Making New Friends

Starting over on Martha's Vineyard

When I moved from NY to live full time on Martha’s Vineyard, just over 2 years ago, I arrived having only one friend here: Bruce, the man whose big idea this was. My relocation was convenient for us both, after years of making the long commute to see each other, made longer by weather conditions, missed trains, ferry plagues and traffic jams.

As it is for many people, especially older ones, relocating becomes a necessity for a variety of reasons, and I was incredibly lucky to land here with this really nice guy. While encouraging me to make the move, he often told me I’d like the vibe here, that I’d meet my people at Featherstone and beyond. He didn’t need to convince me because I’ve known since the 1970’s that MV was the place for me.

Home for me has almost always been on an island. I grew up on Coronado and vacationed on Catalina. (I’m leaving out the LA years, but LA is its own kind of island.) I moved to Manhattan, then Brooklyn (I know it’s hard to think of it this way, but it is on Long Island), then to the eastern end of LI before landing here once and for all.

In late 2022, I sold my yarn & needlework shop and at the same time my landlords decided to sell the wonderful old house I’d lived in for 14 years, so change was going to happen no matter what. Might as well make it an adventure!

But it’s not easy to make such a big change. As I packed up, I thought about all the people I knew who have resettled in a retirement village or moved to assisted living without all their stuff, without their people, in a totally new environment with different rhythms and landmarks. Likewise, I was having to downsize and start over in every way.

I still miss many things besides my house and my stuff, most of them irreplaceable because they are location specific. I miss my favorite farmstands and the familiar faces there, and the shopkeepers who recognized me. I miss my doctors. I miss the restaurateurs who treated me like royalty. I miss my tiny ancient post office. I miss my customers and Love Lane and my fellow merchants. I miss hopping over to a friend’s house for an impromptu dinner, a glass of wine on the porch, a walk along the beach, my morning dips in the bay.

I remind myself that it took a long time to build those connections and routines; of course it will take a while to build new ones. I had thought I was mentally prepared to start over, but I quickly felt the intensity of disconnection. During the first year here I would often say something about “back home” when referring to my pre-Vineyard life. Luckily, Bruce is very kind and patient, and the Vineyard is a very beautiful place.

The eastern end of Long Island is a little like the Vineyard, in that both areas were settled around the same time, have stone walls, lots of farms and a maritime history. They are also places where many people pronounce, within minutes of first meeting, how far back their ancestry goes on that land. It’s a good way to let a newcomer know that they will never belong and might not even be welcome.

“Back home” I had a business that connected me in spite of my heritage. It was a friendly place, and there were always people in the shop making something or stopping by to say hello. Here I had no shop, no local friends, and I began to think I’d never meet anyone who shared any of my interests.

But then I started going to quiet writing hours at Featherstone, where, as Bruce predicted, I met people I connected with. Two women I met there, Elisa and Brenda, had formed a writing group: the Washashores Writers Collective. When they invited me to join them, I was thrilled beyond expression.

Photo by Ivana Cajina on Unsplash.

Then one day, months later, I ran into a Washashore (at Granite—in the sewing supply section, of course!) and we made a date for coffee the following week. It was a full ten months after landing here that I had my first meet-up with a potential new friend. (It has worked out very well!)

Now I have a whole posse of pals with whom I gather weekly to talk about writing. And one thing about the Washashores group is, as the name implies, none of us was born here (with a couple of exceptions). No heritage to declare. Just humanity and a keen interest in the world at large, as seen through our many-colored eyes from this idyllic vantage.

I have so much respect and affection for all my Washashore sisters, for the varied and fascinating lives they lead, the fine quality of their writing, their willingness to share their knowledge, and for being so supportive. I’m pleased to be part of this Creative Current Substack with three fellow Washashores, and honored to be among those who contributed to our new Washashores Review.

The friendships are developing, my connections are growing, and every day I’m feeling more like a person who belongs here.