Like many popes and kings, Denys Wortman of Vineyard Haven is the eighth in a dynastic lineup. The seventh Denys Wortman was a nationally known cartoonist – and mid-century president of the Society of Illustrators of New York – who happened to do a lot of painting on the side. But because dad died in 1958, when son Denny was in his second year of college, the eighth wasn’t aware until the early 1990s that the seventh was a splendid painter.

By Holly Nadler


Last summer, a few friends received a phone call from an Island woman who had found a message in a bottle with their names on it. Years before, these friends had spent the summer working and playing on-Island. One particularly memorable evening, they buried a bottle in the sand, and quite positively forgot about it. They forgot about it, that is, until that phone call. And soon they were reunited with this piece of a summer past.

By Meredith Downing


Since Hurricane Katrina, people seem to be taking hurricane warnings more seriously. But there was a time when they didn’t. And there was a time when we didn’t even get warnings of impending hurricanes.

By Shirley Mayhew


The Chappy ferry is making headlines. Passenger rates may go up, the lines may get longer, and the owner plans to sell. A look at the history of the service shows this isn’t exactly new news.

By Tom Dunlop


It’s been twenty years. I can talk about it now. In fact, I can even laugh. But trust me, when it happened I didn’t exactly see the humor. In 1986 the two major events in Joyce’s and my lives converged: the building of our Vineyard house and our wedding.

By Geoff Currier


When Ronni Simon gets dressed, she doesn’t wear much jewelry – usually just her watch and maybe some hoop earrings, plus the rings she wears all the time because she can’t get them off her fingers anymore. “I’ve never really been into jewelry,” she confesses. Which is why no one is more surprised than Ronni herself at the overnight success of the jewelry-making business she started just over half a year ago.

By Laura D. Roosevelt


I am a fashion leader.   Except that I’m really not. I’m not even a contender. So the fact that I recently received a letter that said, “You are a fashion leader,” made me particularly pleased. Unfortunately, my elevated fashion credentials don’t really belong to me at all. The true fashion leader is a woman I don’t know. I’ll call her Katherine M.   

By Kate Feiffer


A fashion statement, a political statement. Stina Sayre wants to make them at the same time, but it’s not easy. Her political statement goes like this: “We’re so globalized,” she says. “It’s like nothing is made in the Western world anymore. We westerners don’t understand where our things come from. But when you go to Wal-Mart, the jeans you buy are made by slaves, pretty much. You can buy a pair of pants for $25, but the person who made them doesn’t make a buck an hour.

By Mike Seccombe