks up his bone to chew on after I do, as does Lucille, who also adds a scoop of vanilla ice cream to her coffee after I do: either she's making me feel like I'm OK in what I do, or she's got the same habits I have. They close the windows against the wind, and finally open them again after the room gets much too hot. We sit at the table until we get up to leave when it appears it might start raining again. We leave at 10:03 and I drive back easily to 10:36, coughing and drinking ice water. I take notes to 10:56. Sudoku 11:05-11:35 and bed at 11:36.
THURSDAY, 7/22/10: Pee at 2:26AM and up at 8:20AM. Sandi "makes" eggs (Me: "Can I watch?" Ken: "Bob!") (scrambled, in two batches, which we finish completely) and lots of toast (some of which is left) and marvelous blueberries and milk (which I finish to great satisfaction). I do a few moments of MADAGASM while others talk around me, and dress to go out for the day at 10:55. To ferry at 11:45, with multiple car lines that we detour to get to the end of, and at 12:23 I finish the penultimate New York magazine. We're on ferry (in front so I can take good photos) at 12:39 and off at 12:43, not really knowing why they can't put in some kind of bascule---or rotating---bridge to get most of the cars across while still leaving leeway for all the tall-mast ships that prevent a permanent bridge over the narrow strait. To Mytoi Gardens at 12:55 (having searched for the meat market "in back of the Park and Pay" for two large sandwiches), and, not finding the picnic tables in the shade, we simply sit on benches, where I eat half my good roast beef and Ken finishes his whole thing, and I wish I'd brought my water, which turns out to be in the back of the car. I quickly tour the rest of the gardens to get to the john for a last pee before getting onto the truck for the 1:30 tour, for which we paid $35 each, while the couple who belong to the organization paid only $50 for the two of them. The guide is great; we cross "the Kennedy-Kopeckne bridge" and stop to see sea birds, local flowers and herbs, and edible grasses; look into the eyes of a clam, which I don't manage to see; and stop at the lighthouse about 4:30 when he says the tour used to be two and a half hours and is still too short at three hours; and then back to see, triumphantly, a final deer, which I manage to get a good picture of. Out of tour at 4:52, Ken giving the guide an extra $5, and get to the "last Indian" store to find they'd taken down the "only Chappy store" sign because they're closing at 5:05PM. I finish my sandwich in the car as we near the ferry line at 5:07, which we're on at 5:09, Ken for a moment doubting we're ON the line, but it creeps forward, we chat, others park in the adjoining lot, and we're onto ferry at 5:57, again in front, and off at 6PM. Wander town while Ken buys a sympathy card for the partner of his gay associate judge who died of cancer a few weeks ago, and looks into other galleries that don't interest me, and I consent to go to Chesca's early at 6:32 so we won't have to wait for seats later. Good pork chop while he packs up most of his spaghetti entrée, and he has a drink and wine and salad while I just enjoy my dessert canolli with hot chocolate sauce and lots of ice water. Out to hordes of people waiting to get in at 8PM, musicians playing in the adjoining church courtyard, and we walk quickly to car, which we'd parked conveniently right on Main Street, and get back at 8:37, even after Ken directs me the wrong way and I traverse a parking lot to get back to the proper street. Sandi appears from the bedroom in a nightshirt, saying they're going to sleep already, and I sit and watch the last dregs of the sunset while Ken reads; I read for a bit, then go to my room at 9:28, do a puzzle to 9:47, and take my night pill with the last of my ice water. Bed at 9:51, tired from a busy day, still wondering how we're going to fill the last HALF of the trip! Pee at 11:30PM.
FRIDAY, 7/23/10: Pee at 12:05AM, 3:31AM, and 6:43AM for a new record of FOUR in one night. Up at 6:45 and put my pills together for the morning, shower longly, swab out my ears, change underwear, put on black pants just to have something dressy on, and a dirty shirt so as not to dirty a clean shirt, and get out to type up-to-date in journal from 7:40 to 8:21AM, Marvin coming out to ask about our day, Ken not appearing. Sunshine is bright, and there's Sandi outside with Marvin. My right cheek's "dubious spot" is slightly flaky and I moisten it, hoping it's not too obvious, and have GOT to get it looked at, as well as trying to find out what's wrong with the spot on the back of my waist. They chat while I finish typing, wondering what to do until we leave at 9AM for the brunch at the fancy-charity-brunch house. She dismissively waves at me ("That's not necessary," she seems to indicate) when I wish her good morning. I think clearly that we've arranged to stay too long, but anything shorter than eight days wouldn't QUITE have qualified for a proper vacation this year, even though I checked to find a previous 6-day trip somewhere---oh, yes, to Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao---and a 7-day trip to Florence, which obviously count as "proper" trips. Check at 8:26 that we're not leaving until just after 9AM, so I go back to MADAGASM. My mouse is really DEAD (I'm having to turn it back on every minute to keep it going), and finally Marv suggests I try his Apple mouse, and it works! I'm impressed! By 8:48AM I've gotten to page 28, halfway through MADAGASM. Dress and leave about 9:15, following e-mailed instructions, going right by the compound in which Clinton stayed when he was here as president. The driveway goes on forever, and finally we reach a young man who says we can drive up to the house to let people off, but Sandi says we can walk from where we park. But even that is a long way. We see a tent erected in the backyard, but it's still empty. Everyone's inside, drinking orange or grapefruit juice out of plastic glasses, and chatting with everyone they know, which of course leaves us out. The host introduces himself to me and I mention I'm from Brooklyn Heights, and he was BORN in Brooklyn, so we chat a long while about Brooklyn, and then I speak to no one else during the entire morning. The buffet table is soon open, and I pile up with nova, a cream-cheesed bagel-half, a square of delicious sweet roll, a few capers, some onions, and a pile of scrambled eggs. Marv says he's saving me and Ken seats at a table outside, and I get another glass of orange juice and go out to sit with only the three of them for most of the breakfast, until a woman sits at Ken's right and another woman (who later attacks the speaker), at my left, probably because our table is right at the microphone that the speaker uses. Ken knows his name, a medical writer for the New York Times, now semi-retired to write a book in detail about Reagan's mental condition, and his question-and-answer session is very interesting, though I can't bring myself to insist on asking my question: whether he'd ever been forbidden to write about something that "one didn't write about," like presidential ailments in the distant past. Pleasantly full, though Ken starts talking about lunch ludicrously early. Back home at 11:40, and out at 12:05 to travel to the Polly Hill Gardens at 12:35PM, rather surprised by the $10 entrance fee. Walk around most of the park, at the end looking to wander through the "field," and find a path, then think they had no milkweed pods, and there at the corner are milkweed pods, along with about six wonderfully ripe red raspberries. It's raining slightly, Ken using his umbrella, but I don't open mine, and am quite tired when I take his armed chair in the office when he goes for a drink of water. He's ready to leave, but I persuade him to stay for the 2PM tour, for which the guide, Elaine, has just arrived, and then another woman joins us who turns out to be in training to be a guide, so we have a tour with TWO guides, neither of whom really knows a goodly percentage of the names of the trees and shrubs and flowers, but the signage is very detailed. The guided tour is in heavier rain; we're under our umbrellas, but we get more information and are both quite pleased with the afternoon. The tour goes from 2:02-3:15, at which time Ken wants to visit the Field Gallery, and I sit for a bit, getting hungry, and he says I should find where to get something, so while he tours the art I go across the street to a General Store and buy a Mars Bar and a packet of GORP for $4.09, and get back to the Field for Ken to moan about not really being able to buy anything. Still raining as we're back home at 4:13. I lie down at 4:21 and Ken knocks me awake at 5:12 for the 5:30 guests. I DID doze, gratefully. The guest couple, she on a cane, he seemingly quite a bit younger, arrive at 5:45, after Sandi worriedly considers she might have given them the wrong evening, and we have drinks (I continuing with the tonic with which I'd started) and some tiny snacks, and then sit at the large table (from which I had to remove my Dell and papers) for fantastic fresh corn (which we totally finish, not quite managing to finish the butter) with somewhat underdone chicken and overdone asparagus. We continue talking around the table until they decide to leave and the Isensteins almost immediately decide to go to bed at 9PM. I finish the Vineyard paper's sudoku and then the crossword (which Sandi had started off badly with a few wrong words)---ending with the cute solution of "I read a book on levitation the other day and couldn't put it down." I put out ALL the lights, including, somehow, the hall guide-lights, and look out the windows at the incoming lightning storm. Get to my room at 9:25 to read Arcadia past page 100 to 10:15PM, when I shit, and get to bed at 10:33PM, again going almost instantly to sleep.
SATURDAY, 7/24/10: Pee at 1:30AM. 6:01AM dream of packing four messy jars of mayonnaise into special sections in the top of my suitcase. 6:31 dream of getting two stuffed bags for packing into my already full suitcase as a last-minute addition. I calculate that there are fewer than sixty hours to go on the trip. 7:16 dream of stuffing mouthfuls of rice as "cleanser" operation in a shower while a guy watches incredulously. Up at 7:21 and get to the Dell at the still-clothed table at 8AM, typing to complete the journal until 8:24AM, when Marv enters, having missed the storm and saying we really DIDN'T need it, since we'd already had sufficient rain, and asks if I'd had my orange juice, and says he'll get it for me. Then Sandi comes out, having seen and heard the storm last night, and I finish this up–to-date at 8:28AM and go back to MADAGASM. Breakfast of a few scrambled eggs, toast with cream cheese and jelly (with many comments about the amount of butter I consumed last night), and lots of blueberries and milk and added jelly for sweetness. That's from 9-9:50, Ken joining us at the very end because they wouldn't permit me to wake him to have breakfast with us, and AGAIN he reports being unable to fall asleep without one or two Ambiens. I work on MADAGASM to 10:30, and we leave for Aquinnah at 10:40AM. The Cultural Fair is not where the Cultural Center is, and I suggest we go up to the lighthouse, where they might know where the Native Artisans' Festival might be, and a cop directs us to the Wampanoag House just down the road, where we park trying not to block other cars, and go down the grassy slope to a tent outside which a native on a microphone is giving a history of the place, and inside which a pair of women are heating up oil for frybread that they load with beans and meat and cheese and sour cream and sell for $7. I buy one for me and Ken to share, while Marv and Sandi share another. I buy a book for $10 to assuage my guilt for having gone through the house and NOT paying the requested $5 entry fee. It gets more and more crowded, and finally they send someone up to manage the parking traffic. Leave at 1PM and go to the Carol Carver Gallery, and then to the Red Barn Gallery, in both of which I merely sit and regard the people and art rather than SHOP, which the other three are indefatigable about. Then into Vineyard Haven for a second Mad Martha's for another bout with ice cream, I again getting one enormous scoop and a double serving of delicious hot fudge. The place is jammed, and Sandi refuses to move from our table next to the kiddy-pinball machine clanging in her ear, though she continues to frown at the kids using it. Back home at 3:21, quite tired, and lie down from 3:26-5:15, when I drag myself out of bed and finish MADAGASM and start MALTAM to 1/18/04 by 7PM, listening to Ken OBSESS about Black Dog, where Sandi really wants to have breakfast tomorrow because she's counting the EIGHT people who will be invading their house starting Tuesday of next week, and doesn't want to shop for the needed butter for our breakfasts; and then I laugh uproariously when Ken insists that he's NOT obsessing about Black Dog. HAH! Leave for the evening's restaurant at 7:17; to Menemsha at 7:53, where we stop at the harbor to take photos of the burned boathouse and the people gathered for the sunset, which really doesn't take place, as the sun sinks into the pink clouds around 7:55PM. To the Beach Plum Inn at 8:15, getting seated just before 9PM, Sandi constantly complaining, I getting bitten by even more mosquitoes, and I have the large sirloin that quite fills me up, and good French fries with the same smooth softness as the baked potatoes Tuesday night. Ken says his appetizer crab cakes were mostly breading, but we three others had gazpacho, which was quite good. I take bits of their desserts and feel full, but of course don't participate in their two bottles of wine, which they can't quite finish. I drive back from 10:45-11:35, quite foggy much of the way, with not as much backseat driving as I would have feared. Bed at 11:49PM, knowing I'll barely get eight hours' sleep tonight.
SUNDAY, 7/25/10: 4:34AM: At 4:25AM I wrote the following note: "Get up from a seminal, transcendental, all-encompassing dream, and I'm determined to capture as much as I can of it." So I got out of bed, put on shorts and shirt and slippers; peed, and came out to the living room to save MADAGASM, noting where I'd stopped, and brought up MVTRIP to begin to capture the dream, now, at 4:37AM. It seemed to last for HOURS, and started, as near as I now remember it, with a group of people, possibly only men, and---now in a moment of fantasy---possibly only gay men, which would at least establish a BASIC commonality among the participants, which would make the incredible situation, or CHANCE of an incredible situation, that much more feasible. Somehow, leaderlessly, with no one seemingly "trained for the training," we were to interact in a creative, supporting, loving way to produce a transformative personal experience that AT ONCE would benefit the entire group, and AT THE SAME TIME glorify EACH INDIVIDUAL in the most beneficial way possible, without having in any way "predetermined" the process of transformation. Sounds incredible, improbable, and even impossible, but that was the basis of the dream. In some way my current vacation on Martha's Vineyard established the framework of the dream: all the participants were healthy, intelligent, caring men, "chosen" in some way to be qualified to react spontaneously, without prior instruction, to effect maximum results from such an "ad hoc" genesis---just as everyone at this moment on Martha's Vineyard is, by the definition of the logic of the dream, or HAS BEEN, by that same logic, placed on Martha's Vineyard FOR SOME PURPOSE; and this dream has the temerity to "be worthy" of determining and describing that purpose---this wording is leading back to the specificity of the dream: this ALREADY SPECIAL (at the basic level, merely being present on Martha's Vineyard; at the level of the dream, being present IN the dream) set of circumstances that forms the background, the beginning, of the dream. We're gathered in a large field, in perfect weather, without mosquitoes, dressed casually (though, in an extension of the fantasy, prepared to be naked in every way: emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually), and all, to greater or lesser extents, WANTING to participate for the individual and total group benefit. Though there's no "guru/leader" visible, at a point as near the beginning of the dream as I can recall, we begin to run across the field. I participate in the running, vaguely puzzled by how we know that we're supposed to run, and am pleased to see, at first, that everyone seems capable of running at about the same speed, in the same direction, in such a way as to maximize the (as yet unknown) purpose of running. Then I'm aware that I'm either in the vanguard of the running mass of men, or bringing up the rear, and thus in a position that's somehow SPECIAL, as if the purpose of the transformation of the GROUP is (of course, this is MY dream) centered around MY transformation, or realization, or accomplishment. Somewhat later, we've stopped and have somehow selected a partner with whom we're, in a gentle way, wrestling on the dry, soft, supportive grass. I sense that the interaction has a possibility of a sexual component, and become aware that my partner has an erection, which gives me permission to have an erection, and I think, for a moment, that this will "simply" turn into a massive, though rather routine, orgy. But that moment passes, as if everyone had that TRANSITORY idea, and then all spontaneously agreed that this opportunity was given us for something MORE important, MORE revolutionary, MORE group- or self-aggrandizing. And, as usual in one of my "more Messianic" dreams, it gradually becomes more SELF-aggrandizing than GROUP-aggrandizing. THIS IS ABOUT ME!! Maybe it is at a point like this, in the dream, that I semi-wake and begin to embellish the dream along the lines of my favorite fantasy: that reality can be DIRECTED toward a specific end, that I can "cause" this entire group of people to achieve MY aim---of making MYSELF important, the leader, the source of inspiration for the benefit of the group, though, at bottom, for MY benefit and glorification. Then, probably, my brain takes over totally from the dream-consciousness, at whatever level THAT is, and I go through the familiar vacillation: "Is this just a dream?" "Is this some kind of pivotal actual experience which can, somehow, change my life for the better?" "Is this my moment of death, where I determine at what level I'm going to exist AFTER I die?" "Am I going nuts?" "Is this another fruitless fantasy that will lead absolutely nowhere?" And at this point I determine to look at my watch, find out what time it is, record some point in reality as a basis from which to describe my dream (which has clearly ended long ago), and drop from egotistical glorification to an objective recording of my dream and the thoughts engendered by it. Feel now, at 5:09AM, that I've accomplished what I wanted to do in the 44 minutes since I recorded my note of "contact with reality after the dream." And I can go back to bed. [Typed at 3:28PM:] Bed at 5:15AM. Up 7:50AM, dress, and leave at 8:35AM for the Black Dog. Arrive at 8:50, for a stated wait of 20 minutes, and take some pictures before Marvin calls me to the table early at 9AM. The place is crowded and noisy with babies, the omelet is good with a large glass of lemonade, and it's small enough that I can finish it. Out at 9:57, watching the enormous ferry arrive and depart from and to Woods Hole. Ken keeps getting lost and cursing the map and the book until we finally arrive at Cedar Tree Sanctuary at 10:45AM. Start the White Trail at 10:53, seeing lots of mushrooms and hearing a few birds (including one that I describe as having a call of "a flute followed by castanets,"), but at other places in the hot walk there are no bird calls at all. It's nothing like the Adirondacks, but some of the views over the ponds toward the typical MV houses are impressive. The shores of the Sound are strewn with stones of a number and variety that I haven't seen since the long-ago trip along the western coast of Newfoundland, and I collect a shell and two stones that will have to be displayed in water to reveal their colors and patterns. Talk to a sexy guy from Kansas (who lies on the beach at the foot of the Red Trail back up into the trees) after we round the bluff at the point and take pictures of wing-drying cormorants, but the lighthouse at Aquinnah is just too far to show up in a photo. Tired of walking after a bit, and glad when we get back to the car at 12:56, having walked for two hours and three minutes. We start out on the road at 1PM at the mileage of 414.2 and end at 1:09 with a mileage of 415.3. Slow going, passing cars on the shoulders of the road thrice. Try to have lunch at the Plane View Restaurant in the Martha's Vineyard Airport, but they serve only breakfast until 2PM and Ken wants nothing at all that seems like more breakfast, so we leave. I take two pictures of the Isenstein house, and I get in at 2PM to shower to 2:34:56. Think about starting on my journal at 2:40, but Marvin practically insists that I finish the peach-blueberry pie (which is delicious), looking out over the swan on the pond. Skim 1000 Places to See Before You Die. That goes to 3:25, I have a handful of peanuts, Ken finishes his pasta from Chesca's, and at 3:38 I finish with this, getting a copy of my boarding pass for tomorrow that shows our flight at 1:55PM, which means that I'll be home, with airport luck, in just 24 hours. To MALTAM at 4:06, and I'm TIRED. Look through Sunday Times. 5PM: Ken and Marv will pick up pizza for dinner. Pizza dinner to 6:30, and leave for movie at MV Hebrew Center, A Matter of Size, at 6:40PM, against Marvin's protestations that he doesn't like to get there early. Crowd shares cake, cookies, fruit juice, and ice-cream cups before the GREAT, FUNNY movie starts at 7:30. I drive home easily to 9:26 and we talk, eat cherries, and they go to bed at 10:15PM. [Breakfast 8:30AM, leave for airport 11:30AM tomorrow.] I put on lots of anti-itch, which is merely 3% ammonia, and undress at 10:20, and read Arcadia 10:30-11:04, mosquito bites still itchy. Bed at 11:05, slightly irritated by bites, which I salivate onto, and get to sleep quickly enough.
MONDAY, 7/26/10: 2:42AM: Pee and write long note about dream because I'm too lazy to go out to the Dell in the living room. Dream: Dick Sime phones and says to send him his ticket for tonight to his e-mail address commoncause.com, and I wonder how to DO it, and he's coming to my apartment at 57th and 3rd, but we must get to 72nd and 7th by subway (because the taxi is too slow) by 9PM and it's 8:45 and we have to cross a department store that has a moving belt displaying dresses that we knock over as we attempt to cross it without going all the way around it. Joan Sumner keeps saying we'll never make it, and I say, "It always starts late." I'd also gotten a phone call from ANOTHER organization, touting something free at the Promenade Theater, but I decide that we can't get there, even though I really don't even know what night it's for. EXTREMELY frustrated throughout dream, desperate to do something about it, but not knowing what to do. Take a Valium at 2:48AM. Pee again at 2:53AM, a sign of anxiety, I guess. Pee again at 6:04 and up at 7:40 and pack to 8:10. Get into living room to see Sandi moving about preparing breakfast; Marv comes in from outdoors, and Ken comes out of his bedroom to get coffee. I decide to have some eggs, cereal, and blueberries for breakfast, and I finish with this at 8:25AM and fold it up, hoping to get to MALTAM before we leave for the airport. Great breakfast of eggs (without toast and butter, destroying my reputation as a butter-guzzler), Sugar Frosted Flakes with peaches, Rice Krispies with blueberries, and orange juice, with everyone helping clear off the table (into the TWO dishwashers that they make a point of saying they have), Ken INSISTING that the milk I got out of the refrigerator for my cereal be RETURNED to the refrigerator before I actually finish POURING it. That's over by 8:55AM. I wash my fingers of peach juice, pee, and get back to bringing this up to glorious date at 9AM, figuring to be HOME IN SEVEN HOURS! Finish MALTAM at 10:22AM, after the Isensteins leave for their massages, telling us to greet their guests if they arrive, and to leave the door unlocked when we depart for the airport. Ken now says we should leave at 11:15. Fill the tank with gas to 11:35, and return the car to Budget at 11:45; they don't even look at it, merely present Ken with a bill of $506.71, over $60/day! 11:40AM: 1:55PM departure delayed to 2:20PM: plane last night delayed and pilots must get their ten-hour rest period. I read Arcadia from 11:54-12:48, Ken lunching early. I join him after he's finished and he gives me half his coffee frappe; I order Buffalo wings at 1PM and they're wonderful, and filling, to 1:25. Read more. At 2:04 they announce we'll leave at 2:48. Get on line at 2:44 and through the cursory inspection at 2:54. Board 3:07. Announced as 55-minute flight that will be bumpy on takeoff and landing. 87° in NYC. Flying at 10,000 feet. Off at 3:25PM. FANTASTIC pictures of somewhat cloudy Connecticut and clear Manhattan, Statue of Liberty, my apartment building, and landing in LaGuardia at 4:21. Off plane 4:28, into cab at 4:44, and home at 5:20 to put air conditioners on instantly! Immediately call Marj 5:21-5:32 just to celebrate being back home, doing what I WANT to do! Three phone messages: 1) Car is here, 2) Virgin can be $15 for a three-month top-up [which is what I HAVE, so why did they call me?], and 3) Tris put JEWELBOXTEST.HTML text onto the website, leaving message on 4:14PM Sunday. At 5:42PM I leave word with Bill Petersen about my Times. Ken calls at 5:51PM: taxi was $51.88. [Print first eight pages at 9AM 8/3/10 and find 1) I didn't left-justify the pages and 2) I didn't put in a header, so I'll finish this page in "poor" format, print it, and THEN correct my errors.] To finish LAST trip note: reduce 220 pix to 205.
TRIP SUMMARY
MON,7/19: 1:55PM flight delayed to 5:14-5:58 LGA to MV. Breakfast of sausage frank for $3.26; brunch of $3.04 egg sandwich from Ramon at Dunkin' Donuts; lunch of $9.13 tuna sandwich from Zunilda at Cibo Express Gourmet Market. Alchemy dinner for $243.44 for four of us.
TUE,7/20: Art Cliff Diner breakfast, tour houses in Edgartown [on 11/9/06, in CHICAGO6, I "get to Edgerton, or whatever road they live on," an EXTRAORDINARY coincidence!], Martha's Vineyard Museum, shops, Détente for $172.81 dinners.
WED,7/21: Oak Bluffs Slice of Life Café breakfast; West Tisbury County Fair; tour Oak Bluffs gingerbread; Coup de Ville lunch; Carousel; Gay Head/Aqinnah; dine at Plotzes'.
THU,7/22: Mytoi Gardens and Chappaquiddick tour; Chesca's dinner for $134.88.
FRI,7/23: Charity brunch; Polly Hill Gardens; Field Gallery; Isenstein dinner.
SAT,7/24: Native Artisans' Festival lunch; galleries; Mad Martha's; Beach Plum Inn for mosquitoes and dinner for four for $303.19. I drive home.
SUN,7/25: Dream; Black Dog breakfast; Cedar Tree Sanctuary walking tour; pizza dinner at Isensteins'; to Hebrew Center for A Matter of Size Israeli movie.
MON,7/26: Fly 3:25-4:21PM MV to LGA. Happy to be home, no matter how hot!
PHOTO LIST
45 Reims Cathedral.