HOLLY NADLER

508-687-9239

(hollynadler@gmail.com)

A few years ago – if memory serves, it was in the fall – those of us whose homes had views of Vineyard Sound beyond the ferry docks, gazed out one morning, and our eyelids flapped open like over-rolled window shades. “What the hell is that?” was possibly a universal reaction.

What it was, was the so-called Moujabber structure, in its darkest days referred to by its slew of detractors as the Garage Mahal. In a seaside neighborhood of Edwardian houses known as Craftsman Bungalows, a gentle period in architecture when Victorian frippery and over-do gave way to simpler yet still-gracious lines, one of our citizens had decided to build over his garage. And while he was at it, he thought he’d maximize that upstairs space, install at least two apartments, square off the rooflines, and slap up balconies and sliding glass doors.

The cautionary tale here is that, whenever you live in a gorgeous place where it stays gorgeous because people make an effort to maintain the town’s history and aesthetic tastes, then if you build something, not only must you consider your own view, but you’ve got to pay attention to whatever your neighbors are bound to see when they look back at you. Without a doubt the vista from the new Moujabber heights was astonishing; who wouldn’t love to stare out at the Sound in either a northwest or a northeast direction, and to conduct a leisurely scan of the surrounding, fine cottages? The only drawback was that the inhabitants of those cottages, along with townsfolk as far away as a full mile in every direction, including those sailing in from the sea, now had to stare at an architectural eyesore as noticeable as a boil on the otherwise beautiful neck of a young girl.

Anyway, happy ending: A little over a week ago, after years of wrangling in court, this commission weighing in after that commission weighed out, the Garage Mahal met the wrecking ball, and this suggests a good enough rhyme for a country western guitar picker to bring it on home. Something else will go up in its place; it was part of a deal struck and, although the new annex will be larger than the abutters would have preferred, it’s less visually obstructive than the G.M., and harmonizes better with the original main house on the property. So all’s well that ends well. It’s just too bad that these well-endings take so long.

In the meantime, even with a global meltdown and a housing crisis apparently going on all around us, left, right and center, we’re still seeing, SMACK DAB HERE ON THIS ISLAND!, big old homes sprouting up, the size of strip malls. There’s one new monster up on the landward side of West Chop Drive that looks big enough to house all the refugees of Baghdad (someone told me 22 televisions have been hooked up in this manor house; wonder if Comcast gave them a bundling deal?)

Can’t we once and for all put a size limit on these second/third/or fourth summer homes, considering that there apparently still exist in this country people who possess a few billion more dollars than they need? I’ve proposed in the past that these Mr. and Mrs. Ten Thousand Square Foot wannabes, in order to receive a permit, must first write an open letter in which they pitch their case. What could they communicate in all honesty other than, “We have a lot of super-rich friends and we all impress each other by the obscene dimensions of our homes. If we were to build a mere three/four thousand square foot hovel, we would be dropped from our social circles.” Oh boo hoo.

Then we could all vote to grant them their American version of Versailles or not. (Not forgetting that Versailles in its heyday had no central heat, no electricity, and no indoor plumbing as we know it, which made it relatively cheap to operate, if you overlook all the servants emptying chamber pots.)

If we voted down these builders of giant houses, they could go to some other locale where no one cares about carbon footprints which is to say, hopefully, nowhere.

Note to community: If you buy a Christmas tree at Jim’s Market, proceeds go to the family of Jim Moore who is battling brain cancer. Trees start at $36.

The staff at the Oak Bluffs School has decided that, in light of our sad economy, teachers and other faculty members will forego gifts to one another this holiday season and instead donate food or money to the Island Food Pantry. Parents and students desirous of gifting a teacher are encouraged to also donate to the Pantry on behalf of that particular faculty member or members.

Last November the Oak Bluffs sixth grade enrolled in the Scholastic Book Club Classroom Cares Program. The deal was this: For every 100 books read by the class, books would be donated by Scholastic to libraries in need. Our Oak Bluffs students selected the New Orleans Public School System as their beneficiary and, moreover, ploughed through 300-plus books in the process. Great job, kids!

The Intergenerational Program between the residents of Windemere Nursing and Rehab and the second and third graders in Jack Regan’s class in the Chilmark School have collaborated on a calendar. The class has been visiting Windemere “buddies” for years so, a while back, the older group purchased cameras for the students with the help of a grant from the Permanent Endowment Fund. Pictures taken over the past four years now comprise the calendar which itself is hot off the press. For anyone in Oak Bluffs interested in buying one (or more!), the nearest outlet for us is at Windemere itself, in care of Betsy Burmeister at 508 696-6465, extension 722.