I began this essay one evening while sitting on the porch. It was dark and cool, and the feel of the season hit me with its full force. I was taken back in time.

Isn’t there a sacredness around family moments exempt from multi-tasking?

A space where children, along with their caregivers, dance the tango and beat drums with total passion?

Welcome to Music Together.

Shirley Mayhew’s affectionate recollections of West Tisbury chronicle the years from 1947, when she arrived as a bride to a community of 239 residents, to 2013, when the book was written.

Autumn is not my favorite season. And not because it signals the end of summer swimming and sailing, or because it presages the cold weather. For me it’s just that fall’s vibrant colors — the glowing golds and startling crimsons — mark an end rather than a sunny beginning.

Rising sun, rising tide
Rising fish, rising spirit
The birds in the sky
Start to chirp, can you hear it?

A few weeks ago I was invited to join a very special sunset sailing opportunity aboard the Alabama. This time felt different. The occasion was more emotional, heartfelt and personal.