Month: June 2005 (Page 3 of 3)

So said the “English as a second language” guide at Heather Gardens. What we were looking for was Grange Hall, an old restored post & beam hall in the village of West Tisbury where a collection of “Jaws” memorablia was on display. So off we went, expecting the booty of buoy’s, spear guns and other cool props to be “just around the bend.” Well, after several bends, a couple long straightaways and a few hills, we were nowhere. This particular journey kept my interest with extraordinary old trees and the occasional outdoor sculpture, but Kyle wasn’t feeling the love. Not the the trek was all mellow for me either. Most of it was spent worried about Kyle’s positioning within the 18” walking path on the side of the “State Road” as cars and trucks whizzed by.

Finally we reached a bus stop and decided to wait for the next one. We waited for about 15 minutes, chatting with a couple brothers who had also come over for the “JawsFest.” Well, I chatted. Kyle was just clutching his Boston Magazine, wondering how this adventure had gone so horribly wrong. As the bus sped toward us, Kyle muttered, “Finally” as the bus whooshed by us with a big gust of wind. We were back to walking… After forty-five more minutes of silent trudging, we arrived at the village. Maybe that guy meant 500 kilometers… We darted into a little general store for pizza, a tuna wrap and some lemonade. We ate in slience, sitting on the wood bench in front of the place. We’d walked about three miles and weren’t too happy about it. The tuna was good. Just like I remember at the beach as a kid. Kyle erased two slices in ten minutes. The lemonade evaporated at a furious pace. Now, it was time to face the music.

The Grange Hall exhibit had everything. Well, they didn’t have the severed torso of Robert Shaw’s “Quint,” but what do you want for ten bucks…each? Hey, they had just about everything else, including “Ben Gardner’s” head, and Kyle was in Great White Heaven. Later, as we smoothly glided back to New Bedford on the awesome high-speed ferry, Kyle still had his Boston Magazine on his lap. He said quietly, “Thanks Dad. That was fun. I like Martha’s Vineyard.” Me too, Kyle. Me too.

An old friend liked to use the cliché, “it’s the journey, not the destination.”

It is in that spirit that Kyle and I set out for a day-trip to Martha’s Vineyard for “JawsFest,” the 30th’anniversary celebration of the filming on the island. Really, I’m taking the one hour and forty-five minute drive to New Bedford and the one-hour ferry trip for one reason: to get a picture of Kyle with the big movie star. Yep, “Bruce,” as director Stephen Spielberg named him, is terrorizing the island once again!

We’ll arrive in Vineyard Haven around 11:00 and find our way to Heather Gardens in West Tisbury. Why a mechanical shark will be on display at an inland nursery and garden center is a mystery, but I’m going to relish it. Work it isn’t. The big mystery is whether Kyle will get close enough to the fictional great-white to snap a picture. He loves the crocodile from the Peter Pan films, but won’t go near the mechanical one at the Rainforest Café in Burlington… Stay tuned.

A friend of mine has cancer again. I think this is the 4th time. You would think this wretched disease would have learned it’s lesson by now, but no, it’s looking for another good old-fashioned ass-kicking. This cancer is “Wiley-Coyote” stupid. You know, keep trying over and over, but always ending up with an anvil smashed off your head. This is gonna be bad. I mean a really bad beating like those Richard Pryor used to describe in his stand-up act. Yeah, he’d tell about the “whoopin’s” he’d get from his mom when he did something really bad. He’d go on to describe in hilarious detail how she would lecture him and that the cadence of each word would be accompanied by a good, solid whack…. Same thing here… I can hear it now: “Didn’t…. I….. Tell…. Your…. Sorry…. Cancer… Ass…. Never…. To…. Come…. Back????” It’s gonna be “Rocky,” “Fight-Club,” and “The Thrilla in Manilla” all rolled into one with cancer lying dead in the ring when it’s over. I’m simply amazed that she comes into work, laughs, spits sarcastic humor and has incredibly loud conference calls all while kicking cancer’s ass. My favorite part is when she gets that Eastwood-esque glint in he Irish eyes, and says, “Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya… punk?” Cancer… Dude, give it up. You don’t want any of this.

Ted Sorensen was special counsel and a good friend to our 35th president, John F. Kennedy. On May 28th, he wrote an op-ed piece in the Boston Globe on what would have been JFK’s 88th birthday. Mr. Sorensen’s opinion speculates on what JFK might say to our leaders of today. I hope they read it. An excerpt:

To Vice President Dick Cheney on international organizations, alliances, and consultations: ”The United States is neither omnipotent nor omniscient. We are only 6 percent of the world’s population . . . we cannot impose our will upon the other 94 percent of mankind.” (University of Washington, 1961)

It turns out that an ex-FBI agent, Mark Felt, was the “Deep Throat” who guided Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein to “follow the money” as they investigated a ostensibly petty burglary at the Watergate complex outside Washington DC in June, 33 years ago. The two then young Washington Post reporters wrote a great book called “All the President’s Men” that later became an OK movie. Read the book, or if you’re lazy, rent the movie.