Finding Martha's Vineyard

by Jill Nelson

  I do things here that I don’t have time to do at home. I rent videos. I sit and talk to people. I go out to lunch. I play Scrabble and get my ass whipped. I take my granddaughters to the Flying Horses. I go to the movies. I allow my mother to take me to the restaurant L’Etoile for the big-time treat. I go to yoga, I get massages. Every once in a while I’ll go to the beach. I ride around in my 1972 Grandville Pontiac with the top down. I just hang out. I go get flowers to put in the garden. I cook. Yesterday I went kayaking, and I can’t swim. I go Rollerblading, bike riding. I eat lobsters at Larsen’s. I feel very free here.

  I feel safe here. My personal safety is something I just take for granted here. I don’t feel the fear, the apprehension, the looking over my shoulder that I do in a big city like Los Angeles. In L.A. I lock my car door; here I don’t.

  The Vineyard has the reputation for being privileged and elitist, but let’s face it, if you have a second home, you are privileged. Or if you have the discretionary income to rent a place for a week or two, that’s quite a vacation and quite an accomplishment. For some black folks who have not been here, the write-ups in the past have sort of touted the luxurious aspect of the island. But what people don’t consider is that this is also a place for nature, a place where you can hike and fish and swim and boat. Where you can get in touch with your spirit, and it doesn’t have to be this bourgie, champagne-on-the-porch-with-lobster kind of thing. There’s lots to do here. The popular notion of the Vineyard, and the intimidating notion for some people, is that it’s super high class, super luxury, super expensive, and super elitist. For those people who are prone to feeling “I don’t belong,” this can really exercise that muscle.

  You could come here for years and not get invited to the parties of the season, but there are lots of ways to connect. There are Cottager events—the clambake, the silent auction, the house tour, the fashion show. There’s Lola’s, where we congregate in the evenings. There’s going to the Inkwell. Golfers meet other golfers. There’s sitting out at Nancy’s Snack Bar and talking to somebody else. You have to get the Vineyard Gazette, or the Martha’s Vineyard Times and find what you want to do. There are some points of entree, and some of it is just being a friendly person and saying, “Hey, what’s going on?”

  I don’t feel that I’m part of a community of artists here or in LA. I do my work alone. I’m not looking for other artists to bounce ideas off. If a writer has a signing, or an artist is showing at a gallery, I’ll go and buy something, but not to a discussion group. I do always try to start my book tour here, on the island, because people are here from all over and then they go back reading the book, and you hope they’re telling people, Get this book!

  I never yearn for LA, but I definitely yearn for the Vineyard. LA is where I live, and it’s home, but it’s not the place I yearn for. Oak Bluffs is, because of what it represents: Peace. Friendship. Fun.

  What We Leave Behind

  Amy Robertson Goldson’s grandmother, Lucille Lippman, bought a house on Tuckernuck Avenue in Oak Bluffs in 1950. Goldson, now fifty-one, has spent

  part of every summer on the Vineyard since she was born. She began dating Alfred

  Goldson, who also grew up summers on the island, when she was seventeen and he was twenty-four. They married four years later on the Vineyard. They have two daughters,

  Erin, seventeen, and Ava, fifteen. Al Goldson, a noted radiation oncologist, was also an avid fisherman. He died in February 2004 of a heart attack at fifty-seven.

  Amy: The Vineyard is my life. It is the single most important influence in shaping who I am today. The Vineyard exposed me to a myriad of accomplished people. I was around intelligent, powerful, but fun people all the time when I was a child on the Vineyard, and as a result I developed confidence and a strong sense of self. My best memories are sitting on Grandma’s porch rocking, I would rock for hours. Everyone came by Grandmas house—young and old—because her house was across from the tennis courts and she was so gracious and wonderful.

  Growing up I was always riding my bike, everywhere. I do the same thing now. I always loved to paint; my grandfather was an accomplished artist. I looked forward to art lessons with Gertrude Smith. She lived on School Street and was my second-grade teacher, and she gave lessons for nothing. As kids we went to the Flying Horses, we’d have three rides and French fries, and then hit the penny-candy store. We painted seashells and sold them on Circuit Avenue, Oak Bluffs’ main street.

  Being a teenager was fun, except I was skinny. My mother used to always tell me before I went to parties, “Take those boys’ hands and tell him, ‘This is the way I dance,’ ’’ and “Don’t let those boys rub on you and wrap their arms around you.” My first dancing party was over at Lynn Wareham’s. It was a party with red lights and records. There were more parties then, every night there were parties. We also enjoyed just hanging around on Circuit Avenue, in front of what is now the restaurant Balance, but used to be Nick’s Lighthouse. We hung out there until he erected a fence. People went over to the pool hall and the bowling alley, too. It was just good fun.

  I remember a party at Lance Slaughter’s. It was grind ‘em up, red lights, the whole bit. There was a boy there who liked me, but I didn’t really like him. We were dancing, he started kissing me, I ran, and he started crying. I remember fast dancing to “Function at the Junction,” “Shotgun,” the slow song “Stay in My Corner.” When that song came on, man, you had to be ready, because that record was about five minutes long. I remember my father “buzzing” us at the beach in his

  two-passenger plane, which he landed at the Oak Bluffs Airport, next to Farm Neck, on County Road. When he flew over the beach we knew it was time to leave and pick him up. Dad had a restaurant in Boston called Slade’s, which he later sold to Celtics player Bill Russell, so he could fly to the Vineyard in thirty minutes.

  My husband, Al, says he first noticed me and my sister, Audrey, when I was about twelve years old, standing by Giordano’s Restaurant. Al worked as a pot washer at the Clam Bar next door, and I was too young for him. He says he told my cousin Lynn Gordon that he would marry one of the Robertson girls one day when we grew up. He was a dream come true. There’s a major part missing without Al there. On the Vineyard, everywhere I look I can’t help but think about things we did together.

  It’s like an arm is missing but the rest of my body is healthy and functioning and compensating for the missing arm. Being on the Vineyard is wonderful, because everyone is so nice. If Al had to die, I’m glad that it was in February, because it gave me time at home in D.C., but then I could go to the Vineyard. It was hard in many ways, but it still wasn’t miserable, and that’s really because of my friends.

  I also had time alone. I got his headstone. I went to the cemetery every day, not in a morbid sense, but it’s on my way anywhere I would go, so I’d go by, and it was comforting. Really comforting. People dropped by, people came for lunch. I went out, and my friends were always around. Waking up and looking out at the water glistening before me is amazing. The last week I was there it was as if Al was looking over me, the weather was perfect. Now that the summer’s over and I’m back in Washington, I can get started. I know that I can go on and keep going.

  The first thing I do when I get to the Vineyard is go out to the observation deck. Then I run down the steps to our beach and sit on the lower deck, reflect, smell the salt air, and thank God for getting us here safely. The second thing I do is go to the Oak Bluffs cemetery to see Dad, Audrey, Grandma, Poppy, and Uncle Coco. And now Al, who is buried here. When I’m here, I do nothing with or without friends: swim, go bicycle riding, read, play Scrabble, and paint. The beauty, tranquility, cool nights, hot days, my friends, and the simple things make the Vineyard special to me.

  Amy Robertson Goldson and daughters, Ava and Erin

  The Vineyard has changed. Yet in many ways it’s the same as when I was growing up here. My daughters Erin and Ava’s familial relationships are enhanced by the Vineyard; it is where they see
their cousins and spend time with their grandparents. My daughters agree that their bikes are the best mode of transportation here—it gives them the freedom to go, just as it did me. We all love the Vineyard. Once January comes, we all talk about, Can’t wait. Did you get your reservations? I hate leaving the Vineyard and always feel so sad. I have never missed a summer and hope that I never will. I’ll eventually be buried here.

  BLUEFISH

  My father, Buddy Robertson, and my husband, Dr. Alfred Goldson, were avid fishermen who loved fishing for bluefish. They always skinned and filleted their catch before bringing it home. Here’s my quick and easy bluefish recipe.

  2 or 3 large bluefish fillets

  Jane’s Krazy Mixed-Up Salt, or salt and pepper

  Juice of 1 lemon

  Fresh or dried rosemary

  Hellmann’s mayonnaise

  Worcestershire sauce

  1. Preheat the oven to 350° F.

  2. Sprinkle the bluefish fillets with the lemon juice. Generously coat the fillets with mayonnaise on both sides. Sprinkle remaining ingredients on both sides of the fillets, and place them in a baking dish.

  3. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes. The mayo and Worcestershire coating will give the fillets a nice bubbly, brown finish. Serve with baked beans, coleslaw, and biscuits or corn bread.

  Sisters Erin and Ava Goldson, seventeen and fifteen, of Washington, D.C., and their friend Cecily Allen, sixteen, who lives in Philadelphia, have spent every summer of their lives on Martha’s Vineyard, as did their parents. Their grandparents came to the island in the 1940s and ‘50s and purchased summer homes. These three young women, like their parents as teenagers, spend their summers working, going to the beach, and simply hanging out.

  Ava: We come at the end of June and usually stay the whole summer. I usually don’t want to leave D.C. Since I was about thirteen I have wanted to stay home with my friends; I’ve never spent a summer in D.C. My mom always says, “You’re going to be happy once you get to the Vineyard!” I never believe her, but that’s usually how it is. Then when we get ready to go back to D.C. at the end of the summer, I don’t want to leave Martha’s Vineyard.

  Erin: I know I have to come up, so I don’t try and resist it like Ava. There’s times when it gets boring because we’re here all summer, and sometimes our friends don’t come up until later. It’s the best here in August. It’s fun spending the whole summer here. Most of our friends don’t spend the whole summer here like we do.

  Cecily: Sometimes, toward the summer, I can’t wait to leave Philadelphia and come here, and then by the end of summer, the last couple of days, I can’t wait to leave. I’m always here September 3.

  Erin: We have more freedom here than in D.C. Since all of Mom’s friends are out lurking, probably half the time wherever we are someone sees us and can report

  Cecily Allen, 2003

  back, but we’re able to do more things; we don’t have to tell her every single thing we’re doing.

  A typical day? Wake up, go to Cecily’s house, sit on the porch, walk into town and get pizza—that’s always our excuse to go through town—go by the basketball courts and see what other people are doing, sit on her porch either all day or go to the beach—the Inkwell or the second bridge—go back home, eat dinner at home, go back to Cecily’s and figure out what we’re going to do for the night. That’s our typical day on Martha’s Vineyard.

  Ava: Martha’s Vineyard’s not that big. People who live down here and people who come up for the summer probably live close, so you can just go over and hang out. It’s a lot easier to communicate with people and do things, because they are so close.

  Erin: In D.C. if they don’t live, like, within a ten-minute radius, Mom’s like, “We’re never going to see them.” Here, we get rides from people we know or take a

  taxi. I called all the taxi companies and found out which was the cheapest, and we have them in our cell phones. Taking a taxi is five dollars. Or sometimes we’ll just walk. Or we ride our bikes.

  Ava: I think my mom is more worried because of the people I might surround myself with in D.C. or Maryland as opposed to here, where it’s more of a safer community. People are more humble here, kinder, and they open up to you more. In D.C. she’s worried about me going to places that are dangerous.

  Erin: And the crime rate in D.C. is a lot different than here on Martha’s Vineyard, where there’s one stabbing every twenty years or something. I think there’s a lot of hype around the Vineyard, just like the Hamptons, and people want to come here just to see what all the hype is about. Especially with black people. They hear that it’s a good place for upper-middle-class black people, there are beaches, things to do.

  Ava: Well, there’s Illumination Night.

  Erin: I don’t think that draws people. You hear there’s educated black people here, so other educated black people are like, We should come. Part of me feels like it’s a status thing. You go to Martha’s Vineyard to say you go to Martha’s Vineyard.

  Ava: And you immediately have this energy about you. I know at my school, a few people come here, and when you say you go to the Vineyard people say, Oh, you must be rich then.

  Erin: I think for younger people all the hype started around the Fourth of July a few years ago, when all the college kids came. But now the cops make it hard for people to have fun. I think it was better five years ago.

  Cecily: There are a lot of black adults here around Labor Day, but I think more

  black college kids used to come Fourth of July. And more used to come than they do now. College kids got sick of coming here because the cops make it hard for them.

  Erin: The cops here are just annoying. It’s like they just have nothing better to do than hassle kids.

  Cecily: They don’t like you to hang out. But most of the time there’s nothing to do at night but hang out in town. One time we were at Back Door Doughnuts, eating our doughnuts in the parking lot, and the police came and told us to go home.

  Ava: They always come busting through saying, “All right, break it up, break it up!” But we’re not doing anything, just hanging out. I feel like they’re paranoid about something, so they automatically come and assume the worst. They break everything up, people are dispersed, and it’s so annoying. They come on car, bike, or foot, and occasionally horses, like on the Fourth of July.

  Erin: It’s hard to find things to do at night when you’re our age. The drinking age in Massachusetts is twenty-one, not that we want to drink, but we can’t go into the clubs, and there are not many house parties here. It would be nice if there were a place to go, something provided, but we’re here all summer, and most of the time there aren’t enough other kids our age here to make it fun. The Atlantic Connection used to have a teen night for people fourteen to eighteen, and when we were fourteen it was really fun.

  Cecily: Yeah, but now they let in twelve year olds to get their ten dollars. You look next to you and there’s a little kid, so it’s not really fun anymore.

  Erin: We have summer jobs here. I work at Island Outfitters and Ava works at Slight Indulgence. We’re sales clerks. It’s really fun, my hours are flexible. I can work

  nine to two and still go to the beach, still go out at night if I want to. Or I can work at night. We know so many different groups of people because we’re here all summer. We know islanders, the black kids who come for part of the summer, Brazilians, the bouncers at the clubs on Circuit Avenue.

  Ava: You’re forced to meet people, because often during the time we’re here there aren’t many people. You kind of just want to reach out and talk to people who you normally wouldn’t have if you had all your friends around you. So you meet people and they become good friends, and you get a lot of benefits from those friendships.

  Erin: And this is a small island, so many of the islanders we meet are pretty hooked up. Our friend Jordan Rebello, his dad for a while was a selectman here in Oak Bluffs, and through him we met a lot of people.

  Ava: August is the best month. It�
�s the hottest, that’s when everyone comes down, and there’s so much more going on. You have Illumination Night, the fireworks, the Tisbury Fair. People hear about that stuff so they come here for it.

  Cecily: People our age don’t really have house parties, or if they do, it’s islanders, and it’s more like little get-togethers, ten or fifteen people. People who come up here for the summer usually come with their parents, or they’re renting houses, and I guess they won’t let them have parties.

  Ava: Coming here, we have grown up with people who are the children of friends of our parents, like Cecily. She’s an Allen, and we’ve been friends since we were babies. Also the Murrays, the Haylings. All of the children of friends of our parents we know pretty well; we’re friends with them. I like that, I want to be like that. I want to be able to come here when I get older, be able to come here and have my children be friends with my friend’s children. It’s like a chain.

  Erin: I can’t think of a negative thing that could come of having your kids come

  up here. A lot of the black people who come up here are really smart, they know a lot, are really cultured. And I feel like that’s a good thing to be around.

  Ava: The people who come to the Vineyard have changed, but I like how when I go to town, to Oak Bluffs, the Island movie theater on Circuit Avenue, almost everything is the same. The Flying Horses is still there, the arcade is still there, Giordano’s is still there, the landmarks are still there. If they weren’t there, the island wouldn’t be the same for me. It’s nice to come to a place that you know will always be the same. Every time I walk into this house it always has the same smell and I can have the same memories. That’s why I know I will always come here. I want to keep this house and be able to still remember everything. It’s the same when I go into town, I like knowing where everything is. That’s what I like about coming here; everything is still the same. I like it that it doesn’t change.