Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Saturday, October 15, 2016
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Sunday, August 14, 2016
I Shook President Obama's Hand Today!
Because it was so hot and humid, after working on my illustrations yesterday and satisfied with getting one more completed, I decided to take my afternoon swim at the the town beach, just a mile away. Wearing my bikini under my sundress, I rode my bike, carrying only my towel around my waste. When I got two blocks over from home to Franklin St., the second to main strip out to West Chop in Tisbury (Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts – for my foreign friends) for no logical reason I decided to extend my bike ride out around West Chop. Then I saw a number of people standing at the ends of their roads that led into Franklin and one group was holding an American flag. I realized the POTUS motorcade must be due to drive by. As I rode on, I saw a state police SUV blocking the Bigelow Road entrance and about 1500 meters further, I came upon a bank of state police parked on their motorcycles across from Golf Club Rd. which leads to Mink Meadows 9 hole golf course (with ocean views). I chatted up the police, some were friendly, one was stone faced and intimidating. I continued my ride around the West Chop point and tennis club then decided I just had to go back. It was in my head to at least once see my hero, President Barack Obama's motorcade while he was here in Martha's Vineyard for his last time as sitting President. Back at the assemblage of cops on motorcycles, now with two more cops in SUVs, I asked my friendly cop if I could go down Golf Club Rd. He said, “Sure but you may be stopped by secret service.” What did I have to lose? Riding down the road, I did read a “private road” sign but kept going. Sure enough in about 1000 feet there was a loose collection of about 3 or 4 men and women with a beautiful black dog chatting in the middle of this unpaved road. “Where are you headed?” was their first question. “To the golf club.” I honestly replied. (There are a few lightly lavish houses along this road.) “Do you have a tee time?” Honesty seemed the safest answer, again. “No.” “Okay. Get off your bike and step away.” I did as told and they had the dog sniff my bike. (I could have had a bomb in my towel but) they waved me on and as I continued down to the golf club, I heard them say, “He's getting really hot.” Naturally, he's a black dog, I thought. At the edge of the course, just before the club house I saw a retinue of golf carts, appearing very official and a slew of reporters assembled in the parking lot. Mosquitoes were ready to eat me alive. Then I heard clapping on the back side of the club house and I knew it wasn't mosquito slapping. I decided to chance walking around it. It is a public course, after all. Barack was on the final hole. I saw Will Halby, a young father I know there with his wife and 4 kids watching along with about 30 – 50 other men, women and children in casual summer attire. I was definitely staying right there. We watched the players (someone said he was playing with some Boston Celtics players) tally up their scores in their carts then he made his way over to the onlookers at the edge of the course and shook hands. As he firmly and gently took my hand, I thought he has such narrow hands and I said, “Thank you for your service.” He told my friends, holding their baby, “She has ears like mine.” I think it's a standard line he uses in these meet and greet sessions with gawkers. I doubt he even took me in so I guess I can't call him Barack yet but I was on a high for the rest of the day. After his motorcade left we were allowed to leave. Now I needed to cool off more than ever so I continued my bike ride around to our local beach for a swim in Vineyard Haven outer harbor.