Holly Nadler

A Room of Their Own, Vineyard Retreats Helps Writers Develop

They come from all over the country, staying for one or two weeks or up to a full month. They explore Edgartown from their home base at the former Point Way Inn. Some of them work in their rooms, others find a nesting spot in one of the many elegant downstairs parlors. For dinner they might bring home scallops from the Net Result, ingredients for a pasta Siciliana, and share the meal pot-luck style in the formal dining room, which is two stories high and lit up like a stage set.

 

 

 

They come from all over the country, staying for one or two weeks or up to a full month. They explore Edgartown from their home base at the former Point Way Inn. Some of them work in their rooms, others find a nesting spot in one of the many elegant downstairs parlors. For dinner they might bring home scallops from the Net Result, ingredients for a pasta Siciliana, and share the meal pot-luck style in the formal dining room, which is two stories high and lit up like a stage set.

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Only Islanders — all Islanders everywhere — can truly know the ordeal of coming and going from their sheltered grounds to the mainland with its big-box stores, opera houses and airports.

If a contest exists to measure the misery quotient of such a trip from Island to city and back again, I’d like to enter my recent ordeal as a perfect example of the worst of all time.

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Back in the early years of the new millennium, Facebook was something we old, crunchy boomers only heard about dimly. It was some Internet something or other that had to do with lord knows what. It was as alien to us as love-ins, The Jefferson Airplane and peyote simmering on the stove were to our parents.

The first flood of invitations to join Facebook came as a big surprise to people of our generation. Why would we want or need this? And for those of us who had children, grown or not, we might have felt disposed to let them hold onto those things that are righteously theirs.

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Some Jews celebrate Hanukkah and only Hanukkah, and my red-and-green tasseled hat goes off to them. But others of us come from either mixed heritage or mixed messages; we celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah with widely divergent measures of each.
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Ronni Simon sits in the gallery she shares with her photographer husband, Peter, at 54 Main street in Vineyard Haven, and knits. She knits quite a lot.

“It’s such an easy way to express your creativity,” she says. She also practices more challenging ways: the jewelry she fashions from sterling silver, gold, pearls and semi-precious gemstones, and her wall art wrought from sturdy wire and large beads.

“Knitting is like setting the table — you can take the time to make the experience really valuable and beautiful and calming,” Mrs. Simon says.

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