Window shopping or browsing in a mall was never my cup of tea, but that is not to say I didn’t enjoy shopping. I certainly did, especially during the end-of-season sales.

            Nothing felt better than entering a dressing room loaded down with new clothing, hoping a few pieces would fit me well. Oh, the sweet victory of returning home with something new to wear, paying only 40 percent of its original purchase price. I was going to wear my new clothing outside, in the world, with other people. Now I fear that t-shirts, fleece V-neck pullovers, old sweat clothes, and pajamas are the order of the day.

            This last year, with its pandemic challenges, has proven to me that make-up isn’t at all necessary, not as I once believed. It’s proven that elastic waistbands can easily be rebranded pandemic waistbands, for they are critical to spending weeks at home where wandering around the house looking for something to do is not unlike a safari where the prey are cobwebs. It’s proven my husband really loves me regardless of my appearance. His vision has become dog-like, seeing what he chooses to see versus the reality – an unkempt, baggy-attired hausfrau.

            Back to shopping – with the absence of in-person shopping trips, I’ve found myself spending time doing what I never did before, window shopping and browsing but, of course, virtually on the internet. I can spend the better part of an afternoon looking at slacks with real zippers and buttons while fantasizing about wearing them out to dinner while on vacation in some fabulous port of call. Then the dog will bark, or the phone will ring, and I’ll find myself standing in my spare bedroom-turned-office, turned in-home physical-therapy clinic, wearing yesterday’s sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt complete with dog-hair accessories.

            Shopping is now done online. While my husband does the grocery shopping, I’ve purchased so much merchandise from Amazon they send me purchase rewards to be spent on my next order. Oh, they know me so well. The algorithm of my browsing history is well documented. The algorithms send me messages in the form of ideas on what next to buy. If I bought a certain brand of doggie treats, maybe I’ll buy a container to store them – only $19.95 – or some doggie shampoo with conditioner – only $19.95 – or even a doggie blanket for only $19.95. Confession: Sometimes, I’ve taken the bait.

            This is not me! This is not the woman who prided herself on shopping out of necessity, perceived or imagined. This is not the woman who used her lunch hour to rush into a two-story store and pinpoint in under five minutes the exact size and color of an item she knew she would find.

            Alas, I’ve become a wandering soul stuck in a virtual nightmare where, click after click, I go deeper into a merchant’s labyrinth, eventually finding myself with a tiny shopping basket icon filled with must-have items I didn’t know I needed. Please give me strength!

            But what makes the process of online shopping truly seductive is the return policy they all seem to have. No longer must one face a real person and explain why an item is being returned – “Hmmm … it’s too small.” Oh no, now you simply toss the item – no explanation needed unless you elect to give one – into the packaging it was sent in, slap the pre-paid return label on the outside, and, voila, it disappears. No harm, no foul.

            Recently I was truly surprised while trying to return an item to Amazon. I couldn’t get the return label to print, so, through the miracle of a virtual assistant, I was “told” to keep the item or donate it, not to return it, period, end of remote dialog. Upon reflection, I deduced that it would have cost them more to process the return than to simply let me keep the $15 purchase. It waits by the front door for its trip to a local second-hand shop. Thank you, Amazon.

            The dog has been the biggest beneficiary of my online shopping excursions. Why, you ask? Because every single article of clothing I’ve ordered for myself has been returned. There are various reasons, poor quality material, sizing issues, and the “what was I thinking when I ordered that” moments. The dog appreciates his one-size-fits-all treats.

            When I retired from the corporate whirlwind of black slacks, black jackets, black shoes, and crisp white French cuffed blouses, I gave away the uniforms. I wanted to purge my closet and my soul of those reminders of just how all-consuming one-upmanship was in those cut-throat boardrooms. What was left in the closet were exercise garments and jeans, not the mom variety my body would come to appreciate. It was time for the next chapter, and that meant the right togs to wear.

            Enter L.L. Bean and Duluth Trading Company. Their selection of casual clothing was perfect for my new life as a gardener, journalist, physical therapy addict, and home cook. By the end of March 2020, I decided even those clothes were too good to ruin simply hanging around the house. One day I would wear them again out in public but not now. Out came the paint-smeared sweatpants and matching paint-smeared shirts, clean but battered clothing, not unlike myself.

            My online shopping moved on to comfy clothing that most would call loungewear or PJs. But even those purchases, while filling up some vacancies in my daily reminder, haven’t been as satisfying as buying petite bites for my dog. Most have been returned. Harry remains the winner and still champion of my virtual shopping excursions.

            So the closet waits for my return. It waits for that day when I pull out a few hangers, toss them on the bed, and debate the merits of a floral top complemented with black leggings. My make-up table and compacts of eye shadow wait beside a vase of brushes and eyeliners, all weighted down by dust that has accumulated due to lack of use. But I know one day I’ll return to caring about whether a smoky eye is better for daytime and if I should go for the heavy black mascara.

            One day in the future, I’ll return to my favorite clothing emporiums, slowly scanning the racks for just the right items, then I’ll saunter into the dressing room. And, as I change into the pieces I’ve selected, I’ll remind myself to never, ever take the little things for granted; even acts of consumerism vis-à-vis is a joy not to be taken for granted.

This Mattapoisett Life

By Marilou Newell

            V.A.S.E, the Sippican Elementary School parent-teacher organization, works every year to ensure that students experience enrichment activities beyond their classroom work.

            Through their efforts, Sippican Elementary students in past years have, among other options, attended live theater, heard speakers discuss bullying, and developed varied skills, such as fiber arts, knitting, and yoga, from artists who visited their classrooms.

            This year, of course, has been far from traditional, with visitors to schools restricted and even singing prohibited in the building to prevent virus spread. That led to challenges, said Johanna Vergoni, member at large for V.A.S.E., which stands for Volunteers at Sippican Elementary.

            “There’s so many things that have changed for the students,” she said. “It’s not an easy learning environment.”

            But the organization remained determined to provide enrichment activities, she said.

            “We still wanted to do what we’re there to do,” said Vergoni. “This year we had to be creative to make that happen.”

            They relied on being resourceful, thinking outside the box and using a means that has become universally familiar to students – Zoom.

            Through this approach, the organization brought in David Ruch, an artist and singer from western New York, to perform virtually. His performance with fifth graders complemented their classroom education on Colonial America. Ruch performed songs in Dutch, Iroquis, and English that reflected that period of history. He also performed for second graders on the subject of world communities, teaching them about different world cultures. The children tapped on their desks as he played an Indian tabla drum, among other activities.

            “It was great,” Vergoni said. “They were part of the show themselves. The kids loved it.”

            They were so pleased with the performance that they signed up another performer, Motoko Dworkin, for a combined third and fourth-grade virtual show. The Japanese storyteller shared Asian folk tales, performed traditional Japanese lullabies, and offered a demonstration of origami.

            Through Dworkin, they learned about a STARS (Students and Teachers working with Artists, Scientists, and Scholars) residency grant that is funded by the Mass Cultural Council and decided to apply. The grant was awarded to the school and will fund an afterschool program starting April 26. These six, 45-minute virtual classes will be offered to third, fourth, and fifth graders, and can accept up to 25 participants. To sign up, email vase@oldrochester.org.

            Students in these free classes will work with Dworkin to make origami animal characters and use them to create a story to help solve a community problem.

            “In a unique time, this is a program that allows students to work together,” Vergoni said.

            Another virtual class is scheduled in April for students in first grade, with plans underway to hold the same class for students in kindergarten this spring. This program, led by Vinny Lovegrove of the popular children’s group The Toe Jam Puppet Band, is titled “Drawing and Silliness with Mr. Vinny.” This show will be “really fun and silly” as he “keeps it light and fun,” she said.

            V.A.S.E. is also hoping to find a “fun program” for sixth graders, possibly something outdoors. Because these students will be graduating from Sippican, organizers are “really looking to do something special” for them, she said.

            The virtual programs also extended to Project Grow, the Sippican preschool. Children there watched a prerecorded performance by Dworkin.

            V.A.S.E. was happy to offer all grade levels specific virtual enrichment this year, she said, with support from Principal Marla Sirois, teachers, and staff. Vergoni hopes the programs provided “an opportunity to be creative and to take a break” from their routines.

            Next year, she hopes, activities will be more traditional. But for this year, she said, “We’re happy we can still provide it.”

            For more information on V.A.S.E., visit sites.google.com/oldrochester.org/vase/home.

By Sandy Quadros Bowles

            Marion Facilities Manager Shaun Cormier has those two football-size pieces that are missing from the Main Street facing upper facade on the Town Hall Annex building, but they are not going back up.

            “We’re going to try and duplicate that…. Unfortunately, they’re too far gone. There’s only so far you can go with restoration,” said Cormier. But the shingles will stay. “We’re going to save this detail as long as we can.”

            What can be seen on the Annex building and what cannot are two distinctly different things, and Superman’s x-ray vision would not reveal a pretty sight. Behind the vinyl siding on the Annex building is wood siding containing lead paint that will necessitate an abatement requiring a legally prescribed procedure for safe removal of the contaminant.

            The granite steps are their own story.

            The Sippican Historical Society and a private donor have been the main benefactors of the Town House project that has sought funding from public sources, including grant money.

            Two $90,000 capital items recommended by the Marion Community Preservation Committee for the Annual Town Meeting Warrant are divided up between Annex-related projects.

            The first proposed appropriation addresses the Main Street facing side of the Annex building, a deep restoration that will replace the existing glass doors with mahogany entry doors matching those on the adjacent Town House, along with new insulated windows and restoration of the facade above the doors. It will also include a full set of architectural bidding documents redesigning the steep granite steps and associated landscaping.

            The first $90,000 item was originally set at $221,000 to encompass the reconstruction of the granite steps. However, citing several other needs around town, a scaled-down version of the project is more appropriate for this year.

            The second $90,000 item on the CPC’s recommended list is intended to complete the exterior renovation around the rest of the partially octagonal Annex building, for which the town has already re-appropriated approximately $119,000.

            The steps are not original to the 1890 structure. The entryway was originally at the ground level and on the side of the building facing the Town House. At 8 inches high, the granite is out of code but will be shaved down to be reused in a compliant version more welcoming to aged visitors. A complete tear-down and reconstruction of the steps will also remove the bulkheads on either side and, most importantly, completely reconstruct the support system.

            “We all know it as this being the entrance, but none of us have ever seen it without it,” said Cormier, who further explained what cannot be seen behind the granite, a system of braces that are doing the job right now but are in need of reinvention for the long term.

            “Public procurement with prevailing wage and commercial bidding tends to increase bid prices,” said Cormier, acknowledging that the steps project is actually worth $131,000, “if not more.” The reconstruction of the granite steps and associated landscaping will be a fundraising project for 2022.

            The Marion Historical Commission has also played a key role in furthering the cause of the current projects and informing Cormier of the stages in the building’s history. Photos help tell the story, and perhaps the most tasteful historic snapshot is not the original one.

            However people remember it, the 1890 Annex, which from some angles looks more like a family restaurant tightly tucked inside an uneven city block, will soon reflect more favorably on its 1876 neighbor.

By Mick Colageo