Which way to Upis Land?

Up Island on Martha’s Vineyard Island

          I went to town to get my mail and run a few errands.  One of which was to continue my search for a bumper sticker for my son’s car.  The sticker reads, “Which way to Upis Land?”  My son, quite possibly from birth, is navigationally–impaired.  From the beginning, he was inordinately reluctant to enter this world.  My theory was that he was not wired with bearings for North and South. That would explain why, at birth, he seemed to be heading North when an anxious room full of doctors, nurses and his parents were urging him to move South. I have come to accept this particular quirk as part of what makes him special.  After all, why waste my breath bemoaning that I have a child who can lose his car after parking it?  His iPhone has remedied many of the everyday challenges he used to face.  As he says, “These situations are exactly what the GPS on my phone is for, Mom.”  With that little back-story, you can better appreciate what launched me in search of this particular bumper sticker. 

          Martha’s Vineyard is divided in half.  There is Up Island, consisting of: Aquinnah, Menemsha, Chilmark and West Tisbury. The down-Island towns consist of Oak Bluffs, Tisbury (more commonly called Vineyard Haven) and Edgartown.  Recently the Commonwealth of Massachusetts approved funding to standardize road signage across the state. This prompted Island residents to write some irate letters to the Editor of the Vineyard Gazette. People expressed their ire that the perfectly good and serviceable signs that were in place had to be yanked and replaced with new ones.  These letters were as effective as spitting into the wind; the state prevailed and new signs went up.  Something about how the new typeface is set is misleading.  The new signs can leave a near-sighted person with the impression that, when contemplating what direction he or she must go to reach the towns of Aquinnah, Menemsha, Chilmark and West Tisbury, he should head to Upis Land.  Read it out loud.  To regular visitors and Island residents, the sign reads Up Island.  This was brought to my attention when my daughter told me she had overheard someone on a bicycle say, out loud, “Which way to Upis  Land?”  A few months later, I saw a bumper sticker on a vintage Volvo; it read Upis Land. I wanted one, no two, no five.  I thought my son might appreciate the humor of summer people looking for a fictitious place that they will never find.  I thought it might make him feel a little better about his own navigational lapses.  After visiting numerous Island Gift Shops, I took my search for the Holy Grail of Bumper Stickers to Oak Bluffs.  I went into a little tchotchke and gift shop in the building that houses the restaurant called Sharky’s Cantina.  

              Many people call Oak Bluffs the honky-tonk town of Martha’s Vineyard.  It has a small year round population that swells dramatically in the summer.  It is true that, of all the Island towns, it is the one most likely to draw party revelers. The Oak Bluffs harbor, formerly called Lake Anthony, welcomes what seems like a fleet of boats – and their thirsty owners.  The anchor hotel, the Wesley House, is a three- story behemoth built in the 1800s. Whether it is full of car aficionados or eager bass fishermen, the results are the same. The hotel guests head to downtown Oak Bluffs – a one lane, one-way road called Circuit Ave.  The stores on Circuit Ave stay open late to capitalize on the summer visitors.  The town’s unapologetic desire to cater toward being hospitable is why it earned it its reputation as a party-happy, slightly unseemly, town.  The Flying Horses, the Ritz, the Lamp Post, the Lamp Post, the Game Room and Linda Jean’s are among the most popular places tourists to which visitors flock along Circuit Ave. A carousel, bars, a video game room and a restaurant ratchet up tourists’ impressions of fun in Oak Bluffs.   However, having called it “home” for much of my life, I see something else entirely. I was reminded of this when I was on my quest for an Upis Land bumper sticker.

         As I turned to leave the cap store, one of the men behind the counter extended a dollar to me and said, “Would you do me a favor?”

I laughed, hesitantly.

He went on, “Would you buy a lemonade from the kids at the lemonade stand outside the store.”  I peaked out and saw that, indeed, there was a lemonade stand.

Lemonade with Twirly Straw

“Sure,” I said, as I took his dollar. “I’ll be right back.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. The lemonade is for you.”

“That’s nice of you, but I don’t really want any,” I said.

He hurried to correct me. “They are my kids and I want they them to have some business.  Won’t you please help?”

Then, as an afterthought, he added, “But whatever you do, don’t tell them that I asked you to do this!”

“Of course not,” I said indignantly.  “I’m a Mother.  I know better.”

With that, I exited and bought a surprisingly delicious lemonade that included a special twirly straw.  As I walked back to my car, I took sip after sip of lemonade.

I felt a special kind of happy that I live on an Island where kids are still kids and parents are still parents. Budding entrepreneurs and their parents are part of the fabric from which the Island’s future is woven. It is part of the Vineyard’s draw that, whether Upis Land or Down Island, there is a place for all of us here.

     

Mysteries, Rain and Roses -- Mercury in Retrograde

     I woke up from a dream the other morning grasping to one shred of the dream.  I managed to cling to it right through the first groggy moments of waking.  It was nothing more than the phrase, “As Above, so Goes Below.”   I couldn’t unwind the dream but I knew it was making reference to the heavens and earth. I wondered if it was also a statement that whatever our emotional states are, so go our physical states; the body being a mirror of our minds. Then I remembered that between May 18th and June 11th, Mercury was in retrograde. It was the last day of the Mercury’s influence.

Astrologer Susan Miller ((http://www.astrologyzone.com/forecasts/mercury.htm)

writes,  “’As above, so too below.’  By that we mean there is a fractal relationship between the orbits in the heavens and human activity down here on Earth...Mercury rules anything that begins with “re”: redo, reassess, repair, repeat, redesign, or revisit.”     In other words, whatever I had been dreaming about was likely going to entail a “do over” ...or two.

     Lying in bed, slowly reclaiming consciousness, I caught a glimpse of a harbinger of the day; the first thing I saw that raised my curiosity and summoned some anxiety was that my bifold closet doors were open.  I was startled by this observation because, since childhood, I have had a phobia about leaving my closet doors open at night (thanks to my sister’s vivid stories of the monsters that lurked therein).  Between the open doors was a box neatly packed with all of my under-garments. Evidently, at some point during the night, I had been at it again --  sleepwalking.  Sleepwalking is an integral part of my life.  It is a complicated, sometimes embarrassing and often dangerous aspect of my night life I generally do not discuss.   I prefer to keep it folded up and put away on a shelf.  Yes, I may take it down a few times per week, but I choose a reality that supports the belief that my sleepwalking is invisible to all but those who know me very well.  This morning, the packed box didn’t overly concern me. I did not delve into the mystery of what dream I had carefully enacted by emptying my lingerie drawers into a Chanel No. #5 - scented collapsible fabric box.  Instead, I transferred the numerous frilly and sheer items to their rightful homes then shut my closet doors. 

     This morning, I had as my goal, my one and only outstanding goal, to pick up a package that a customer service rep from Target told me was waiting for me at the Oak Bluffs post office.  I stood outside the back door of the Oak Bluffs post office in the teeming rain waiting, well-trained and politely.  The Post Master handed over a package from  the purveyors Harry and David.  I was confused. Where was the Target package?  I sat in my steamy, moist car and used my phone to track it down. My glasses were wet and my vision blurry, but by enlarging the screen of my phone, it became apparent that my package was delivered to the post office in Vineyard Haven.  I intended to address the matter tomorrow.

     A relevant note: I have not been feeling well lately. My doctors laid out plans for how I can gain weight, increase my blood sugar and raise my blood pressure.  Apparently, if I am successful, my dizzy spells, headaches and fainting will cease.  Among the recommendations was the importance of daily perambulation.  Rain or shine, my Vitbit and I go for a tour.  Today, I pulled up the hood on my raincoat and tucked my iPhone in my pocket and the ear buds in my ears. I streamed a radio station fashioned on Ingrid Michaelson’s music.  It was barely raining as I walked along the Oak Bluffs Harbor then up to the East Chop Beach Club on East Chop Drive.  Before long however, the gentle mist was a heavy drizzle.  The rain steadily dripped off my nose. Soon cool water was pouring down the hem of my raincoat.  The hand that gripped my cane had seized up in a grasping position.  When I pulled the cane out of my hand, my fingers remained fashioned as if for the handle, curved and ready.  Despite the malformation, I was still able to photograph the spectacle of the harbor boats moored in strict alignment with one another.  To my delight, I found what I sought; along the fences and walls of the homes encircling the harbor, there were a profusion of roses.   My deformed hand was able to focus and shoot images of the glorious, show-stopping flowers. These particular roses have seduced me for my whole life. They start blooming in June and some bloom right through to September.  The words to a song I sang in a Madrigal group over 40 years ago still plays in refrain in my head,

 

“Now May has passed and here at last, we greet the time of roses.

They bud and bloom in all their pride along the emerald countryside.

Scents of flowers and dewy hours from every garden rise.

Morning and night, crimson and white,

They make, of earth, a paradise.

 (author unknown)

      These familiar words seemed to fade from memory with each step I took away from the fences that were so heavily laden with blooming roses.  I headed back to my car and pulled off my glasses.  My hair was drenched.  Somehow, the rain had managed to reinvigorate me. Despite doctor’s orders, I decided to head three miles west toward Vineyard Haven Post office. Perhaps it was the pull of Mercury in retrograde that compelled me to revisit the matter.  I found myself waiting in a long line for the privilege of straightening out my problem.  Apparently, the United States Postal Service has placed my new home in Vineyard Haven. Thus, UPS delivers my package to the Vineyard Haven Post Office despite the address I had provided Target.  The Post Master in Vineyard Haven has added me as a rural delivery customer. Thus, I receive my mail in Oak Bluffs and my packages in Vineyard Haven. Go Figure.

     All of this nonsense was simply not in accord with my doctor’s stern reprimand that I need to rest.  Sleep. Let things go.  My engines are running on fumes.  Honestly, I started up my car with every intention of driving straight home. Like a junkie, I saw an opportunity to get done just one more thing…..Hinckley’s Lumberyard!  I stopped to pick up a sample of granite for my kitchen counter.  As I left Hinckley’s. I was feeling rather dizzy and wobbly.

I was enormously relieved to get home.  I lugged in the mail and my two packages. The packages consisted of a treat from Harry and David (by way of my dear friend, Elizabeth) and the other from Target.  Harry and David (and Elizabeth) sent me a large and sumptuous assortment of mouth-wateringly delicious cookies.  Target sent me bath bubbles (I ordered), sheets (I ordered), a clock (I ordered) and baby clothes (I did not order).

 I will be returning the malfunctioning clock and the baby clothes. 

Hmmm, I wonder if I return the UPS package to the USPS post office in Oak Bluffs or Vineyard Haven? Or will UPS do home pick-up?  There is the real possibility they might not find me.