ER’s Window

This house has been lifted off of the foundation and moved further inland twice in its life. The great Nor’easters which thunder up the coast reclaim portions of the mighty cliffs on the southeastern shore of Martha’s Vineyard every year. When I first started coming here to visit my friend Lynn we would park next to those pine trees which were then well behind the house. From this window one could see nothing but ocean as it caressed the jagged line of Lucy Vincent beach and out to the West Chop Lighthouse.
In the aftermath of hurricane Bob back in the 80’s there were only a few inches of ground left beyond the front porch step with tufts of grass leaning over the edge and blowing in the breeze. Barely enough bluff for the gulls to land. So, the family geared up again, moved an acre or two of bittersweet vines, and hauled it back.

One fine evening in October soon afterwards we were sitting around the family dinner table toasting that feat of engineering and solving all the problems in the world. Dr. Alex, son of Sophie the matriarchal grandmother of the clan and purchaser of the cottage years ago who was a challenging and ornery scientist long since retired from a prestigious career but not from the world of intellect, was holding court. Our conversation drifted from hospice work to architecture to making pottery from the clay that dribbles out of the cliffs and on to astronomy particular to the Vineyard autumn skies. Pat brought us back round to the house and said how much she loved to sit in front of the window facing the ocean and read.

Alex piped up, “Eleanor Roosevelt enjoyed that window seat as well.”

This got our attention and there were several stories which made their way into family legend about that famous visitor. I have a vague memory of one involving the out house and a sticking door and the first lady of the land inside. But the details have gone the way of the seagulls so I shouldn’t speak of it here.

We will be there again in a few days. Our friend Lynn will be there to greet us. She gifted us last Christmas with a set of mugs which she had made from the clay on the cliffs. Alex is scattered at the base of the stone wall which crosses the spring and borders the meadow behind the Sophie’s house on the bluff.

I wouldn’t venture to guess where Mrs. Roosevelt is.

2007

PS- I have heard from certain family members, after writing this in 2001, that the stories of ER’s visits there may have been greatly exaggerated. If not made up entirely.

The window remains and we’ll be headed back up there in a couple weeks. I’ll let you know how the bluff is doing.