Monday, December 12, 2005

December 12Th~~
All the columns from Oct 14 onwards were added today as a special present to my brother, George. Ok, Georgie? Quit bugging me, LOL!
And here is this weeks column....
Bayside 40

Ok, I admit it. With less than 2 weeks away until Christmas, my calm exterior is beginning to crack, and a frantic "hurry, hurry, hurry" mantra is running circles in my brain. Where did that September resolution to be ready for the holidays by Dec. 1st go?
As I often do in times of crisis, I look to nature to soothe and center me. That was how I found myself back at the beach this morning, with the temperature a mere 34 degrees. My car was the sole vehicle in the lot, but as I trudged the beach I received a surprising early Christmas gift. On the wide, empty expanse of beach, someone had recently dropped red rose petals, one by one, in a Hansel and Gretel trail upon the sand. Two lovers, walking hand in hand? A bouquet thrown in the sea to remember someone, washed back to the shore? I will never know, but will cherish the memory the anonymous romantic left for me to discover.
Impulse made me turn in at the Assateague visitor center on the way home. It was my first visit, and I am very glad I stopped. There is a wonderful gift shop along with a "touchable" tank, inviting you to dip in a hand and experience the feel of whelks, horseshoe crabs, and sea snails. There are books, and plush Assateague ponies, t-shirts and ballcaps; a deck prism and CD's, all wonderful, inexpensive stocking stuffers whose proceeds benefit the park. My favorite, though, is the Foster Wild Horse Program. You chose your favorite horse from those shown in the photo album, and receive a handsome portfolio with a 8x10 picture of your horse, a biography, and an official certificate. You can add a plush pony, book, or t-shirt for a modest additional charge. They have a great website about the program, too, www.assateaguewildhorses.org.
There is another way to celebrate nature here on Delmarva, thanks to the many talented artists that use our scenic beauty for inspiration. I had the pleasure of attending A Step Above Art Gallery's monthly reception this past week. Located inside Town Center Antiques in Berlin, and up a creaky wooden staircase, A Step Above is a delight for those seeking the whimsical, the unusual, and the one of a kind. John Heinz and Charlie Flagiello played a bluegrass duet during the reception, and a table was laden with munchies.
Featured artists included Betty Latourney, David Morgan, Mary Murphy, Lee Simon, Suzanne Wilson, Valerie Witkowski, Maria Zankowich, and Bea Miltenberger. If you have never been to an art reception, step out of the ordinary and give their next month's reception a whirl. It's one thing to solemnly view art in a museum, but to look at incredible creativity and shake the hand that created it is a wonderful feeling. Watch for an exciting new dimension to the gallery’s offerings this spring.
Finally, it makes me sad to say that the Beachcombers Art Easel Art Gallery of West Ocean City will be closing it's doors after Christmas. The good news is, they will be reopening in Selbyville, Delaware around Valentine's Day. The Beachcomber is offering a 20% off sale going on now through Dec. 24th, and I will definitely be shopping there. (Lots of jewelry, sculpture, glassware as well as paintings) I especially love the work of Bonnie Preziose, Judy Johnson, and Doris Price. Best of Luck, Edith, in your new location.
Time to put down the pen and put on my apron~ cookies to bake and my first ever try at fruitcake. Who knows, it might become my signature gift; seems fitting to me. See you next week!
Bayside 39

Snow is falling; plump white kisses from the sky. It doesn't concern me much, because where I come from, this amount of snow doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Still, the sky is white and the air is cold, and I find myself miserably anticipating three more months of the same. I like flowers and color and warmth, t-shirts and flip-flops, so my mind started to wander towards heading south.
Not likely. No time, no money for a Caribbean vacation, unless I could find a reasonable facsimile closer to home.....Didn't I see a press release a few months ago about a new indoor theme pool? A place to swim, play and pretend I'm warm? I searched the web, but couldn't find mention of any such place. It is said there are no coincidences, so when my companion and I had dinner at the Francis Scott Key's signature restaurant, The Marlin Moon Grille, I vaguely registered that there was a cool new pool open to the public.
I love the Francis. Opened in the fifties, it is a sprawling complex of rooms, cottages, pools, and playground, grounded by the main building, with it's fat Adirondack rockers on the porch, and the restaurant. It is old school hostelry at it's best, reminiscent of the grand old Catskill Mountain establishments in New York. The walls of the restaurant are unashamedly nautical, with huge taxidermied marlin staring fiercely at you as you eat. We had mussels with fennel and garlic to start, and the rockfish and combination seafood platter were perfectly prepared, generously portioned, and tasty. It was the happy/stuffed, unhappy/omigod-I'm-getting-fat feeling after dinner that triggered my memory of their theme pool. I resolved to check it out, swim my way to svelte, and find my bit of the sun in the dead of winter.
This morning, as the snow began in half-earnest dribbles, I wound my way to the very back of the hotel's buildings. As I entered the steamy pool area, several smiling seniors, hair damp and towels in tow, emerged. Eureka! I found my little bit of winter paradise. Oh, it's so much fun! Grimacing, life-size pirates greet you at the door, and a 5 foot serpent undulates in the water. Hanging red, blue, and green crayontip buckets continually fill with water, then splash into the pool below. A portly blue whale floats in the kiddy pool, his blowhole a cascading fountain. When I got my childish enthusiasm under control, I noted the Jacuzzi, the state of the art exercise room at the entrance, and the arcade that completes the complex. What a wonderful way to exercise, to bask in warm water, to dispel the gray of winter. I've really hit the jackpot with this find, folks.
The hotel has several offers for us "locals" this time of year. They have a pool gift/membership card that costs $100.00, entitling the bearer to 14 general admissions OR 28 children admissions. If you just want to come for the day, the pool is open to the general public Sundays thru Thursdays, from 12p.m to 8p.m. Admission is $10.00 per adult/ $5.00 per child.
Another nice alternative is to do a mini-vacation at the hotel. If my kids were still little ones, I would definitely opt for the 1 night package that includes a roll of quarters for the Caribbean arcade, one large pizza from Lombardi's, and a full day at the pool.
You're going to thank me for this little oasis this winter. Pina Colada anyone? See you next week!
Bayside 38
As I write this week's column, the aroma of turkey rice soup is wafting through the house, reminding me of what a wonderful Thanksgiving I experienced last week. Yes, I take the turkey bones and bits of stuffing and lots of vegetables and boil it all down into a last grand finale of Thanksgiving. Unable to be with my family by blood this year, I enjoyed family by association, complete with charades after dinner, a mandolin and guitar serenade by my son and little six year old Maris, and a corny movie in the living room instead of the de rigueur football after dinner. I felt truly blessed.
Friday night I snuck out of work early, determined not to miss Art Night in Berlin. I dressed for the occasion, my customary hole-in-the knees jeans with black tights poking through, manly tweed cap perched backwards on my curls, and a velvet scarf atop my black turtleneck. I knew I had hit it right when someone asked me which paintings were mine. I skipped from store to store, drinking little plastic cups of wine and nibbling on the snacks provided. It was a cold night, but I was warmed by meeting people I knew, and watching the shopkeepers as customers stood in line to purchase items, validating their dreams of a successful downtown Berlin business.
It was more then that, though. I almost felt like I had stepped back into time, into a world where lighting was softer, buildings were brick, and neighbors knew each other by name. Every year I purchase one new Christmas ornament, and this year I found a voluptuous mermaid ensconced in a champagne glass, the perfect addition to my tree, as those that know me will attest to.
My friends Greg, Diane, and I ended up in Goober's, where I gave the local girls a run for their money on the tiny dance floor. What fun! The night ended up in fisherman Kerry's historic house, at an impromptu party hostessed by my beloved friend Pam, enjoying a cup of his famous crab chowder.
As much as I enjoyed the entire night, in retrospect I found it interesting that I began the sacred holiday season in such a raucous, merry-making way. How did we journey so far from a simple carpenter's birth in a manger, to the commercial frenzy we all experience now?
A tiny press release caught my attention as I scanned the weekly papers. St. Paul's by-the-Sea Episcopal Church was offering a candlelit labyrinth from 7-9 p.m. each Sunday until Christmas. It kept niggling at me; what was it all about?
I asked my companion to accompany me. A staunch supporter of my literary pursuits, he agreed, though his even stauncher Catholic upbringing made him a wee bit nervous. We arrived at the church about 7:30pm, and followed the hand-written signs to the labyrinth. I was struck by the empty parking lot, indeed, the emptiness of downtown Ocean City, in direct opposition to the crowded streets of Berlin just two nights before.
To walk the Labyrinth is a very personal journey, a spiritual road that is different for each that undertake it. I felt it transcended organized religion, and brought me back into the manger where the Christmas season began, some two thousand years ago. It gave me the breath to pause, to reflect, and remember what Christmas is truly about. See you next week!
bayside 37

It's finally happened. I am not fully prepared for Thanksgiving, and the surge of adrenaline to prepare for Christmas has hit. Is it my imagination, or are the holidays slowly squeezing themselves closer and closer? When still in flip-flops and shorts, I see displays for Halloween. Once Halloween is over, turkey-printed napkins and Indian corn jostle for space with Santa's and holiday wreathes.
As with my new tradition of oysters and cream of crab soup for Thanksgiving, I am birthing two new Christmas traditions. The first is my tree. I am saying goodbye to the fragrant pines that have graced my home(s) the last 50 years. I fought it to the death, but, this year, I just can't see the ecological morality of a live tree, nor, to be very honest, sweeping up stray needles stuck in the cracks of the hardwood floors in July.
The second change is just as radical. Though the bulk of my given gifts will be homemade, I am only going to buy from Indie shopkeepers. No toasters from Wal-Mart, no sweaters from Marshall's. Why? Because I want to nurture and support the creativity, the individuality, and the sheer spirit of Mom and Pop store’s in our area.
As you know, Berlin kicks off the season with Arts Night, Nov. 25th. I took the liberty to give you a taste, just a tiny taste, of some of the local treasures to be found in downtown Berlin. Ready?
Town Center Antiques..You could have a field day, here. The place to go for someone who has everything, to find that perfect gift that tells them you know their taste, their memories, their collectables. Maybe a one of a kind teacup, filled with their favorite teabags, an antique dresser scarf wrapping up a plate of homemade cookies, a poster of the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers/ N.Y. Yankees game.
A Step Above Gallery..Silky handmade batik scarves, great framed Assateague photos, and unusual "Simstone" candles, magical looking pieces of rock perched on a refillable glass base, with wicks bored through the stone.
Cody's Christmas Shoppe..Gets you in the mood as you walk in the door, with the scents of apple and cinnamon, home of vintage angel ornaments, Red Hatter's ornaments, "Bake your state" cookie cutters, and Maryland crab ornaments. By the way, they hold a free drawing each month for a free gift basket, by Barbara. As I was there, she was putting the finishing touches on December's, and it was overflowing with goodies. (yes, I put my name in.)
Victorian Charm..reindeer soaps and Brighton key rings and Sandalwood Massage Oil from Caswell Massey for that (ahem!) special someone.
Bruder Hill, the women's boutique to end all boutiques, velvet headwraps with velvet gloves and Magical bus slippers..
The Main Street Gift Gallery..handmade fleecy, silky scarf-wraps with pockets, original Berlin Christmas cards, postcards and magnets, as well as hard to find classical, international, and local artist CDs. Oh, and my favorite, "Boy Chocolate", funky little tins of cocoa mix, with a construction worker theme.
Sassafras Station, an incredible display of light pulls, beaded pens and journals, every imaginable appetizer spreaders, and watering cans shaped like pigs, flamingos, and even elephants.
The Globe Theater..Christmas pet stockings, Shakespeare in a Box for kids, books by celebrated local artists and reindeer candle holders..
TaDa..monogrammed silver jewelry, (still in time for Christmas) and Ocean Pines artist Bonnie Preziosi's elegant sea glass jewelry.
Corner Cupboard..Fairy Godmothers, (think the 70's Kitchen Witches idea), delicate crocheted bookmarks, stunning handmade afghans, tiny teapot ornaments, and a great collection of memorabilia, including Betty Boop, Elvis, and Batman.
J.J. Fish Studio..Marble Pendants and Bubble Blowers for grownups, Art Start Jars for kids, Marble Wine Corks, fabulous glass catchers..
Lavender and Old Lace.., who are also celebrating their Grand Opening, beaded jewelry by
Janice and vibrant glassware.
Unless toasters, socks and sweaters are mandatory on your shopping list, you can find the unique, the unexpected, the delightful in Berlin's downtown shops. Thanks for shopping with me. Happy Thanksgiving, and see you next week!
Bayside 36

It is the week before Thanksgiving, and as I read through the local newspapers, I was struck by ads promoting lavish Thanksgiving dinners.

I drifted back to the past, when I helped my mother prepare our Thanksgiving feast. She was a fabulous cook, a spicy, Italian married to a Dutch/German Methodist, and she combined the two cultures with culinary ease. Sweet potato casserole ala marshmallow was nestled next to slow simmered garlic mushrooms. A huge pan of lasagna steamed proudly next to a buttery, browned turkey. The Thanksgiving of my childhood was storybook, and embodied love of family and friends.

For years, I continued her culinary traditions with my own family, adding green bean casserole with French onions (recipe on the can), and making sure I didn’t stuff the turkey with the giblet package intact, ( my first attempt at Thanksgiving dinner).

This year will be the first I spend on Delmarva. My readers probably think I eat bon-bons all day and shop for exercise. I actually WORK many hours in addition to writing this column, so I won’t be going "home" to the Midwest, or enjoying my sister’s lovely Thanksgiving feast in North Jersey. Never one to stay low for long, I have decided to create a new Thanksgiving tradition, perhaps echoing my mother’s decision to blend the best of both worlds when she married my very Protestant, very charismatic, father.
First course will be the freshest oysters, succulently displayed on a bed of rock salt. Soup will follow, a Maryland cream of crab with diced shallot and sherry. Of course, lasagna will proudly share the stage with turkey,and marshmallow sweet potatoes and garlic mushrooms will share politically correct goodwill.

Life wasn’t always so easy. My upbringing severely frowned upon "living on the dole", and my grandfather’s favorite expression was, "God gave you two hands, so work." Not so many years ago, as single mother with two boys, even working two jobs didn’t pay the bills. Thanksgiving dinner looked bleak, and Christmas was looming as a panic attack. The week before Thanksgiving, I received a phone call. Someone had anonymously given my name to a local service organization. I was offered a free Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings, delivered to my door. I remember feeling very ashamed, and very thankful at the same time. I I have never forgotten that holiday; not the light from the volunteer’s faces as they delivered my groceries, nor the thankfulness I felt that somehow, someway, God had heard my prayers.


I share that very memorable Thanksgiving because I have seen both sides of the coin, the oysters gleaming on the bed of rock salt, and the brown bags of groceries given by benevolent strangers.

As you read this, you can help, or you can be helped. As I did an internet search for free Thanksgiving dinners on Delmarva, time and time again the Dagsboro Church of God, in conjunction with Mountaire Farms popped up. For ten years now, Mountaire Farms has partnered with the Dagsboro Church of God to feed the needy right here in our own backyard. They began with a count of 400 families assisted, and last year topped 13,700. Seems unbelievable, but perhaps many of those people like me, too proud to ask for assistance.

As in past years, each request from food banks, churches, and individuals are monitored for duplication and authenticity. Food is packed in the Mountaire warehouse in Selbyville, Delaware on Monday, Nov. 21st. Each box is identically packaged with nutritionally balanced ingredients to feed four, allowing families to season and cook the items to taste. On Tuesday, the labeled food boxes are picked up by recipients at the Dagsboro Church of God parking lot.

To donate your time, your money, or nominate someone in need, please call the Dagsboro Church of God at (302) 732-6550.

A final footnote to "my companion’s" Mom. Sorry for poking fun at his flamboyant neckwear last week. Actually, I LIKE his ties. Though bright, they are tastefully so, and let his individuality shine through, a thoroughly American trait.

See you next week!
bayside 35

My adventures this week began with trees. I love Indian Summer days, when you can throw on jeans and a sweatshirt, and go for a walk in the woods. I headed up Route 113 and turned in at Shad's Landing, in Pocomoke State Park. Granted, it wasn't the forest of maple and oak I am used to in the Midwest, but the cypress and pine lent a wonderful green contrast to the more flamboyant reds and yellows of autumn. I explored the park by car first, noting the olympic-sized pool and various camping sites. The only other people around were school-children, strapped into neon-colored vests, preparing for a canoe trip. Now is a great time to scope out the best campsites for next season, and walk in undisturbed tranquility. You can still camp and canoe on the weekends until the end of the month.
Thursday night I attended a function for The Epilepsy Association of the Eastern Shore. This non-profit association helps those with epilepsy and other developmental disabilities. They provide public education as well as practical assistance including help with job placements and financial support. If you know of someone in need, or want to volunteer to help, please contact EAES, at (410)543-0665.
Friday night the Ocean Pines Chamber of Commerce hosted a fine arts auction to benefit the building fund. Held at Occasionally Yours in Berlin, it was my first fine art auction, and I was careful not to scratch my nose or utter a peep in fear of owning a piece of art my pocketbook couldn't support. My companion's experience with art is limited to his flamboyant necktie collection, but even he enjoyed the evening. The event was perfectly orchestrated, and included famous works by artists such as Peter Max and Thomas Kincaide at greatly discounted prices. I met new president Reba Felty at the event, and pictures don't do justice to her exuberant vitality..the woman just sparkles! Special hi to Chip, Dolores, and Diane.
Saturday night, (are you tired, yet?) I was back on home turf at The Waterline Gallery in Berlin for the artist reception honoring Parker Nicholls' series of paintings titled "Lifelines of Hope". The theme centers around man's ability to rise and stand tall through life's challenges, and was inspired by Hurricane Katrina and her aftermath. My favorite was "Looking for Home", which went straight to my heart. Sixteen of the paintings sold will be donated entirely to the Katrina relief fund, with a 20% donation to a large portion of his remaining works. Off track a little bit, I expected the "light refreshments" to be crackers and cheese. Kudos to The Globe Theater, who prepared the nibbles for the reception. My Italian taste buds went straight for the hard salami, cut in thick, rustic slices, and there was enough variety to finish with black pearls of caviar. While my soul was doing a happy dance taking in Mr. Nicholls art, and my tummy likewise entranced, I had the pleasure of mingling with artists Patrick Henry and Kevin Fitzgerald, too. Patrick displays at The Waterline, and Kevin at The Globe Theatre, or online at Kevinfitzgeraldpainter.com.
Sunday found me....EXHAUSTED! I wanted to go to the "Punkin Chunkin", in Millsboro, to round out my column. (I will try anything once). I found myself wandering the beach, for private downtime, and picking up driftwood as I walked. Note to the uninitiated, those lighter pieces of wood with the neat holes in them are NOT driftwood, but horse pucks, as my older sister gleefully explained when I showed her my treasures.
I started this column with trees, and I am ending it that way. I am so sad the pines have been cut down across the street from Food Lion in Berlin. I know "Progress has to be Made", and all that jazz, but I felt the same sorrow and foreboding I get with each demolished chicken farm, each sold sign on a cornfield. I hope we find the balance between progress and preservation, in our so unique Delmarva. See you next week!
Around The Bayside, 34

I'm not a bar girl, but the place I found this past Saturday night could make me one. It's so special that I had to fight the urge to keep it a secret. Ready? It's The Port Authority Piano Bar on Willow St. in Snow Hill.
The general plan was for my companion and I to scope out the piano bar, then have dinner at Tavern on the Green. A word of caution, here. Eat dinner first, because once the magic of the piano bar hits you, you won't make it to dinner.
It's a tiny place, made intimate with rich, hollyhock red walls and antique brickwork. A gleaming black piano sits smack in the middle of the room. Tiny blue starlights and flickering candles added to that intimacy, creating a womb-like atmosphere. Martini glasses filled with hershey's kisses and salted peanuts graced the bar. My glass of wine was served in a tall, flowered goblet. Wine and chocolate? Definitely my kind of place.
We sat at the bar, and swiveled in our seats to watch Cathy Silva playing the piano. Next time I will head for the seats, snuggled up to the piano itself, because that is where the real action is.
By my first glass of wine, I found myself humming along to the music. There were songbooks scattered about, and patrons were calling out suggested tunes, singing along, or occasionally quietly deferring to those among us with beautiful voices.
I watched a man at the bar in a white t-shirt, looking down at his beer, whispering the words to "I'm Leaving on a Jetplane." Request after request flowed, as we all dipped into our music memory banks, recalling the people and places that made each song so special.
By my second glass of wine, bolstered by a few chocolate kisses, I found myself standing with the braver-voiced souls congregating around the piano. I didn't care that my voice is spectacularly off-key, because it just felt so good. Male, female, young, middle-aged and down-right old folks, somehow, we all belonged, all blended.
Unfortunately, Karen Holck, the owner of Port Authority, wasn’t in that evening. I would have liked to thank her for creating such a lovely haven. A special thanks to gracious Michelle, bartender extraordinaire, for making me feel welcome.
Because my day job involves long hours and weekends, once again I was unable to do justice to the town of Snow Hill in my column. If I had been able to, I would have started my adventure walking about town, visiting Bishop’s Stock Art Gallery, a place many of my (artsy) friends have told me is a must. I would have also visited Alice, a book store known to be different and appealing. Next would be a long walk enjoying the historic homes surrounding the downtown, and then dinner at the Tavern on the Green. Of course, you know where my final destination would be, crooning with my new found friends at the Port Authority. See you next week!
Bayside 33

The party is over, folks. There is a curious lull around town, a rainy Saturday afternoon "let's just watch movies on the couch" feeling, permeating Delmarva. The corn has been roughly sheared from the fields, the trees are either a tired green or starting their last red tango before their leaves drop, and I couldn't find one blooming big event to cover this week.
You know why? All the weekend warriors from points north have gone home. Sure, we rant about the traffic, we rail against the crowds, but, it seemed kinda lonely this week. I am starting to secretly think about Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I bet I am not the only one quietly gearing up for the holidays. Hence, the lull....we are all catching our breath from the 2005 "season".
So what is there to do? You can always start shopping, of course. One great place to do it is to go to the many church bazaars happening in the next month. There are too many to list; I suggest slowing down as you pass by the churches, because I have found everything from pints of chicken salad, oysters, and homemade pies being touted as well as the traditional holiday crafts. Watch for an upcoming column on places to shop from independent, one of a kind stores, places to shop and find gifts that you won't see anywhere else. This area thankfully still has alot of Mom and Pop stores that specialize in unique, if not handmade, gifts.
There are also some interesting art happenings coming up. Maybe you want to try your hand at painting a holiday gift....The Art League of Ocean City is sponsoring a two day pastel workshop on Nov. 15-16 from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Call Jody Veader at (410)641-8789 to register.
If you would prefer to buy instead of try, The Fallfest of Fine Arts (say that fast, twice) will be held at the Ocean City Convention Center, Saturday and Sunday, Nov. 5-6. Featured will be sculptors, painters, carvers, and other high art crafts.
Finally, the Ocean Pines Chamber of Commerce will be hosting an art show and auction on Friday, Nov. 4, at Occasionally Yours at Racetrack Road in Berlin. Cost is $25.00 per person, or $40.00 per couple, and includes beverages and an array of hors d"oeuvres from Carrabba's restaurant. Call the chamber at (410)641-5306 for more info.
Off the high-brow art to something a little more spookily fun. Remember I told you about my finding the historic town of Laurel, Delaware? Rumor has it that the BEST haunted house is happening there, including a haunted hayride to the house itself. OF COURSE, the house is set next to a graveyard...Boo! Did I mention it is the THIRTEENTH year it's been run by the Odd Fellows Charity Lodge # 27? Those brave enough to go should park on 10th St. at the Laurel Fire Dept. and hop on the haywagon that takes you there. The house will be receiving victims on October 27-28, between 7-11 p.m. I found a great website for more Halloween happenings, www.atlanticbreezes.com. (Just click on Halloween.) Me? I will be on the porch, handing out candies, in the time honored tradition of two for the kids, one for me. See you next week!
Around the Bayside 32

All Michigander's will explain that their best roadmap is pointing out where you are, or where you are going, on the "mitten". In Delmarva, geographically speaking, of course, the best you can do is point with a stuck up a finger, and that probably won't get you far in certain social circles.
This past week, I traveled nearly the whole upraised digit. I started my adventure in Seaford, Delaware, got lost in Laurel, and ended up in Chincoteague, Va., all in the interest of creative expression.
I had long heard rumors about someone called "the bead lady", in Seaford. Located in a strip mall between a hairdresser and a pawn shop, is the coolest little bead store,” Tangled Up in Beads.” Wow! Hundreds and hundreds of rainbow bits of glass, priceless crystals and glowing pearls poured into tea cups and wineglasses and even an antique pedestal sink!
A worktable displayed a half finished purple and citrine necklace, and Wendy, the artist who created it, explained that they not only do custom pieces, but give jewelry making workshops, as well.
You can also walk in anytime, and receive a two-hour private lesson for less then twenty dollars, plus materials. I am going to take heirloom loose beads from my jewelry box, augment them with pearls, and make Christmas presents. For more information call (215)292-3208.
On the way home from Seaford, I finally gave in to my itch to turn at the sign reading "Britt's Dutch Inn". Rather then think it a curse, I love having no sense of direction, because though I often don't find what I THINK I am looking for, getting lost means I always find unexpected treasure. In this case, it was the secluded village of Laurel, dotted with gingerbread and clapboard homes, and a historic, russet brick downtown. I can't wait to explore it more, and try once again to find Britt's Dutch Inn.(it’s the lure of good food, again) A word of caution; at the time of my adventure, the main street into town was being blacktopped, and my little car spit tar for three days afterwards.
My final destination was Chincoteague Island, Va., where I attended a weekend writer's conference. I took the back way, bypassing Pokemoke City for Route 12, instead. The ride itself is a meditation, past neatly tended chicken farms and ramshackle, abandoned homesteads, along wide open fields of gold and brown, then abruptly shaded stretches of maple and pine. A road sign with a little red cardinal on it told me I was in Virginia, and once I passed the jarring white rocket marking the NASA Visitor Center, I knew I was almost there. The road becomes a narrow ribbon of land between water and marsh, punctuated by white egrets and Buy Here!, Eat Here! Sleep Here! signs sticking up out of the water. Somehow, it's charming, and that charm is reinforced as you slow down to cross the narrow drawbridge, with tall masted white boats anchored to your right.
To me, Chincoteague is a double cheese pizza, topped with Berlin‘s Victorian charm, the peace of Assateague Island, and the waterfront shopping of Ocean City, baked in an Ultimate Delmarva Special.
All the restaurants, hotels, and shops are within strolling distance, so park your car and pocket your keys.
One great place to start is Irene Rouse Bookstore, located at 4073 Main St. No slick, bookstore cum coffee shop here, but an old-fashioned booklover’s paradise, complete with Irene, celebrated local poet and columnist. The floorboards creaked, books and artwork were crammed wall to wall, and Irene held court in her tweedy sweater, long skirt, and boots. In the space of two minutes, I found three books I just HAD to have, along with valuable information on Island amenities. Not to be missed, folks.
See you next week!
Around the Bayside 31

Loosely translated, the word "Mazat" means love. It's very fitting, because I loved a lot of things about the new Mediterranean style restaurant in Fenwick Island bearing the same name.
I have an almost eerie sixth sense when it comes to finding good places to eat. Be it a hole in the wall with a hand painted sign that says "Good Eats" to a fancy establishment dripping ambiance, if good food lurks within, I can smell it.
For the last three months I have seen Mazat advertised, and I knew it was time to test my nose once again. My companion and I arrived about 8 p.m. on Saturday night. The outside of Mazat is not remarkable, just a neat, trim building just over the Maryland border in Fenwick Island. Two things caught my eye as soon as we walked in, the oriental rug in the entranceway, and the gracious way we were greeted. There are several dining rooms, and we were seated in a long, narrow room lit by candles and painted in shades of sherbet lemon and lime, trimmed in white. Before we even ordered our meal, a cloth covered basket arrived with hot peasant bread, and a bowl of crushed olive spread. Sacrificing my diet once again in dedication to this column, I dug in. Yum! If the olive spread was an indication of the meal, it was going to be a good one.
And it was. I ordered the Salmon Vera Cruz, a delectable dish of perfectly cooked salmon, bathed in a light cream sauce, studded with grilled shrimp and scallops. My friend ordered the surf and turf, and surrendered a bite of each for me to taste. Again, perfectly balanced cooking technique and spice, with the quality of ingredients very evident. The fresh vegetable medley that accompanied each dish was lightly steamed and still crisp, again attesting to experienced culinary skill. Over a dessert of homemade flan, a cool, creamy, latin custard with caramel, I scribbled notes and watched my fellow diners. A birthday party was in progress near the small stage that featured Heather G. and friend Rob Hennis on guitar. (Yes, her angelic voice serenaded us as we ate, as well.) Spontaneous dancing broke out in the aisle as she played a poigent love song, and reinforced the magical feel. ( Heather G., is a very talented performer, and I will keep you posted where she is performing.)
As I sipped the complimentary after dinner port that is served with each meal, I spoke with Michelle, employed with the owners of Mazat for over ten years. It was then I found out that Mazat has a sister restaurant in Salisbury, The Cactus Taverna. Never one to be derelict in the line of duty, Sunday night my companion and I headed out to Salisbury to compare the two. I had assumed that The Cactus Taverna was primarily a Mexican restaurant, but was pleasantly surprised to see the menu included many of the same dishes featured at Mazat, also. I had the beef chimichanga, served with tiny, spiced black beans and rice, and just like at Mazat, the portion was so generous I had to ask for a doggie bag to take home. Little hint, here. If you want to dress up a bit and have a leisurely, delightful dining experience, go to Mazat. If you want to wear your jeans, take your kids, and eat the same great food for less, go to The Cactus Taverna. You will get tasty food, a warm welcome, and a complimentary sip of port in both restaurants.
Just a footnote; last week an evil computer genie wiped out my column featuring The Maryland Coastal Bay’s Osprey Triathlon and the Celtic Festival....my apologies, and more on The Maryland Coastal Bay’s events in a future column. See you next week!

Friday, October 14, 2005

October 14th, 05
God Help Me~~ this is probably the last free blog I write....at least, here on Mermaids.
You see, she is moving....stretching, basking, fingering her pearls, ready to go to new seas.
I hate that people anaylse and fret over this plain mermaids journey. Time to find another pearl.
A secret pearl. One that is not shucked, one harder to find.
I am scared., going to a STUPID (fear talking) writer's conference.
What is a writer? I guess it's just someone who loves to write.
that i Do.
see you soon. Pray for me.
Facing my demons, needing prayer.
Don't worry, I will remember you.

Monday, October 03, 2005

October 3rd~~
I just published my last two columns for the Gazette., and really did it because I know my brother and sister read it faithfully every week, even (imagine that!) look forward to it.
Guess a few other people that love me read it, too. It led me to think about my life, and how tightly my brother and sisters and I are bonded.
Bonded in pain and tragedy, that's true. Bonded in love, also true. Neither of those things are portrayed to the world, if you were to see a photograph of the four of us together...all you would see is well dressed, smiling, group of people, obviously enjoying each other's company.
You wouldn't see my older sister, picking out our mother's casket at 17. You wouldn't see her the epitome of strength until she got to the viewing of her body, when she fainted dead away.
You wouldn't see my little sister, beating her head senselessly against the steps leading upstairs, as she wept when our father died. Nor would you see me, only 11, rocking her, telling her it would be okay.
You wouldn't see our brother, the baby, fiercely protected by his big sisters, determined to be his mother, father, and any other damn thing he needed, as a baby orphaned by age 7.
You wouldn't see a home ripped apart, with vulturistic relatives "shopping" our parent's belongings, while we were delegated to a home far away, in a hostile land.
Why do i bring these things up? I guess it's time to exhume the dead. Perform an autopsy. Because sure as I am standing here, the dead are still alive, to me.
Today I weep. I am the emotional one, I cry for us all. My tears don't pay the bills, they don't make me successful, they keep me balanced precariously on the edge of victimhood and martrydom...both empty platforms to live on.
But they have given me the ability to write...write what other's who are more sensible, more successful, will not reveal, because it costs too much.
Guess today, I just weep. I long for the security of my father's arms, the love in my mother's eyes. All four of us have figured out how to find that security, find that love. Today, though, I can't find either...but, there is always tomorrow. Later.
Bayside 30

I am listening to the sweet sounds of Celtic Music..; fitting, because I started my weekend with a man in a kilt, and ended it that way, too.
I know I probably make my editor crazy, because she never knows where I am going, or where I am going to end up. Neither do I, frankly. I just take my fear, put him in my pocket, and take that little devil along for the ride.
Which is how I ended up setting my alarm clock for 5:00 AM on Saturday morning, to volunteer for The Osprey Triathlon at Public Landing, near Snow Hill. Such an incredible jewel in the necklace of Delmarva! A long dock leads to a covered pavilion with a picnic table, a place for fishermen, lovers, and philosopher's alike to pursue their dreams. And...it's free, something that I always hold dear, adhering to the old adage that "The Best Things in Life are Free."
Why was I there so early in the morning? The Maryland Coastal Bays Program needed volunteers, that's why. The very things that attracted me to this area, the beach, the farmlands, the bays, made me want to help an organization that is dedicated to a common sense approach to conserving these natural resources. I didn't do much...just handed t-shirts and goodie bags out to the athletes participating, and enjoyed the camaraderie of the other people there, (hi to Brenda and Christy!) . Of course, if you don't have the time or desire to volunteer, you can always write a check to help preserve what makes it so special to live here. The Maryland Coastal Bays Program's phone number is (410) 213-BAYS.
As I stumbled about in my early morning stupor, my eye was caught by an older gentleman strutting about in a kilt. Was it my much missed, beloved, Scottish/Canadian friend Rikk materializing out of the morning mist? Alas, no, it was a very concrete reminder that Sunday would bring the Celtic Festival, to round out this week's column. I guess the kilted gentleman was just going to the festival, too.
Sunday afternoon I headed back out to Furnace Town, where the Celtic Festival was held. Sorry if you missed it, just mark it on your calendar for next year, because it is a GREAT time. I have written about Furnace Town in the past...it's just such a cool place to go to explore the history of an early American steel-making town. Great for the little ones, plenty of room to run and play under the trees, as well as sneakily stuffing their little heads with history and educating them. Not bad for us grownups, either. An almost free place to picnic, learn something, and do something fun while pretending to be intellectual.
The Celtic Fair greeted me with bagpipes, and people milling about in kilts and medieval garb, and even a spot to have a nip of whiskey. ( I didn't partake, but DID try a Harp's ale.) There were vendors with Celtic jewelry, purveyor's of fine Scottish wool, and Irish groups performing.
My favorite was the main stage featuring girl's dancing to the foot-tapping Celtic music. There were three age groups, little sprites in crimson velvet, intermediate girl's in black and gold, and lush, full grown fairies in soft, wood green gowns. Bravo to all of them for the entertainment.
I ended my weekend where it began, at Public Landing. I took a picnic, and feasted on roasted chicken, a bottle of wine, and great poetry overlooking the bay. Do I need to add that it was at sunset?
Can't wait for next week's adventure, here on Delmarvelous. (Yes, I know that's corny.) See you next week!
Around the Bayside 29

It's the end of September, and I find myself wanting to "button-up." Back home in the Midwest, that's exactly what everybody is doing. The maples and oaks burn red and yellow, and the lakes become a deeper blue. Gutters are cleaned so ice doesn't collect and trickle down inside the walls, and delicate plants are shrouded in burlap coats in preparation for winter. People wander on the weekends to the famous apple farms, sipping unprocessed cider and biting into hot cinnamon doughnuts, determined to enjoy the outdoors before hibernation mode kicks in.
It's a little different down here. I know things are changing because the corn is cut down, and I don't have to run the air conditioning 24/7. I am not afraid to brave the traffic on 50 to go into Ocean City, and there isn't a line of cars to get into Assateague. The clearest indication that summer is gone and fall has begun? Sunfest, in Ocean City. I attended last Friday night, and had a blast. Maybe I am simple, but the fun began before I even got to the festival. If you haven't tried the West Ocean City Park and Ride, you are really missing out. It's laid out almost like a park, with little wooden bridges and a great view of the Ocean City skyline. You park your car for free, and wait in front of the transit building (clean bathrooms) for the shuttle to Ocean City. It only costs a dollar both ways, and it deposits you over the bridge to the Division St. transit center. What a hassle saver! Now that I have done it once, I realize it's the only way to go. They also make a stop at The White Marlin Outlet Mall, so you can shop, go into Ocean City, and be deposited back at the mall.
As I walked from South Division Street to the Boardwalk, the pulsing colored lights from the Ferris Wheel and amusement rides reminded me of going to Coney Island as a kid. Same "this is going to be fun" excitement in the pit of my stomach, and then I saw the huge white tents billowing in the wind against the dark sky. Even if you don't have money, it's worth it just to see the sheer diversity of goods for sale. My favorites were the candles shaped like pies and drinks, uncannily scented exactly like pina coladas, cinnamon buns, and blueberry pies. I saw vendors from all over the U.S., proving that Sunfest is no longer just a local artisan gathering.
I didn't really stay to listen to the music, but wandered the boardwalk instead. I had my first taste of Thrasher's french fries, and was particularly amused by the sign in red that boldly proclaimed, "NO CATSUP.". Thrasher fries liberally sprinkled with vinegar and salt, eaten on a bench watching the human parade, just heaven. The cost freaked me out a little, I could only imagine the cost for a night of fun for a family of four.
The hay bales were in the streets of downtown Berlin again this weekend, too. I've been here long enough to figure out the back way out when they close the downtown off for festivals, and it still reinforces that Mayberry feel when I see the hay bales and cowboy hats at The Fiddler's Convention. I was only able to catch the tail end of the festival on Friday night, but the streets were full, the music good, and lots of people milled around enjoying themselves. I've been told that Sunday morning was the crème de la crème of the festival, when bluegrass met gospel on the grass in front of The Calvin D. Taylor Museum.
All in all, proves my point that there is never any reason to be bored down here in Delmarva. There is always something to do, somewhere to go. If all else fails, you can find beauty and peace on the beach, which is where I am headed now. See you next week

Monday, September 19, 2005

and here it is~~bayside 28

Bayside 28

All Summer long I watched a dream unfold. The "Rocking Robin" sign that had been my landmark as I traveled the back way to Salisbury on Old Ocean City Blvd. was the first to go. Next came the construction, with piles of junk discarded out the side door, followed by lumber and other building materials. Ever curious, I couldn't wait to see what came next. Finally, a sign proclaimed, "Cool Cats Cove" coming soon. Was it to be a blues club? A throwback to fifties beatniks? I tucked the mystery away until this past week, when I finally saw the Open sign.
I am not one to go into a tavern alone, but in the spirit of exploring what's new in the area, I gathered my courage and visited on Sunday afternoon. It's not a fancy place, nor a particularly elegant establishment. But I predict The Cool Cats Cove is going to become one swinging place to go.
Owner's Shirley and Tee O'Neal have done what most of us don't have the courage to do. They took the "maybe some day" out of their dream, and turned it into "now". Both entertainers, with a passion for music and dancing, they wanted to create a place where people can eat good food, listen to great music from the 1940's to the 1980's, and dance the night away. The plan includes theme nights, including a tribute to Elvis, and classes teaching those cool cat dance steps.
I knew I had hit gold when a dark-haired lady came out of the kitchen proudly carrying a homemade cake, resplendent in chocolate butter crème. When she heard my enthusiastic "Wow!" she offered me a slice. ( I am a fool for chocolate, as you well know.) Between bites of cake, she introduced herself as Taz, head bartender and bottle-washer, along with chef Michael. I didn't tell them I was a columnist until the last bite, so I was particularly impressed with the kindness of the gesture. I am no fool when it comes to good food, as my hips will attest. I asked for a taste of the broth in the homemade Chicken and Dumplings, knowing that one sip would tell me if it was truly homemade, or Sweet Sue in a can. It was to die for, folks, every bit as good as mine. We were just warming up. Next came the broccoli cheddar soup, and that WAS better then mine. Chef Mike waxed lyrical as talked about the specials he had planned, like old-fashioned Ham and Cabbage, and said everybody was loving the southern fried chicken and homemade crab cakes. I'm hoping to catch a few tunes and sample the hot crab dip next weekend after work. They have a really cool website where you can access location, special events, and hours; www.coolcatscove.com.
Great food is good food, and I don't care if it comes wrapped in a napkin or swathed in silk, it's the taste that counts. I headed to Ocean City to finish this week's adventure. I love Chef Paul's food column here in the Bayside Gazette, and now that he's "cheffing" at The Avalon Market, I stopped by to meet him and hopefully sample his culinary delights. The Avalon Market, if you haven't been, is a must for serious foodies looking for hard to find ingredients, specialty equipment and fine wines, and the best in gourmet take-out, meats and cheeses. Watch for a column interviewing Chef Paul and sampling the goodies he creates soon. (there goes another inch on the hips.)
See you next week!

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

And this is the one i wrote, one year later....Interesting, how many unforseen changes...if you told me a year ago I would be writing a weekly column, my eyebrows would have been raised so high,they would have fallen off my face!!! Bayside 27
This is going to be one of those columns where I try to fit ten lbs. of "stuff" in a five lb. sack. I started my adventures off with Open-Mic night at The Waterline Gallery in Berlin. As I have written before, it is a wonderful way to express yourself as a musician or writer, or just soak up the art displayed as you socialize and enjoy the performances. Open-Mic is a new concept for me, and I definitely put it in the plus category for living in Delmarva. A special thanks to Paul of "Trish and Paul", the emcee for Open-Mic. Not only has he donated his time for this community service, but as I speak, he is with The Red Cross down in Louisiana, aiding Katrina victims.
Saturday Night I found myself at another Open-Mic at Barnes and Noble in Salisbury. This one was for Poetry only, and is held the 2nd Saturday of each month. This month's guest moderator was Henry Wilson, and what caught me as much as his poetry was the fact that he wrote many of his poems working in a factory, when his machine was down or idle. Aspiring as well as accomplished poets are encouraged to read their work, and the cushy chairs to sit and listen in aren't bad, either.
Sunday brought another adventure. As much as I love music and writing, sometimes you just have to put on your flip-flops and go have fun. I have always felt an affinity with Native Americans, so when I was invited to go to the annual Nanticoke Indian Powwow, I went. I guess I expected something out of one of the old westerns I watched as a child, with Native Americans clearly defined by straight black hair and coppery skin tones, yet that wasn't what I found at all. In fact, without the colorful tribal clothing, they could have been any gathering of Americans, black, white, blue-eyed, curly haired, well, you get the picture. What I found as I watched the dances, watched the interactions, was a solid unity of heritage, of family, regardless of individual looks or tribe. My beautiful friend Elizabeth, age 16, was one of the women shawl dancers, and it took my breath away to see her swoop and sway with the other women, like brightly colored butterflies flying in a field. There were at least a thousand people present, native and visitors, participating or watching the dancers, listening to the sweet flute and hypnotic drums, and milling around eating fry bread and other native delicacies. Craftsmen , with hand-written signs denoting tribe of origin, sold intricate beaded moccasins and buckskin clothing, as well as handcrafted jewelry, herbs, and pottery. I was very pleasantly surprised to run into Doris Price, an extremely talented artist I wrote about months ago when covering The Beachcomber's Easel Art Gallery, in West Ocean City. A Native Indian herself, she has graciously invited me to her home to view her private collection. (I will tell you all about it when I go.)
I left the powwow full to the brim with song, and sound, and color. There are several powwows coming up in the area this fall, and I highly recommend the experience. I found a listing of upcoming events at www.500nations.com. See you next week!

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

this is what i wrote, over a year ago, about moving here to maryland~~Wednesday Night~~
The rain is pouring straight down, drenching, soaking, hot sounding rain, and it's making me hot, too. It's a sound of urgent passion,unstoppable, furious in intent. I feel crazy...like biting the tiles, waiting for release...Ah, it's softer now...with a gentle smack of thunder, and i can finally exhale. Now it is just caressing, and i can hear the different tones as it hits the trees, the grass, the slope of the roof. Black kitty Link is on the windowsill, green eyes luminous, and we rub noses..I think he felt it too.Little oj is in my lap, half asleep, sucking on my thumb..(how strange my 4 legged children are)
Another uneventful day at work...THANK GOD!. Except, except...i have made the reservation for the moving truck. When they asked me the date i was moving, i realized i didn't know...My plans have been so focused on solving all the problems to actually MOVE...my imagination has been so locked into the fantasy of how it will be., that i hadn't set a date...So i heard the little voice in my head say"mid september". I had actually thought the last week end august, but, i always listen when that voice speaks.."Monday, September 13?" the guy asked..And i said "Yes!"...My knees felt weak, my voice shaky. I guess i am really going to do it. New start. New job, new home, new friends, new, new new.
All i have to do is remember how i have been terrified before, of change, of the unknown. And then remember, that out of those changes, have come great learning, great loving, great experiences...And so...the next chapter is ready to begin....... Later.

posted by Lisa @ 9:45 PM 1 comments

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Bayside 26

The cornfields that I so love to view are no longer towering in brilliant green. Seemingly overnight, the stalks look crispy-fried and brown, and autumn is on it's way.
It's my anniversary, too. Exactly one year ago I did a fair imitation of The Beverly Hillbilly's, loaded up a moving truck and moved to Delmarva.
Perhaps your cousin Tillie from Long Island is thinking about doing the same thing. Perhaps you ARE cousin Tillie, and this column will strike a chord within you. Or perhaps you are a local, born and bred, and you will get a peek at how an "outsider" perceives Delmarva.
This is a land of startling contrast. Wide fields with work creased farmhouses stand side by side with cookie cutter sub-divisions. Raucous, crowded Ocean City boardwalk is only a spit away from serene Assateague Beach. There is huge money to be made in tourism and real estate, but I have seen people with a master's degree in social service making eight dollars an hour.
So why did I stay? Because Delmarva is truly beautiful, and a place to make dreams come true. It is here I thank The Bayside Gazette, for taking a chance on an unknown writer, with a thirty year writer's block, and making my dream a reality. This is a community that honors and respects the arts, at a grassroots level. Where I came from, accessibility and entrance into the art world was only for the elite. Here, there are so many events, many of them free, for the artist or writer or musician, I can barely keep up with them all. It is a strangely smooth blending of little town coziness with big city sophistication. Pig races on the Main St. in Berlin? Followed by a first rate Fiddler's Convention? Yes, and it works.
I could go into the things I found that DON'T work here on Delmarva, like the vanishing rural landscape that we all moved here to enjoy, but that's not my place here to do. I could talk about the great gap between the retired folks and working poor trying to grocery shop and pay oil bills on salaries way behind inflation, but that's not my purpose with this column, so I won't do that, either. Let it suffice to say, regardless of those things, Delmarva's biggest crop isn't corn or chickens (are chicken's a crop?) it's dreams.
I am revving up for next week's Coastal Day at Assateague, and the Fiddler's convention the following week in downtown Berlin. There are really cool happenings going on EVERYWHERE in the next couple of weeks, and I intend to be a part of them. (The day job is just going to have to go.)
A final note: last week I wrote about the threat of Katrina hitting New Orleans. We all know what tragedy did befall that city. I lived in South Florida and survived Hurricane Andrew years back, and I feel obligated to share what I learned during that time. Please, please, prepare before there is a hint of a storm coming. How? Stock up on water and canned goods and candles. Lots and lots of batteries, and a landlocked phone. Plywood and duct tape to cover windows was the first thing the stores ran out of. If the word comes to evacuate, GO. I am sure Aunt Tillie in Long Island will be glad to see you. Thank you for sharing my anniversary with me, and... See you next week!
Move Over, Grandma Moses
Dot Truitt’s eyes sparkled as she leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “We are both artists, you know. It’s never too late to create. And Bob, here, didn’t start til he was 70.”
I met Dot Truitt and her husband Bob at the retail store I work in. When our business was finished, they stayed to chat. Dot, a slim, energetic woman of 71, did most of the talking. "What type of art, ?" I queried, and thus began a story I knew I had to share.
"Wait, I’ll show you" she said, and ran out to her car. She came back with a bag of beautiful clay bracelets, each a circle of brilliant color and hand-painted design. She looked fondly over at her husband, Bob. "He does handmade pottery mirrors. “She explained. She went on to say that she had started 16 years earlier, in her mid fifties. Wow, I thought. So many people at age 50 plus think it’s rocking chair time, but not these two.
She was the typical stay at home Mom, and though she always wanted to create, caring for her family took priority. When her daughter graduated high school , she seized the opportunity to finally follow her artistic vision. Laughing, she explained to me that she did it all wrong. "I bought a huge kiln and a couple of books." She went on to tell me that doing it all wrong meant she did it all right, because her trial and error helped her perfect a unique kiln-firing method that produced brilliant, yet translucent colors.
I asked her where she first showed her work. She laughed again, and explained that her first showing was in the National Museum of Ceramic Art, in downtown Baltimore. " I had been selected for jury duty," she mused, "and in those days, it meant calling the courthouse at 6pm the day before, and then high-tailing it to Baltimore to stay in a hotel that night." She happened to wear one of her pendants, and while visiting the museum, they asked her on the spot to display in their gift shop. She now shows her work in various craft shows in the area. Her next big show is in Lewes on July 9th, sponsored by the Lewes Historical Society.
Bob was a little more reserved about his art. A native eastern shoreman, he joked about “outsiders”, and once I confessed to the sin of being one, he relented and told me, “I don’t think of myself as an artist, more of a craftsman. Dot makes the designs for my work, I just put it all together.” Regardless of what he thinks, I saw an example of his work, and it’s striking.
Move over, Grandma Moses. Go ahead, pull out those dusty paint brushes, rework that old manuscript, learn that guitar. In Dot Truitt’s words, “It’s never too late to create.”
this is a reprint for flora....whose mother is 77, and having an art exhibit in the netherlands...

Monday, August 29, 2005

It's really crazy how things are happening lately....My last paycheck lost in the mail, with an ensuing 8 day wait., and today, when the new one was due to arrive...nothing....My check for the column..supposed to be here today...forgotten, and with my work schedule i won't be able to get it until after Labor Day....
My relationship with money has been worse then that with my ex's...and THAT speaks volumes! It's not that I don't work....I am out of the house 65 hours a week, not counting what I put in to research and write the column...So, what gives???
I am going to choose to take it as a choice...I can either become bitter and withdrawn, or be thankful for the many gifts I have...like the fingers I have to type this with. Lessons, that's all...Hopefully I will be up to the challenge of meeting dark with light...
My bike...I dearly loved it., for the heartfelt love the gift represented, for the ride back to my 7 year old self with a similar pink bike, for the funky silliness of my 50 year old self pedaling down the road.
Just another choice of reacting to dark with light.
I am not always up to the challenge. But I never give up trying. Later.
Bayside 25

The lure of the beach was the final deciding factor in my move here from the Midwest, almost one year ago. Not just any beach, though, it was the thought of the wild ponies of Assateague Island that sealed the deal for me. Every little girl goes through a "Misty" stage, where she dreams of living on an island befriending wild ponies, and I was no exception. When I made a quick reconnaissance visit prior to the move, having the ponies try to nuzzle me in the parking lot of Assateague cemented my childhood fantasy.
Yet, the pristine 37 mile stretch of beach almost wasn't . In the late 1950's, plans were made to line the shore with businesses and condo's, ala
Ocean City. As I write this, Hurricane Katrina is threatening New Orleans, and the disaster scenario due to massive flooding is catastrophic. Mother Nature intervened on Assateague in 1962, also, with a storm whose surge plunged much of the island underwater. It put the kabosh on funding for the project, and in 1965, Assateague was declared a National Seashore.
I usually visit the State Park part of the island, rather than the National. It's just easier to walk past the camp store and concession stand, and setup a chair. Once there, if you face the ocean and make a left, you can walk all the way to the Ocean City inlet if you are so inclined. I have never done it, but I have walked far enough so that the brightly colored umbrellas and swimmers fade away, and all you can see is wild, wide sand and sea. ( And a few very natural sunbathers.)
Assateague offers quite a bit more, though. I am determined to camp there, even though dire warnings of summer mosquitoes, biting fly's, and ticks have quelled my desire to do so in the summer months. I'm waiting for late fall, when the biting bugs go home with the tourists. I plan on combining my trip with a canoe rental, and making the three walking tours offered, Life of the Dune, Life of the Forest, and Life of the Marsh. (thank goodness they each come with a descriptive brochure.) I can smell the burgers on the grill and see the stars above my campfire as I speak.
This year I want to be more than the tourist that just takes pleasure at the beach and goes home, though. The Maryland eighth annual Coast Day is being celebrated Sept. 17th, with a huge party after the early morning clean up at the National part of the park. Unfortunately, I can't quit my day job, so I will miss the festivities that Saturday, but they include live animal exhibits, yummy shore foods, arts and crafts, and music. (I plan on being part of the clean-up crew on Monday.) Volunteers are needed Friday, Sept. 16th, Saturday, Sept. 17th, and Monday, Sept. 19th. For information or to volunteer call Dave Wilson at 410-213-2297.
Last, but not least....Remember my hot pink Della Cruiser bike I got for my 50th birthday last month? If you spot one abandoned in the area, please send me an email... Yup, you guessed it...someone snatched it. Oh well, walking is good for my soul, anyway... See you next week!

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Bayside 24

Art, like writing, is purely subjective. Critics and experts can critique brushstroke and grammar, but, to me, the true litmus test is how art touches the heart.
Patrick Henry's art touches mine. Attending The Waterline Gallery's reception last Friday night, entitled "Transitions", I realized I was not alone. Fellow artists Bill and Deborah Rolig sent a bouquet of vibrant sunflowers, and Patrick was engulfed by well-wishers. Gallery owners Karen and David Prengaman provided finger foods, and the crowd sipped wine as they viewed the paintings spanning 20 years of his body of work.
Patrick's eyes hold a light that intrigues me, and when he graciously offered to speak with me the following day, I couldn't wait. We sat in his backyard gazebo, with a pitcher of ice water and a backdrop of homegrown, red tomatoes as a backdrop.
"God is where you take your energy." Patrick calmly stated. With that statement, I knew the source of the light in his eyes. I put down my eager little pen and just listened.
You see, Patrick Henry the artist was almost Patrick Henry the teacher, but he chose to follow his heart instead of his head. Spending the summer in Richmond, Va., Patrick was readying himself for graduate work towards his teaching professorship. A call for help from his mom changed his mind, and he returned to Berlin, instead. Often heart choices are painful and confusing, and only time's perspective clarifies intuitive wisdom.
It was in Berlin that he became reacquainted with the love of his life, Velda, his wife of 16 years. One of the pictures in the exhibit is of the sea, with three birds skipping across the sand. He gave it to Velda early in their marriage for Christmas, when that's all he could afford. It still hangs in their den today. He pursued his art, though not without resistance from family and friends. Patrick shook his head slowly, and said, "They told me to just give it up, and quit pipe-dreaming." He continued, " I became a success in spite of it all. He continued painting, interspersed with art in it's more commercial form. He was noted as the graphic artist in the 80's renovation of The Atlantic Hotel, and made hand-painted t-shirts and signs. As his works became celebrated, he branched out and opened The Henry Art Center, in Berlin. Life was to take another unexpected turn, with the deaths of 4 family members in two years. Increased family pressures, his growing popularity outside the boundaries of Delmarva, coupled with the daily operation of the center , caused his artistic focus to blur.
He decided to let go of The Henry Art Center, and concentrate his focus on his painting and his family. He paints now with inspirational tapes and posters as his companion, in his studio behind his house.
This morning before I started writing, I went back to The Waterline Gallery to get another feel for his work. I walked the length of the exhibit, and found myself captured by three paintings created since closing his art center this past July. The brushstrokes are deeper, the colors richly multifaceted. They have the depth of a mature man, sharing his vision with the world.
I idly flipped through the gallery guest book from Saturday night’s reception. In it I found a passage from Patrick and Velda's daughter, Stephanie. "My Dad is the best painter in the Universe. I wish he will never change!" That's my idea of true success. See you next week!

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Sunday August 15?
Where on earth did the poem i just published come from? Obviously, I need to sit on top of a mountain in a cold stream and cool off for awhile. I guess the buttermilk fried chicken, the potato salad with chives and eggs, the coleslaw, Okeechobee style with orange juice and pineapple, and the salsa, hot, red, meaty, with homegrown tomatoes is a metaphor for repressed passion in my life. Bon Appetit, it could be worse.....Celibacy, properly channeled, feeds people well. later.
Kitchen Gypsy
i
fold and bend my curls
Beneath a
red bandana
Anticipating the
sensuous luxury
of texture
beneath my fingers
As I
massage squeeze stroke
the herbs and the cream
into meat vegetables fruits
Dice chop sliver
my purpose
Alleviating
sexual energy
Channeled safely
into the mouth
of others.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

here it is~~22...not stellar, but it worked...no time to go explore and cover something fun...


Social Column 22

The first time my former mother-in-law came to visit, I scurried about cleaning like mad. My husband walked in the door from work and looked around at the mess in astonishment..."What in God's name happened here?". "Deep Cleaning, you're Mother's coming, it's a female thing." I frantically replied. I wondered if the town of Berlin would go through something similar to prepare for Governor Robert L. Ehrlich, Jr.'s visit on August 19th, to honor Berlin's designation as an arts and entertainment district. I moseyed downtown to ask local shopkeepers what they were doing special for his visit.
First stop, tiny Patricia's Bakery. Many a Sunday morning I have stopped in for her moist apple bread. " The Governor's coming?," She exclaimed in her lilting Italian accent. " I will just make sure I have more of everything." It only took me 30 steps from the entrance to reach the cash register, but the place makes up in taste for what it lacks in size. (Try her giant éclairs, and Rosemary Bread...both are to die for.)
Next stop, my friends Peggy and Les Katona at The Main Street Gift Gallery. " He wouldn't be treated any different then we treat our other customer's." Peggy said, thoughtfully. " However, we will have artists on hand, demo-ing various visual and performing arts." I believe her, too, because there is a warm coziness that engulfs me every time I walk in. The Katona's have come up with some really creative plans to encourage the arts in Berlin, but I'm not telling til they are ready to go public. (The second I get the word, you will be the first to know!).
I have been meaning to go the Lavender & Old Lace antique store since it opened two months ago. Owners Janice and Dennis Johannsen moved to Berlin 8 years ago, and say simply, "We love Berlin." Procurers and collectors of "Moon and Stars" glassware, and many fine Victorian antiques, the couple encourage customer's to browse, or even sit for a chat in one of the store's comfy Victorian chairs. A special hello to my friend Frances Blank, owner of Berlin's first antique store. At 91, she often stops by to visit with Janice and Dennis on her walks downtown.
I asked The Treasure Chest what they were doing for the Governor's visit. I am no different from any other woman...I love beautiful jewelry, and The Treasure Chest has a gorgeous selection of precious gems in distinctive settings. The Treasure Chest has been a family run business for 28 years, and current owner Terri Sexton said " It will just be business as usual- our town has so much to offer, we are proud of it just as it is."
I was puzzled as I walked over to The Atlantic Hotel, where the governor is purported to speak. Where was the frantic "spiffing up?" The marching band, or at least a fiddle or two?? THEY didn't have anything firmly in place for his visit, either.
Sorry, Governor Ehrlich. What you see is what you will get....along with the dose of good old-fashioned warmth and courtesy that is extended to everybody. See you next week!

Monday, August 01, 2005

this one i love~it made me feel passion as i wrote, made me pull my hair and pace, and that is all good.
Social Column 21

The brown brick building is plain, unassuming, and I almost missed it , but for the fountains surging around it. Wakeup, Delmarva. Up off our beach chairs and out of our jeans and t-shirts, because swank sophistication has arrived in our midst. What and where is this all about? It's The Fountains, in Salisbury, a wedding/event facility that opened on July 16th.
I talk to everybody, and find every human being I met a source of fascination. Thankfully, strangers and friends talk back, and that is how I met Ray Strawley, general manager for The Fountains. He invited me to tour the facility during the gala "Silver Swing", a celebration of Coastal Hospice at the Lake's 25th anniversary.
Greeted courteously by Charles Pryor at the door in his proper Penguin attire, I suddenly wished I wore my pearls and slicked back my hair, instead of flying through the door in my everyday black pants and corkscrew curls.
Holy Cow! The sheer luxury hit me like a ton of caviar flung from a silver spoon. No less than 12 chandeliers hung from the 21 foot ceilings in the main ballroom. Sage walls complemented the soft, scrolled carpet under my feet, and my eye was immediately caught by the exquisite Ice Sculptures that highlighted the buffet, crafted by Ray himself. Women floated by in long gowns, sparkling with jewels and scented with expensive perfumes. (Jean Nate, it was not.) Press people with slightly bored expressions and huge cameras talked to guests and snapped pictures, and I heard the words "Metropolitan Magazine" and "WCBS" floating around.
I wandered into the silent auction, and found myself mesmerized by a flowing chocolate fountain that even Willie Wonka would have coveted. A confirmed, unrepentant chocoholic, I confess it was I who seduced guests Clary Jackson and Helen Walsh into dipping the provided sticks into the fountain for a quick chocolate fix. Heaven!
If I ever, ever get married again, the reception will be here. Not because of the gourmet food, the impeccable service, the sophisticated ,subtle beauty of the place... It's the brides room that has me hooked. ..a little girl' s dream of cotton candy ruffles and pink chintz, done up Big Girl fashionin sultry champagne silk and bows. With no less than 8 vanity stations, it's the quintessence of all that's female and secretly ceremonial. Not to leave the guys out, the groom's room almost made me want to be a man. Deep, rich brown leather couches, a wide screen TV, and a full service bar, I could smell the sports and Havana’s as I entered the room.
They even have a mini-T.V. station, with the ability to broadcast your event on the internet, as well as record it for posterity.
Downstairs again, I met Sallie Klunk, wife of the piano player for Doc Scantlin and his Imperial Palms Orchestra, the featured entertainment for the night. If Doc Scantlin is here in Delmarva, you better get out your sequins and polish those spectator shoes. His mix of swing, comedy and big band is a hot-ticket pass into cosmopolitan A-list functions.
It might have been alot of glitz and glamour, but the spectacular setting was nothing next to the work The Coastal Hospice of the Lakes provides. My Dad died at age 44, after a long term illness, at the peak of his professional and personal life. I only wish that there was an organization then that could have eased his passing, and held the hand of his wife and children as he did. That is what this non-profit organization does, and expensive perfume and fun aside, they provide an invaluable service not only to those leaving this earth, but for the loved ones left mourning. They may be contacted at:(410) 742-8732, by the patient himself, or an involved friend, relative or clergyman.
I have the rest of the day off, and I am going crabbing. To me, the sea, the cornfields, and the hint of salt in the air, are the greatest luxury of all. See you next week!

Saturday, July 30, 2005

I really hated social column 20. It is like dry toast stuck in my throat. But, it is my child, after all, so after ignoring it's existance for a week, here it is~~Social Column 20

This week my travels took me to Snow Hill, and I found it fitting that the town's sign was nestled in a field of wildflowers. Snow Hill has three hundred years of history under it's belt, much of it directly related to the Pocomoke River, meandering next to it. In yesteryears, three-mastered schooners brought freight and passengers, followed by steamboats and barges. Today, it is a favored spot for boat and canoe travel. In the town proper, right next to the white drawbridge, you can rent canoes or kayaks from The Pocomoke River Canoe Company. For the less adventurous, there are two riverside parks, Sturgis Memorial and Byrd Park. Sturgis has a covered Pavilion, and once a month features Dancing Under the Stars, hosted by local service organizations. ( The next one is August 19th). You can also tour the river from Sturgis Park on The Miss Rai, a local riverboat.
Walking the historic downtown, with it's warm red brick buildings, I couldn't help but notice the emphasis on art in the community. Bishop's Stock, opened in 2003 by Worcester County natives Ann and Randy Coates, showcases and supports both established and emerging local artists in their Green Street Gallery. They also host "First Friday's" each month, from 5-8pm., to showcase featured artists and exhibits.
My hunch is that Snow Hill is going to blossom as a working artist's community, with many unique, creative businesses gracing it's lovely downtown. I ate lunch at one such place, The Courthouse Cafe. Decorated in a funky, upscale style, the food was just as different and delicious. Sadly, the owner is going on to other things, and the restaurant is "hanging up it's potholders" on July 29th. (Watch for a new restaurant opening in September.)
Snow Hill boasts over a hundred historically valuable homes. These places are gorgeous! I cheated, and drove Washington, Federal and Market streets, but I want to walk them in the fall, when it's not so hot. Grab the brochure titled "Historic Walking Tour" if you go, because it lists the history of over fifty of the homes you will see. Take the time to visit The Julia Purnell Museum, too. Located in a former church building, it was created in the 1940's by William Purnell honoring his mother who lived from 1843-1943. It is chockfull of articles dating from the Colonial Period to the late 19th century.
As I headed back home my eye was caught by a Gothic Revival style home that is now a B&B called The River House Inn. Innkeepers Susanne and Larry Knudsen allowed me to wander at will, and I was impressed. It is nestled along the river, with cottages as well as rooms in the antique decorated main house. I can't wait for the opportunity for a weekend getaway there.
Next week is the event that I am really looking forward to, though. August 6th brings The Blessing of the Combines in downtown Snow Hill. It will be an all day affair, with an antique tractor pull at 4:30 pm. I might not be politically correct, but I give a thumbs up to a town that openly blesses the tools of their livelihood, and I won't miss it. See you next week!
July 30~

Riding the Pink Bike
I
Am 7, I am 10
Faster and Faster
The years slip away
Freedom
so longed for
with grownup
Intensity
finally
is gained.

Monday, July 18, 2005

July 18th``
here is#19...Social Column 19

They say it's hell to grow old. I turned 50 today, and I don't think so.
I prefer to liken it to the contrast between living in a brand-new house in a raw sub-division, versus a charming Victorian with it's well-aged charm and established landscaping.
Sounds better then just getting "old" anyway. Thanks to my brother, George, who brought my 4 year old nephew, Sebastian down from New Jersey for the weekend, I had a chance to be "young" again. The party started late Friday night, with George and Sebastian coming from Jersey, and his best friend from college, Bob, coming from Virginia Beach. I knew a present awaited me. They pulled me outside, and there was a beautiful, hot-pink bicycle! ( I will never be able to discreetly be seen around town again.) I jumped aboard, and felt the years slip from me, as the wind kissed my face, and I pumped the pedals.
We spent Sunday doing something I spoke about in my last column~Crabbing! While George and Bob cast their manly poles in the water at Jane Island State Park, near Pokemoke City, Sebastian and I tied bits of soft-shelled crab to a string, and tummy down in the grass, waited to see what would happen. There they were! Fast-moving, claw grabbing, crabs, grasping the string and as startled as we were, as we flung them out of the water onto the bank. (We were too excited to use the net.) Note: You are supposed to use bits of chicken necks, but I forgot to pack them, and the soft shelled crab bait worked as well.) Jane Island offers camping, as well, and is a very cool place to go.
Today brought even more excitement to the Four and Older crowd. We spent the morning at Frontier Town, on Route 611 in West Ocean City. Take your kids there. Take YOURSELF there, when being a grownup seems like just too much work. Spend the whole day, and splash in the pool, watch a simulated Old West Gunfight, Ooh! La La! to the Can-Can Girls, and see an Indian Ceremonial Dance.
I rounded out my day with a visit to The Worcester County Arts Council, located in Berlin, Md., next to Sassafras Station. I have been urged to write about all the wonderful things The Council does for some time now, so I decided to take a peek and see what they offered for the small fry of the community. Turns out, there are all sorts of Summer Art Workshops. One I can highly recommend is being held July 25-29th, in Pokemoke, featuring Dawn Manyfeathers teaching Native American crafts. This workshop is geared for those in grades 3-7. Get those babies away from the TV and Playstation! The 12-17 year olds aren't left out in the heat, either. There is a photography workshop with Mike Gatty coming up August 9th-11th in Snow Hill. Costs for each are $25.00 per student, less then the cost for taking them out to McDonalds a couple of times. Call (410)-641-0809 for directions and more info.
I am so impressed with The Council that I cannot wait to do a full fledged column on it's mission, upcoming events, and on going services.
It's time to clothes-pin some cards on my spokes and take the pink party machine for a ride. Who knows? Maybe my 6oth will bring a pink Harley. See you next week!

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

here it is...happSocial Column 18

I wonder what downtown Berlin looked like 20 years ago. I picture it being sleepy, with " for rent " signs in empty storefronts, and a big roughshod eyesore called The Atlantic Hotel as it's focal point.
I could be wrong, of course. Perhaps before the advent of Wal-Mart and the businesses that have sprung up on Route 50 it was a quietly bustling
community. I do know one thing for sure; The Atlantic Hotel was a grand lady past her time, without a stitch of makeup and her garters hanging down.
That's when the imagination, the entrepreneurial talent, the sheer power of seeing a vision and making it happen that we, as Americans, are famous for rallied around Miss Atlantic and gave her a makeover. Hmmnn, makeover? More like extensive plastic surgery with a full body tuck to boot.
Walk downtown today, and you will see a sweeping front porch embellished with bright flowers and rocking chairs, bracketed by a scrolled iron fence. It is a lovely first impression, and as you walk through her doors, the magic continues. To your left is the reception area, with an old fashioned check-in book. A grand staircase beacons your eye upwards, and dining areas spill to the right and far left. The menu is sophisticated, yet incorporates local produce and seafood. You can eat in the formal linen clad dining room, with it's marble topped sideboards, or in my favorite, The Drummers Cafe. . I thought it was so named for a famous drummer in the past, but the moniker comes from the hotel's most plentiful early patrons, traveling salesmen, nicknamed "drummers". I am embarrassed to say I have not had a drink in the cozy bar with the painted metal roof, nor eaten at the Hotel yet, but I will soon, and let you know if the taste lives up to the tantalizing menu. Word of mouth says it does. An added bonus; singing waitresses, and a sing along on Sunday nights with Heather, hosted by Dave Adams.
As fascinated by the hotel's past as I am, it's the present that I like the most. Each room is unique, from the wallpaper to the bedposts. I felt like I was visiting a long lost rich auntie, whose home was lovingly displayed with cherished family heirlooms and maintained with modern day conveniences. Long hallways surprise you with red velvet sitting rooms; bowls casually display fresh apples to snack on.
The Atlantic Hotel was built in 1895 by Horace and Ginny Harmonson, and remained a family business until the late 1930's. The second longest stretch of ownership was under the Coats family, who operated it through the 1960's. It was then operated under various owners until it's purchase in 1986 by The Atlantic Hotel Partnership.
It was they who stripped away the 1946 storefront that marred the hotel's architectural integrity, gutted the inside, and then carefully restored her to her present loveliness. They have a book behind the reception counter, showing the amazing transformation, and it is well worth browsing through.
I suppose we need the familiarity of coast to coast hotels in our uncertain world. Yet, every now and then, the adventurous child within needs to explore the unique, the special, the different.
Thanks, Atlantic Hotel. You're a diamond in a rhinestone world.
See you next weeky birthday to me! the eighteenth column...

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

July 5th~~
I am so thankful for the creative process...A thought, a word...thrown overboard in a swirling sea..without an anchor...becomes solid, gets rescued, and becomes a column...Social Column 17

The cornfields are as tall as my chin, and the roadsides are all gussied up with black-eyed susans and tiger lilies. My curls, never manageable to begin with, have taken on the look of a shell-shocked poodle in the high humidity. Summer is here, full blast, in Delmarva.
Back in the Midwest, summer meant cold lake swimming and kielbasa and burgers on the grill. Here in Delmarva, it seems everybody gets...well, Crabby. Last Friday I was invited to my first crab feast, at the home of local Delmarva artist, Bonnie Preziosi. An avid surfer as well as artist, her paintings depict her love of sand, sea and sky. You can see her work at one of my favorite gallery's, The Beachcombers Easel Art Gallery, in West Ocean City. She puts on quite the crab feast, too.
A long picnic table was swathed in newspaper, the traditional table covering for the occasion. Piles of spicy, steamed crabs were heaped in the center of the table, and I didn't see a plate in sight. "May I have a plate?" I asked, and the incredulous smirks I received in reply taught me I had a lot to learn about the fine art of crab eating. There are NO plates. You just dig in, and everybody around you will show you their favored style of reaching the succulent sweet meat within.
If you are not lucky enough to be invited to a backyard crab party, you can always purchase them already steamed and ready to go. I took an informal poll from strangers and friends alike, and Crabs-To-Go , located at the corner of Routes 50 & 589 in West Ocean City kept coming up a winner. You can order them by the bushel or by the dozen, and they specialize in Choptank River crabs, reputed to be some of the tastiest, fattest crabs on the shore.
Want a more festive place to pursue your crabby delights? You can head down to Crisfield, Maryland on July 20th for their annual J. Millard Tawes Crab and Clam Bake. For a $35.00 donation, it's an "all you can eat" affair, that includes corn on the cob, watermelon, and beverages. Tickets must be purchased in advance, and it's become so popular it is limited to the first 5,000 people to purchase tickets.
Of course, you can always start from scratch and catch your own. After work on July 4th, I stopped into The Green Turtle on Route 13 in Salisbury. Blonde Crisfield native Corlie, working her way towards her degree as a medical technologist, was our bartender. I couldn't have asked for a more informative expert on this week's crabby subject. When I asked her where the best place to get crabs was, she replied nonchalantly, "Home. You just go "chicken-necking.". You bet I was intrigued. " You can go to Jane Island State Park with a piece of string and some chicken necks, and catch your own." Hmmn. Sounds like fun, but I couldn't help but wonder how crabs developed a taste for chicken... When I DO go "chicken necking" I will be sure to share the experience with you.
Time to leave you for another week. A foot-note before I go~ this Saturday, July 9th, is the opening reception for the works of local artist Diane Laukenmann, at The Beachcombers Easel Art Gallery I mentioned earlier. Held from 5-7pm and open to the public, You can not only view her uniquely Delmarva inspired watercolors, but meet the artist as well. See you next week!

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

June 28th~~
My first "story" published other then the column! I had to overcome alot of self-doubt on this one, and move way out of my comfort zone...how else can you grow?


Move Over, Grandma Moses
Dot Truitt’s eyes sparkled as she leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "We are both artists, you know. It’s never too late to create. And Bob, here, didn’t start til he was 70."
I met Dot Truitt and her husband Bob at the retail store I work in. When our business was finished, they stayed to chat. Dot, a slim, energetic woman of 71, did most of the talking. "What type of art, ?" I queried, and thus began a story I knew I had to share.
"Wait, I’ll show you" she said, and ran out to her car. She came back with a bag of beautiful clay bracelets, each a circle of brilliant color and hand-painted design. She looked fondly over at her husband, Bob. "He does handmade pottery mirrors. "She explained. She went on to say that she had started 16 years earlier, in her mid fifties. Wow, I thought. So many people at age 50 plus think it’s rocking chair time, but not these two.
She was the typical stay at home Mom, and though she always wanted to create, caring for her family took priority. When her daughter graduated high school , she seized the opportunity to finally follow her artistic vision. Laughing, she explained to me that she did it all wrong. "I bought a huge kiln and a couple of books." She went on to tell me that doing it all wrong meant she did it all right, because her trial and error helped her perfect a unique kiln-firing method that produced brilliant, yet translucent colors.
I asked her where she first showed her work. She laughed again, and explained that her first showing was in the National Museum of Ceramic Art, in downtown Baltimore. " I had been selected for jury duty," she mused, "and in those days, it meant calling the courthouse at 6pm the day before, and then high-tailing it to Baltimore to stay in a hotel that night." She happened to wear one of her pendants, and while visiting the museum, they asked her on the spot to display in their gift shop. She now shows her work in various craft shows in the area. Her next big show is in Lewes on July 9th, sponsored by the Lewes Historical Society.
Bob was a little more reserved about his art. A native eastern shoreman, he joked about "outsiders", and once I confessed to the sin of being one, he relented and told me, "I don’t think of myself as an artist, more of a craftsman. Dot makes the designs for my work, I just put it all together." Regardless of what he thinks, I saw an example of his work, and it’s striking.
Move over, Grandma Moses. Go ahead, pull out those dusty paint brushes, rework that old manuscript, learn that guitar. In Dot Truitt’s words, "It’s never too late to create."
June 28th~~
This was a tough one to cover on time~
Social Column 16

The forecast is perfect. Sunny and warm, with only a few scattered clouds to accentuate the blue sky above. Uh-oh. Those fluffy white clouds have turned to a leaden gray, and the rain is pouring down. What to do when the weather is awful ? Shop, of course....and I once again reach to the treasure chest of downtown Berlin for a unique Delmarva experience.
I have to say it~ I don't love Wal-mart, and J. C. Penny's leaves me cold. It's just too bland and repetitive for my taste.
You won't find that experience in downtown Berlin. It's Christmas morning for the weary chain-store shopper. I meandered through the streets, looking in windows and stopping at whim. My eye was caught by a little table with soap bubbles set up outside The J.J. Fish Studio and Fine Crafts Gallery, owned by John and Judy Fisher. What a cool place! They make bubble carafe's with silver blowers for grown-ups, though sharing with kids is allowed. Their marble pendants really caught my imagination. You can either choose from hand-blown marbles or use your own heirloom sphere, that's showcased in a handcrafted silver cage, and hung on a silky cord. John calls art "The one constant in my life." It shows, because John and Judy have a spectacular array contemporary handmade jewelry and crafts for sale.
My next stop was Victorian Charm. If you ever see older ladies donning outrageous red hats, they probably purchased them here. "Red Hatters" have made the shop a word-of-mouth phenomenon. The collection includes everything from red hats to red boas to pins, books, and the companion colored purple clothing. Owner Debbie Frene was modest about her successful 11 years of business, and attributes a fair share of it to people who come in to visit with Josh, her Maltese dog.
Bruder Hill calls itself the "Land of Ahhs." I agree. Owners Di Hill and Shelly Bruder weren't in, but the store was staffed by Pat Cavin, who told me "We have customers from all over the country, as well as a loyal local following." Ladies, it's hip, whimsical, and fun. Neat little sandals, one of a kind funky jewelry, and clothes that scream "made for soft sea breezes and special occasions.".
Last but not least, I stopped into the Main Street Gift Gallery. Owners Peggy and Les Katona were both working, and took the time to show me their lovely gallery of local art and gourmet delicacies. I especially loved her hand-painted bamboo walking sticks, and the selection of Chesapeake style gourmet goodies.
To the other fine shopkeepers downtown, I can't wait to discover you, too. A special thanks this week to the Simms Family, owners of The Berlin Auto-Wash. They not only gave me an incredible deal for an antique desk I purchased at their garage sale, but refused a counter offer for double the price, loaded it up for me, and threw in a lamp. Guess there still ARE honorable people in the world. See you next week!

Thursday, June 23, 2005

June 23..
anyway..here it is...number 15? or is it 14?

Social Column 15
Summer has a way of heating things up. Scents are spicier, colors more vibrant, and there is more daylight to enjoy it all. Apparently, this column is in full summer swing, because there is so much to do, I can barely fit it all in.
Have any of you heard that Delmarva has a comedy club? One of my clients at work told my co-worker, Suzanne, and I about a great place to go and laugh ourselves silly. It sounded like the perfect antidote to a full day of retail sales, and we decided to go. The Bottle Factory is located in Salisbury, off of business Route 13. Saturday night the bar transforms itself into " The Comedy Zone." We queued up and paid our 8 dollar admission for the 9pm show, and sat and had cocktails and snacks while we waited for the show to begin. (try Al's famous crab dip when you go). Andy Hendrickson was first up onstage. Young, sarcastic, and acerbic, Andy's dark humor speared all in it's path, from his college days to Chinese takeout.
Headliner Big Ed Caylor hails from The Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, and in his soft, Southern drawl, said, "nothing is sacred up here."
His uproarious take on marriage, parenthood, dating and weight loss was hilarious. Between the two comedians, I joyfully submitted to that state of laughing you rarely carry into adulthood....flat out side-bursting, tear running giggles. I give "The Comedy Zone" a thumbs up for great entertainment at less than the cost of a movie. For upcoming shows and directions, call (410) 749-9669.
The night was not over, however. Fager's Island, in Ocean City, has long been a landmark for great food and music. I was fortunate enough to have dinner there this past winter, and was enchanted by the elegant ambiance and delicious food. I was curious to see how the onslaught of vacationers impacted Fager's. Yikes! I never saw so many gyrating bodies in my life. If you like non-stop music and have no problem with scantily clad people within a foot radius, by all means go. If you are a student of sociology and want to observe the dating rituals of young humans, it's a must. If you are like me, however, a nightcap at home, or a walk on the beach might be a better way to end the evening.
I rounded off the weekend with a trip to "Art in the Park.", held at Northside Park. I had never been to the park before, and loved the view of the bay, the long dock, and the paved walkways, perfect for strolling or biking. It was chilly with a whipping wind, yet the caliber of art displayed made for a worthwhile outing. I was particularly impressed by the jewelry of Ron Haritan, of Gambrills, Md. With a background in stained glass, his fused glass jewelry designs are light-catching works of art. I couldn't resist, and am the proud owner of a stunning pair of earrings in iridescent blue. I will be watching for his return, and let you know so you can enjoy his work, too.
That raps it up for this week. I hope all you Dad's out there had a wonderful Father's Day. Special hugs to my Dad, George. You weren't with us for very long, but your love has lasted a lifetime. See you next week!