Opinion
West Tisbury’s historic Mill Pond on the Mill Brook has been the subject of considerable attention going on five years now. The scenic pond at one of the gateways to the town has existed since the 17th century and is in the heart of West Tisbury’s historic district. Together with several surviving structures in the area, it has endured over 300 years of increasing human activity and development and been rejuvenated many times by having its accumulated sediment removed, most recently around 1970.
We apologize for the delay in writing this letter to thank so many of you. But the unexpected passing of our father, Joseph B. Gonsalves Jr. has hit us pretty hard.
We were totally overwhelmed with the amount of love and support we received from our family, friends and the Martha’s Vineyard Community.
Tragedy unfolds in our country from the barrel of a gun every single day. One that will live in our hearts until infinity happened just before Christmas a th Sandy Hook Elementary School.
The following letter was sent to John Breckenridge, chairman of the harbor management committee:
As a long time Oak Bluffs voter, resident and taxpayer, I am writing to ask your help in understanding numerous confusing and seemingly contradictory harbor policies with regard to the annual Oak Bluffs Monster Shark Tournament. I am a supporter of the forthcoming April 2013 “catch and release” referendum and look forward to your responses and thoughts on these important issues.
PATAGONIA — 7 a.m. I wake up to the shrill of an alarm and roll over on my top bunk, releasing the warm pocket of air underneath my big wool blanket. With half of my body hanging off, I manage to pull back the drapes and take a peek out the window at the snow-capped mountains surrounding the quaint village of El Chaltén. I use my hand to wipe away some of the fog and dew on the window. The weather and visibility are the only two things on my mind at this point. Raining or snowing? Cloudy or clear? Cold or frigid?
I recently traveled to Turkey where I floated in a balloon over sandstone fairy chimneys, slept in a cave, tried to eat politely at a table just 10 inches off the floor and climbed and crawled in the pre-dawn up 6,000-foot-high Mount Nemrut to see monumental stone heads carved there more than 2,000 years ago. I did not steam in a hammam (a Turkish bath) because I had been soaped and sandpapered in one in Morocco last year.