Tisbury: Warmer than winter ought to be

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— Kyra Steck

Heard on Main Street: If I were wrong, don’t you think I’d know?

I hate to change my mind. I complained that I didn’t like the really cold weather, still true, but was also unhappy with the days warmer than winter ought to be. It’s much easier to happily adapt to sunshine, even with breezes. Last week my friend in Florida sent a text wondering how cold it was. Her outside plants had died from a sudden frost. We were comfortable at 50 degrees; she only had 40.

The best thing about the warmer days means that I can swim at the YMCA. I’m just not as eager to get into the water when it is freezing outside.

Sunday morning my daughter in Connecticut wrote saying it was only 20 degrees and there was 2 inches of snow on the ground in mid morning. I replied that it was 32 here and only two flakes so far as I could see. I do know I’d much rather hear about the weather extremes than how many in our state are in hospitals and still dying with COVID. You can take your mask off. Don’t think I will for a while, at least not yet.

I’ve been enjoying the lists of mostly new books offered by the library but have gotten over it. I ordered a couple of books of fiction that sounded as if they might be interesting. Most of them had a good plot — according to the publisher — but read more as if they were diaries written by a 14-year-old girl with no idea of what was going on. Now I have a list of several new authors to never read again.

I was happy to discover there was yet another beautiful story written by Nicholas Sparks. After buying many of his books last August at the West Tisbury book sale, I thought I had read them all only to discover that “Dear John” is a really good one that I had missed.
I’ve learned to copy the list of books an author has written if I enjoy one. Even if it was done years ago, it is often so much better than several of those offered by new authors.
The Martha’s Vineyard Playhouse offers $5 movies, some of the best ever produced. This month has been a proper homage to Sidney Poitier. I hadn’t been to the Playhouse for a while and somehow never realized they had a lift. Once stairs became difficult for me, I’d just not gone for events upstairs. Turns out I should have asked. The theater is so spacious that being with other people, all masked of course, was not even a concern. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.

Big bunches of birthday balloon wishes go out to Carrie Tankard tomorrow. Best wishes on Saturday especially to Peter Palches. Happy birthday to artist Laura Artru, Tom Robinson, and Benjamin Davey on Sunday. Wednesday belongs to Anne Sylvester and Wendy Brophy.
Heard on Main Street: Keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.