The Vineyard Beach Chair

Mornings across the world are filled with ritual. The Vineyard brings wonder to daybreak in the campground. Sami’s very respectful alarm, a barely audible, “grrrr” tells me the sun is rising. A brisk search for a good spot and a squirrel scampering up a tree is all she needs. Water for the basil plant, instructions to ‘Alexa’ to play Jack Johnson on Pandora, a flickering candle with the healing scent of lavender and a gurgling Keurig heating the water for a wakeup cup of java all bring inspiration for me.

My favorite peach and cream flowered dress and a white visor jump from the closet, “pick me, pick me”. A sparkling day, I’m eager to explore Martha’s Vineyard with Craig. When searching for a tour on the island back in April, Facebook reviews touted Craig MacCormack’s skills. A quick text to Craig requesting a tour with my pup, Sami Cannoli, had produced an enthusiastic, “absolutely, I’d love to take you and your pooch.” Further chats returned lively excitement from Craig for showing us his beautiful Martha’s Vineyard. Confident and delighted to find a way to include Sami, the tour was booked.

I fill the familiar doggie diaper bag for our outing, remember the 35 mm camera to capture island wonder, and grab a portable blanket to protect the car from piles of white fur. Sami and I head to the camp office area, the meeting place for pickups, by 10:30a.m. By 10:50, Sami is on high alert with no one appearing. We move to the entrance of the campground where a bus stop provides benches to wait with a clear view of Edgartown Vineyard Haven Road where Craig will easily see us. 11:05 approaches, no Craig. Thoughts begin to race, “Did I do enough research on this guy? Have I been scammed?” I go over all our texting communication. He verified our tour June 8th, and sent me a picture of the tan turtle top van with comfy captain’s chairs to look for, he certainly seemed legit. I text Craig, no answer. By 11:30 am I am prepared to look up the local chamber of commerce to ask about him convinced I’ve been swindled. I call Craig, no answer.

Suddenly I get a call from Craig, “What time is it? I’m so sorry my alaawm didn’t go off. I’ll throw on some pants and be right there!” Ok, then, there’s no con. A text follows, I’ve been working 10-12 hour days and I’m not feeling good. Can we do this afternoon instead?” Covid resurging prompts my response, “Go back to bed. Do you have a covid test?” He answers that he does, and we agree to reschedule for tomorrow.

Imagined Tour vehicle!

Disappointed, I head back to the RV to ponder my day. A drive to the Gay Head Lighthouse and Cliffs comes to mind to replace the tour, a spectacular stand in. Friday morning begins another texting stream with Craig since rain is in the forecast. Back and forth determines Sunday will now be a better fit. Craig is apologetic asking, “Do you like seafood and wine, I’ll make it up to you. We’ll have a lovely afternoon on Sunday.” Questions start popping into my head again, my gut thinks this sounds remotely like a ‘date proposition’. I vaguely recall the experience from 40 years ago and I wonder if this man has an ulterior motive? When I tell my husband the story, he wonders as well. I tell Jim I get the feeling he is an older man, a bit forgetful, and comes across a little confused that I will still go but see if I need to manage the situation.

My curiosity and anxiety levels, prepare me for ‘plan c’ as Sami and I wait on the bench at the bus stop, again, on Sunday afternoon. Not surprised, Craig shows up at 10 minutes past our departure time, traffic he says. I am relieved to meet him, a ‘normal looking guy’. He greets Sami heartily, and Sami’s response reassures me. He comes prepared with towels ready to accommodate Sami fur on the floor of a well-worn van. Glad to know he is covid free and was just over tired, Craig lives up to his Facebook reputation. Well versed on ‘his’ island, now a resident for 40 years, hailing from Boston I think, by his strong accentuation of ‘Maawtha’s Vineyard’. I listen intently to hear the stories between the words drawling with unfamiliar sounds. He does not breathe between sentences. Telling Teddy Kennedy’s antics rolls into the Wampanoag Tribe originally naming the island, Noepe, in the 17th century to, “Have ya seen the ginga brad cottages? We have a Jaawba waawcky camp for cerbawl pawlsy kids hare.” I stop trying to take notes for reference; too much too fast. It takes all my attention to understand what he is saying! Sprinklings of Craig’s past flutter amidst it all; a divorce, a house burned down, and a photographer for 30 years here. I love that he is willing to stop along the way so my photo snapper can grab engaging shots while dashing between the now starting raindrops.

Rolling through the curling cobblestone dirt paths of the Gingerbread Cottage Camp, Craig spies a sidewalk sale and pulls off to the side of the road turning to me, "Do ya mind if I stawp and take a peek? I’m looking for something for my daawter.” Initially taken aback by the request, this is something I might have said to myself, an antique junky, but on a paying island tour? However, true to my new job description, Adventure Seeker, I eagerly join him. I spot a wood and canvas something or other and pick it up. Further inspection with Craig’s collaboration, we decide it is an old folding beach chair from the early 1900’s. A man hidden from clear view with a sunhat and a cigar shouts out, “Its all free.” Craig looks at me and says, “I’ll take it”, adding this to his handful of other items. Darn, I was just thinking the same thing, but it was his stop, so I hand him the cool find.

I follow Craig to the back of his tour van with his prizes. He opens the double doors. Instantly, I realize the tour guide doubles as a junk collector. Returning to my ‘listening chair’, the serendipity continues. Zipping down winding streets, stopping along the way for a plethora of photo shots, bathroom breaks and even a liquor store where he returns with my ‘date-night’ wine and offers me a ‘Kind granola baaar’. Feeling a bit like Three Dog Night’s, Mama Told Me Not to Come, “Want some whiskey in your water? Some sugar in your tea? What’s all these crazy questions they’re askin’me? This is the craziest party that could ever be. Don’t turn on the lights ‘cause I don’t wanna see.” Craig’s tour is truly crazy, and a one-of-a-kind as he continues to drawl on about the history here, famous friends like Carly Simon, James Taylor and a grand tale about his escapades trying to show another tour-goer Bill Murrays place. Throughout, there is a thread of kindness and caring for the people on the island, an artist’s escape from paparazzi and a path to normalcy of sorts for those who need it, in this dreamland.

The three-hour tour turns into five as we pull up to the town of Menemsha, dubbed ‘Amityville’ in Jaws where much of the movie was filmed. Time stands still in Martha’s Vineyard, a dirt road leads us past an old Texaco gas station, fisherman’s huts, and several tiny cottages selling the catch of the day. The “freshest seafood you can get” is my surprise dinner. We place our orders. Sami and I head to rest stops and Craig meets us at a wind-protected bench behind the Texaco with a stellar view of the harbor where Martin Brody desperately yelled to his son in Jaws to “get out of the water” across a range of boulders lining the shore. The perfect vantage point for dinner and a sunset.

Craig is pulling out the 1920’s beach chair for a test set up when I turn the corner. It takes two of us to figure out the puzzle with a little table, like an oyster pearl, inside the wooden origami chair. We are equally thrilled at our find as we step back and enjoy the treasure. Craig looks at me and says, “ok, do ya want the Chaair?” Still thinking about it, he answers himself, “Let’s fip faawr it!” Clearly, he wants it as much as me. I chuckle to myself telling him, “my teepee at home is really full, you take it.”

We set up dinner on the tables Craig pulled from the back of the work worn tour van. Simply prepped, fresh sword fish & lobster bisque for Craig and a lobster roll brimming with sweet tail meat and a cup of creamy clam chowder chuck full of chunks of potato and celery for me. Craig fills my plastic wine cup with an ice-cold local Sauvignon Blanc.

‘I’ve gotta try the new beach chaair” precedes an instantaneous ripping sound as Craig hoists his 200 plus into the tiny old chair. He quickly comments he has some old-fashioned stripped canvas in his storage site, a very large warehouse location we also stopped at on our tour! Saying he could easily replace the already mended, faded, washed canvas; now torn in several spots, I pipe in, “but I really liked the well-warn white canvas on my chair, Craig!” We both laugh out loud at the chair we could have tossed a coin over ending our memorable tour with a smile. As we head back to the campground, I try to recall the stories he told and the places that beg for a return visit. The Jabberwocky Camp collides with the Gingerbread Cottages and I somehow know tomorrow will bring another serendipitous outing for this Adventure Seeker.