Opinion
There is a real jail in the town of Gosnold in the basement of the town hall on Cuttyhunk.
While shoppers at Morning Glory Farm amble about in slow motion, being seduced by brightly colored displays of fresh produce and aromatic baked goods, just inside the kitchen door there is a carry-in/carry-out, wash-and-sort frenzy of activity. The staff at Morning Glory Farm, like the roundabout at rush hour, is a flurry of individual purpose and intention carried out with high-speed finesse. They have been working since either 5 or 7 a.m. and now it’s almost noon. There will be close to 80 employees for lunch today.
After a cold wet spring, a week of simmering weather on the mainland brought tourists out in force last week for the Fourth of July parade in Edgartown, and our charming little seaside village has rarely looked so good. That is, except for a certain house on a certain corner. Year after year, we’re asked by friends and visitors about the blighted property that occupies a most visible spot at the intersection of Main and Summer streets.
I thought you might like a little history of Benny’s Barbershop in Oak Bluffs. My husband Mark decided that the Island needed another barbershop, so in the winter of 1991 he went to the co-op bank for a loan. Mr. Knight would not give it to him because he said it would never make it. So we took our life savings of $20,000 and found the building on Circuit avenue, rented it from Kim Cyrs (owner of Our Market) and went shopping. We shopped for vintage items, as we wanted it to resemble an old-fashioned shop.
From a story published May 6, 1966, by G. William Arnold: About fifteen years ago, not so very long ago, I grew up a boy in Edgartown. And part of the remembering of it all (at the ripe rip-snorting old age of 28) comes when I remember what isn’t anymore.
Once there was a different steamboat wharf in Edgartown, one that had a low peaked roof with grey gulls on it — and not that thing with a flat, boarded, picket-fenced, widow’s walk atop.
I always liked spending time with my father when I was young, the bench seat in the red Dodge Ram always felt so big and comfortable.